HE 
 
 V Tfc "V fjp** a'^Sa, y ^** s Y > 
 
 INTRIGl
 
 Acres off', 
 140 'Pacj.
 
 appletons' 
 TTown ant> Country 
 
 No. 203 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS
 
 THE INTRIGUERS 
 
 A NO^EL 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN D. BARRY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 1896
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1896, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THIS year Harrington Boyd had gone 
 abroad in May and returned early in July. 
 The two weeks in Newport that followed 
 bored him so much that when he ran up to 
 Boston to see the Norths, who had a cottage 
 at Magnolia, he resolved not to go back there. 
 The Norths worried him for a week ; so, by 
 means of a plausible fiction about being obliged 
 to return to New York to confer with his pub- 
 lishers, he escaped from their clutches. For he 
 found that to be with the Norths was really to 
 be in their clutches. They paraded him inces- 
 santly, till he grew tired of his literary reputa- 
 tion and of himself, an experience he had never 
 had before. Jack North, whom he had known 
 at Columbia the Norths had drifted from New 
 York to Boston by the irony of business Jack 
 was a good fellow, but his widowed mother and 
 
 his unwedded sister were persistent and pitiless 
 
 i 
 
 2061768
 
 2 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 celebrity-hunters. Harrington Boyd was so 
 accustomed to using other people that he found 
 being used extremely tiresome. It was there- 
 fore with a delicious sense of relief that he 
 stood, on the afternoon of the ist of August, 
 alone in the streets of Boston. He had just 
 left Jack, with the remark that he should take 
 the six o'clock train for New York, and with 
 some difficulty had persuaded him not to wait 
 to see him off. 
 
 Boston always amused Harrington Boyd. 
 He had been taught to look at it from the 
 point of view of New York, which, so far as 
 it relates to other American cities, is invariably 
 humorous. He knew it chiefly through the 
 Norths, whose uncertain social position there 
 afforded him secret delight. It was clever of 
 the Bostonians to see through Mrs. North, he 
 thought, and it was delightfully snobbish of 
 them to patronize her, to accept her on suf- 
 ferance, as it were ; for, in spite of her ambi- 
 tions and her moves, she was a Knickerbocker 
 of Knickerbockers, a Van Rensselaer on one 
 side and a Schermerhorn on the other. How- 
 ever, notwithstanding their little conceits and 
 foibles and their large sympathy for those 
 not born in their city, Boyd liked the Bosto-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 3 
 
 nians. It occurred to .him that it would be 
 pleasant to be alone in Boston for a while ; he 
 could enjoy the place, and he could also have 
 a delicious sense of freedom from the Norths, 
 spiced with the danger of being near them, 
 but not with them. 
 
 So he stayed in Boston for two days, prowl- 
 ing and deriving an almost childish pleasure 
 from the risk that he ran of encountering Jack 
 North and being branded as a liar. Then he 
 found the town hot, and he resolved to take a 
 " trip down the harbour." Every one in Bos- 
 ton, he had heard, took " trips down the har- 
 bour." One of the simple joys of the travelled 
 Boston mind lay in pointing out the superiority 
 of Boston harbour to the harbour of New 
 York, which to Harrington Boyd seemed a 
 wholly fatuous proceeding. However, as he 
 had never seen Boston harbour before, he tried 
 to view it without bias, and, in spite of being 
 hustled and jostled on one of the morning 
 boats, he liked it. The crowd drove him from 
 the boat at Hull. He lunched at the Pember- 
 ton Hotel, smoked a cigar on the piazza, sur- 
 rounded on three sides by the sea, that sent a 
 cool breeze across his face, and he declared the 
 spot delightful.
 
 4 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 A moment later he looked up and saw a 
 tall, handsome girl walking along the piazza. 
 Her carriage, the pose of her head, the outline 
 of her face and figure, struck him as uncom- 
 mon. She was walking aimlessly, apparently 
 because she was too restless to sit. When 
 she reached the end of the piazza he saw her 
 face. He threw his cigar away, looked across 
 the water, and said to himself : " By Jove, I'll 
 stay here ! I can work here as well as any- 
 where else better. Why not?" 
 
 Harrington Boyd was not a man of quick 
 resolves. He believed, however, there were 
 times when resolution was the highest of quali- 
 ties ; this was one of them. For a month he 
 had been nervous, unable to work. He felt 
 sure that he could write here ; he would take 
 the coolest room in the house, where there was 
 no sun in the morning. The afternoons and 
 evenings he would have for recreation and in- 
 vestigation. Once before he had met a subject 
 like this girl ; the moment he saw her he had 
 recognised her value. It was at Bar Harbor, 
 early in the season, just as he was about to 
 leave because he found it dull, barren of mate- 
 rial ; but there he had had so many obstacles 
 to contend with, so many distractions. Here
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 5 
 
 it would be different ; there were evidently 
 few people at the hotel ; the men, of course, 
 went to business in Boston every day. He 
 should have her all to himself. 
 
 He knew he was doing the eccentric thing, 
 but he had done it so successfully before that 
 he felt no hesitancy now. Besides, he could 
 afford to be eccentric. With him literature was 
 a game as much of a game, though in a differ- 
 ent way, as it was to his friend Mrs. Follett Ladd, 
 who pretended to be literary, and surrounded 
 herself with writers, because, as she said, they 
 "amused" her. Mrs. Ladd was rich, and she 
 wanted to write, but she couldn't. Harrington 
 Boyd was rich, and he had always determined 
 to write ; he knew that his literary gifts were 
 few, but he had read somewhere that by per- 
 sistent endeavour one might become an author. 
 'So at Columbia he had worked, to the amuse- 
 ment of his friends, who never suspected his 
 motive ; then he passed three years in Paris, 
 studying the methods of the French short-story 
 writers. On his return to New York he gravely 
 announced that he was about to begin a literary 
 career. His father, who was himself in good 
 practice, had hoped to make a lawyer of him, 
 but his mother was pleased that he had turned
 
 6 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 in disgust from the musty law books she had 
 always been jealous of. 
 
 For a year after his return nothing appeared 
 from his pen ; but it was generally understood 
 that he was about to do something fine. Mrs. 
 Follett Ladd proclaimed her faith in him at 
 many a ball and afternoon tea. It was re- 
 ported that Mrs. Ladd had advised him to "cut 
 up society." In his first published story he did 
 cut up society mercilessly. It had been ex- 
 tensively advertised ; he himself had been 
 boomed as the young society man who was en- 
 tering literature, apparently to help it along ; 
 and when the narrative appeared it was talked 
 of for a week, and Harrington Boyd was made. 
 It was a curious instance of extrinsic success, 
 for the work itself was tawdry, imitative, and 
 feeble in character-drawing. Harrington Boyd's 
 cynicism passed for wit, his stilted English for 
 style, his misinterpretation of motive for sub- 
 tle analysis. Women praised him so much 
 that he ignored what impartial critics said of 
 him ; so he made no effort to correct his 
 faults. His short stories were collected in vol- 
 umes, and his first novel, made of material 
 gleaned at Bar Harbor, was so cynical and 
 pitiless in its dissection of a girl's character
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 7 
 
 displayed in a love affair that it created a sen- 
 sation. 
 
 It was of Bar Harbor that he was thinking 
 when he decided to remain in Hull; he had a 
 delightfully complacent feeling at the thought 
 of possibly repeating his experience there. 
 That had been one of the things worth living 
 for. But to Bar Harbor he had gone deliber- 
 ately, at the suggestion of Mrs. Follett Ladd, 
 who lived there and had urged him to come. 
 This little place, however, would have the charm 
 of the unexpected ; it reminded him of towns in 
 Europe where he had stayed for weeks, simply 
 because they pleased him. As he sauntered 
 into the office of the hotel to engage a room 
 and to send a telephone message to Boston for 
 his traps, he smiled at the thought of the pros- 
 pect.
 
 II. 
 
 PEOPLE who met Dorothea Wayne mar- 
 velled when they heard that she lived in Os- 
 wego. " But she's probably been abroad a 
 good deal," they said, in justification of their 
 judgment. When they were told she had never 
 been abroad, they fell back on New York, 
 which serves to explain so many mysteries. 
 No, she had never lived in New York. Her 
 manner was not a fashionable boarding-school 
 acquirement; it was simply the expression of 
 herself. 
 
 Any one could see she was a fine creature. 
 She showed that in her face, in her regular 
 features, her large, dark eyes with long lashes, 
 in her graceful figure, her splendid carriage. 
 Aleck French, the young Oswego illustrator, 
 had introduced her in so many of his drawings 
 for the pictorial weeklies that he was often ac- 
 cused of being limited in types. Perhaps this 
 was why she had urged him to go to Paris,
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. g 
 
 where he might work out of the rut he had 
 fallen into, and incidentally learn to paint. She 
 was always planning for others. Her friends, 
 when asked about her, used to declare that this 
 was why she hadn't done more for herself. 
 They were also likely to make invidious refer- 
 ence to the girl's invalid mother, who, they 
 said, "dragged her down." 
 
 Of course, Dorothea ought to have married 
 long before she reached her twenty-eighth year. 
 Yes, she was only twenty-eight, though she 
 might be mistaken for a perfectly preserved 
 woman of thirty-five. She might pose as a 
 tragic figure ; yet the expression of her face 
 was usually gentle. Her disposition was gentle 
 enough that is, those who knew her liked to 
 assert this about her. Those who didn't know 
 her were afraid of her. She was too stately 
 for the ordinary uses of social life. One never 
 could deal in badinage with her ; she would 
 open wide her eyes at the first jest, and the 
 trifler would experience a spiritual collapse. It 
 was wonderful, the effect she could produce by 
 opening her eyes. 
 
 To Oswego she was a blessing ; she pro- 
 vided it with a topic. Her father had been in 
 business there for many years. When he died
 
 I0 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Dorothea was twenty, and preparing to go 
 abroad with him. People expected her to go 
 just the same, and to take her mother in her 
 father's place ; but she stayed at home and took 
 lessons in sketching from Aleck French. Her 
 mother was too frail to travel. Besides, Mrs. 
 Wayne loved Osvvego, where she had lived her 
 long romance, with the selfishness of people 
 who cling to the memory of happiness ; so she 
 bound her daughter to wearisome associations. 
 
 Oswego expected Dorothea Wayne to mar- 
 ry Aleck French. Aleck's father was rich, and. 
 Aleck had made a reputation and an income by 
 his illustrations. When it was discovered that 
 he was going to Paris, Oswego prepared itself 
 for the announcement of the engagement. 
 Since then two years had passed, and Oswego 
 still waited. It was vexing. Dorothea never 
 explained whether she had refused him before 
 he sailed, or whether she had accepted him since 
 his success with his first Salon picture. As for 
 Mrs. Wayne, she would have been glad to ex- 
 plain if she could ; but her fondness for explain- 
 ing had silenced her daughter many years be- 
 fore. At times Dorothea's silence in her moth- 
 er's presence was positively dramatic. It used 
 to. appal the faded widow, whose chief pleasure
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. H 
 
 consisted in the minute discussion of the affairs 
 of her family and her neighbours. 
 
 Indeed, for all her virtues Dorothea was a 
 great trial to her mother. If she would only 
 rebel against Fate, the widow used to say to 
 her little circle of Oswego matrons, if she 
 would only speak out now and then, she would 
 be far less wearing on the nerves ; but there 
 was something dreadful in her passive acquies- 
 cence, in her tragic serenity. To her intimates 
 Mrs. Wayne used to whisper that Dorothea had 
 treated Aleck French shamefully. She still 
 corresponded with him, however ; she herself 
 had never read any of his letters, but they were 
 frequent, and from the appearance of the en- 
 velope she knew they were long. If Dorothea 
 didn't care for Aleck French, then she cared 
 for no one else in the world. He was the only 
 man she hadn't treated with an icy reserve. 
 What could the girl be thinking of throwing 
 her youth away? With her beauty and her 
 presence she might aspire to anything. Mrs. 
 Wayne was always referring to her daughter's 
 "presence," an inheritance from paternal an- 
 cestors. 
 
 As for Dorothea herself, she knew of the 
 agitation that she caused her mother, but she
 
 12 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 tried to regard it philosophically. When her 
 father died, she lost the companion of her life. 
 They were like two comrades; they read the 
 same books, thought many of the same thoughts, 
 understood and sympathized with each other. 
 For many years Mrs. Wayne had been to her 
 husband only a clinging dependency ; but this 
 she never realized ; so she was saved from that 
 most cruel of emotions, maternal jealousy. He 
 treated her with as much consideration as a 
 mother treats a sick child, and his example had 
 stimulated his daughter to do likewise. 
 
 So Dorothea sacrificed her ambitions, dwelt 
 in Oswego, and pursued her studies. She went 
 deep into history and art and literature. For a 
 year after her father's death she tried writing ; 
 he had often urged her to write, but she had 
 held off from the attempt through sheer doubt 
 of her capacity. At first she threw herself into 
 the work with a passionate vehemence ; but her 
 essays and her stories came persistently back 
 from the editors, and she finally burned them 
 all and closed a chapter in her life. It was a 
 disappointment ; but she had too much good 
 sense to brood over it, and she went at her read- 
 ing and her sketching harder than ever. 
 
 It was then that her intimacy with Aleck
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 13 
 
 French began. She had known him as a boy, 
 but they had seen little of each other during his 
 four years at Cornell, where his father had sent 
 him with the hope of curing him of his fond- 
 ness for art. After graduation, however, Aleck 
 came home and devoted himself to drawing 
 more assiduously than he had done before. It 
 was his struggle with his father and his hatred 
 of Oswego that first interested Dorothea in him. 
 When, after two years, his work found accept- 
 ance, and his father acquiesced in his choice of 
 a profession, and he might have gone to New 
 York, he preferred to remain in Oswego. Of 
 course the Oswego people knew why ; he made 
 no secret of his infatuation. They didn't know, 
 however, why he left for Paris so cheerfully. 
 No one but himself and one other person knew 
 that Dorothea Wayne had promised to tell him 
 at the end of two years whether she could care 
 for him enough to marry him. He had made 
 up his mind to win her by hard work, and he 
 asked nothing more than the chance of making 
 himself worthy of her. There was something 
 almost touching in his devotion ; she felt that, 
 but she was afraid of the feeling ; it was too fra- 
 gile a foundation for a life union. 
 
 Dorothea Wayne had very definite ideas
 
 I4 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 about marriage far more definite than her ideas 
 about life in general. She had loved her father 
 so intensely that she . never dared to speak of 
 him, and she was always gauging other men by 
 him. There were qualities in Aleck French 
 that she admired : his devotion to his work, his 
 freedom from vulgarity, his almost childlike 
 truth, his rugged simplicity. Sometimes, how- 
 ever, this very simplicity disturbed her ; she 
 would have liked a little guile. His lack of 
 polish his hands were big, his shoulders 
 drooped, and when he walked he slouched 
 seemed so inconsistent with his genuine feeling 
 for art and his skill in delineating the finer 
 phases of life. Then, too, there were times when 
 fearful silences would rise up between them, 
 when her mind would go into worlds where he 
 couldn't follow. In spite of his training at col- 
 lege, he cared little for books, and his knowl- 
 edge of the history of art and of art-theories was 
 shockingly meagre. She had hoped that Paris 
 would give him polish ; but his letters showed 
 that he was still very American, still simple, as 
 he had always been. Sometimes, however, this 
 pleased her ; if she had found in him the change 
 she was always looking for she would have been 
 displeased.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. !j 
 
 In September the two years would be over. 
 As the time approached Dorothea grew more 
 and more nervous. Her mother, too, suffered 
 an increase in her ailments, and the doctor pre- 
 scribed sea air in a quiet spot on the New Eng- 
 land coast. Dorothea at once thought of Bos- 
 ton. Her father had lived there for the first 
 twenty years of his life and had always loved it. 
 They could find the quiet spot near the city. At 
 any rate, they might look for one, and, if they 
 couldn't find what they wanted, they might try 
 the Maine coast. Perhaps the Griffins, Mrs. 
 Wayne's kindred, who lived in Brookline, 
 could tell them of a place. Mrs. Griffin took 
 them in for a season and then sent them down 
 to Hull. The place pleased Dorothea ; she 
 would have time to think there, and she could 
 be alone. So, early in July they engaged rooms 
 at the Pemberton for the rest of the summer. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne found a few old ladies with 
 whom she could gossip and discuss her daugh- 
 ter's peculiarities, and explain how marvellously 
 she resembled her father. Dorothea devoted 
 herself to reading and to long walks along the 
 beach toward Nantasket, and to exploring the 
 picturesque spots in the little town of Hull. 
 She often sat for hours on the beach, looking
 
 !6 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 out on the sea toward Boston Light, thinking-. 
 It seemed hideous to her that she should be 
 obliged to decide her future in so cold-blooded 
 a way. A thousand times she told herself that, 
 in spite of his crudeness, she liked Aleck 
 French ; then she was obliged to acknowledge 
 that she could live without him, that even if he 
 were taken out of her life she should still be 
 interested in the world. Ah ! that was the pity 
 of it ; things appealed to her mind rather than 
 her heart. 
 
 Sometimes she wondered if she could really 
 love any one. Then she thought of her father, 
 and realized that she did have some feeling ; 
 but her love for him was as much the love that 
 comes from congenial companionship as the nat- 
 ural affection of child for parent. There were 
 moments when she felt as if her emotions had 
 gone to sleep, as if something ought to happen 
 to wake them up. Whenever she reached this 
 conclusion she laughed, and jumped from her 
 seat and walked vigorously. She had been 
 walking vigorously the day that Harrington 
 Boyd saw her sauntering along the hotel piazza..
 
 III. 
 
 I 
 
 IT was the second week of September, yet 
 Harrington Boyd was still in Hull. His New 
 York friends, most of whom had gone to Lenox 
 or Stockbridge or Tuxedo, were wondering 
 what had become of him. Mrs. Follett Ladd 
 hadn't heard from him since his flight from the 
 Norths six weeks before ; but she intimated 
 slyly to her friends that she knew all about 
 him ; he was producing a wonderful piece of 
 work in his hiding place. Secretly she was 
 vexed ; of course, she knew he was having an- 
 other "experience." He had kept her informed 
 of the progress of the Bar Harbor episode, and 
 afterward, in New York, she had called and 
 " pumped " the girl, as she said in her elegant 
 phraseology. Since his first literary success she 
 had regarded him as her property ; she liked 
 people to think that she was responsible for 
 him, that she had really made him. Harring- 
 ton Boyd knew of this ambition, and it tic- 
 
 17
 
 jg THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 kled his vanity ; it was a precious tribute to his 
 power. 
 
 Boyd's six weeks at Hull had interested 
 him ; yet the experience was different from 
 what he had expected. In the first place, he 
 found it surprisingly difficult to make acquaint- 
 ance with the beauty who had bound him to 
 the spot. Dorothea Wayne manifested a baf- 
 fling desire to be let alone ; but he persisted and 
 he was rewarded, for she proved to be all he 
 had hoped of her and more. 
 
 She seemed to him a unique and deliciously 
 paradoxical combination of qualities. A wom- 
 an of the world, she had the ideals of a school- 
 girl ; yet, in spite of her romances, he felt sure 
 she had never been in love. He called her a 
 " modern Galatea," and he thought seriously 
 of writing a novel about her with this term for 
 title. When she frankly confessed that she had 
 never seen anything of his, he gave her his 
 books to read, and the incisiveness of her com- 
 ments delighted him. He liked to think of her 
 keen intelligence under the inspiration of love ; 
 he wondered if the result would be an abase- 
 ment or an exaltation. He hardly dared con- 
 fess to himself that he wished to see the queenly 
 figure at his feet ; it would be magnificent to
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ig 
 
 unlock the secrets of that proud heart, to throw 
 open the enchanting realms of emotion to that 
 cold perfection. 
 
 During the morning hours he worked ; they 
 read together in the afternoon, and in the even- 
 ing they roamed the beach. Of course, the 
 other boarders in the house had them engaged 
 in a week, and Mrs. Wayne spent many happy 
 hours in denying the report. She did her best 
 to conceal from her daughter her delight at the 
 possibility of an engagement ; she knew it would 
 lead to an immediate renewal of the Oswego 
 life, which for the moment had lost charm for 
 her. 
 
 It may have been that Dorothea was too 
 unsophisticated to be conscious of the gossip ; 
 at any rate, she betrayed no suspicion of it. 
 She would have been willing to stay on in Hull 
 for another month if the cold weather hadn't 
 driven her mother into a bundle of shawls, and 
 warned her that summer was over. So one 
 frigid Tuesday they decided to leave on the fol- 
 lowing Saturday. 
 
 On Thursday the fickle September weather 
 changed ; Mrs. Wayne emerged from her shawls, 
 and Dorothea was almost persuaded that July 
 had returned. The night before their depart-
 
 2Q THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 ure, while her mother was absorbed in packing 
 her belonging's, Dorothea walked with Harring- 
 ton Boyd along the beach and up the steep 
 Telegraph Hill that looked out on the harbour, 
 twinkling with lights from the opposite shore. 
 The evening was warm from the day's heat, but 
 a cool breeze blew across the hill. For a few 
 moments they sat in silence on the greensward ; 
 Harrington Boyd began to beat the grass gently 
 with his heavy stick. 
 
 " How pleasant it is to sit here ! This is a 
 fine place. It's hard to find the country and the 
 seashore combined, isn't it?" 
 
 She nodded, and he went on : 
 
 " You get just a touch of the country here, 
 and it makes a contrast with the sea. When I 
 go to the country I always miss the sea, and 
 when I go to the sea I grow tired of that, too. 
 I'm not easy to satisfy, I suppose." 
 
 " One always tires of monotony," she replied, 
 looking out across the harbour. 
 
 " But you don't find life monotonous, do 
 you?' 
 
 "Oh, no!" 
 
 " It seems to me I never knew any one so full 
 of life as you are." 
 
 She made no reply.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 21 
 
 " Yet you're restful, too. You seem to me 
 like Imogen, in my first long- story, you know. 
 Imogen was just the creation of my imagination, 
 an ideal. Now I don't dare trust my hand at 
 anything but realities." 
 
 " You mean that you study real people and 
 put them into your books ? " she asked, without 
 turning her head. 
 
 " Well, not exactly, and yet that's practically 
 what I mean. I seldom take a character from 
 life and work it into a story without changing it. 
 I did do that, however, in the case of Tom Weath- 
 erby in Fashionable Folly, and Mabel Granger in 
 Dishonour was as nearly like a girl I met at Bar 
 Harbor three summers ago as I could make her." 
 
 "How did she take it?" 
 
 " Oh, that was funny. She didn't take it at 
 all. I mean she didn't catch on ; she never sus- 
 pected she had sat for the character. In fact, 
 she abused it to Mrs. Follett Ladd. I had asked 
 Mrs. Ladd to call on her while she was in New 
 York." 
 
 " How flattering ! " 
 
 " Yes, wasn't it? But I remembered the old 
 proverb about seeing ourselves, you know." 
 
 " Did you write the story while you were 
 there at Bar Harbor?"
 
 22 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I wrote it when I got back to 
 New York. I didn't write that summer, but I 
 took notes, oceans of notes ; I'm an inveterate 
 note-taker. Some day I'll show you my note- 
 book. I've got piles of them." 
 
 " And when the story was published you 
 sent it to her, and she wrote to you about it ? " 
 
 " Exactly. And an awful raking she gave 
 it, too. By Jove, how she did go for it ! She 
 even called names. She said it was vulgar 
 that the tone was vulgar. Mrs. Ladd told me 
 all about it." 
 
 " What did she say about Mabel Granger? 
 
 "In her letter, do you mean? She devoted 
 several pages to Mabel. It was very funny. I 
 thought the character would make her mad, 
 but it didn't ; it seemed to pain her. That was 
 about as good. The thing for a novelist to do 
 is to arouse some emotion, it doesn't matter 
 what. She said I hadn't been fair in my analy- 
 sis of Mabel, that I had put the interpretation of 
 a cynical man of the world on the actions and 
 character of a fine womanly nature some such 
 phrase as that, like an amateurish book review." 
 
 " Poor girl ! " she said. 
 
 "Poor?" he repeated, with a laugh. "Far 
 from it. She isn't in need of sympathy. She
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 23 
 
 can 'take care of herself. Besides, she's married 
 now. She's done just as my Mabel did. She 
 gave up her silly ideals, and instead of marry- 
 ing a poet, or a painter, or a Salvation Army 
 captain, she accepted a good, sensible business 
 man; he's in the iron business, I think. She 
 sent me cards." i 
 
 " The Mabel in your book wouldn't have 
 sent the cards," she said quickly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, she would. It would have been 
 revenge." 
 
 She turned her face toward him. " Then 
 you gave her reason to want revenge ? " 
 
 "Aren't you mixing the two Mabels up?" 
 he asked with a little smile. 
 
 Their eyes met, and she dropped hers. 
 
 " Perhaps I am," she replied. " But I 
 thought your Mabel was taken from life." 
 
 " So she was, but 'the circumstances were 
 different. Besides, I didn't mean to draw my- 
 self when I drew Austin Cobb. He was a 
 beast," 
 
 " Any man is who trifles with a girl's affec- 
 tions." 
 
 " A girl's affections ! " he said mockingly. 
 " It's hard to find out what they are. I some- 
 times think girls have substitutes for their affec-
 
 24 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 tions mere shams that they bring out for 
 everyday use." 
 
 " Then you think Mabel Granger s affections 
 weren't real ? " 
 
 " Which Mabel, my Mabel or the Bar Har- 
 bor Mabel? You see, you've confused them in 
 my mind." 
 
 " It doesn't make any difference, does it ? 
 Their affections were the same. Their only 
 difference was in their surroundings." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course. Do you know you 
 make me think my Mabel must have been aw- 
 fully real? It's very flattering." 
 
 " Oh, she's real enough too real. I've 
 thought about her a great deal. But you haven't 
 answered my question about Mabels affections." 
 
 " Oh, they were sham, pure sham." 
 
 " Ah ! " Then, after a moment, she said, 
 " And didn't she have any real ones ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes; but she kept them down. In my 
 story she makes herself ill over that miserable 
 Cobb. But that was because he had taken ad- 
 vantage, led her on, you know, just for the fun 
 of the thing. But he was a bungler. The Bar 
 Harbor Mabel got over her shams, her painted 
 ideals, poor girl ! She's given her real affections 
 to her iron merchant."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 25 
 
 " But didn't she have any Cobb ? " 
 
 " She had plenty of admirers scores from 
 the little college boys off on their vacations to 
 literary bachelors like myself. She was a great 
 flirt." 
 
 " Was she? I didn't think so." 
 
 " At heart, at heart, she was a flirt. She 
 played a deep game." 
 
 She made a motion to rise. 
 
 " Do you know," he said quickly, " this has 
 been the pleasantest and the most unsatisfactory 
 summer of my life ? " 
 
 " The most unsatisfactory ? " 
 
 " The most incomplete. It has ended too 
 abruptly like a story that isn't properly devel- 
 oped. I want another month of it." 
 
 " Oh for more observations?" 
 
 " Another month with you, I mean. I 
 haven't seen enough of you. You're going 
 away too soon." 
 
 " You mean that my departure is inartistic ? 
 I'm sorry. But you must forgive me. You 
 know I only live in Oswego." 
 
 " You could live anywhere, for that matter. 
 You belong to the world." 
 
 " I'm afraid you're trying to make amends at 
 the last moment for chaffing me about my little
 
 26 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 town," said Dorothea, with a faint smile that his 
 sharp eyes detected in spite of the darkness. 
 
 " Not in the least. I love your little town. 
 It must be a paradise." 
 
 " If you keep on you'll spoil your profes- 
 sional reputation." 
 
 " You are chaffing me now. But we shall 
 meet this winter in New York." 
 
 " I'm afraid not," she replied. 
 
 " What ! Why, you told me' you were com- 
 ing, and we've been talking about it all sum- 
 mer." 
 
 " I've changed my mind." 
 
 " Changed your mind ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And yet you tell me this as if you thought 
 I didn't care." 
 
 " Why should I think you did care?" Her 
 voice was so low that, but for the distinctness of 
 her speech, he would not have been able to hear 
 the words. 
 
 " Because I have given you every reason to 
 think so," he answered, warmly. 
 
 " You gave Mabel Granger every reason to 
 think you wanted to see her again." 
 
 " Mabel Granger ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I think you understand what I mean."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 2 / 
 
 "I am sure I do not." 
 
 " Then I'm afraid you lack some of those 
 intuitions you spoke of a little while ago." 
 
 There was a curious little upward inflection 
 of her voice that he could not interpret. 
 
 " I wish you'd explain what you do mean." 
 
 " I mean that by your own confession you 
 have -drawn Mabel Granger from life, and you 
 couldn't have described her as you have unless 
 you yourself played the part that Austin Cobb 
 played." 
 
 " In other words," he said slowly, turning to 
 her, "you think that I am Austin Cobb" 
 
 " I don't say that. But I do say that many 
 of your traits are Austin CobVs traits, and your 
 attitude toward women is exactly like his." 
 
 " Miss Wayne," he cried, " you " 
 
 She went on as if she hadn't heard him : 
 " I know you think a woman is too dull to 
 see into the working of a clever man's mind. 
 But I saw how you had insinuated yourself into 
 that girl's confidence because she admired you, 
 and how she told you her poor little ideas about 
 life. And you made game of her for your own 
 glory." 
 
 He sprang to his feet. 
 
 " You are unjust to me, Miss Wayne ! "
 
 28 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 She rose, too, and they stood facing each 
 other on the top of the hill. 
 
 " I should be unjust," she replied, quietly, 
 " if I said these things thoughtlessly. But you 
 yourself have given me a thousand proofs of 
 them ever since I've known you, by what you 
 have said, by your attitude toward me, and to- 
 ward all women, for that matter." 
 
 " Oh, you're too severe," he said, trying to 
 turn the scene into a jest. " You really are." 
 
 " If I have misjudged you, I " 
 
 " I know you mean to be just, and I admire 
 you for it. You have never seemed to me so 
 fine as you are now. You almost make me 
 doubt my principles." 
 
 " Your principles ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have principles, though you appar- 
 ently don't believe in them. And I have feel- 
 ings, too. Oh, I know what you think of me. 
 You've made the old mistake of confusing me 
 with the characters I've created. You forget 
 that I try to reproduce life as I see it. If the 
 world isn't good, I'm not to blame. I didn't 
 make it." 
 
 " The world is good enough. It's your 
 point of view I object to." 
 
 " My point of view ? "
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 29 
 
 " Yes, your way of looking at things of 
 looking at women." 
 
 " I hope my way of looking at one woman 
 doesn't displease you, and it doesn't change in 
 spite of her indifference to me or in spite of her 
 misinterpretation of my character." 
 
 " You are magnanimous," she said, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " No, I'm not. I'm just human and sincere, 
 and I'm going to prove it. I didn't intend to 
 speak I confess that. I didn't know myself 
 I didn't know you till a moment ago. And 
 now all you say makes me see how precious 
 you are to me and how cruel it is that you 
 should misjudge me. The thought that you 
 may pass out of my life makes it seem worth- 
 less. I can't let you go that way. I can't let 
 you go without an understanding." 
 
 " I think I understand you." 
 
 " You don't understand that I love you," he 
 cried, vehemently, " or you wouldn't talk to me 
 as you've just done." 
 
 " I'm sorry you have said that. But let us 
 go back to the hotel and forget all about it." 
 
 " Forget all about it ? Is that the way you 
 treat a man who offers you all he has ? Yet 
 you talk of women's hearts." 
 
 3
 
 30 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " It's because I am a woman that I want to 
 spare you.- But you mustn't offer me anything. 
 It's impossible." 
 
 " Why is it impossible ? " 
 
 " Because it is." 
 
 " That means you care for some one else, 
 doesn't it ? " 
 
 For a moment she was silent. Then she re- 
 plied, " Perhaps." 
 
 He looked at her without speaking as she 
 stood silhouetted against the darkness. 
 
 " Are you engaged ? " he said at last. 
 
 She met his look frankly. " Yes." 
 
 " May I ask who it is ? Is that a secret, 
 too ? " 
 
 " His name is Alexander French." 
 
 " French, the painter ? The man that got a 
 medal over in Paris last spring ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I should like to congratulate him," he said 
 slowly. 
 
 " We really must go back to the hotel."
 
 IV. 
 
 AFTERWARD Dorothea wondered how she 
 had reached the hotel that night. She remem- 
 bered that as soon as her first sense of elation 
 had passed she was ashamed of it now she 
 became so embarrassed that she could hardly 
 reply to 'Harrington Boyd's remarks. These 
 were few enough ; his commonplaces seemed to 
 have deserted him. As they stepped on the 
 piazza, she saw her mother conversing busily 
 with her group of matrons, all of whom cast 
 glances at herself and Harrington Boyd. Her 
 suspicions were confirmed when the invalid fol- 
 lowed her at once to her room. 
 
 " Well, have you accepted him ? " 
 
 Dorothea turned and glanced at her mother. 
 Her vigorous form towered above the frail fig- 
 ure ; her face was pale, she had never looked 
 more stately, and the invalid inwardly quailed. 
 
 " Accepted him ? What do you mean, 
 mother? " 
 
 31
 
 32 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Boyd. I could tell from your 
 looks that something had happened." 
 
 " I have accepted Aleck French, mother," 
 said Dorothea, turning away and lifting her 
 arms to unpin her hat. 
 
 " Aleck French ! " Mrs. Wayne wailed. 
 The wail was due simply to her disappoint- 
 ment, not to any objection in her mind to 
 Aleck French. She had always liked Aleck, 
 and the little confidences between them about 
 Dorothea had strengthened the liking. But 
 Harrington Boyd's fame and social position 
 and his reputed wealth had dazzled her ; he, of 
 all the men she knew, could provide the most 
 suitable niche for her statuesque daughter. 
 Besides, the matrons on the piazza were at 
 this moment waiting for her to reappear and 
 announce the engagement ; they would natu- 
 rally resent their disappointment, and they 
 would be shocked to hear that Dorothea was 
 engaged to some one else. Of course, they 
 knew all about Aleck French, for Mrs. Wayne 
 never wearied of revealing to sympathetic lis- 
 teners the ardour of his devotion. They would 
 think it strange that a mother should know so 
 little about her child's most vital relations ; it 
 would be a distinct reflection on herself.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 33 
 
 These considerations flashed through Mrs. 
 Wayne's mind as she confronted the shapely 
 outlines of her daughter's back. In contrast 
 with the girl's poise she seemed particularly 
 helpless. She wanted to ask a multitude of 
 questions, but the seething tumult of her 
 thoughts formulated itself into one only. 
 
 "When did you accept him?" she finally 
 asked, with a curious mixture of curiosity and 
 despair in her face and tone. 
 
 " To-day, mother ; I accepted him to-day," 
 Dorothea replied in the patient manner of one 
 answering the question of a child. She was un- 
 conscious of this manner toward her mother ; if 
 she had known of it, she would have changed 
 it. It was the insidious expression of years of 
 repressed vexation. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne wanted to ask about Harring- 
 ton Boyd, but that tone made her nervous and 
 she forbore. She couldn't resist the tempta- 
 tion, however, to beat about the bush. With 
 Dorothea she was always doing this, to the 
 added annoyance of the girl, who hated dodg- 
 ing. In spite of their love, mother and daugh- 
 ter were a great trial to each other. 
 
 <( Have you said good-bye to Mr. Boyd ? " 
 the invalid asked.
 
 24 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Yes," Dorothea replied, twisting a curl be- 
 fore the mirror, and wishing that her face didn't 
 look so flushed. The word had dropped me- 
 chanically from her lips, and she realized only 
 after she spoke that it was not true. But she 
 did not feel bound to recall it ; with her mother 
 she often relaxed her rigid moral code. 
 
 " Some of the ladies think he's in love with 
 you," Mrs. Wayne ventured, standing stock-still 
 in the middle of the room with the pained look 
 in her face. She had not as yet accustomed 
 herself to Aleck French's new relation, and she 
 was groping after a readjustment. 
 
 " I don't believe that he could be in love 
 with any one," said Dorothea carelessly, taking 
 up a brush from the bureau and deftly touching 
 her hair with it. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne turned away with a sigh at the 
 realization that she could get nothing from the 
 girl at that moment; but she consoled herself 
 with the thought that she would resume the 
 attack later. At the door, however, she 
 asked, "When did you accept Aleck?" for- 
 getting that the question had already been 
 answered. 
 
 " To-day, mother." 
 
 The invalid walked back into the middle of
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 35 
 
 the room, and the look of pain in her eyes 
 deepened. 
 
 " To-day ? " she said once more. 
 
 " Yes, mother," Dorothea replied quietly, 
 still trifling with her hair. " When he went 
 away I promised to give him an answer in two 
 years. The two years were up several weeks 
 ago." 
 
 " Ah ! " Those weeks opened a vista to 
 Mrs. Wayne's romantic mind. Now she could 
 interpret the girl's strange conduct to the 
 matrons. She cast one of her helpless glances 
 at her daughter, passed over her lips the lace 
 handkerchief that she always carried in her 
 belt, and started to say something. Then she 
 changed her mind, and went out of the room, 
 closing the door softly behind her. 
 
 Dorothea sat on the edge of the bed and 
 remained there for a long time. She reviewed 
 her conduct of the evening, and in the calm of 
 her new mood she regretted the tone she had 
 taken with Harrington Boyd. She recalled his 
 remark about the novelist's arousing some emo- 
 tion, no matter what it was. It was a poor sat- 
 isfaction for her to know that she had aroused 
 emotion in him. She had turned the tables on 
 him for the time, but he would turn them back
 
 36 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 on her by converting her silly little harangue 
 into material for one of his stories. Even if she 
 had in a sense avenged Mabel Granger, she was 
 still his victim. Then she saw the humorous 
 aspect of the situation, and she smiled in spite 
 of her misery ; for the complications of the day 
 made her feel miserable, though she had hoped 
 by her decisive action of the morning to put an 
 end to her agitations. 
 
 Then her thoughts turned to Aleck French, 
 and she blamed herself for having broken faith 
 with him. He had expected her decision to 
 reach him in Paris by the ist of September; 
 but he would not receive it at the earliest be- 
 fore the 5th or 6th of October. So for nearly 
 five weeks he would be obliged to wait to 
 hear from her, for in trying finally to make up 
 her mind what to say she hadn't written to 
 him at all. He might interpret her failure to 
 write as a sign that their relations were at an 
 end ; in love affairs silence must often mean dis- 
 sent. However, it was pleasing to think of his 
 joy when at last he should receive her letter. 
 
 It was after ten o'clock when her mother 
 returned to the room. Her busy manner con- 
 vinced Dorothea that she had in mind a new 
 plan. Indeed, Mrs. Wayne was greatly exhila-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 37 
 
 rated by the interest and sympathy she had 
 aroused in the matrons at the hotel. When 
 they learned that Dorothea was not engaged to 
 Harrington Boyd, the ladies, in delicious bursts 
 of frankness, all confessed that they considered 
 him a prig. This unanimous opinion complete- 
 ly restored Aleck to Mrs. Wayne's favour, and 
 now she regarded her daughter's escape from 
 the novelist as the interposition of Providence. 
 Moreover, she had made arrangements to cor- 
 respond with three of the matrons. In spite of 
 her illness she maintained an extensive corre- 
 spondence among others, with people whom 
 she had seen for a few days only, but in whose 
 personal affairs she took a large, an almost 
 impassioned interest. 
 
 " The expressman will be here at a quarter 
 of eight, mother," said Dorothea, who always 
 attended to the details of their travelling, " and 
 we must be up at seven to leave by the early 
 boat." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne hesitated a moment, apparently 
 because she had not courage enough to plunge 
 at once into what she was about to say. Then 
 she blurted : 
 
 " I've changed my mind. I don't want to 
 go back to Oswego to-morrow."
 
 38 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Dorothea turned and looked at her in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Do you mean that you want to stay here, 
 mother ? " 
 
 " No, I don't," the invalid replied, with un- 
 wonted energy. " Mrs. Holbrook has invited 
 us to spend a few days in Brookline with her. 
 She's going to leave to-morrow morning, too. 
 I thought " 
 
 " I can't go to Mrs. Holbrook's, mother." 
 
 " But I promised just now " 
 
 " We hardly know her. It would be an im- 
 position. I've not exchanged ten words with 
 her." 
 
 " Well, that's your own fault," Mrs. Wayne 
 retorted, bridling. " If you're going to be so 
 distant, you can't expect " 
 
 " Of course, if you wish to go to Mrs. Hoi- 
 brook's, you can, mother. I can go home and 
 open the house." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's next remark made Dorothea 
 see that her first speech was only preliminary 
 to another. 
 
 " I don't propose to let you do anything of 
 the kind. If you go to Oswego I shall go, too ; 
 but I don't want to go yet. We see enough of 
 the place in winter. We'll go back to the
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 39 
 
 Griffins for a few days. They'll be glad to 
 have us. Then I can see Mrs. Holbrook." 
 
 " The Griffins don't know her," said Doro- 
 thea significantly. 
 
 " Well, I'll introduce them," Mrs. "Wayne 
 snapped. 
 
 Dorothea had no hesitancy in consenting to 
 the plan. Mrs. Griffin was a distant cousin of 
 her mother's, and the two women were fond of 
 each other ; besides, she liked Tom Griffin, who 
 was in college, and just old enough to be com- 
 panionable. Tom's flippancy and his assumed 
 contempt for girls whom he was continually 
 falling in love with amused her. The Griffins 
 were always prepared for the descent upon 
 them of their kindred, and Oswego rarely both- 
 ered them ; so Dorothea felt sure of a wel- 
 come. She redirected the trunks, and after 
 writing a letter to the housekeeper at home not 
 to expect them for a week or two, she went to 
 bed. There she thought over the Brookline 
 plan, and found it agreeable. She was sur- 
 prised that her mother was not eager to repair 
 to Oswego and enjoy -the felicity of making a 
 personal announcement of the engagement ; 
 now and then, however, the invalid was almost 
 startlingly inconsistent. Her friendship with
 
 40 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Mrs. Holbrook, a stout, well-appointed dowager 
 of sixty, must have been unusually violent to 
 cause the change in her plans. 
 
 The next morning they went to Brookline, 
 where the unexpectedness of their visit won for 
 them a warm welcome. Mrs. Wayne had not 
 been in the house five minutes when the whole 
 family knew that Dorothea was engaged, and 
 half-stifled her with kisses. She wondered why 
 these tributes of affection depressed her, and 
 why they made her visit resentment on Aleck 
 French. Then, as days passed and she heard 
 nothing from him, her resentment increased. 
 His last letter had reached her late in August ; 
 he had probably not written during September 
 while waiting for her decision. He might have 
 shown a little ardour. Then she had moments 
 when she blamed herself for blaming him. As 
 if he had not shown ardour enough already ! 
 In her most generous moods she felt humiliated 
 at the thought of her own unworthiness of such 
 homage as he paid her. His patience, which at 
 first had seemed to her commonplace, then took 
 on an almost sublime aspect. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne had planned to spend just a 
 week at the Griffins', but she was beguiled into 
 prolonging it into two. At^ the end of the first
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 41 
 
 week she tired of Mrs. Holbrook, who dis- 
 played too great persistence in calling ; perhaps 
 she had been prejudiced against her by the 
 revelation Mrs. Griffin made of her social status 
 in the wealthiest and the most beautiful of Bos- 
 ton's suburbs. At any rate, the friendship lan- 
 guished, as so many friendships made at water- 
 ing places do. Before the second week had 
 passed Mrs. Wayne lapsed into one of her 
 periods of illness, took to her bed, and remained 
 there for a month. This was a trial to Doro- 
 thea, because she feared that it was a trial to 
 the Griffins, which it wasn't ; for Mrs. Griffin 
 was one of those women who love ministering 
 to the sick. Dorothea, however, had a greater 
 trial before her. ; it came in the shape of a letter 
 from Aleck French : 
 
 " MY DEAR DOROTHEA : Your letter made 
 me suffer more than anything that has ever hap- 
 pened to me. It made me realize what a fool I 
 have been, and how terribly I am being pun- 
 ished. You are too good for me, anyway, and 
 now I can see how presumptuous it was for me 
 to think that you could ever be more than a 
 friend to me. It nearly kills me to tell you 
 what I have to tell, and the thought that I am
 
 42 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 causing you unhappiness makes me feel that I 
 am the greatest villain in the world. But I'll 
 try to come out with it like a man, though I 
 know you will despise me as soon as you read 
 this. I can't keep my engagement with you, 
 because I am married already. I married 
 Olympe Deschamps just ten days before your 
 letter reached me. For weeks I waited for a 
 letter from you, and at last I thought it would 
 never come ; that you probably expected me to 
 take your silence for a refusal, because you 
 were too generous to give me pain. I got into 
 a kind of frenzy, and I lost all hope of hearing 
 from you, and one day I married her. I know 
 I deserve your contempt, but I am really not 
 worth even that. Good-bye. You will marry 
 some one who is worthy of you, and that you 
 may be happy will always be the wish of your 
 faithful friend, ALEXANDER FRENCH." 
 
 She was glad she had gone to her own room 
 to read the letter. She hated to show feeling 
 under any circumstances, especially in the pres. 
 ence of others. Her first thought was one of 
 utter humiliation. To have been jilted by a 
 man who had professed such affection for her 
 that, in spite of her doubts, she had been per-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 43 
 
 suaded that she cared for him ! Oh, the shame 
 of it the shame! She bowed her head and 
 covered her face with her hands, as if trying to 
 hide from herself the hot flushes that sent the 
 blood surging in her head. For a few moments 
 she did not move or think ; she felt as if she 
 were suffering from a paralysis. Then she tried 
 to shake off the feeling, and rose from the chair 
 and began to walk up and down in the little 
 apartment. Her mortification speedily turned 
 to indignation, and she felt a resentment 
 against Aleck French that she had never sup- 
 posed herself capable of feeling toward any one. 
 Thoughts, suspicions, that in another mood 
 would have shamed her, shot through her 
 mind. He had been guilty of the most con- 
 temptible double-dealing with her, perhaps 
 from the very beginning. While he was writ- 
 ing those letters from Paris, full of love and hu- 
 mility, he was devoting himself to that other 
 woman ! Oh, the coward, the traitor ! 
 
 It was not until she had considered the matter 
 in all its bearings that she realized how utterly 
 beneath herself she had always considered him. 
 Now she saw that her interest in him had been 
 largely one of pity, and sprang from a desire to 
 help an inferior; this was why she had mis-
 
 44 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 trusted herself, why she had held off so long 
 from the formal engagement. She was being 
 punished. Perhaps she deserved it; perhaps 
 such pride as hers needed the lesson. But it 
 was very hard that the lesson should come from 
 him. In the illumination which the shock gave 
 her she saw what a mistake she had made, and 
 she tried to escape from the consciousness of 
 her own abasement by censuring herself. Then 
 it flashed upon her that if she had not been 
 bound to Aleck French until she wrote the let- 
 ter accepting him, he had not been bound to her. 
 But this technical escape from blame only made 
 her visit her resentment on him again. She 
 dreaded giving way to an explosion of tears, 
 yet when she thought of the possibility this 
 was just what she did do, and for half an hour 
 she lay on the bed, sobbing convulsively.
 
 V. 
 
 THE tears did her good, and when the at- 
 tack subsided, Dorothea felt equal to meeting 
 her mother. She would tell her at once that 
 the engagement was broken, and she would say 
 nothing of Aleck's marriage. About the second 
 point she hesitated before making her decision ; 
 concealment involved deceit, but she conceded 
 the deceit to her pride ; to that she believed she 
 owed some consideration. When she looked at 
 herself in the glass, however, she saw that her 
 eyes were red and swollen. Even when she 
 had deluged them with hot water, they betrayed 
 her. So she decided to steal out and to take a 
 long walk ; by the time she returned she would 
 look like herself again and be able to face her 
 mother's scrutiny. 
 
 She walked for miles, far out into the coun- 
 try, hardly daring to allow herself to think, and 
 hoping to bring on a healthy fatigue that would 
 make her sleep that night. When she returned 
 4
 
 46 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 it was nearly dinner time, and as she hurried 
 up the stairs to her mother's room she was in a 
 tumult of emotions; but she hid all outward ex- 
 pression of her feelings beneath her habitual 
 reserve of manner. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne was sitting up in bed, reading a 
 novel. On seeing Dorothea enter the room, she 
 inserted her long, thin forefinger between the 
 leaves and looked up with expectation in her 
 drawn features. Her complexion, from confine- 
 ment in the room, was even more sallow than 
 usual. She divined her daughter's moods with 
 wonderful keenness, and now, with a sense of 
 mingled exultation and dread, she prepared her- 
 self for something dramatic. 
 
 Dorothea took a seat by the bedside, and 
 looked into her mother's face. 
 
 " I've something to tell you," she said. 
 
 The invalid's fingers twitched. 
 
 " My engagement with Aleck is broken." 
 
 "Broken?" Mrs. Wayne repeated, with an 
 incredulous gasp. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you mean you've had a quarrel?" 
 
 " No, we haven't had a quarrel." 
 
 " What's the matter, then ? " 
 
 " I can't tell you now, mother," Dorothea
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 47 
 
 replied, with the calmness that always threw 
 her parent into despair. " Some time, perhaps, 
 I will tell you." 
 
 " Is it that Mr. Boyd ? " 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's faded eyes shone with acute- 
 ness. Her mind ran swiftly over the weeks at 
 Hull, examining incident and incident to sup- 
 port her theory that Dorothea had transferred 
 her affections from Aleck French to Harrington 
 Boyd. In a flash she decided that Dorothea 
 had accepted Aleck because she thought Har- 
 rington Boyd had been trifling with her ; that 
 last night at Hull, Boyd had proposed, and she 
 had rejected him ; then she had broken with 
 Aleck, and, now that she was free, Harrington 
 Boyd would come back. It was a perfectly 
 logical sequence of events, and Mrs. Wayne felt 
 a sudden desire to interpret it to Annetta 
 Griffin. 
 
 For the present, however, she chose to dis- 
 semble. Her own lack of frankness made her 
 suspicious of her daughter, and when Dorothea 
 said, " No, mother, it is not Mr. Boyd," she 
 attributed the speech simply to the girl's natural 
 modesty. 
 
 For a moment they sat together without 
 speaking. Then, " Don't you think you can
 
 48 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 make it up ? " Mrs. Wayne asked, for want of 
 something better to say. 
 
 Dorothea shook her head. 
 
 " We shall never make it up. That is quite 
 impossible." 
 
 This speech convinced the invalid that she 
 was on the right scent; but she made no be- 
 trayal of her suspicions. She only said : 
 
 " It'll make a lot of talk in Oswego. It's 
 been in the papers, you know." 
 
 Dorothea knew very well that it had been 
 in the papers, for several marked copies of 
 the notices had been sent to her. She waited 
 for her mother to go on, and, after thinking 
 for a space, the invalid cried, with more de- 
 termination than she had shown since her ill- 
 ness: 
 
 " We can't go back there now. It would be 
 too disagreeable for you." 
 
 " But we can't stay here," Dorothea said with 
 equal determination. 
 
 " We might do as we thought of doing early 
 in the summer go to New York for a few 
 weeks. We could get rooms in that place Miss 
 Sloggett recommended to us." 
 
 " Yes," Dorothea agreed, dubiously, " we 
 might do that." Then she added more decided-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 49 
 
 ly, " It's the best thing we can do under the 
 circumstances." 
 
 The invalid experienced a faint exultation at 
 this further confirmation of her intuitions. She 
 longed for a talk with Annetta Griffin, and when 
 Dorothea finally left the room, she sent the 
 maid for her friend. 
 
 Mrs. Griffin wept on hearing the news that 
 was exclaimed to her as soon as she had closed 
 the door behind her. She couldn't under- 
 stand how Mrs. Wayne was able to take it 
 so calmly. The explanation that was forth- 
 with poured into her ears further mystified 
 her. She had her own views about Dorothea's 
 character. 
 
 " There's something behind it, my dear," she 
 said impressively, at the end of the invalid's 
 recital. "Just wait and see." 
 
 She had too much kindness and tact, how- 
 ever, to pry into Dorothea's affairs, and she said 
 very little to the girl about the matter. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne improved rapidly, and in a fort- 
 night she was able to leave for New York. 
 There Derothea felt a delicious sense of free- 
 dom. She entered the Art Students' League 
 and devoted herself assiduously to drawing. 
 Most of the students were younger than her-
 
 tj THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 self, but this did not trouble her; she had always 
 felt much older than she really was, and she had 
 become resigned to her age. Her work con- 
 stantly reminded her of Aleck French, whom 
 she tried not to think about ; but she could not 
 help wondering about his wife, what kind of 
 woman she was and what kind of a life he led 
 with her. She wondered, too, why she did not 
 feel more bitterly toward him. After the con- 
 vulsion that his letter had caused her, her re- 
 sentment had gradually subsided, and now she 
 suffered chiefly in the humiliation of her 
 pride. 
 
 She tried heroically to hope that he was 
 happy, and she even succeeded in convincing 
 herself that if they were to meet again they 
 would go on with their friendship. Sometimes 
 this idea seemed so droll to her that she smiled 
 at it. However, the standards of the world 
 were not her standards, and if at any time she 
 could do Aleck a service she resolved to do it. 
 Indeed, the mere thought of this magnanimity 
 on her own part greatly consoled her. It seemed 
 to glorify her humiliation. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne found several spirits in the 
 boarding-house who were eager to analyze her 
 daughter with her. They coincided with her
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 51 
 
 views with regard to the girl's matrimonial 
 prospects, and they were prepared any fine 
 afternoon to see Harrington Boyd mount their 
 brownstone steps. Indeed, the Misses Sophia 
 and Millicent Marbury, whose youth and ma- 
 turity had been largely devoted to readjusting 
 the affairs of their acquaintances, spent many 
 hours in their front room watching for him. 
 They felt sure they should recognise him from 
 Mrs. Wayne's vivid description. 
 
 It was Miss Millicent Marbury who discov- 
 ered the item in 'the New York Chronicle an- 
 nouncing the marriage in Paris of Alexander 
 French, the American artist, to Mile. Deschamps, 
 his model. She ran breathless to Mrs. Wayne's 
 room, Miss Sophia trailing agitatedly behind 
 her. Fortunately, Dorothea was at the League ; 
 when she returned to the boarding-house, and 
 her mother confronted her with the item, she 
 said that one of the League girls had already 
 shown it to her. She was in the calm mood 
 that her mother dreaded ; so she escaped ques- 
 tioning. 
 
 In the conference in which Mrs. Wayne pro- 
 ceeded at once to engage with the Misses Mar- 
 bury, these ladies expressed the unanimous 
 opinion that the marriage was due directly to
 
 52 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Dorothea's refusal of Aleck. Miss Sophia cited 
 from her own experience several cases of esti- 
 mable young men who had been caught on the 
 rebound. 
 
 For several days the sisters led a life of 
 fluttering excitement in studying Dorothea's 
 emotions as depicted in her face ; they were 
 prepared to find signs of regret, possibly 
 of maidenly despair there ; but even their 
 rich imaginations were unable to discov- 
 er any marked change in the girl's expres- 
 sion. She merely seemed more indifferent 
 than usual. 
 
 About a week after the announcement of 
 Aleck French's marriage appeared, " a lady with 
 a manner" called at the boarding-house and 
 asked for Miss Wayne ; at any rate, this was 
 the description given by the Misses Marbury, 
 who saw her in the drawing room. She was 
 tall and thin, and her rigid figure was encased 
 in a suit of brown ; her hat and her gloves were 
 brown, and, though it was early November, 
 she wore tan shoes. The Misses Marbury 
 whispered to their intimates that in spite of her 
 " manner " they thought she looked just a little 
 well, " showy " ; she probably belonged to the 
 "fast" set of New York society. When she
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 53 
 
 heard that Miss Wayne was not at home she 
 asked for Miss Wayne's mother. The invalid 
 slipped down the stairs in her flowing lace- 
 trimmed gown and was closeted with her caller 
 for an hour; then for another hour she was 
 closeted with the Misses Marbury. 
 
 Just what was said during these conferences 
 Dorothea never learned, though they both inti- 
 mately concerned her welfare. Her mother told 
 her simply that Mrs. Follett Ladd had called, 
 that she was the most fascinating woman she 
 had ever seen in her life, and she was so anxious 
 to meet Dorothea that the call would be re- 
 peated in a few days. Mrs. Wayne was unable 
 to interpret her daughter's stony displeasure on 
 receiving this information, and the different ex- 
 planations given by the Misses Marbury failed 
 to satisfy her ; moreover, when Mrs. Ladd called 
 a second time she could not understand why 
 Dorothea refused to see her. Under the cir- 
 cumstances, Mrs. Wayne was afraid to go down 
 herself, and " the lady with a manner " was 
 obliged to leave cards and depart without see- 
 ing any one save Miss Millicent Marbury, who 
 happened to pass through the hall as she made 
 her exit. She was herself seen, however, from 
 an upper window by two pairs of eyes. Dor-
 
 54 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 othea would hardly have been human if she 
 had resisted her mother's invitation to catch a 
 glimpse of the social leader ; the vision was 
 brief, but enough to deepen the prejudice she 
 had already formed from report.
 
 VI. 
 
 THE Misses Marbury, who were always ris- 
 ing- on the wings of prophecy, took a splendid 
 flight during the two weeks that followed Mrs. 
 Follett Ladd's call. Among other things they 
 predicted the return of Harrington Boyd ; Mrs. 
 Ladd, they argued, on hearing of Mr. French's 
 marriage, had come to see Dorothea in his be- 
 half, and, as her mission had failed, he would 
 come himself ; a man of his sort always had 
 a woman confidant. Though the Misses Mar- 
 bury apparently belonged to no clearly defined 
 social circle, they betrayed an intricate compre- 
 hension of the motives and habits of the old 
 Knickerbocker and other sets of New York ; 
 this knowledge, they gave their friends to un- 
 derstand, was chiefly traditional, gleaned from 
 an aunt who had been a belle many years be- 
 fore. 
 
 When, after several weeks, Harrington Boyd 
 did not appear, they experienced a bitter disap- 
 
 55
 
 56 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 pointment, and this they visited on Dorothea. 
 In the privacy of their apartments they agreed 
 that Dorothea was heartless, and that to have 
 such a girl for a daughter was enough to break 
 her mother down. Their treatment of Doro- 
 thea, however, continued to be, as it had always 
 been, deprecatingly admiring ; they paid her 
 the playful homage that older women with no 
 aspirations of their own often pay to girls with 
 beauty. They really were afraid of her, but 
 this they would not acknowledge even to each 
 other, though with each other they were singu- 
 larly gentle and truthful. Miss Millicent was 
 five years younger than her sister ; so Miss So- 
 phia, who had brought her up since her tenth 
 year, looked upon her as girlish, and was fond 
 of excusing a certain giggling lightness in her 
 on the.plea of youth. 
 
 Dorothea found her work at the League 
 more and more absorbing. Her teachers en- 
 couraged her, and one of them, Edgar Went- 
 worth, became so interested in her that early 
 in March he invited her to come and paint in 
 his studio in the afternoons under his supervi- 
 sion. When she went there she found a dozen 
 young women, working at their easels, among 
 them three from the League whom she knew.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 57 
 
 " Let me see," the artist said. " I don't be- 
 lieve I want you to go into this class. For the 
 present, anyway, I'll put you with Miss Flagler. 
 Then I can watch your work more carefully. 
 She's just going to begin on a new model, a 
 middle-aged woman, and that will be good 
 practice for you. You see, we're very Oriental 
 here just at present happened to have the cos- 
 tumes, you know." 
 
 She followed him through one of the smaller 
 rooms, where a little, fair-complexioned lady was 
 working on a portrait of a very wrinkled old 
 woman, to another, where they found a young 
 girl with jet-black hair, dark, liquid eyes, and 
 full, red lips, sitting before a child of twelve and 
 painting assiduously. Over her gown she wore 
 a blue calico apron, and the thumb of her left 
 hand in which she held her palette was stained 
 with red and blue paint. As they entered, she 
 held her brush in the air and looked at Doro- 
 thea with a good-humoured smile. 
 
 " Hasn't Miss Bogetta come in yet, Janet?" 
 the artist asked. 
 
 " No," the girl replied lazily. " She's always 
 late, you know." 
 
 " Yes, I must speak to her about that," he 
 said, absently. " Oh, this is Miss Flagler, Miss
 
 58 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Wayne, my wife's niece. I'll leave you two 
 people to get acquainted. I suppose you'll 
 go on with this until Miss Bogetta comes, 
 won't you ? " he asked, glancing at Miss 
 Flagler. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose so," the girl replied, with a 
 yawn which she hid behind her hand. Then 
 pointing to a chair beside her,- she said to Doro- 
 thea : " Sit here, Miss Wayne, and see just how 
 bad an artist I am." 
 
 " Have you studied long ? " Dorothea asked, 
 to keep up the conversation. Miss Flagler had 
 a drooping manner ; she seemed to be about to 
 collapse at any moment. 
 
 " Six years," she replied, " ever since I 
 was seventeen. Two years I studied in Paris. 
 My father lived there. We took an apart- 
 ment. New York is such a come-down after 
 Paris." 
 
 " I suppose it is." 
 
 " Such nice artists there ! I used to know 
 some of the Americans ; it's awfully hard to get 
 acquainted with the French ones. I just adore 
 the Quarter." 
 
 "Where did you study there?" 
 
 " At Julian's, principally. Then I had some 
 private lessons from Alexander French. That
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 59 
 
 was before he got his medal ; he was kind of 
 hard up then." 
 
 So prolonged a silence followed this speech 
 that Dorothea feared Miss Flagler would lift 
 her eyes and read confusion in her face. She 
 wanted to ask questions about Aleck French, 
 but she did not dare. Miss Flagler presently 
 relieved the tension by saying : 
 
 " Know French's work ? I think it's lovely, 
 don't you?" 
 
 " Yes ; I like it very much." 
 
 " He's such a dear ! I used to see a lot of 
 him in Paris last year. I was so glad when he 
 got the medal at the Salon ! Funny about his 
 marriage, wasn't it? I suppose you heard 
 about that ? They say he was in love with an 
 American girl and she jilted him, and then he 
 got married to a horrid French creature that 
 used to pose to him." 
 
 "Have you ever seen her?" Dorothea asked, 
 with a fine affectation of indifference. 
 
 " No ; that was after I left Paris." 
 
 A few minutes later Miss Bogetta, a pretty 
 young woman with a fresh complexion and 
 dark eyes, appeared, and took the place of Miss 
 Flagler's model. Dorothea began work at 
 once, and during the sitting Miss Flagler had
 
 60 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 very little to say. When it was over she ex- 
 amined Dorothea's work and burst into enrap- 
 tured praise. 
 
 " It's really wonderful ! How in the world 
 did you get the character of the head so well ? 
 It's so spirited, too, and the composition is 
 great. Where did you study?" 
 
 " I've studied very little," Dorothea replied. 
 
 "Here in New York? You haven't been 
 abroad, have you ? " 
 
 " No ; I've only studied at home." 
 
 "Where's that?" 
 
 " In Oswego." 
 
 " Oswego ? Why, that's where Mr. French 
 comes from ! " 
 
 " Yes, I studied with him," Dorothea said 
 quietly. 
 
 " Then that explains it ! " the girl cried, as if 
 she had just had a revelation. " I knew I had 
 seen your face before, but I couldn't make out 
 where. I've been racking my brains ever since 
 you came in. Why, I've seen your portrait dozens 
 of times in Mr. French's studio. Then he has a 
 lot of sketches of you. Well, isn't it strange ? " 
 
 Dorothea turned to put on her wraps ; she 
 thought she could still feel Miss Flagler's eyes 
 on her. Of course, she knew what the girl was
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 6l 
 
 thinking of ; but if Miss Flagler had any tempta- 
 tion to apologize for her remarks with regard to 
 French's matrimonial experiences she resisted 
 it. Dorothea felt ill at ease till she had left the 
 studio and found herself in the bracing air 
 again. Then she began to worry about the 
 revelation she had made of her identity ; Miss 
 Flagler would probably tell all of Edgar Went- 
 worth's pupils of her relations with Aleck. For 
 a moment she thought of giving up her work at 
 the studio, but she quickly decided that this 
 would be foolish ; she would simply ignore the 
 matter. It was not likely that any of the girls 
 would speak to her about it without encourage- 
 ment ; besides, Miss Flagler might be discreet 
 enough to say nothing of her discovery. 
 
 For several days Miss Flagler did not men- 
 tion French's name to Dorothea again. Then 
 she apparently found it impossible to discuss 
 their work without referring to French's meth- 
 ods, which Dorothea had unconsciously made 
 her own. This led her to speak of the pictures 
 he had exhibited in Paris and of his success 
 there. It was a pity, she thought, that he had 
 remained so conservative and had continued to 
 send his things to the old Salon the work in 
 the Champs de Mars was so much better ! How-
 
 62 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 ever, everybody in Paris acknowledged his 
 talent. 
 
 At first Dorothea had very little to say in 
 reply to these remarks, but in spite of herself 
 she was led on to talk about French, and in a 
 short time Miss Flagler was giving a detailed 
 account of the woman he had married and of 
 the wretched life he was supposed to be lead- 
 ing with her. She thought the pity these reve- 
 lations caused her was a proof that she had 
 ceased to care for him except as a friend. 
 
 Dorothea's work improved so much that 
 Edgar Wentworth grew enthusiastic in praise 
 of it. Miss Flagler, too, kept prophesying a 
 great career for her " if she'd only keep at it." 
 When the two portraits of the Italian girl were 
 finished, Wentworth persuaded Dorothea to 
 send hers to the spring exhibition of the 
 " American Artists," where it attracted favour- 
 able comment. Miss Flagler asked her why 
 she didn't go abroad and study in Paris and get 
 the benefit of the " art atmosphere " there. She 
 loved to talk about the " art atmosphere." 
 
 Dorothea used to laugh at the praises she re- 
 ceived, though she was secretly pleased. They 
 surprised her, too, for Aleck French had never 
 encouraged her to believe that she had much
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 63 
 
 talent for painting. During the lessons he gave 
 her, however, he might have been absorbed by 
 other considerations. Besides, Dorothea knew 
 that much of her skill in technique had come 
 from his instruction. He had never been car- 
 ried away by the eccentricities of the new 
 schools, but had taught her to work soberly and 
 earnestly on conservative lines. 
 
 One afternoon in spring Dorothea remained 
 late at the studio to finish an interior that she 
 had been painting for several weeks. Miss 
 Flagler, who had been working with a model 
 in the next room, came in, and, finding her 
 alone, sat down beside her. 
 
 " Have you heard the news about Mr. 
 French ? " she said. 
 
 Dorothea did not dare to look up from the 
 canvas. 
 
 " No," she replied, trying to assume a tone 
 of indifference. She had a premonition that 
 something startling was coming. " What is 
 it?" 
 
 " He's left his wife." 
 
 " Left her ! " Dorothea echoed blankly. 
 
 " Yes ; so they say. I had a letter from 
 Mrs. Swayne to-day Lena Swayne, you know, 
 who paints dogs. She knows Mr. French very
 
 64 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 well. She says he's left the Latin Quarter and 
 taken a house out at Versailles, and no one 
 knows where his wife is." 
 
 Dorothea thought of simple, generous Aleck 
 French driven to desperation by a woman 
 whom he ought never to have known, with 
 whom he could have no sympathy. The mis- 
 erable story seemed so out of keeping with him. 
 He was like a miscast actor ; the role didn't fit 
 him. Miss Flagler hardly knew what comment 
 she ought to make. 
 
 " I'm so sorry for him ! " said Dorothea. 
 
 The words were commonplace enough, but 
 they gave Miss Flagler a clew. 
 
 " I'm sorry for him, too," she cried. " But I 
 hope he's got rid of her. Perhaps she's gone 
 off and drowned herself. They often do those 
 wild Frenchwomen in the Seine." 
 
 Dorothea thought of all the horrible stories 
 she had heard of people who had sought relief 
 from trouble in the Seine, and the thought 
 made her feel more wretched. Why had Aleck 
 French ever gone to Paris ? Why had she sent 
 him there? He would never have gone if she 
 hadn't sent him. In Oswego he might at least 
 have lived respectably and kept himself fine and 
 true as he had always been.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 65 
 
 It was evident from her next remark, how- 
 ever, that Miss Flagler thought the occasion 
 didn't call for regret. 
 
 " If she's gone and drowned herself," she 
 said, " why, then Mr. French is free. I only 
 hope it will be a lesson to him." 
 
 " Free ! " 
 
 Dorothea hadn't thought of that. Her heart 
 stopped beating for a moment; then it jumped. 
 Afterward she wondered why the possibility ol 
 his being free agitated her so. Surely every- 
 thing was over between them. Now he could 
 never hope, but she would not entertain even 
 the possibility ! 
 
 That afternoon as soon as she reached home 
 she went into her mother's room. The invalid 
 was swathed in worsted shawls on the lounge 
 and absorbed in a romance. She lifted herself 
 up on her elbow. 
 
 "What is it?" she asked. 
 
 " I have some news for you, mother," Doro- 
 thea replied, holding back her news as one 
 holds a sweetmeat from a child. 
 
 " Some one dead or engaged, I suppose." 
 
 The invalid put her book-mark in place 
 and closed the novel with decision. 
 
 Dorothea threw off her wrap and let it drop
 
 66 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 on the back of a chair. " No, not exactly. 
 Aleck French has left his wife." 
 
 " Left his wife ! " Mrs. Wayne rose from 
 her elbow and sat bolt-upright. 
 
 " Yes," Dorothea repeated in almost the 
 same words that Miss Flagler had used. " Left 
 the Latin Quarter and taken a house in Ver- 
 sailles, and his wife has disappeared." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " cried the invalid, brush- 
 ing the hair on either side of her head with 
 both hands. v Then, as she contemplated her 
 daughter, she went on : " It's a judgment on 
 him. He might have expected it the idea of 
 his marrying such a " 
 
 " Don't, mother ! Please don't ! " 
 
 " Well " 
 
 Mrs. Wayne was always saying " Well " to 
 her daughter ; it was a recognition of defeat. 
 After uttering it this time, she sat back on the 
 lounge" and watched Dorothea as she did when- 
 ever she had things to say that she knew the 
 girl did not care to hear. She wished that 
 Dorothea would leave the room, so that she 
 might seek out the Misses Marbury and knead 
 this news. But Dorothea gave no sign of be- 
 ing about to leave, and the invalid resigned her- 
 self to wait. Finally, after long cogitation, as
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 67 
 
 Dorothea was bending over the box of paints 
 she had brought into the room, she resumed : 
 
 " I must say I always liked Aleck French." 
 
 She received no reply. 
 
 " I used to think he had character," the in- 
 valid went on, hoping to force her daughter to 
 speak: 
 
 " He has character, mother." 
 
 " Yes, great character, to have treated you 
 as he did ! " 
 
 " Mother ! " 
 
 This was the first intimation Mrs. Wayne 
 had ever given her daughter that she suspected 
 the real cause of the breaking of the engage- 
 ment ; but it was only a chance shot, as Doro- 
 thea realized later. After making it, she was 
 frightened at her own boldness. She closed 
 her eyes and, in spite of her agitation, she fell 
 asleep and did not wake till dinner-time. For 
 an hour she was obliged to sit opposite the 
 Misses Marbury without uttering a word of 
 the news ; but after dessert she slipped into 
 their room and she was rewarded for her tor- 
 ture by an evening of rare communion of 
 thought. 
 
 The Misses Marbury were at first amazed, 
 appalled by the disclosure ; then, after taking
 
 68 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 it deep into consciousness, they were unable 
 to throw the light of their social wisdom upon 
 it ; for such a case had never before come to 
 their attention ; it quite transcended all their 
 former experiences. 
 
 Indeed, the lives of these ladies, like the 
 lives of most American women, were remote 
 from social complications. They had the most 
 innocent conception of evil. Of course, their 
 chief interest in Aleck French's complication 
 lay in its relation to Dorothea ; they wanted 
 to make clear to her mother just what effect 
 it would have upon the girl. They offered 
 many tentative suggestions, but each of these 
 was hedged about by so many conditions and 
 fatal possibilities that the whole affair was 
 left in a state of chaotic mystery. This 
 sent Mrs. Wayne to bed in nervous excite- 
 ment, with a new sense of importance and of 
 great events to come, and threw the sisters 
 into the most bewildering agitation they had 
 known since the occasion of Mrs. Follett Ladd's 
 call.
 
 VII. 
 
 THE Misses Marbury resumed their watch 
 on Dorothea's countenance for a sign of the 
 effect upon her of Aleck French's catastrophe ; 
 but again they were disappointed. They con- 
 cluded, rather illogically, that Dorothea was 
 selfish. As for Mrs. Wayne, she was unable to 
 give much thought to the matter, for she was 
 taken down with a mild attack of rheumatic 
 fever that for several weeks kept her mind 
 chiefly upon herself. Dorothea still went to 
 the League and to the studio, though she 
 did much of her work at home, so that she 
 might be at hand to minister to her mother. 
 Her ministrations were few, however, for the 
 Misses Marbury spent most of their time in the 
 invalid's room, emerging only occasionally to 
 seek an art gallery or a lecture hall, or some 
 other improving resort. 
 
 At the studio Edgar Wentworth seconded 
 Miss Flagler's advice that Dorothea go abroad 
 
 69
 
 yo THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 for further study. Miss Flagler had herself or- 
 ganized a party for summer sketching near 
 Paris, and urged Dorothea to join it ; it was 
 to be under the direction of Arthur Roberts, 
 the landscape painter. A lot of League girls 
 were going, and it would be the greatest fun ! 
 Miss Flagler smiled suggestively when she an- 
 nounced that Arthur Roberts was to be di- 
 rector; she had secured the chance for him. 
 
 But for a turn in her mother's illness, Doro- 
 thea would not have seriously thought of fol- 
 lowing Wentworth's advice. She could hardly 
 believe that her talent was as great as he declared 
 it to be ; her years of association with Aleck 
 French had made her mistrustful of her own 
 ability ; beside his, her drawings had seemed imi- 
 tative and weak. She did not realize how great 
 her improvement had been since those days, or 
 that her work might be vastly inferior to his and 
 yet be good. She enjoyed her success, chiefly 
 because it added a keen interest to her life. 
 
 It was only when Mrs. Wayne's physician 
 suggested an ocean voyage as a remedy for his 
 patient that Dorothea first considered the plan 
 of studying abroad. It had not before occurred 
 to her that her mother could, or would go ; in- 
 deed, the invalid did at first object strenuously
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 71 
 
 to the plan. She wanted to go back to Oswego, 
 she said. She was secretly much disappointed 
 in the winter; she had thought that more 
 would happen to her daughter than had hap- 
 pened ; the art work she regarded lightly, as a 
 mere diversion ; she wanted Dorothea to get 
 married married, as she said plainly to the 
 Misses Marbury. These ladies counselled pa- 
 tience and Europe ; they had read of so many 
 girls who had made fine marriages through 
 trips to Europe ! Besides, Miss Sophia Mar- 
 bury, who possessed the more vivid imagination 
 of the sisters, felt sure that Dorothea's beauty 
 and " presence " (she had caught the word from 
 Mrs. Wayne) would secure for her a splendid 
 match. She had always maintained, she de- 
 clared, that Dorothea ought to be the mistress 
 of a great mansion, and walk down to break- 
 fast over broad stairs covered with a crimson 
 carpet. 
 
 It was Dorothea's fate to be considered or- 
 namental, to be pushed about from place to 
 place, from niche to niche, in the imagination 
 of her friends, as a beautiful vase is tried here 
 and there in a drawing room for the best effect. 
 Miss Sophia Marbury had never produced a 
 finer effect than when she posed Dorothea
 
 72 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 before her mother's vision on the crimson-car- 
 peted stairs of an ancestral hall ; for Mrs. 
 Wayne's mind, though not original, was quick 
 to seize and elaborate the suggestions of others, 
 and as she lay in bed, thinking of her plans for 
 the summer, she added many brilliant touches 
 to Miss Sophia's picture. 
 
 Of course, her imagination glowed over Os- 
 wego, too, making the little city almost seduc- 
 tive in its delights ; she had forgotten that even 
 the society of the matrons was monotonous ; 
 she thought of them now only as sympathetic 
 listeners to her exposition of her trials with her 
 daughter. Then, inconsistently, she thought of 
 the effect on these ladies of Dorothea's triumphs 
 in Europe. It was really this thought that 
 finally decided her to make the voyage ; she 
 would forego present pleasure for future re- 
 wards. 
 
 When she broached the plan to Dorothea 
 she was surprised to encounter no opposition. 
 She was always expecting opposition from her 
 daughter, and this gave her timid manner a 
 curious and vexatious suggestion of belliger- 
 ence. 
 
 The Misses Marbury were as excited over 
 the voyage as if they were about to make it
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 73 
 
 themselves. For many years they had cher- 
 ished a passionate hope that they might one day 
 visit the art galleries of Europe. For them Eu- 
 rope consisted chiefly of a vista of art galleries, 
 and they loved to think of themselves as wan- 
 dering in it hand-in-hand to the vanishing point. 
 They bored Mrs. Wayne by dwelling on the art- 
 aspect of a European tour, and they prepared 
 for her a list of galleries that she ought not 
 to fail to visit. With Dorothea they were less 
 prodigal of advice ; they could not understand 
 how such a proud, hard girl as she was could 
 really have feeling for art, and her failure to 
 show enthusiasm over the pictures they loved, 
 or over any pictures for that matter, convinced 
 them that with her art was only a pastime. 
 
 When Mrs. Wayne consulted the Misses 
 Marbury about the trip, the sisters, with splen- 
 did self-abnegation, declared the sooner she. 
 departed the better for herself and her daugh- 
 ter. They would miss her dreadfully, of course, 
 and at the thought of the severance of their 
 union the three ladies indulged in preliminary 
 weeping. However, as Miss Sophia remarked, 
 they would be together again in the autumn. 
 Mrs. Wayne had announced her intention of 
 returning to the boarding-house for the winter,
 
 74 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 though she had secretly made up her mind to 
 return to Oswego. The Misses Marbury had 
 decided to pass the summer in Maple Valley, in 
 northern New York, where the scenery would 
 almost compensate them for their three months' 
 exile from pictures of scenery. 
 
 For the next few weeks Dorothea was so 
 occupied with preparations for her mother's 
 departure that she had no time to go to the 
 studio. So the day before she sailed she wrote 
 notes of farewell to Edgar Went worth and Miss 
 Flagler. As for Mrs. Wayne, her weakness was 
 so great that for a few days it looked as if the 
 voyage must be abandoned. Now that she had 
 made up her mind to go, she felt bitterly disap- 
 pointed at the possibility of being obliged to 
 stay at home. 
 
 Under the inspiration of her physician, how- 
 ever, who urged her to make an effort to rouse 
 herself, and held out flattering rewards from the 
 trip, and of the Misses Marbury, who covertly 
 inspired her with the prospect of rewards of 
 another sort, Mrs. Wayne rose from her bed 
 three days before the ship sailed, thinner and 
 whiter than ever. These were spent in fever- 
 ish activity, so that when she reached the 
 ship she went at once to her berth in a state of
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 75 
 
 collapse. Dorothea had been alarmed about 
 her, and would have insisted upon her staying 
 at the boarding-house, but for the advice of the 
 doctor, who declined to take a serious view of 
 her mother's ailments. 
 
 To the end the Misses Marbury supported 
 their friend ; they would have gone down the 
 harbour with her if they could have arranged to 
 make the trip, but for the abject weakness of 
 Miss Millicent, who had been known to be vio- 
 lently sick when there was scarcely a ripple on 
 the water. Mrs. Wayne's parting with them 
 had a pathetic intensity ; she dreaded the sea, 
 and this farewell seemed to her almost like bid- 
 ding a last good-bye to her loved ones on earth. 
 The grief of the Misses Marbury was glorified 
 by a sublime unselfishness ; they smiled through 
 their tears, as if rejoicing at the pleasure that 
 was to come to their companion in the next 
 three months. 
 
 Dorothea watched the scene calmly ; she had 
 often been present when her mother went 
 through these agonies, and she had always 
 fecund them so transient that she could not take 
 them seriously. The Misses Marbury, as they 
 rode home in Mrs. Wayne's carriage, com- 
 mented on her attitude.
 
 76 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " She's as hard as flint" said Miss Sophia, 
 and " Poor Mrs. Wayne ! " Miss Millicent mur- 
 mured. 
 
 The next morning Dorothea rose early and 
 went up on deck to escape the bad air. Though 
 the weather during the night was hot, the port- 
 holes had all been closed and the atmosphere 
 in her room had kept her from sleeping for more 
 than two or three hours. Her mother she left 
 in deep slumber. Mrs. Wayne had periods of 
 extreme sleepfulness and extreme wakefulness ; 
 the sea always made her drowsy, and its influ- 
 ence was increased by the fatigue caused by her 
 three days of nervous energy in New York. 
 
 Though it was more than an hour before 
 breakfast, Dorothea found several people on 
 deck. They, too, had evidently been driven 
 from their rooms by the atmosphere. The ship 
 rolled gently and the air was bracing. A tall, 
 pale young man, with a black mustache that 
 formed a half-circle round his mouth, was walk- 
 ing up and down and eating bits of a biscuit 
 that he held in his hand. Dorothea chose the 
 other side of the ship for a promenade, and 
 for the next half-hour she walked energetically. 
 The young man meanwhile sank slowly into a 
 steamer chair and ceased munching his biscuit.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 77 
 
 There was in his face a look of haggard inter- 
 rogation, as if he were wondering what was 
 going to happen next. Dorothea observed the 
 same look in several of the people round her. 
 A few of them were sipping beef-broth, laying 
 the bowl down hastily every few moments and 
 leaning back in their chairs. She could not 
 keep from smiling at these manifestations ; she 
 herself had never felt in better health and spir- 
 its ; she would have liked to run about the 
 deck, to romp ; she was full of energy, she felt 
 the physical joy of living. 
 
 While she was sitting in her chair after her 
 walk, she heard coming up the gangway a clear 
 woman's voice. It was speedily followed by a 
 tall, thin, wiry figure clinging to the railing and 
 turning to direct speech to the large yellow- 
 faced man behind her. The man seemed hardly 
 in a condition to heed what was being said. 
 He had a wilted look ; his bulging blue eyes 
 were glassy, and his blonde beard, just turning 
 gray, harmonized with the colour of his skin. 
 His companion was urging him to walk, but he 
 pulled his arm away from her hand and dropped 
 wearily into a seat near Dorothea. 
 
 " You're very foolish not to walk. That's 
 the only way to shake it off."
 
 78 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Go away ! " he said testily, passing his hand 
 over his face. 
 
 " Want some beef-tea? " 
 
 "No, I don't ! Let me alone." 
 
 She wrapped around his legs the shawl that 
 she had carried on her arm. He submitted pas- 
 sively, though his face expressed displeasure. 
 Then she sat down beside him and began again 
 to talk. 
 
 " I wish you'd go away," he said, from be- 
 hind his hand. "Just let me alone, and I'll be 
 all right." 
 
 For the next few moments she remained in 
 her seat and devoted herself to a scrutiny of 
 her fellow-passengers. Dorothea was watch- 
 ing her, though her eyes were bent on the sea. 
 
 After her first shock of surprise, Dorothea 
 felt sure that her impression had not deceived 
 her. There was no mistaking that hawklike 
 face. In all the consciousness of her social po- 
 sition Mrs. Follet Ladd was examining each 
 passenger with judicial calmness. On Doro- 
 thea the sharp eyes rested last, and there they 
 remained for a long time. Dorothea felt that 
 her features, her figure, her blue felt hat and 
 her blue ulster with its red lining, were being 
 considered in all their bearings. She bore the
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 79 
 
 scrutiny without flinching. When it was over, 
 Mrs. Ladd turned as if to speak to her husband, 
 but after a keen glance at his face, which with 
 its closed eyes seemed deathlike, she looked 
 away again and apparently gave herself up to 
 a consideration of the words she had intended 
 to say. 
 
 In spite of its sharpness she had a rather 
 fine face. The features were regular, the nose 
 straight, the nostrils well defined, and the thin, 
 tightly compressed lips and the clearly outlined 
 chin indicated firmness of character. The hair, 
 jet black, was tightly arranged at the back of 
 the head. The forehead was the ugliest feature ; 
 it was too square and broad for a woman. Mrs. 
 Ladd was evidently very intelligent, but to 
 Dorothea she seemed distinctly unprepossess- 
 ing. Even now as she rose nervously to peer 
 over the railing of the deck she had the air ot 
 swooping down on something. Dorothea feared 
 that Mrs. Ladd might be about to swoop down 
 on her. Of course, she would make prey of a 
 few of the passengers ; the others she would 
 ignore. In her brown cloth dress, her heavy 
 black coat, her brown shoes, and black yacht- 
 ing-cap, she made a curious picture as she 
 stood, flanked by the blue sky and the sea.
 
 8o THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Not a ship was in sight. Dorothea smiled as 
 she thought of her mother and herself in mid- 
 ocean with Mrs. Follett Ladd. Of course, her 
 mother would rejoice at discovering that the 
 lady was on board with whom she had had so 
 brief and so delicious an intimacy ; the knowl- 
 edge might inspire her to rise from her berth. 
 This invigorating possibility, however, did not 
 make Dorothea feel it was her duty to impart 
 the information. So, when she went into the 
 stateroom, she did not speak of Mrs. Ladd. 
 Mrs. Wayne was wide awake and inhaling the 
 salt air that the stewardess had permitted to 
 pass through the porthole. Her eyes were 
 bright but not feverish, and there was a faint 
 touch of colour in her cheeks. 
 
 "You're feeling better, mother, aren't you?" 
 
 " Ever so much. I slept beautifully last 
 night. I was so tired. Mrs. McLeod brought 
 me in some beef tea. She thinks I sha'n't be 
 sick, and she's going to help me up on deck by 
 and by." A moment later she added, " There 
 must be some one on board that we know." 
 
 Dorothea could not have explained why she 
 hesitated about speaking of Mrs. Follett Ladd's 
 presence on the ship ; her mother would cer- 
 tainly recognise her. In the flash of recogni-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 8l 
 
 tion between them, however, they might agree 
 to ignore their acquaintance. This acquaint- 
 ance, Dorothea was well aware, her mother 
 would be glad enough to renew ; but her agi- 
 tation might cause her to dissemble, and, once 
 ignored, Mrs. Ladd might keep away from 
 them. 
 
 Dorothea was not conscious of this reasoning 
 in her mind ; if she had been, she would have 
 been ashamed of it and repudiated it. But it 
 must have been some unconscious reflection of 
 this character that prevented her from speaking 
 out about Harrington Boyd's inquisitive friend. 
 Once restored to intimacy with her mother, 
 Mrs. Ladd would be made the recipient of in- 
 numerable personal confidences about herself, 
 and would perhaps become a partner in her 
 mother's scheming as well. Of the scheming 
 with the Misses Marbury, Dorothea was fully 
 aware ; her mother had betrayed it by many in- 
 timations and references. 
 
 In moments of desperation Dorothea wished 
 she could go away to a place where no one knew 
 her, where she could escape being talked over. 
 But such a place, she realized in calmer moods, 
 did not exist. Even if her mother had not the 
 feminine passion for matrimonial conspiracies,
 
 g2 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 other people would have it for her. Young un- 
 married women were natural subjects for dis- 
 cussion ; after twenty-five the world was a per- 
 petual challenge to them for the reason they 
 were not married. 
 
 When Dorothea went on deck with her 
 mother, Mrs. Ladd was not there. She had 
 probably gone below. Half an hour later she 
 reappeared. As soon as her figure stood in the 
 passageway Mrs. Wayne's sharp eyes lit upon 
 her. 
 
 The invalid's face flushed and her fingers 
 twitched. She suddenly turned. 
 
 " There's Mrs. Follett Ladd ! Look quick ! 
 Over there ! See her ? " 
 
 " I saw her this morning," said Dorothea. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne darted a reproachful glance at 
 her daughter. Then she turned her eyes again 
 on the social leader. Mrs. Ladd lingered for a 
 moment in the passageway, and then walked over 
 to her chair, which stood only a few yards away 
 from Mrs. Wayne's. The invalid's eyes were 
 ready to catch hers ; Dorothea saw that her 
 mother was determined not to allow Mrs. Ladd 
 to escape. She could see, too, the glance of 
 surprise that Mrs. Ladd gave her mother, who 
 was bowing and smiling with impetuous en-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 83 
 
 thusiasm. Mrs. Ladd could not have done 
 otherwise than bow in return ; but the bow 
 was vague, and for an instant her eyes gave no 
 sign of recognition. Dorothea thought that her 
 mother had lost. Then the hawklike face be- 
 came illumined, and Mrs. Ladd hurried for- 
 ward and extended her hand. 
 
 " I didn't know you at first," she said, show- 
 ing small, regular white teeth. " It's such a 
 pleasant surprise to find you on board ! How 
 good of you to remember me ! " 
 
 " I recognised you as soon as I saw you," 
 explained Mrs. Wayne, as if she had performed 
 a feat. Then she presented Dorothea. 
 
 " So you are Miss Wayne," Mrs. Ladd ex- 
 claimed triumphantly. " I thought there was 
 something unusual about you." 
 
 " I am Miss Wayne," Dorothea replied, try- 
 ing to smile, " but I didn't know there was any- 
 thing unusual about me." 
 
 " I noticed you this morning, and I thought 
 you looked like some one I had seen before. Oh, 
 I've heard so many nice things about you ! " 
 
 " Have you, really ? " 
 
 " Dorothea hates compliments," said Mrs. 
 Wayne, her face beaming. " So you mustn't 
 tell her anything pleasant about herself."
 
 84 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Then I shall be as disagreeable to you as I 
 know how to be," said Mrs. Ladd, glancing- at 
 the girl and making her feel that she was being 
 " taken in " again. 
 
 " Do bring your chair up, Mrs. Ladd." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne felt a certain frigid quality in 
 her daughter's demeanour that usually subdued 
 her ; now, however, she determined to fight 
 against it, and, in spite of Dorothea's desire to 
 keep Mrs. Ladd at a distance, to be herself 
 as agreeable to the social leader as she knew 
 how to be. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd acted on the invitation at 
 once. 
 
 " It's such a relief to see you here," she said, 
 when she had completed an elaborate arrange- 
 ment of wraps for her comfort. " I've been 
 looking the passengers over, and I can see that 
 most of them are impossible. There are a lot 
 of horrid Western people on board." 
 
 " We are Western, you know," said Doro- 
 thea calmly. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd's swarthy face flushed a little, 
 but she kept her composure. 
 
 " But not the horrid kind, my dear." 
 
 " What are you talking about, Dorothea ? 
 You know well enough that Oswego isn't the
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 85 
 
 West. Besides, your father came from New 
 England." 
 
 " It would be much easier to forgive Os- 
 wego than New England," Mrs. Ladd smiled. 
 She had herself all the provincialism that 
 comes from a residence of forty years in New 
 York, combined with a consciousness of 
 Dutch ancestors who had lived there before 
 her. 
 
 " You know we are always called Western 
 people when we're in Boston," said Dorothea, 
 turning to her mother. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne was anxious to ask Mrs. Ladd 
 questions about her friends on the steamer, her 
 plans, and many other subjects. A splendid 
 project leaped into her mind of combining 
 forces with the social leader and conducting 
 a glorious campaign in Dorothea's behalf. 
 Mrs. Ladd, of course, had the entrance into 
 many a noble English house. The vision of 
 her daughter walking down to breakfast over 
 a crimson-carpeted staircase again caressed her 
 imagination. Mrs. Wayne longed for a con- 
 fidential talk with Mrs. Ladd ; she had so much 
 to tell her about Dorothea. Of course, it 
 would be impossible to have a confidential 
 talk on any subject in her daughter's presence,
 
 86 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 which seemed always to produce the effect of 
 blighting confidence. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's desire to hear of Mrs. Ladd's 
 "party" and plans was speedily gratified, and 
 as the information was being unfolded, her im- 
 agination illustrated it by a series of brilliant 
 pictures, each having Dorothea for its cen- 
 tral figure. 
 
 " We're going just for a few months this 
 time," she explained, when she had questioned 
 Dorothea with regard to her programme for 
 the summer. " Mr. Ladd and I thought we'd 
 run over for the change. We intend to do 
 just as we please. We'll probably stay for a 
 little while in London, and then go down to 
 the country for a rest. I'm always so tired 
 after the winter. One has to do so many things 
 nowadays. The whole burden of life seems to 
 have fallen on us poor women ; yet some fools 
 of women are trying to get more responsi- 
 bilities." 
 
 " Women are becoming so forward," Mrs. 
 Wayne sighed. 
 
 Dorothea smiled in spite of herself. Mrs. 
 Ladd's quick eye noticed her expression. 
 
 " Surely you don't take sides with those silly 
 women," she said in mock horror.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 87 
 
 Dorothea was amused by the unconscious 
 patronage. " I don't take either side," she 
 replied. 
 
 " Oh ! " Mrs. Ladd's eye blinked. She said 
 to herself that the girl was interesting but 
 hateful. " But you must sympathize one 
 way or the other," she went on after a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " I think I sympathize with the women. If 
 they want certain privileges that men have, I 
 don't see why they shouldn't have them." 
 
 " But it spoils them ; it makes them un- 
 womanly." 
 
 "Think of a woman voting!" said Mrs. 
 Wayne, with fine contempt. 
 
 " I can't see why women shouldn't vote it 
 they want to. Some women need -to vote to 
 protect their rights, I've heard. If that is so, 
 they certainly ought to have the privilege of 
 voting, it seems to me." 
 
 " But it imposes such a duty on us," said 
 Mrs. Ladd. 
 
 " The duty of helping other people, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " Oh, you are too subtle" Mrs. Ladd cried, 
 rather irrelevantly, Dorothea thought. " You'd 
 have us inundated by the lower classes. Every
 
 88 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 woman in the lower classes would be sure to 
 vote." 
 
 " I suppose they have a right to be heard, 
 like other people." 
 
 " But, my dear" Mrs. Ladd interposed, 
 " think of the influence the lower classes would 
 gain by it." 
 
 "The vote of all classes would be doubled, 
 wouldn't it?" said Dorothea, with a smile. 
 
 " But the women of our world wouldn't 
 vote." 
 
 " Then they must be less intelligent than the 
 women of the lower classes." 
 
 " But can't you see," Mrs. Ladd insisted, de- 
 spairingly, " that would oblige us to vote ? " 
 
 " It would also oblige us to think," Dorothea 
 laughed. " That wouldn't be very bad, would 
 it?" 
 
 " Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Ladd, sinking 
 back in her chair with a smile, " I shall have 
 to take you in hand ;" and " Where in the world 
 did you get these ideas?" cried Mrs. Wayne, 
 impatiently. 
 
 Half an hour later, on returning to the state- 
 room, Mrs. Ladd found her husband less dis- 
 agreeable than he had been since they left New 
 York. He was still cross, however ; indeed, his
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 89 
 
 usual attitude toward his wife was one of bored 
 resentment. He was lying on his back, and his 
 face was yellow and unshaven. When she 
 asked him in her brisk voice how he felt, he 
 merely grunted. 
 
 " Who do you suppose are on board ? " she 
 said. 
 
 He did not condescend to reply. 
 
 " Those people Harrington Boyd met near 
 Boston last summer." 
 
 "What people?" he half-articulated, closing 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Why, the girl that jilted him the 
 one I told ygu about. She's here with her 
 mother." 
 
 The yellow face grew more animated and 
 the bulging eyes opened. 
 
 " What's she like ? " 
 
 " Shes magnificent the girl. She'll make a 
 great success in London if she's properly man- 
 aged." 
 
 " Met them ? " Ladd rolled his eyes toward 
 his wife. He had a habit of looking her over 
 questioningly, as if wondering what she was do- 
 ing in his presence. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd nodded. "Just now." 
 
 For a moment Ladd lay with his eyes closed.
 
 go THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Then, "How old is she?" he said, opening 
 them again. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd was holding a small glass before 
 her face and arranging her hair with one hand. 
 
 "Thirty." 
 
 " Pretty ? " 
 
 " No ; handsome handsome and icy." 
 
 Follett Ladd had been born rich and he had 
 deliberately dedicated himself to a life of ease ; 
 he had no talents and few interests beyond those 
 connected with pleasure ; he could play a good 
 game of cards, and he could turn an apprecia- 
 tive eye on horse-flesh. He could also sit still 
 for hours at his club window, smoking a cigar 
 and ruminating, and gazing with appreciation 
 at the pretty women in Fifth Avenue. With 
 his wife he lived on terms of armed neutrality. 
 In New York they were seldom seen together, 
 and their indifference to each other was well 
 known. He served her simply as a fund and 
 a matrimonial background. People used to 
 wonder how so dull a man as Follett Ladd 
 had happened to marry so clever a woman ; 
 for, though Mrs. Ladd was disliked in her set 
 and out of it, too, for she was ready to rush in 
 everywhere with counsel her cleverness was 
 generally admitted. " She means well enough,"
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 9! 
 
 said Mrs. Bateman Hyde of her one day, " but 
 her good intentions evaporate in bustle and 
 talk." Like most epigrams, this was not wholly 
 just. Mrs. Ladd's good intentions often had 
 beneficent realizations ; she occupied herself 
 with much unostentatious charity, and she occa- 
 sionally lent a helping hand to promising talent. 
 But to talent that did not promise success she 
 was indifferent. She surrounded herself with 
 clever people who were either on the top of the 
 wave or on the way to it. In course of time a 
 tacit agreement had grown up between herself 
 and her husband that they were to let each 
 other alone, that they were both to do as they 
 pleased. This agreement Mrs. Ladd constantly 
 violated in small things ; but with regard to the 
 more vital affairs of life she had nothing to say 
 to her husband. In public she treated him with 
 a show of affection. But, "Oh, she talks too 
 much ! " he used to say to his friends about her. 
 Follett Ladd's phlegmatic temperament, 
 however, kept him from being touched very 
 deeply by his wife's brisk irritations. His trials 
 were simply surface trials ; his thick layer of fat 
 seemed to serve as an impregnable barrier to 
 genuine trouble. He felt, as he looked back on 
 his life of pleasure, that it had been a successful
 
 2 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 life. This is not the way he would have ex- 
 pressed it, however; he would probably have 
 said that he'd got as much out of life as most 
 men did. Of the glow of work, of the joy of 
 achievement, he knew and he wished to know 
 nothing; indeed, he had no real belief that such 
 pleasure existed in the world ; to him all effort 
 was drudgery. He had often seen his wife in 
 the glow of gratuitous work, in the joy of what 
 seemed to him a fatuous achievement, and the 
 spectacle disgusted him. Mrs. Ladd, indeed, 
 seemed always to be working in some way ; her 
 indefatigable brain could never keep still ; if she 
 couldn't exercise it in a high and mighty way, 
 she would exercise it ignobly. During the voy- 
 age she would probably exercise it chiefly on 
 the girl she had been speaking about, prying 
 into her secrets and interfering with her plans. 
 At any rate, it would give her something to 
 think of ; so she would probably let him alone.
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE weather continued pleasant, and on the 
 fourth day out the big dining room of the Lu- 
 cania was crowded at every meal. As Doro- 
 thea had anticipated, the friendship between her 
 mother and Mrs. Ladd developed steadily, 
 though her own acquaintance with the social 
 leader did not notably prosper. Mrs. Ladd had 
 persuaded Mrs. Wayne to pass a few weeks in 
 London ; she knew of some delightful lodgings 
 that could be secured in Mandeville Place, near 
 Portman Square ; the Snells had lived there the 
 year before. Every one that is, every visitor 
 in London lived in lodgings or hotels, and the 
 lodgings were the cheaper and more desirable. 
 Mrs. Ladd had herself already taken lodgings 
 in Clarges Street ; a great many Americans 
 went there ; it was very convenient, just off Pic- 
 cadilly, but expensive. Mrs. Wayne had re- 
 vealed to her friend that she intended to be 
 economical during her travels ; she was always
 
 94 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 talking about economy, though she rarely prac- 
 tised it. 
 
 Two days before reaching Liverpool, Mrs. 
 Wayne planned with Mrs. Follett Ladd that 
 they should go down to London together. 
 Dorothea was prepared for the arrangement, 
 though her mother had said nothing to her 
 about it. She was none the less vexed, how- 
 ever, when she found herself in the first-class 
 compartment with the curious couple from New 
 York. 
 
 Of course, she might have rebelled and in- 
 sisted upon taking another train ; but she knew 
 that this would disappoint her mother, and she 
 submitted with as much apparent amiability as 
 she could command. During the first hours 
 of the journey she had very little to say ; but 
 her silence was not noticeable, for Mrs. Ladd 
 talked incessantly, reminiscing with regard to 
 previous journeys she had taken between Liv- 
 erpool and London, pointing out places of inter- 
 est on the way, and giving Mrs. Wayne volu- 
 minous instructions with reference to her life in 
 London, the feeing system, the management of 
 servants, the paying of cabmen, and a score of 
 other details. Dorothea wondered why Mrs. 
 Ladd had not spoken of these things during the
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 95 
 
 conferences with her mother on the ship. Fol- 
 lett Ladd lapsed into the sullen silence which 
 he always displayed when obliged to endure his 
 wife's loquacity. Sometimes, when the rattling 
 of the train prohibited normal conversation, 
 Mrs. Ladd's voice would rise to a shriek, and 
 Mrs. Wayne would shriek back an incoherent 
 reply. Then the disgust in Ladd's face would 
 become so amusing that Dorothea could hardly 
 keep from laughing. 
 
 After a time, however, she tried to divert 
 herself from the talk and to become absorbed in 
 the landscape. The English country seemed to 
 her quite as lovely as she had hoped to find it ; 
 the deep green of the foliage and of the grass, 
 the quaint thatched cottages, and the small, ivy- 
 clad stone houses, all delighted her. The fields 
 that seemed to rush past her were brilliant with 
 poppies, their scarlet petals making a vivid con- 
 trast with the grass. She felt as if she had 
 known it all in another life or in dreams ; she 
 explained this by the descriptions of the Eng- 
 lish country that she had read in novels. 
 
 It was nearly seven o'clock when the train 
 reached London. Follett Ladd and his wife in- 
 sisted upon taking their friends to the hotel 
 before going to their lodgings.
 
 ^6 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " We can get a four-wheeler just as well as 
 not," said Mrs. Ladd, " and it won't be much 
 out of our way." 
 
 So they were soon huddled in the little vehi- 
 cle and bowling over the smooth London streets 
 toward the Metropole. Mrs. Wayne was visi- 
 bly excited ; her eyes blazed ; every few min- 
 utes there was in them a suggestion of tears. 
 This was a bad sign, and Dorothea felt alarmed ; 
 she also experienced the curious nervous ten- 
 sion that one feels on arriving in a great city for 
 the first time. How dreadful it would be, she 
 thought, if her mother were to fall ill and sink 
 into one of her long periods of physical and 
 mental depression ! Of course, there would be 
 a reaction after the voyage and from the ex- 
 citement of her talks with Mrs. Ladd. 
 
 When they reached the hotel, Mrs. Ladd, 
 who had been screaming during the whole of 
 the ride, had several parting injunctions to 
 make before she would allow the invalid to 
 get out. 
 
 " I'll come in to-morrow about ten," she 
 cried at the end, " and we'll go to see those 
 lodgings together. Good-bye, dear." 
 
 She kissed Mrs. Wayne on both cheeks. 
 With Dorothea she merely shook hands, and
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 97 
 
 said : " It was so nice to have you on the ship ! 
 Good-bye. I'll see you to-morrow, too, per- 
 haps." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's grief at parting with her 
 friend speedily developed into irritation. She 
 had no appetite for dinner, and, as Dorothea 
 unpacked one of the trunks, she looked on and 
 complained of the way her dresses had been 
 put into them. Suddenly she burst into a fit 
 of weeping. In this Dorothea recognised a 
 touch of her mother's old weakness, and, in- 
 stead of asking what the matter was, she 
 quietly undressed her and put her to bed. 
 
 " I wish I had never come. I wish I'd 
 stayed at home. I'd give a thousand dollars 
 to be back ! " the invalid kept moaning. 
 
 She was like a child in her grief, and Dor- 
 othea treated her as a child. The crying, 
 Dorothea knew, would do her good ; but for 
 that she would probably not have slept at all, 
 instead, of falling to sleep, as she did, before 
 Dorothea went herself to bed. The invalid's 
 face looked very yellow and thin as it lay on 
 the pillow in the big bed. Dorothea, touched 
 with a sudden tenderness, bent and kissed it. 
 Then she turned out the light. She was so 
 miserable that she could have cried, too ; she
 
 9 8 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 did not realize, however, that, like her mother, 
 she was feeling the first pangs of homesickness. 
 Instead of yielding to her feelings, she went to 
 bed and slept soundly till seven o'clock. 
 
 When she awoke she heard a noise in the 
 next room. Her mother must be up and bus- 
 tling about. So she was not going to be ill, 
 after all. Indeed, Mrs. Wayne, after her sleep, 
 seemed quite another person from the gaunt 
 woman in the bed the night before. She was 
 full of energy, and acted as if she were about 
 to catch a train. 
 
 " I'm ever so much better," she said, when 
 Dorothea appeared before her. " I don't feel 
 a bit tired after the journey. And see how 
 lovely it is ! It's going to be a beautiful day. 
 I don't see a sign of fog." 
 
 " It isn't apt to be foggy here in summer, 
 you know," said Dorothea, with a smile. 
 " Why did you get up so early ? " In New 
 York her mother had never risen before nine 
 at the earliest, and she had always had her 
 breakfast served in bed. 
 
 " Mrs. Ladd is coming." 
 
 " But not till ten o'clock." 
 
 " Well, I have a lot of things to do before 
 then."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 99 
 
 It was nearly half past ten when Mrs. Ladd 
 arrived at the hotel. She seemed even more 
 energetic than usual. " How did you sleep ? " 
 she asked, after kissing Mrs. Wayne and shak- 
 ing hands with Dorothea, with the easy famil- 
 iarity of an old friend. " And how well you're 
 looking ! I was afraid I might find you tired 
 out after the journey. Our lodgings are de- 
 lightful. The same servants are there that 
 waited on us ten years ago. That's one great 
 thing about the English, they can keep serv- 
 ants, but some of them complain just the 
 same. Mr. Ladd was so cross this morning ! 
 He never can get enough for breakfast in 
 England, he says, though I had a steak cooked 
 for him expressly." 
 
 " I'm afraid we made you take breakfast 
 very early," said Mrs. Wayne. 
 
 " Oh, no. We never breakfast later than 
 nine. Then I got up at six this morning to 
 write some letters and send some cards off. I 
 ought to have written to the Ledyards and 
 Lady Downes that I was coming, but I had 
 so much to do before I left New York that I 
 couldn't manage it. Lady Downes will be 
 over this afternoon, and I do wish you would 
 come for tea and meet her," Mrs. Ladd
 
 100 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 concluded, with a nod and a glance at Doro- 
 thea. 
 
 " I'm afraid mother will be too tired to go 
 out in the afternoon if she goes this morning." 
 
 Dorothea began to feel alarmed about her 
 mother. Mrs. Ladd's London campaign threat- 
 ened to break the invalid down again. 
 
 " Oh, don't you worry about me, dear," said 
 Mrs. Wayne, who had acquired an independent 
 manner with her daughter in presence of the 
 social leader. " I guess I shall be able to go. 
 If I'm not, Mrs. Ladd will excuse me." 
 
 " Of course." Mrs. Ladd glanced at Mrs. 
 Wayne and then at Dorothea. " What a pretty 
 frock!" she cried, surveying Dorothea's cos- 
 tume of brown cloth. " Turn round and let 
 me see the back." 
 
 " Yes, Meserve made it," Mrs. Wayne said 
 proudly. " I thought he'd suit her style." 
 
 Mrs. Ladd thoughtfully stroked Dorothea's 
 back. " Yes, it's a perfect fit. I should have 
 liked the waist a little longer, perhaps, but 
 it'll do." 
 
 An expression of disappointment darkened 
 Mrs. Wayne's face. This frock she regarded 
 as a triumph. " I suppose we could have it 
 altered over here," she said anxiously.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. IOI 
 
 " It is quite good enough as it is," said 
 Dorothea coldly, and for the moment Mrs. 
 Ladd was silenced. Dorothea resented the 
 familiarity of the social leader ; she was taking 
 altogether too much for granted. 
 
 While Mrs. Wayne was adjusting her silk 
 cape to her shoulders Mrs. Ladd paced up and 
 down in the room. She always found it diffi- 
 cult to sit still unless deep in conversation. 
 When she could not talk she would walk ; this 
 habit had on many occasions ruffled her hus- 
 band's composure. 
 
 " There's something about this English air," 
 she said at last, when Mrs. Wayne was ready 
 to depart, " that makes me intensely nervous. 
 At home the atmosphere exhilarates you, buoys 
 you up ; but here it doesn't give you the least 
 support." 
 
 When they reached the street, " I came in a 
 four-wheeler," Mrs. Ladd went on, " and it's 
 waiting for me. I prefer a hansom, but three 
 of us couldn't get into it very well. Mande- 
 ville Place," she cried to the driver, " ninety- 
 five." 
 
 As the carriage rolled along the smooth 
 pavement Dorothea felt as if she and her 
 mother were under the temporary tutelage of
 
 I0 2 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 an exceedingly domineering guardian. Yet 
 she appreciated the humour of the situation, 
 and could not help smiling. Mrs. Ladd no- 
 ticed the smile, and misinterpreted it for a sign 
 of concession. 
 
 Mandeville Place they found to be a short 
 street with very dark stone houses on either 
 side. " It looks a little dull," said Mrs. Ladd, 
 noticing an expression of disappointment in 
 Mrs. Wayne's face, " but it's very nice. Lady 
 Marmsworth lives over there. She's a great 
 leader in the smart set. I do hope that Wood 
 is here still," she added as she rang the bell. 
 " The Snells liked him so much ! He's the 
 butler, you know, and he looks after the rooms 
 and provides the food. He's really the best 
 servant I ever saw. The Snells tried to get 
 him to go back with them, but his wife 
 wouldn't go. His wife does the cooking, and 
 I can recommend her. I've never had better 
 dinners in London than the Snells used to 
 give here. Oh, I'm sure How do you do, 
 Wood ? I was just wondering if you were 
 here." 
 
 A tall, thin young man with a smooth face 
 was bowing and smiling obsequiously at the 
 open door.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 103 
 
 " It's Mrs. Ladd, isn't it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, and I've brought some friends of 
 mine to look at your rooms. I hope they 
 aren't taken." 
 
 By the time she had finished this speech 
 Mrs. Ladd was in the hall. Mrs. Wayne and 
 Dorothea walked meekly behind. Wood con- 
 tinued to bow and smile in front of them. 
 
 " The gentleman that had the two rooms 
 on the ground floor went away the day before 
 yesterday," he said. " Those are the only 
 rooms we have left." 
 
 " Then the Snells' rooms are taken ? " 
 
 " Yes, a Russian gentleman has them." 
 
 " Aren't there any ladies in the house ? " 
 Mrs. Wayne inquired nervously. 
 
 " Oh, yes," Wood replied in his soft voice. 
 " There's an English lady and her two daugh- 
 ters. They're up for the season from the 
 country. Then there's another family, a Span- 
 ish gentleman and his wife, on the top floor." 
 
 " Well, let us see the rooms, Wood," said 
 Mrs. Ladd. 
 
 " Certainly, ma'am." 
 
 Wood opened the first door at his left and 
 led the ladies into a large room that looked 
 into the street. It was handsomely furnished
 
 I0 4 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 with heavy old-fashioned carved mahogany, 
 and with an abundance of old prints and of 
 china plates on the walls. The window seats 
 were richly upholstered, and against the op- 
 posite wall towered an enormous mahogany 
 sideboard that gleamed with glass and china. 
 In the centre stood a table, draped with a soft, 
 thick, red cloth. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd swept the room with her sharp 
 eyes. " It's quite as pleasant as the Snells' 
 apartment, Wood," she said. 
 
 " Many lodgers prefers this," said the func- 
 tionary deprecatingly. His bad grammar gave 
 Dorothea a shock of surprise, he seemed such 
 a perfect production, with the politeness and 
 reserve of a Chesterfield. He put his hand 
 over his mouth, and Dorothea expected to 
 hear him cough, but, instead, he added very 
 gently, " It's more cheerful when there's a 
 fire." 
 
 " A fire in June ! " Mrs. Wayne exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mrs. Ladd. " You must 
 expect to have a fire almost every day here 
 it's so damp. How do you like it ? " 
 
 " I'm sure it would be much better than the 
 hotel," said Mrs. Wayne, without committing 
 herself.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 105 
 
 " Oh, but we must see the bedrooms ! " cried 
 Mrs. Ladd. 
 
 Wood led the way into the rear of the apart- 
 ment, where they found two small, well 
 lighted, and comfortably furnished rooms. Mrs. 
 Ladd promptly began to knead with the back 
 of her left hand the first bed they saw. " It 
 seems all right. The Snells liked the beds 
 very much. By the way, Wood, where are 
 the Snells now ? Have they been here since 
 last year ? " 
 
 "They're in France now in the south," 
 Wood replied. " They wrote to Mrs. Wood 
 and said they weren't coming for the season 
 this year." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mrs. Ladd, absent-mindedly, 
 as if she had dismissed all thought of the Snells 
 before her question was answered. " You see," 
 she went on, turning to Mrs. Wayne, " you 
 wouldn't be bothered at all about cooking here. 
 The kitchen is downstairs, and the food would 
 be sent up." Then, as they returned to the 
 large room, "What's the price, Wood?" she 
 asked, in her brisk manner. 
 
 " Three guineas a week for the rooms and 
 service," Wood replied, and Dorothea fancied 
 that she saw him flush.
 
 I0 6 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Why, we pay almost as much as that a day 
 for our rooms at the hotel," said Mrs. Wayne, 
 exaggerating in her zeal. 
 
 " Yes, it's very reasonable," Mrs. Ladd 
 agreed. " It won't cost you much more than 
 that for the food. You can tell Wood what 
 you want, and he'll do the ordering for you." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not very particular," said Mrs. 
 Wayne, and Dorothea tried not to smile. 
 " What do you think, dear? " 
 
 " But shall we be in London long enough to 
 take lodgings, mother?" 
 
 " We'll be here a couple of weeks, anyway. 
 And I'd much rather be here than in the hotel." 
 
 Dorothea thought of her mother's eagerness 
 to discover acquaintances on the ship at the 
 very beginning of their travels, and of her prob- 
 able loneliness in the lodgings ; but she re- 
 plied : " Do just as you please, mother. I'm 
 willing to come here if you like." 
 
 " Could we come to-day ? " Mrs. Wayne 
 asked eagerly. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Ladd. 
 
 " I'll have a fire if the ladies wish," said 
 Wood. 
 
 " Oh, it's too pleasant for a fire." Mrs. 
 Wayne was all excitement. She had not hoped
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 107 
 
 that the business could be arranged so quickly. 
 Dorothea, on the contrary, felt depressed and 
 nervous. Mrs. Ladd's scheming had already 
 begun to have definite results. She did not 
 want to stay in London in summer ; she would 
 have preferred the country ; now her mother 
 was committing herself to the city for at least a 
 fortnight. She tried to console herself, how- 
 ever, with the thought that if her mother fell ill 
 it would be much better for her to be in lodg- 
 ings than in the hotel. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd quickly made arrangements for 
 the installation of her friends. Wood sum- 
 moned his wife, a short, comely woman with red 
 cheeks, not so fine a type as her husband, but, 
 like him, eager to serve. Mrs. Ladd addressed 
 her as Martha, and Dorothea was prepared to 
 hear the social leader give orders for the even- 
 ing meal. Mrs. Wayne, however, interposed, 
 and said she should be willing to let Martha 
 prepare a dinner of her own devising. The 
 ladies presently turned to the doors, Mrs. Wayne 
 with a little sigh, Mrs. Ladd with the air of hav- 
 ing accomplished a good day's work, Dorothea 
 without a change of countenance to indicate her 
 annoyance. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd declined the invitation for dinner
 
 108 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 that Mrs. Wayne extended to her, and after 
 leaving the ladies at the hotel, she started for 
 Clarges Street. " Lady Downes v/ill look in 
 this afternoon," she said at parting, " and possi- 
 bly one or two others. I'll call to-morrow about 
 tea time. Of course, you'll have afternoon tea 
 while you're here. Wood will see to that," she 
 laughed, as she leaned out of the carriage window. 
 
 The rest of the day Dorothea spent in the 
 agitation of moving again. She made her mother 
 go to bed directly after luncheon for her daily 
 nap, and as soon as Mrs. Wayne, tired out by 
 the morning's experience, woke from her sleep, 
 it was time to repair to Mandeville Place. 
 
 When they arrived there, at six o'clock, 
 though it was still light, they found the curtains 
 drawn, the drawing room illuminated, the table 
 bright with a white damask cloth and lighted 
 candles. Wood had done his best to make' the 
 place inviting. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's face beamed. " How lovely ! " 
 she exclaimed, and, in spite of herself, Dorothea 
 was pleased. 
 
 Wood bowed and smiled and looked very 
 happy. 
 
 " Dinner will be served at half past seven," 
 he said, obsequiously.
 
 IX. 
 
 DOROTHEA and her mother found their lodg- 
 ings even more attractive than Mrs. Ladd had 
 represented them to be. Wood and his wife 
 displayed a zeal for service that had never been 
 equalled in their American experience. More- 
 over Mrs. Wood developed a genius for remi- 
 niscence and companionship that delighted the 
 widow, and relieved Dorothea's apprehension 
 that her mother would find the loneliness of 
 lodgings intolerable. 
 
 After the first dinner, Mrs. Wood, while re- 
 moving the tablecloth, revealed some of the 
 treasures of her mind. Before her marriage 
 she had lived in many a noble family, and she 
 had made her own observations of the British 
 aristocracy. Dorothea saw that she need not 
 fear to leave her parent alone with this store- 
 house of personal information. She had feared 
 that her mother's dislike to sight-seeing might 
 prevent her from going about as she had hoped 
 
 109
 
 IIO THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 to do, from taking trips to the National Gallery, 
 the Tower, the British Museum, and other 
 places in London that her reading had made 
 her familiar with. Now, however, Mrs. Wood's 
 loquacity would more than compensate her 
 mother for her own absences from the lodgings. 
 
 The next morning, to her daughter's sur- 
 prise, Mrs. Wayne was quite as energetic as 
 she had been the day before. After breakfast 
 she at once turned her attention to the con- 
 sideration of domestic arrangements. " I think 
 I shall order the meals, after all," she said. " It 
 seems like housekeeping again. And it's so 
 long since I've kept house I shall like the 
 novelty of it. Besides, we must ask the Ladds 
 to dinner," she added, rather inconsequently. 
 
 " Wouldn't it be better for us to wait till 
 the Ladds ask us to dinner ? " said Dorothea, 
 taking her box of paints from one of the trunks 
 that stood in the passageway. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne started to say something, but 
 she did not say it. A moment later, however, 
 she replied, " Oh, I guess they'll ask us before 
 .very long." 
 
 Dorothea's eyes wandered vaguely around 
 the room. " It's a pity the light is so poor 
 here. This isn't a good place to work in."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ril 
 
 " Oh, I do wish you'd give that up for a 
 while. I should think you'd want to take a 
 rest." 
 
 Dorothea did not reply, and when, a mo- 
 ment later, her mother left the room, she 
 looked over some half-finished canvases she 
 had brought with her. One of them, begun in 
 Oswego, reminded her of Aleck French, and 
 now, as' she started to paint, her mind went 
 back to him. She wondered if he were in 
 London. She would like to see him again ; 
 her feeling for him now was wholly friendly ; 
 she thought of him as one who had made a 
 great mistake, which had almost glorified with 
 pity her liking for him. But London was a very 
 big place, and even if he were in the city she 
 would probably not meet him. If any of her 
 old Oswego friends were in London she would 
 have a chance of meeting him at their hotels 
 and lodgings ; but none of them had come 
 abroad, with the exception of the Watsons, who 
 were travelling through Normandy. 
 
 After luncheon Dorothea suggested to her 
 mother that they go to the National Gallery 
 for an hour or two ; but life in New York 
 with the Misses Marbury had inspired Mrs. 
 Wayne with a hatred of all art galleries. " It
 
 H2 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 would just tire me to death to walk through 
 that place," she said. " Besides, Mrs. Ladd is 
 coming- for tea. I don't think it's very nice of 
 you to go out when you know that." 
 
 " I shall be back before she comes." 
 
 For years Dorothea had looked forward to 
 seeing in the National Gallery the Turners, 
 whose praises she had read in Ruskin. She 
 secretly resolved not to return till five o'clock, 
 partly to allow her mother to have a tete-a-tete 
 with the social leader, chiefly to shorten a 
 disagreeable meeting. As she rang for Wood 
 to call a cab, " I don't think it's decent for a 
 girl to be seen in the streets of London 
 alone," said her mother, one hand clutching at 
 the other. 
 
 " But I go about in New York alone," Doro- 
 thea laughed as she put on her hat. 
 
 " Well, it's a different thing in New York. 
 Mrs. Ladd " 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't keep bringing up 
 Mrs. Ladd, mother. You forget that I'm 
 nearly twenty-nine years old and quite capable 
 of taking care of myself." 
 
 The widow turned away despairingly, and 
 a few moments later Dorothea left the house 
 and entered the cab that had rolled up to the
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. n$ 
 
 curbstone. Then she had one of those mo- 
 ments of misery that differences with her 
 mother always caused her. At these times 
 she was severe with herself for her lack of 
 forbearance. Now she even thought of going 
 back and passing the afternoon in the lodg- 
 ings ; but this, she knew, would simply make 
 her mother more peevish. It was not until 
 the cab had entered Regent Circus and her 
 mind was diverted by the crowds of people 
 in the streets and by the variegated shop 
 windows that she recovered her spirits. 
 
 When she reached the Gallery she asked at 
 once for the Turner room. There she had a 
 shock of disappointment. Viewed collectively, 
 the huge canvases seemed to her wild and 
 meaningless. Yet Aleck French, she remem- 
 bered, after his first visit in London, had 
 written to her enthusiastically in praise of 
 them. He had called them fantastic and ideal, 
 but wonderful in colouring and atmosphere. 
 She resolved to study them one by one, and 
 for an hour she sat in the room examining a 
 few of them in detail. After a time she be- 
 gan to feel their beauty ; they seemed to her 
 the expression of a poet's outlook on life. 
 They were not what she herself saw, and they
 
 H4 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 did not bear the test of what Aleck French 
 had taught her to regard as the best art ; but 
 in her admiration she forgot to judge them by 
 rule ; she forgot even to think of Aleck French 
 at all, and she presently yielded to their spell. 
 She did not think of anything else until she 
 glanced up and saw French standing before 
 her. 
 
 The blood rushed to her face, and for a 
 moment she looked at him without speaking. 
 Then, " Why, Aleck ! " she said, rising from her 
 seat and offering her hand impulsively. 
 
 As he stood there he seemed very big and 
 awkward and homely. His face was bronzed as 
 if he had been much in the sun, and his heavy 
 chin was covered with a thin brown beard. He 
 took her hand and showed his big white teeth 
 as he looked down on her with an almost apolo- 
 getic smile. 
 
 " I thought I should meet you here," he 
 said. 
 
 " I didn't know you were in London." 
 
 " I've been here a couple of weeks. I knew 
 you were here, or were coming." 
 
 " How did you know that ? " 
 
 " Miss Flagler wrote me," he replied, betray- 
 ing a little embarrassment in his face.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 115 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " She wrote me some time ago ; she didn't 
 know then when you were coming. I got a 
 note from her yesterday saying you had sailed. 
 But she didn't give your address." 
 
 " No, I didn't send it to her." 
 
 " Let's sit down ; then you won't get tired." 
 
 They took seats on the velvet divan where 
 Dorothea had been sitting, and Aleck French 
 went on : 
 
 " I knew this would be one of the first places 
 you'd come to. I came here yesterday. I 
 didn't find you in the morning ; so I came again 
 in the afternoon." 
 
 Dorothea did not know what to say in 
 acknowledgment of this speech. He flushed 
 again and smiled, and went on with a suggestion 
 of his old sheepish manner with her : " I came 
 this morning, too." 
 
 She looked up into his face. "That was 
 very kind of you, Aleck. I am really glad to 
 see you." 
 
 She had not intended to be patronizing ; but 
 she realized as she spoke that this was the tone 
 she was taking with him. He did not appear 
 to notice it, however. "How is your mother?" 
 he said. " I suppose she's with you."
 
 H6 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 For several moments they talked about Mrs. 
 Wayne and about people in Osvvego. Then 
 French spoke about Dorothea's work and said 
 he'd heard she was making wonderful progress. 
 She knew that he wanted to speak of his mar- 
 riage and of his treatment ef her, but was afraid 
 to begin, and he knew that she knew it. He 
 did not know, however, that, though waiting 
 for him to speak, she was helping him to fence 
 away from the subject. She could see plainly 
 that he was suffering in his inability to pour out 
 the contrition that was shining in his eyes. He 
 seemed to her as he sat there a great baby, and 
 all trace of resentment against him vanished 
 from her mind. Her old liking for him came 
 back ; in spite of his faults, in spite of his du- 
 plicity with her, she still believed him to be one 
 of the most honest men she had ever known. 
 
 He lingered for a long time on the subject 
 of her work, questioning her with regard to 
 Wentworth's instruction and her studies at the 
 League. Then he spoke of his own pictures, 
 of those he had done during the past year. He 
 was on a big one now the Battle of Austerlitz. 
 He didn't like the subject, of course ; it was out 
 of his line ; but a rich American had offered him 
 a lot of money to do it. He talked on till Doro-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ny 
 
 thea told him she must go ; she had promised 
 to return home before five o'clock. 
 
 " I'll go with you if you'll let me. I'll call a 
 cab." 
 
 " I'd rather walk," she said. 
 
 " Have you seen much here?" he asked, sud- 
 denly, as if he had just realized that he ought to 
 have conducted her through the Gallery. 
 
 " I've seen some of the Turners. They are 
 enough for one day. I don't like to hurry 
 through a gallery." 
 
 "No, of course not. Your impressions get 
 all confused." 
 
 " I shall come again often," she said. 
 
 For a few moments as they walked through 
 Trafalgar Square in the direction of Piccadilly 
 Circus neither spoke. Dorothea knew that he 
 was about to begin on the subject that they had 
 both avoided. As they were passing the Hay- 
 market Theatre he said : 
 
 " I suppose you know about my trouble with 
 my wife, don't you ? " 
 
 " Miss Flagler told me. I was sorry to hear 
 about it." 
 
 "It was just what I deserved." They 
 walked on in silence for a few steps. " I've 
 been punished for the way I acted with you,"
 
 US THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 he continued. " I haven't a word to say for my- 
 self there isn't anything to be said. But I'd 
 like to have you know that I that I do care." 
 
 " I've understood that, Aleck, all along. I 
 haven't blamed you." 
 
 This speech was not exactly true, as Doro- 
 thea was well aware. He would take it, how- 
 ever, as a sign that she had forgiven his offence, 
 and was willing to be his friend again. 
 
 " I've lived in Hell ever since. God, how 
 I've had it rubbed in! " 
 
 She turned her head away. After a moment 
 she said again, " I'm sorry, Aleck." 
 
 " You ought not to be. I don't deserve any 
 one's pity. I'm just getting my deserts." 
 
 " Where is your wife now ? " 
 
 " Where is she ? " he laughed. " Heaven 
 only knows ! I don't. She left me months 
 ago. They said I left her, but that wasn't 
 true." 
 
 "Can't you can't you " She stopped, 
 
 for she felt unable to put her thought into 
 words. As she started to express it she saw 
 how foolish it was. 
 
 " No, it's impossible. You can't imagine 
 the kind of woman she is. You wouldn't be 
 yourself if you could. You don't know any-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 thing about the Oh, it's too vile for you to 
 think about! " 
 
 They didn't speak again for several mo- 
 ments. Then, " What are you going to do, 
 Aleck? " she said. 
 
 " Going to do ? " 
 
 " Yes. Are you going to stay in Paris, or 
 are you going back to America ? " 
 
 " I should like to go back. I've had enough 
 of Paris. But I couldn't make up my mind to 
 face America again. I've been on the verge 
 of going a dozen times. There's a kind of 
 fascination about the life over here." 
 
 " I should think it would be better for you 
 to go back." 
 
 " To Oswego ? " 
 
 "No; to New York." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I might go to New York. 
 Perhaps I shall. I'll think about it, anyway. 
 But I don't like the idea of meeting father 
 again." 
 
 " How is your father, Aleck ? " 
 
 " I haven't heard from him since I told him 
 about my marriage except once. I sha'n't 
 forget that letter very soon. Father always 
 thought a good deal of you, you know ; but 
 he he didn't "
 
 120 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " How big and crowded London is ! " Dor- 
 othea interrupted quickly. " I was afraid I 
 should be disappointed in it, but it's more 
 wonderful than I thought it could be." 
 
 He descended from his heroics. 
 
 " It seems like a great, gloomy wilderness 
 to me," he said. " Still, there are some good 
 spots in it. It's rather fine around Piccadilly ; 
 but the mixture of different styles of architec- 
 ture is bad. You have to take London in the 
 mass to find real beauty. All the beauty dis- 
 appears if you look at it in detail." 
 
 Their talk returned to personal matters, and 
 remained on safe topics. Dorothea gave her 
 companion an account of some of her experi- 
 ences since she had last seen him, of her win- 
 ter in New York, and of her voyage. Her 
 description of the Follett Ladds made him 
 laugh. He had never heard of them before, 
 but he said he could imagine what they were 
 like. She didn't tell him about Mrs. Ladd's 
 scheming with her mother ; if he had been 
 cleverer, however, he might have surmised 
 that from his acquaintance with Mrs. Wayne. 
 With the widow he had long been on terms 
 of jocular familiarity ; on his visits at her 
 house she had always brightened and ap-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 12 I 
 
 peared at her best. He knew, however, how 
 she tried Dorothea, and he surmised that she 
 was as peevish as ever. He was disappointed 
 at finding- Dorothea so little changed. She 
 had always seemed remote to him, and now he 
 felt that, so far as he was concerned, her re- 
 moteness had become absolute. As he walked 
 and talked with her, he thought with a keener 
 sense of all he had missed by his folly. She 
 appeared so fine, so serene, so admirably ad- 
 justed ! He admired her all the more for the 
 calm way in which she had placed him on a 
 friendly basis with her again. He said to him- 
 self that such a woman was created, not merely 
 to be loved, but worshipped. This made him 
 wonder if a worshipper had taken his old 
 place, and when they reached the door of the 
 lodgings he asked boldly : 
 
 " Are you engaged ? " 
 
 She looked up into his face and smiled. 
 " No," she replied. " Mother is afraid I shall 
 never get married." 
 
 " I should like to see your mother," he said, 
 flushing. 
 
 " Won't you come in and see her now ? 
 Mrs. Ladd is probably gone. It must be after 
 five. I had forgotten about her."
 
 122 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Thank you some other time. Perhaps 
 you'd better prepare her," he added with a 
 smile. 
 
 " She would be glad to see you." 
 
 He hesitated a moment. " And are you glad 
 to see me ? " he said, looking down into her 
 face. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And you'll let me be your friend again ? " 
 
 She extended her hand. " Certainly, Aleck." 
 
 For a moment he held her hand. 
 
 " You are too good to me, Dorothea." he 
 said.
 
 X. 
 
 WHEN Dorothea entered the lodgings her 
 mother confronted her. 
 
 " So that's why you were so eager to come 
 over here ! " she cried, her eyes bright with 
 anger. 
 
 For a moment Dorothea did not understand 
 her mother's words. Then, when she saw their 
 meaning, her face turned scarlet ; she was too 
 indignant to reply. As she walked across the 
 room, her mother turned to resume the attack. 
 
 " I don't wonder you're ashamed to speak." 
 
 " If you'll explain what you mean, mother, I 
 will speak." 
 
 " Explain what I mean ? You know well 
 enough what I mean. Going off in a strange 
 city and having clandestine meetings with an- 
 other woman's husband ! " 
 
 " If you mean that I've had a clandestine 
 meeting with Aleck French, mother, you are 
 very much mistaken. I didn't know he was in 
 
 123
 
 124 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 the city till I met him in the National Gal- 
 lery." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne was silenced. If she had 
 stopped to think, she would have seen that her 
 suspicion was ridiculous, and she might not have 
 uttered it ; but it was her habit to think after 
 she spoke, if she thought at all. Now Doro- 
 thea's plain statement convinced her that she 
 had been mistaken. To her knowledge her 
 daughter had never told her a deliberate 
 lie. When she spoke again it was to say, 
 " What is Aleck French doing in London, 
 anyway? " 
 
 " I didn't ask him." 
 
 " If you weren't ashamed of being seen on 
 the street with him, why didn't you bring him 
 in?" 
 
 " He thought Mrs. Ladd was here, and he 
 said he'd come some other time." 
 
 " Mrs. Ladd's been gone a half an hour. 
 Nice thing for you to walk off, when you knew 
 she was coming ! " 
 
 " I thought I should find her here," said 
 Dorothea, in a conciliatory tone. 
 
 " She asked us to dinner to-morrow night," 
 Mrs. Wayne went on, subsiding. 
 
 "And did you say you'd go?"
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. I2 5 
 
 " Of course I did. Lady Dowries and her 
 son are to be there to meet us." 
 
 Dorothea thoughtfully stuck her hat-pin in 
 her hat and then put the hat carefully away. 
 
 " Mrs. Ladd says the Downes are one of the 
 best families in England." 
 
 " Are they ? " 
 
 Dorothea took her seat at the desk in the 
 corner of the room and prepared to write a 
 note. 
 
 " They have a lovely place twenty-five miles 
 out of London. Mrs. Ladd visits them every 
 year." 
 
 Dorothea began to write. 
 
 " The son is very handsome, Mrs. Ladd says. 
 He's the only child. He has the estate now. 
 His father died five years ago." 
 
 As Dorothea continued writing, Mrs. Wayne 
 began to walk up and down the room, rear- 
 ranging the furniture and bits of bric-b-brac. 
 
 Dorothea knew that her mother's restless- 
 ness was due to a desire to discuss the coming 
 dinner; but she was not herself in the mood ; if 
 she did discuss it she felt that she would betray 
 her irritation at being obliged to attend it, 
 and in this way aggravate her mother again. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne presently took a seat by the
 
 I 2 6 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 empty fireplace and folded her hands in her 
 lap. 
 
 " Has Aleck French gone back to his wife ? " 
 she asked suddenly. 
 
 " No," Dorothea replied, without look- 
 ing up. 
 
 " Is he going to get a divorce?" 
 
 " I don't know." A moment later Dorothea 
 raised her head. " I think I'll ask him for 
 dinner for Thursday night." 
 
 " Ask him for dinner ! " Then, after consid- 
 ering the proposition, Mrs. Wayne went on in 
 another tone : " Well, you may ask him if you 
 want to though, for my part 
 
 " You used to like Aleck, mother," said 
 Dorothea, taking a fresh sheet of paper. 
 
 " I liked him before he was spoiled," Mrs. 
 Wayne snapped. 
 
 " He seems to be much the same as ever, 
 only a little more serious, perhaps." 
 
 " Well, I should think he would be serious." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne looked curiously at her daugh- 
 ter, as she often did when she thought she was 
 not herself observed. 
 
 " I don't know where you get your disposi- 
 tion," she said. " You certainly didn't get it 
 from me."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. I2 / 
 
 In her note to Aleck French, Dorothea said 
 that she should not be able to go to the Na- 
 tional Gallery the next day ; she had some shop- 
 ping- to do with her mother ; on Thursday, 
 though, he might meet her at the Gallery, and 
 then come home with her to dinner. She wrote 
 just as she might have written in the old Os- 
 wego days, before she thought of becoming en- 
 gaged to him. It did not occur to her that 
 there could be anything improper in her meet- 
 ing him. He must be lonely in London ; he 
 knew few people there, and he had always 
 hated to be alone. It seemed to her that this 
 was the time when she ought to be most kind to 
 him. Perhaps, if she had analyzed her feelings, 
 she would have discovered that her frank over- 
 tures of friendship were due partly to a desire 
 to let him see how little she cared for his breach 
 of faith. But she was too healthy to indulge 
 much in introspection, and she wasted little 
 time in weighing motives. 
 
 A large part of the next day was spent by 
 Mrs. Wayne in the rooms of a fashionable dress- 
 maker, who had undertaken to transform one of 
 her gowns into a dinner dress. Mrs. Wayne 
 had not worn a low-necked gown for several 
 years, and, as she caught cold from the most
 
 I2 8 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 trivial causes, Dorothea was seriously con- 
 cerned about the effect on her mother's health. 
 
 The gown, which had been promised for 
 four o'clock, did not reach the lodgings till 
 nearly six ; so during the two hours preceding 
 its arrival Mrs. Wayne was in a fever. Doro- 
 thea had difficulty in keeping her own temper, 
 in at least not saying something disagreeable 
 about Mrs. Ladd. When, at seven o'clock, she 
 had put her mother into a cab and squeezed 
 herself in, she felt a delicious sense of relief. 
 They would at least be in time ! 
 
 They proved to be ten minutes ahead of 
 the time ; when they reached the lodgings in 
 Clarges Street, they found that the other guests 
 had not yet arrived. Mrs. Ladd, in a gorgeous 
 costume of Nile green, heavily trimmed with 
 black lace, received them at the door of her 
 drawing room, which also served as a dining 
 room. 
 
 " It's so good of you to come," she said 
 effusively, kissing Dorothea for the first time, 
 after welcoming her mother. " We're going to 
 be very informal, you know. It was the great- 
 est piece of luck my finding the Dovvnes here. 
 They're going away in a couple of weeks. They 
 rarely stay in London after June."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. I2 p 
 
 Then, when Dorothea had removed her 
 wraps, she cried : 
 
 " How stunning- you are, dear ! Where did 
 you get that lovely frock? It looks like one of 
 Lefevre's. Those violets just suit you. I told 
 Sir Hubert that violet was your colour." 
 
 Mrs. Ladd had not overpraised Dorothea's 
 appearance. Mrs. Wayne knew that her 
 daughter had never looked finer. Her full fig- 
 ure, her firm white neck, and the classic regu- 
 larity of her features made her seem, the widow 
 said to herself, almost imperial. At this mo- 
 ment she should be treading that crimson carpet 
 in her white satin slippers. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's nervousness was soothed by 
 the thought that her campaign was developing 
 brilliantly. The table in the middle of the 
 room, with its linen and silver and gleaming 
 cut glass, between palms and flowers and 
 lighted candelabra, suggested the entrance 
 bower to the fairyland where her daughter was 
 destined to dwell. 
 
 Lady Downes and her son were late ; so 
 Mrs. Wayne had plenty of time to prepare her- 
 self for meeting them. Lady Downes proved 
 to be a small, mild-looking woman of sixty, with 
 white hair and a complexion of almost waxlike
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 pallor, broken here and there by little spots of 
 pink which Mrs. Wayne's sharp eyes discovered 
 not to be due to art. Her son towered beside 
 her; he was more than six feet tall, and his 
 broad shoulders stooped slightly ; his nose was 
 large, and his lips showed red under his heavy 
 brown mustache. His hair, just turning gray, 
 was close-cropped and thin, and his cheeks had 
 in them fine red veins. To Dorothea he seemed 
 a perfect type of the well-bred, well-fed, con- 
 tented Englishman. He stood awkwardly at the 
 doorway, with an apologetic smile on his face, as 
 his mother poured out her regrets at being so late. 
 
 " What in the world have you been doing to 
 yourself?" cried Mrs. Ladd, offering him her 
 hand and staring up into his face. " Where's 
 your beard ? " 
 
 " I left it in Bath last year," he replied, with 
 a smile. 
 
 " It was getting gray and I made him take 
 it off," Lady Downes interposed as she removed 
 her wraps. 
 
 " I don't know whether I like it or not," said 
 Mrs. Ladd, still regarding him. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne and Dorothea had been looking 
 at the new arrivals, the widow with a little smile 
 on her face, and Dorothea with her usual se-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 131 
 
 renity. When Sir Hubert had removed his 
 light overcoat and revealed his gleaming shirt 
 front, Mrs. Ladd made the introductions. Sir 
 Hubert simply bowed, and his mother smiled 
 and shook hands with Mrs. Wayne and said, 
 " How do you do ? " Then, turning to Dorothea, 
 she gave her a quick glance. " I'm very fond 
 of American girls," said she. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Ladd ? " Sir Hubert asked, 
 glancing around the room, as if he thought he 
 
 might have overlooked him. 
 
 . ^ 
 " Oh, he'll be in presently. He's never in 
 
 time, you know." 
 
 " I want to have some more games of chess 
 with him," Sir Hubert explained, apparently 
 anxious to begin at once. 
 
 " Do, by all means. It cheers him up. He 
 gets very blue over here sometimes." 
 
 At that moment Follett Ladd entered, but- 
 toning the last button of his waistcoat. His 
 face was very red, and one could easily see 
 from it that he had been having a struggle with 
 his toilet. He bustled up to Lady Downes and 
 shook her by the hand. Then, after greeting 
 Mrs. Wayne and Dorothea, he turned to Sir 
 Hubert, and his manner changed to one of jocu- 
 lar familiarity.
 
 132 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Well, old chap, how are you ? I'm going 
 to beat you this time. I won't go back to 
 America till I've paid you back for that thrash- 
 ing you gave me last summer." 
 
 They shook hands warmly, and Sir Hubert 
 laughed and replied : 
 
 " You'll have to come down to Broadoaks 
 again and we'll fight it out there." 
 
 " Ah, we've got that all planned," Lady 
 Downes interrupted, turning from Mrs. Wayne. 
 " Mrs. Ladd and I have settled everything." 
 
 In a few moments they sat at the table, 
 Dorothea between Follett Ladd and Sir Hu- 
 bert, her mother flanked by Lady Downes and 
 Mrs. Ladd. The three ladies fell at once into 
 deep conference, and Dorothea could see Lady 
 Downes glance smilingly at her every few 
 moments. 
 
 While the soup was being served Sir Hu- 
 bert turned to her and made an effort to begin 
 conversation. 
 
 "Are you enjoying the season this year?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " We've only just come," Dorothea replied. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 For a moment he tried to think of some- 
 thing to say ; then, as nothing occurred to him,
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 133 
 
 he turned to his soup. Presently he began 
 again, as if there had been no break in their 
 talk. " But you've been over before, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " No, this is my first visit." 
 
 " Is it, really ? " He stared at her blankly. 
 " Now I should have supposed you'd been 
 several times before." 
 
 " Why ? " said Dorothea, to encourage him. 
 
 He grew thoughtful again ; he seemed to 
 be weighing the question as if it were a mat- 
 ter of importance. 
 
 " Well, in the first place, your voice your 
 your manner," he stammered. " Not that I 
 think the American manner isn't charming," 
 he added in confusion. " It often is delightful. 
 But I've noticed," he concluded, with a little 
 smile, " that it sometimes changes when the 
 Americans have been over here before." 
 
 This seemed to Dorothea hardly a happy 
 speech ; but she replied civilly : " The English 
 manner is quieter than ours. I don't wonder 
 you like it better." 
 
 He flushed again. " I must confess that we 
 do," he replied, " but perhaps we're prejudiced. 
 You know we're a pig-headed people. That's 
 one of the reasons why we've got on."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Dorothea saw in this remark a chance to 
 draw him out. He was evidently a man of 
 little small talk, but capable of enlarging on 
 a few topics ; his own country was probably 
 one of them. 
 
 " Do you mean that Englishmen never con- 
 form to others that they make others do what 
 they want them to do ? " 
 
 " Exactly," he replied, apparently surprised 
 and gratified that she had seized his point. 
 " Englishmen go all over the world, but they're 
 just as English in China as they are in Picca- 
 dilly. They force people to adopt their own 
 ways wherever they can. We're not adaptable, 
 as you Americans are." 
 
 " But we've prospered, too a little," Doro- 
 thea said with a smile. 
 
 " Yes, and in a better way in a broader 
 way. That's why I believe your country is 
 going to eclipse ours some day. Our basis is 
 too narrow ; we're in danger of toppling over." 
 
 " What's this about toppling over ? " inter- 
 rupted Mrs. Ladd. " Who's going to topple 
 over ? What's going to topple over ? " 
 
 Sir Hubert looked awkward. " I've been 
 telling Miss Wayne about some of my theo- 
 ries," he replied, with a smile.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ^5 
 
 " Hubert is becoming very advanced," said 
 Lady Downes, glancing affectionately at her 
 son. 
 
 " A conservative Englishman advanced ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Ladd, with the air of saying 
 something humorous. " Who ever heard of 
 such a thing ? " 
 
 " He threatens to go over to the Liberals," 
 said Lady Downes. " He has always had a 
 great admiration for Mr. Gladstone." 
 
 Mrs. Ladd rolled her eyes. " For Mr. Glad- 
 stone ! " 
 
 " I want to be on the safe side," said 
 Sir Hubert, with an apologetic smile. " The 
 day of conservatism and aristocracy is 
 over." 
 
 " What heresy ! " Mrs. Ladd exclaimed, 
 glancing around the table. " In America it's 
 just beginning." 
 
 " Then perhaps we'd better emigrate to 
 America," said Sir Hubert, smiling at his 
 mother. 
 
 " Oh, you needn't do that. We're Ameri- 
 canizing you over here. Our American girls 
 are seeing to that." 
 
 Lady Downes turned to Dorothea with a 
 display of her fine white teeth, and Dorothea
 
 136 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 felt her face growing hot why, she could 
 hardly have told. 
 
 Sir Hubert ignored the remark, and inter- 
 posed rather hastily : 
 
 " You rich Americans are driving us out of 
 house and home. We're paying for the ex- 
 travagance and the ignorance of our grand- 
 fathers, and your countrymen are being re- 
 warded for their industry. Some of the finest 
 estates in England are now in the possession 
 of Americans, and in a few years a great 
 many more will be turned over to them. Then 
 the tendency of our legislation is toward the 
 destruction of large estates, anyway." 
 
 After this speech Sir Hubert flushed ; he 
 was unused to taking sustained conversational 
 flights. Dorothea wondered if the Downes 
 could be one of the impoverished families that 
 Sir Hubert had referred to. She did not have 
 time to give much thought to this possibility, 
 for Mrs. Ladd speedily took up the thread of talk. 
 
 " But we must have an aristocracy. We've 
 found that out in our own country, where we 
 pride ourselves on our republicanism, or pre- 
 tend to, at any rate. Our classes in America 
 are just as marked as those in any other coun- 
 try."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 137 
 
 " Do you think so, Mrs. Ladd ? " said Doro- 
 thea, to whom the social leader had turned for 
 confirmation. She had felt that if she didn't 
 speak she would laugh. 
 
 " Why, of course they are. There's a cer- 
 tain set in New York that is far more exclusive 
 than the Prince of Wales' set in London. A 
 great many Americans who get into the Prince 
 of Wales' set never could get into ours." 
 
 " But we don't all consider the Prince of 
 Wales' set the best," Lady Downes interposed 
 gently. 
 
 " Well, it certainly sets the fashion." 
 
 Mrs. Ladd's face flushed, not merely with 
 the exhilaration of argument, but with the pleas- 
 ing consciousness that the dinner was going off 
 well. She had been afraid that Dorothea would 
 be icy and Sir Hubert silent, and the burden 
 of conversation would be sustained by the two 
 older women and herself ; her husband she did 
 not even think of in this connection ; she never 
 counted on him for social support. 
 
 Lady Downes did not reply to Mrs. Ladd's 
 speech, and for a moment there was an awk- 
 ward pause. Follett Ladd's noisy munching 
 seemed to resound through the room. Then 
 the social leader went on :
 
 !38 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " I must acknowledge that the marks of dis- 
 tinction between the classes are more noticeable 
 in England than in America. Here, it seems to 
 me, every man and woman is socially labelled. 
 You can tell a middle-class woman as soon as 
 you look at her, and there's absolutely no room 
 for doubt when she speaks. And, of course, 
 the marks of the lower-class people are even 
 plainer. There's nothing in America, for exam- 
 ple, like your costermonger ; there's no class 
 there that he could be compared with. I have 
 a theory that the costers are a race by them- 
 selves." 
 
 Sir Hubert smiled. " But still very Eng- 
 lish." 
 
 " Yes, English, and yet not English. They've 
 lived in England for generations ; so they've 
 naturally acquired traits that are common to 
 the English of the lowest class. But in some 
 ways they are absolutely unique." 
 
 Sir Hubert did not attempt to refute Mrs. 
 Ladd's opinion ; Dorothea saw from his face 
 that he did not take it seriously. His eyes 
 turned to his empty plate. Lady Downes was 
 looking at him and smiling. After the silence 
 that followed, Mrs. Ladd resumed : 
 
 " People talk about the nouveaux riches of
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 139 
 
 America, but it seems to me there are plenty 
 of nonveaux riches in England, too." 
 
 "Ah, yes!" Lady Downes sighed. "So 
 many commoners have been knighted lately. 
 Some of them are quite vulgar." 
 
 "Titles are like wine, you know," said her 
 son, rather tritely, smiling and dropping his 
 eyes again. 
 
 "And some of the old ones," Follett Ladd 
 interposed, " are pretty sour. Think of old 
 Ballington," he added, with a knowing glance 
 at Sir Hubert. 
 
 " As an example of the virtues, I'm afraid 
 our aristocracy is a failure," Sir Hubert 
 laughed. 
 
 " The more we become civilized the more 
 we are tempted," cried Mrs. Ladd, rushing to 
 the defence of the class with which she felt 
 she had a natural affinity. 
 
 " And the less strength we have to resist 
 temptation," her husband added, helping him- 
 self to another piece of chicken. " Let me 
 give you some more, Downes." 
 
 Sir Hubert raised his hand deprecatingly. 
 Then he turned to Mrs. Ladd. " That's a 
 great argument for civilization, isn't it ?" 
 
 " Of course, we all know that civilization is
 
 140 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 only an excuse for the luxury of the rich," she 
 replied. 
 
 " Then we mustn't civilize our lower classes. 
 If we do, they II become luxurious," Sir Hu- 
 bert laughed. 
 
 " Worse than that," Mrs. Ladd corrected. 
 " They'll take away our luxuries." 
 
 " That's just what they are doing in Eng- 
 land," cried Sir Hubert, with a triumphant 
 smile. " So we agree, after all." 
 
 Mrs. Ladd flushed. " It all depends on the 
 point of view," she said loftily. 
 
 " I must say I think the masses, as they are 
 called, have the advantage of us," Sir Hubert 
 went on. " They -can work up, but the best we 
 can do is to keep floating and many of us can't 
 even do that." 
 
 " Ah ! we must make him come to America," 
 cried Mrs. Ladd. " Then he'll change his 
 views." 
 
 " He's been on the point of going half a 
 dozen times," said the old lady. 
 
 " I shall surprise you one day by taking 
 the steamer at an hour's notice." 
 
 The conversation broke intQ twos again, and 
 Sir Hubert entertained Dorothea with an ac- 
 count of his life in the country. He disliked
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ! 4 ! 
 
 the town, he said ; he came in just to be with 
 his mother ; she would be lonely without him. 
 Did they ever find the country dull ? Oh, no. 
 They nearly always had a houseful of people. 
 His mother and he thought it a great treat to 
 be alone each year. Of course, he added, 
 apologetically, they liked to have people with 
 them. But it was good to be off by yourself 
 once in a while, wasn't it? And being with 
 his mother was much better than being by 
 himself ; she was the best company in the 
 world ; she understood things. Some women 
 did have a wonderful faculty for understand- 
 ing things, didn't Miss Wayne think so ? Sir 
 Hubert had never known any one whose under- 
 standing was keener than his mother's. She 
 was keen in practical things, too ; he would 
 rather have her advice in a matter of busi- 
 ness than the opinion of a hard-headed business 
 man. 
 
 Then Dorothea, without realizing that she 
 was doing it, led him on to tell about his life 
 at Harrow and Oxford. He had distinguished 
 himself at Oxford, he told her, chiefly by driv- 
 ing tandem ; he did not say that he had won a 
 much greater distinction in athletics ; his broad 
 shoulders, however, made her suspect that he
 
 I4 2 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 had. He related some amusing stories of men 
 who were at the university with him and had 
 since become eminent in politics. 
 
 " I'm one of the do-nothings," he said. " I've 
 simply stood aside and watched those chaps 
 forging ahead. In America, I suppose, you 
 don't have people like me. You all forge 
 ahead, or you try to. After all, it's the trying 
 that's the important thing, isn't it? " 
 
 Presently Mrs. Ladd drew away from the 
 table, and the others, following her example, 
 sat about, sipping their coffee. Mrs. Ladd en- 
 gaged Sir Hubert, and Lady Downes took 
 her place beside Dorothea. Mrs. Wayne was 
 obliged to cope with the husband of her 
 hostess. 
 
 " I think you must be a very wonderful 
 person," said Lady Downes. " You've made 
 my son talk. 1 don't think I've ever heard 
 him talk so much as he did to-night. You 
 must have inspired him." 
 
 " It was Mrs. Ladd, I think. She's so 
 clever," Dorothea replied with a smile. 
 
 " Ah, but he's been at table with Mrs. Ladd 
 before and hardly opened his mouth except to 
 eat. I'm sure it was you." 
 
 Then Lady Downes proceeded to discourse
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 143 
 
 about her son. He had always been so good ; 
 he had done wonders for the estate. When it 
 passed into his hands it was terribly impover- 
 ished ; but he had .devoted himself heart and 
 soul to improving it and removing the debt. 
 Of course, he hadn't been able to remove all 
 the debt ; it would take years to do that. He 
 was very much interested in agriculture in 
 scientific agriculture. If Miss Wayne could 
 only see Broadoaks, she would like it, Lady 
 Downes felt sure ; all Americans liked it. She 
 herself was very fond of Americans ; they were 
 so clever, and so adaptable. Miss Wayne and 
 her mother must come down to Broadoaks some 
 time for a few days. It was only one hour 
 from London ; they wouldn't find the journey 
 fatiguing. Mrs. Ladd was coming soon ; per- 
 haps they would come then. 
 
 " We go away the week after next," Lady 
 Downes added. " Hubert is so anxious to get 
 back to the country. I have one of my last 
 ' at homes ' next Saturday. I do wish you and 
 your mother would come. But before then I'll 
 come to see you if I may. I'm very fond of 
 young people," she said with her soft smile. 
 " I'm sure we shall be the best of friends.
 
 XL 
 
 ON their way home Dorothea could see that 
 her mother considered the evening a success. 
 
 " Lady Downes is coming to-morrow," said 
 the widow, with a suggestion of triumph in 
 her tone, her voice vibrant above the noise 
 of the carriage wheels. " Of course, you'll 
 stay in." 
 
 " But I promised to go to the National Gal- 
 lery," Dorothea replied. 
 
 " Promised ? Who did you promise? " Mrs. 
 Wayne asked, becoming ungrammatical in her 
 excitement. 
 
 " Aleck French said he would show me the 
 Correggios." 
 
 " Aleck French ! Always Aleck French ! 
 I'm sick of hearing his name. I should think 
 you'd have a little pride ! " 
 
 " I can write him a note or send him a tele- 
 gram." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne subsided into a corner of the 
 
 144
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ^5 
 
 carriage. " She said she'd bring her son," she 
 remarked a moment later, as if there had been 
 no break in her talk about Lady Downes. ^She 
 had a habit of ignoring her unpleasant inter- 
 ludes with her daughter ; they seemed to make 
 no impression on her. 
 
 As Dorothea offered no reply, her mother 
 resumed : " What did you think of him ? " 
 
 " I liked him." 
 
 " Don't you think he's handsome ? " 
 
 " No, not handsome. His nose is too large." 
 
 " I like that. It's a sign of generosity, 
 they say." 
 
 " He seemed to me rather fine-looking," 
 Dorothea admitted. 
 
 " Well, he's a gentleman, anyway," said Mrs. 
 Wayne, as if putting an end to an argument. 
 
 The next day the callers appeared. Sir 
 Hubert had lost his fluency of the night be- 
 fore ; what he did say was confined chiefly to 
 commonplace. Lady Downes, however, was 
 all small talk and sweetness ; she was charmed 
 with the lodgings, and became enraptured over 
 Dorothea's pictures, which she had insisted upon 
 seeing ; Mrs. Ladd, she explained, had told her 
 how wonderful they were. Sir Hubert looked 
 at them intently, and said a few words of con-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 ventional praise which convinced Dorothea that 
 he disliked them. 
 
 When, he left with his mother, who made 
 Mrs. Wayne promise to come early on Satur- 
 day afternoon, Dorothea very nearly lost her 
 temper. She gathered in a heap the canvases, 
 which had been scattered along one side of the 
 room. 
 
 " Never ask me to show these to any one 
 again, mother." 
 
 " Never show them to any one again ! 
 Why not ? " 
 
 " Because they're not worth showing. 
 Those people knew how bad they were. They 
 see too many pictures not to know the differ- 
 ence between good work and bad." 
 
 " Why, Lady Downes was delighted with 
 them. She told me so in the hall. She thinks 
 you have genius." 
 
 " Genius ! " Dorothea repeated, scornfully. 
 
 " The English don't flatter, whatever you 
 may say of them. They're the bluntest people 
 in the world. Mrs. Ladd 
 
 " Yes, I know they are. That's why Sir 
 Hubert had so little to say about my work. 
 He knew he couldn't say anything good ; so he 
 kept still."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 147 
 
 " I'm sure he said it was capital. That's the 
 very word he used." 
 
 The next day Mrs. Wayne was ill with neu- 
 ralgia. She didn't get up till noon, and Doro- 
 thea decided to postpone her visit to the gal- 
 lery ; but early in the afternoon her mother 
 urged her to go out ; she would herself take a 
 nap on the lounge. 
 
 " You can bring Aleck French back to din- 
 ner, if you want to," she said, in a conciliatory 
 tone. " I guess he won't mind my being 
 a little out of sorts. I'd like to see him 
 again." 
 
 Dorothea was not surprised by this conces- 
 sion. It was characteristic of her mother's in- 
 consistency ; besides, it was probably due di- 
 rectly to a touch of homesickness which had 
 manifested itself in the morning by a sudden fit 
 of weeping. With Aleck she could talk over 
 friends in Oswego. 
 
 When she reached the gallery she found 
 French in the Turner room, and there they 
 remained for more than an hour. Then Doro- 
 thea decided not to look at the Correggios ; she 
 felt too tired. French suggested that they take 
 a walk in Hyde Park. He called a cab, and 
 after reaching the park they spent another hour
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 in sauntering about and in watching the car- 
 riages that passed in Rotton Row. 
 
 " This isn't the best time to see the fashion- 
 able people," he said. " You ought to come 
 some morning. Then they are all out. Eleven 
 o'clock's the swell hour for driving this year." 
 
 Dorothea was interested in the appearance 
 of the women that she saw in the carriages. 
 Most of them wore a superabundance of hair, 
 and both in their hair and on their faces many 
 displayed the effects of art. She had heard 
 that the Englishwomen were fresh and whole- 
 some looking, but these people were certainly 
 neither. 
 
 " The fashionable women that you see in 
 London aren't typical Englishwomen," said 
 French, when she had told him her impressions. 
 " They're all dried up by late hours, and spoiled 
 by the horrible trick of making up that seems 
 to be the style here now. Just see how many 
 red-haired women there are. Next year they'll 
 have yellow hair or green," he laughed. 
 
 " But where are the typical Englishwomen ? " 
 
 " In the country, looking after their fami- 
 lies." 
 
 " I think Lady Downes must be one of 
 them," she said absent-mindedly.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 149 
 
 Then she told h'im about the dinner at the 
 Ladds'. With regard to Sir Hubert, she found 
 herself taking a satirical tone. She described 
 his appearance and his manners, and she re- 
 peated passages in the conversation at table 
 that had amused her. 
 
 " Your mother will be wanting to marry 
 you off to some of these titled people," French 
 said, with a smile that did not appear joyous. 
 
 " I shall never marry any one, Aleck," she 
 replied, bending over and making lines in the 
 earth with her parasol. 
 
 He followed the movement of the parasol 
 with his eyes. 
 
 " I always thought you were too good for 
 me" 
 
 She rose from the seat. " Please let us not 
 talk about these things any more, Aleck," she 
 said with a sigh. 
 
 They walked in the park till it was time for 
 them to go to Mandeville Place for dinner. As 
 they approached the house French grew silent. 
 Dorothea saw that he felt nervous about meet- 
 ing her mother ; but when he entered the draw- 
 ing room the widow received him as she might 
 have done in the old Oswego days, only with 
 more enthusiasm. She treated him with a tact
 
 150 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 that surprised Dorothea, arid evidently touched 
 her old admirer. Mrs. Wayne made no refer- 
 ence to his marriage, but when, about eleven 
 o'clock, he went away she followed him to the 
 door and urged him to come soon again. 
 
 " You must come some time when Doro- 
 thea's away," she added. " Then we can have 
 one of our old talks." 
 
 After the door closed upon him, however, 
 she spoiled for her daughter the effect she had 
 made during the evening. 
 
 "He's a perfect wreck, isn't he?" she said. 
 " You were lucky to get rid of him." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's vivid imagination had evi- 
 dently read into Aleck French's appearance 
 what she conceived ought to be a result of his 
 misfortune. To Dorothea he presented no sign 
 of a wreck. Of course he couldn't be very 
 happy; but he probably painted as well as he 
 ever did. After a time he would probably get 
 a divorce, marry some one else, and become 
 cheerful and commonplace again. This was a 
 prosaic view to take of him, but she felt sure 
 that it was the right one. As for the other ref- 
 erence of her mother's, that repeated itself in 
 her mind as she drove the next afternoon to the 
 Downes' in Chelsea. Though they had prom-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. !$! 
 
 ised to come early, it was nearly five o'clock 
 when they reached there. The house was small 
 and plain, painted white with yellow trimmings. 
 On one of the stone posts of the gateway " Gras- 
 mere " was printed in large letters. The front 
 door opened into a large, meagrely furnished 
 room, with an enormous brick fireplace on one 
 side. On the chairs lay a number of silk hats, 
 and from above came a murmur of voices. 
 
 "I'm afraid we're very late," Mrs. Wayne 
 whispered, as they went up the winding stairs. 
 
 They found that the drawing room was 
 crowded, and they had to stand for a moment 
 near the door, waiting till Lady Downes should 
 notice them. Dorothea could see Sir Hubert's 
 broad back in one corner of the room, and she 
 could catch glimpses of a woman's dress be- 
 hind it. 
 
 When Lady Downes emerged from the 
 group that had been surrounding her, she 
 smiled and rustled up toward the doorway. 
 
 " I'm so glad you found your way here," she 
 said, taking Mrs. Wayne's hand. " Did you 
 have any trouble?" she asked when she turned 
 to Dorothea. " It's a little remote, you know. 
 We find it inconvenient sometimes. It isn't our 
 own place ; we've just rented it from the Bur-
 
 152 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 tons. They're in Switzerland now. What a 
 delightful evening we had at the Ladds' ! " she 
 cried, glancing from mother to daughter. 
 " Mrs. Ladd is such a good hostess, isn't she ? 
 It seems to me all American women are. I 
 never knew Hubert to talk so much ; but I've 
 told you about that. He's hardly spoken a 
 word since. Perhaps you can draw him out 
 again." 
 
 Lady Downes led the ladies into the centre 
 of the room, where she presented them to the 
 group of people standing under the chandelier. 
 
 " We have a great many American friends," 
 said a fat little man to Dorothea. " Mrs. Wen- 
 dell and I are always glad to meet them. We 
 quite look forward to seeing them every sum- 
 mer. What part of America do you come 
 from ? " 
 
 When Dorothea explained that she came 
 from Oswego, but had been living in New York 
 during the past winter, he went on : 
 
 "Then I wonder if you know a very 'dear 
 friend of ours. There he is now. See, the gen- 
 tleman just shaking hands with Lady Downes." 
 
 Dorothea looked quickly across the room 
 and saw a tall, fashionably dressed young man 
 bowing before her hostess and clasping her
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 153 
 
 hand high in the air. For a moment she did 
 not recognise the figure ; then the sound of a 
 familiar voice made her face flame. She turned 
 to her new acquaintance, and said : 
 
 " Yes, I think I know him. It's Mr. Boyd, 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Harrington Boyd. He's one of 
 the cleverest of your younger writers, don't 
 you think so?" 
 
 " I didn't know that he was still in London." 
 
 He did not observe the evasion. " He's stay- 
 ing a little later than usual, I think." 
 
 Harrington Boyd had edged away from 
 Lady Downes, and was shaking hands with a 
 tall woman beside Mrs. Wayne. 
 
 " I'm enchanted to meet Mrs. Wendell 
 again," he said, with mock solemnity. " When 
 did her ladyship deign to return to town ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Wendell and he are old friends," said 
 the little man, smiling. " They once wrote a 
 short story together." 
 
 Dorothea kept her eyes on Harrington 
 Boyd. Mrs. Wendell presented him to Mrs. 
 Wayne, and he looked startled. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " she heard him say. " How 
 delightful ! I didn't know you were over here. 
 Is Miss Wayne with you ? "
 
 !54 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 At that moment his glance met Dorothea's, 
 and she felt her face growing hot again. 
 
 " This is a pleasure," he said, hurrying to 
 her. " Have you been over long ? " 
 
 " Less than a week," Dorothea replied, feel- 
 ing the awkwardness that the presence of Har- 
 rington Boyd always caused her. 
 
 Boyd could not conceal the surprise that 
 he felt in finding her in Lady Downes' draw- 
 ing room. Indeed, his next speech would 
 have betrayed this, even if his manner had 
 not. 
 
 " Lady Downes never told me that she knew 
 you," he said reproachfully. 
 
 " Perhaps you haven't seen her since she 
 met us. That was only a few days ago." 
 
 " You have been making hay over here, 
 haven't you ? " he continued, with a smile that 
 did not compensate for the rudeness of the 
 speech. 
 
 Wendell had been standing by and smiling, 
 as if he were enjoying the meeting of Harring- 
 ton Boyd and Dorothea even more than Boyd 
 himself. 
 
 " He's so glad to see you," said he to 
 Dorothea, " that he forgets all about his old 
 English friends,"
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 155 
 
 " Oh, Wendell ! How are you ? I beg your 
 pardon. Of course, I'm delighted." 
 
 " Oh, never mind me," returned Wendell ; 
 " I'll come back to Miss Wayne presently. I'll 
 not spoil your t$te-a-t$te" 
 
 " It is such a pleasure to see you," Boyd re- 
 peated, turning to Dorothea again. " I didn't 
 even know you were going to be in London 
 this year. Of course, you're enjoying it im- 
 mensely." 
 
 " I think I shall enjoy it," she replied 
 vaguely. 
 
 " I'm glad you know Lady Downes. You 
 meet all kinds here, the fashionable and the 
 artistic and the literary. Not so many literary 
 people as at some other places, perhaps ; but 
 it's all the better for that. I think that Mrs. 
 Wendell and I are about the only representa- 
 tives of the guild here." 
 
 " I haven't seen much of your work lately," 
 said Dorothea, with a nervous feeling that she 
 must keep the conversation going. 
 
 " No, I haven't been publishing much. I'm 
 on a big thing now something out of my usual 
 line." Then he asked suddenly : " Have you 
 met many of the people ? " 
 
 Dorothea shook her head.
 
 1 5 6 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " We came only a few minutes ago." 
 
 " Some of them are great swells. See that 
 woman your mother is talking to now? That's 
 Lady Bloomsbury. She has three distinctions: 
 she's one of the richest women in England, she 
 belongs to one of the oldest families, and 
 she's the worst-dressed woman in the United 
 Kingdom. See that horrible red gown she's 
 got on. She's a terrible pessimist ; her hus- 
 band's made her so ; he's a rake. They say she 
 pays him a thousand pounds a year to live 
 away from her." 
 
 Dorothea glanced at the thin figure in red. 
 Lady Bloomsbury was hardly more than thirty, 
 but her face lacked 'all suggestion of youth. 
 The features were regular, the eyes large and 
 black, and her coarse black hair grew low on 
 her forehead. She was certainly as unattractive 
 as her ill-fitting clothes, but there was something 
 interesting in her face. She was talking with 
 Mrs. Wayne listlessly, as if she were bored. 
 Once she glanced toward Dorothea, and be- 
 trayed the subject of Mrs. Wayne's loquacity. 
 
 " The man behind your mother, that big 
 fellow, is Lord Marquand, the Liberal-Unionist 
 M. P. He's talking with Miss Leighton. Stun- 
 ning creature, isn't she ? That blonde type of
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 157 
 
 Englishwoman is the only kind that can com- 
 pare with our American girls for beauty. See 
 those heavenly gray eyes ! She's turning the 
 whole battery on him, isn't she? He's a great 
 catch. He's rich and well-born, and he's going 
 up. Her face has a childlike ingenuousness ; 
 everything surprises her." 
 
 " She's very lovely," said Dorothea. 
 
 " And she's really clever, and her mamma is 
 even cleverer. They haven't much money, but 
 they go to the best tailor in London. It's econ- 
 omy in the end," he laughed. " Haven't you 
 ever seen her pictures in the shop windows ? 
 They say she gets a commission on them." 
 
 Dorothea felt uncomfortable ; she did not 
 enjoy hearing such " smart talk " as this from a 
 man. It was bad enough to be obliged to listen 
 to it from other women. 
 
 " I'm afraid you are very blast" she said, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Everyone is in London. ' Abandon all 
 illusions, ye who enter here,' is written over 
 every London drawing room. If you go 
 through a London season you'll become blasee^ 
 too." 
 
 "Oh, I hope not." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne presently made her way
 
 158 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 over to Dorothea, followed by Lady Blooms- 
 bury. 
 
 " I've asked your mother to present me," 
 said the countess, without waiting for the intro- 
 duction. " I've heard so much about you from 
 Lady Downes." 
 
 " I'll take myself off for the present," said 
 Boyd. " But do let me come to see you, won't 
 you ? I may not have a chance to speak to you 
 again. Where are you staying ? " 
 
 Dorothea gave him the address, resenting 
 the advantage he had taken of her, and he 
 bade her a smiling farewell. Lady Downes 
 then came up, followed by a white-haired man 
 with a very youthful face, whom she presented 
 to Mrs. Wayne as a compatriot. Dorothea was 
 thus left for several minutes alone with Lady 
 Bloomsbury. They talked about London and 
 about America, which Lady Bloomsbury was 
 anxious to see. 
 
 " The Bowmans have asked me to pay them 
 a visit next spring," she said. " They are some 
 American friends of mine ; they live in Wash- 
 ington. But I'm afraid I shan't be able to go. 
 I shouldn't care much about visiting the Amer- 
 ican cities, anyway. I fancy they must be very 
 like our own. I should like to go out West,
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. j 59 
 
 and live in the wilds rough it, as you say. 
 I'm so tired of town life. Now all this bores 
 me to extinction," she added, with a wave of 
 her hand. " It's the same thing, the same peo- 
 ple all the time." 
 
 " But you must meet new people occasion- 
 ally," Dorothea remarked with a smile. 
 
 " Yes, but they are really old people with 
 new faces. Society is reducing us all to the 
 same type. Heaven knows what humanity will 
 be like if society continues as it is a few genera- 
 tions longer. Now and then, of course, one 
 finds men and women who keep themselves 
 human who don't allow themselves to be 
 turned into machines of convention. But 
 people like that are rare." 
 
 Dorothea could not help smiling again. 
 
 " Mr. Boyd has just told me that London 
 makes people biases. I'm afraid it's true." 
 
 "Ah, my dear child," Lady Bloomsbury 
 smiled in reply, " it's the wickedest city in the 
 world. They say Paris is wicked, but it's inno- 
 cent compared with London. A very small 
 number of people give Paris its reputation ; but 
 it seems to me that in London, in the society 
 where you'd expect to find the best thought and 
 the best types of character, there's something
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 insidiously unwholesome something that de- 
 stroys your faith in everything. Culture 
 doesn't mean morality, my dear. You'll find 
 that out when you're as old as I am." 
 
 Dorothea was amused at this touch of pa- 
 tronage. Lady Bloomsbury could not be, at 
 most, more than three or four years older than 
 herself; but she had unconsciously assumed the 
 superiority that every married woman feels to 
 unmarried, women of their own or less than 
 their own age. 
 
 " I don't quite understand why one should 
 expect culture to make people moral," said 
 Dorothea. " Culture and morality are quite 
 different, it seems to me." 
 
 Lady Bloomsbury glanced at her sharply. 
 
 " If we don't improve by education," she re- 
 plied, " I don't see how we are to improve." 
 
 " But there are other ways of improving be- 
 sides improving morally, aren't there ? " said 
 Dorothea, alarmed at being launched so sud- 
 denly upon an ethical discussion. " The unedu- 
 cated poor people that I have known seem to 
 me quite as good as any other people." 
 
 " Ah, my dear, its a great question." Lady 
 Bloomsbury indicated by this speech that the 
 subject was too great to be discussed at that
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. !6l 
 
 moment, and Dorothea was quite willing to 
 drop it. " You Americans think for yourselves, 
 don't you ? That's what I like about you. 
 You must come over to see me some afternoon, 
 and we'll talk things over. I want you to tell 
 me all about your work. I've heard so much 
 about it. Perhaps I'll get you to paint my por- 
 trait, if you're as clever as Lady Downes says 
 you are." 
 
 As she made her way toward Lady Downes, 
 Dorothea stood alone in front of the fireplace. 
 Harrington Boyd and Wendell, who were talk- 
 ing together, saw her, and both hurried toward 
 her. Lady Downes, however, took her away 
 and presented her to a white-haired dowager 
 who had asked for an introduction. 
 
 In a few minutes Dorothea found herself sur- 
 rounded ; every one that she met wanted to talk 
 to her about America, and she felt as if she 
 were labelled. It was not until her mother told 
 her they must go that Sir Hubert presented 
 himself before her. 
 
 " But you aren't going now," he cried. " I 
 haven't had a chance to talk with you." 
 
 " But we must. We've stayed a long time," 
 she replied. " You ought to have come up be- 
 fore," she added, with a smile.
 
 r 62 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " I'm so very sorry." He apologized as if 
 the matter were very serious. " I saw that you 
 were so occupied I didn't dare to intrude. 
 But you'll at least let me go down to the door 
 with you and put you in a hansom." 
 
 Dorothea was vexed with him for not hav- 
 ing come up, and she said to herself that it was 
 just like an Englishman to be shy and awk- 
 ward ; an American would have been far more 
 attentive. Now she felt ashamed of the petti- 
 ness. Why should Sir Hubert have given her 
 more attention than any one else ? He had so 
 many people to speak to that it was only nat- 
 ural he should overlook a few. 
 
 In spite of her reasoning, however, she was 
 in ill humour when she returned home. The 
 necessity of hiding this from her mother at din- 
 ner deepened her depression, and she went to 
 bed early with the unpleasant consciousness of 
 having passed a day of disappointment.
 
 XII. 
 
 THE next three weeks were an exciting pe- 
 riod for the Waynes. Several of the ladies they 
 had met at the Downes' called on them, and in- 
 vitations for dinners and cards for " at homes" 
 soon followed, most of them from people they 
 hardly knew. One of the dinner invitations 
 came from Lady Downes, another from the 
 Countess of Bloomsbury. Dorothea was much 
 amused by her social success, and she continued 
 to give humorous descriptions of her expe- 
 riences to Aleck French. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd, who called at Mandcville Place 
 at least three times a week, could not conceal 
 her elation. 
 
 " There are very few Americans that are 
 taken up here as you've been," she said to Dor- 
 othea. " It's very easy to get into some of 
 the sets over here, but not into Lady Blooms- 
 bury's." 
 
 The Downes, instead of leaving for Broad- 
 
 163
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 oaks when they had planned, decided to re- 
 main in town till the middle of July. Even 
 then the season gave no sign of waning, for 
 the pleasant weather kept people in London. 
 Sir Hubert called frequently at Mandeville 
 Place, sometimes with his mother, more otten 
 alone. During these calls he was very silent, 
 but Mrs. Wayne kept the conversational ball in 
 motion. 
 
 One afternoon when her mother had gone to 
 lunch with Mrs. Ladd, Dorothea resolved to do 
 some work on one of her unfinished pictures. 
 It was the first time she had glanced at them 
 since the day she had shown them to Lady 
 Downes and Sir Hubert. For a long time she 
 painted steadily ; then the light grew dim, and 
 she resolved to go for a walk. The air was 
 pleasantly cool ; she could hardly realize that it 
 was the month of July ; in America the heat 
 was probably intense. She looked at her watch, 
 and found that it was nearly five o'clock. She 
 should have time for a walk in the park if she 
 took a hansom. 
 
 When she arrived at the park she got out 
 and proceeded to walk rapidly. She did not 
 observe the figure of a fashionably dressed 
 young girl, who looked up with surprise and de-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ^5 
 
 light in her face as she passed. The girl fol- 
 lowed her with her eyes for a moment, and 
 then rose quickly and pursued her ; she reached 
 Dorothea near the corner, and touched her on 
 the arm. 
 
 " Why, Miss Flagler ! " cried Dorothea. 
 
 " I thought it must be you !"" the girl ex- 
 claimed joyously. " You didn't notice me as 
 you passed." 
 
 " I didn't see you," Dorothea explained as 
 she took Miss Flagler's hand. " How long have 
 you been here ? " 
 
 " I sailed about a fortnight after you did. I 
 would have come to see you if I'd known your 
 address." 
 
 Dorothea turned toward the bench that Miss 
 Flagler had just left. " Let us sit down," said 
 she. 
 
 The girl had a great deal to say about her ex- 
 periences since her departure from New York. 
 She had been sketching at Barbizon, and had 
 just run over to London for two or three days 
 with a few members of her party. No, Mr. 
 Roberts hadn't come. He'd been obliged to 
 stay at Barbizon with the class. ' Miss Flagler 
 had promised to meet her chaperon, Mrs. 
 Dean, and her husband, in the park at five
 
 !66 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 o'clock ; she'd been waiting nearly an hour. 
 Then she and the Deans were going to dine 
 at the Criterion. It was lively there at night ; 
 all kinds of people went, and they had a good 
 table d'hote for three shillings and six, with 
 music. And, oh, Mr. Roberts had been so nice 
 and attentive ever since they came away ! Miss 
 Flagler looked very knowing, and Dorothea 
 drew conclusions, but did not ask questions. 
 "When Dorothea had given an account of her 
 own movements, the girl cried : 
 
 " Of course, you know Mr. French is in Lon- 
 don, don't you ? Can you let me have his ad- 
 dress? I want to send him a card to let him 
 know where we are when he returns to Paris." 
 
 When Dorothea gave the address, she ut- 
 tered an exclamation of surprise. 
 
 " Russell Square ! Why, that's quite near us. 
 I suppose he told you the news about his wife ? 
 Isn't it terrible ? " 
 
 " No, he hasn't told me any news about her. 
 I don't know what you mean." 
 
 " Mrs. Swayne wrote me from Paris. She's 
 in the St. Lazare Hospital. They say she's 
 dying Mr. French's wife, I mean." 
 
 The blood left Dorothea's face. 
 
 " Dying ? " she repeated.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ^7 
 
 Miss Flagler's black eyes were fixed upon 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Swayne had it from the D'Ar- 
 cys." 
 
 " I don't believe he knows about it," said 
 Dorothea. 
 
 " Mrs. Swayne wondered about that. But 
 she said it was none of her business, and she 
 didn't propose to tell him." 
 
 Miss Flagler then launched into talk about 
 Aleck French's wife ; as Dorothea had heard 
 most of it before she did not care to listen to it 
 again. Indeed, she did not hear more than half 
 the girl was saying. 
 
 " Aleck French's wife is dying ! " These 
 words kept repeating themselves in her mind. 
 Then she began to ask herself what she ought 
 to do. Ought she to tell him ? She thought of 
 Mrs. Swayne's remark, that it was none of her 
 business. Then was it any of her business? 
 Would it not be indelicate of her to say any- 
 thing about it to him ? Her indecision gave her 
 a feeling of repulsion for Miss Flagler. She 
 wanted to hurry from the park, to be alone and 
 walk fast, to decide definitely what to do. 
 
 " Aleck French's wife is dying ! " She felt 
 angry that the woman should be dying, then-
 
 l68 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 that she should ever have lived. What right had 
 she had to entrap Aleck ? Then, why should 
 she herself be dragged into this? The next 
 moment she was ashamed of her feeling ; but 
 she still wanted to get away from Miss Flag- 
 ler. She cut short the conversation, saying she 
 must hurry home. 
 
 Afterward she realized that in her desire to 
 be alone she had treated the girl almost rudely. 
 She hurried out of the park, her mind in tumult 
 and torment. Although it was nearly half past 
 six, she decided to walk home. Ought she to 
 let him know ? she kept asking herself. She 
 must decide before she reached home. When 
 halfway home, she was still undecided. Oxford 
 Street was crowded with people, and, though 
 she walked fast, she had to make her way slowly. 
 Suddenly she came face to face with a tele- 
 graph messenger. 
 
 " Can you take a message for me ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Then come into this doorway and I'll write 
 one." 
 
 He followed her and offered a telegraph 
 form. She held it against her cardcase and 
 .wrote :
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 169 
 
 " Miss Flagler has just told me that your 
 wife is dying in Paris, in the hospital of St. 
 Lazare. DOROTHEA." 
 
 When the boy had taken the telegram and 
 disappeared in the surging crowd she felt re- 
 lieved and hurried in the opposite direction, as 
 if anxious to put distance between the mes- 
 senger and herself. On reaching home she 
 found the curtains of the drawing room drawn 
 and Wood hovering about the table, lighting 
 the candles. Only one plate was laid. 
 
 " Has my mother gone to bed, Wood ?" she 
 asked, throwing off her wraps and breathing 
 hard. 
 
 " Yes, miss. She told me to tell you she had 
 a headache." 
 
 " Isn't she going to eat anything? " 
 
 " She said I might bring her in a little of the 
 broth:" 
 
 Dorothea sat down and spread her napkin in 
 her lap. Her cheeks were glowing from her 
 walk, and she felt nervous and excited ; she 
 could not help thinking it was fortunate that her 
 mother had taken to her bed, her refuge in all 
 trials. Of course, Aleck French, after receiving 
 the telegram, would appear in the lodgings as.
 
 I/O 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 soon as he could ; if her mother were present it 
 would be impossible for him to discuss the sit- 
 uation. It would be odious if she were obliged 
 to follow him into the hall and whisper the de- 
 tails of Miss Flagler's information. The tele- 
 gram would probably reach him in an hour, 
 and it would take him half an hour to reach 
 Mandeville Place. She looked at her watch, 
 and saw that he could not come before eight at 
 the earliest. 
 
 She ate little, and when she surrendered her 
 fish, which she left almost untouched, Wood 
 looked grieved. 
 
 " You haven't any appetite to-night, miss." 
 
 " No, I don't feel hungry." 
 
 " I always like to see people eat well," Wood 
 continued, as he laid the plate on the side- 
 board. " Nothing makes me so happy as to 
 please people, miss." 
 
 " You please me very much, Wood," said 
 Dorothea. " My mother and I have often 
 spoken of the good service you and your wife 
 give us." 
 
 Wood's sad thin face lighted with pleasure. 
 
 " Thank you, miss," he said softly. 
 
 Dorothea was too depressed to be amused 
 by this episode ; she could think of nothing ex-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. j^i 
 
 cept the call that she expected. When she had 
 finished dinner she told Wood that if any one 
 came during the evening her mother was not to 
 be disturbed. 
 
 " The sleep will do her good," she added, 
 feeling guilty. 
 
 For the next hour she was unable to interest 
 herself in anything ; she couldn't even keep 
 still. 
 
 Eight o'clock struck and he did not appear ; 
 between eight and nine the door bell rang 
 several times. After each time she listened for 
 Wood's tap without hearing it. 
 
 At ten o'clock she told herself that he would 
 not come ; he had taken the night train for 
 Paris. The house grew quiet and the only 
 sound she could hear was the rolling of cabs on 
 the pavement. 
 
 At twenty minutes past ten the bell rang, 
 again, and Dorothea heard Wood gliding 
 through the hall. She listened, and recognised 
 Aleck French's voice. Then she opened the 
 door to receive him. As Wood turned away 
 she put one finger on her lips. 
 
 " Mother has gone to bed," she whispered. 
 
 His face was pale, and his eyes had an ex- 
 pression that she had never seen in them be-
 
 Ij 2 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 fore ; he looked as if some one had just insulted 
 him. 
 
 " I only got your telegram a few minutes 
 ago," he said. " I came right over in a cab. 
 When did you see Miss Flagler ? " 
 
 " This afternoon in the park." 
 
 " Did she did she tell you anything else ? " 
 
 " No. She didn't know anything else. I 
 told you all she told me." 
 
 For a moment he stood without speaking. 
 Then he looked at her quietly. 
 
 " Don't you think you'd better sit down ? " 
 he said. 
 
 She sat on the window seat, and he took a 
 place beside her. He wore a light overcoat, 
 and as he leaned forward he held his brown 
 Derby between his hands. 
 
 " I don't know what to do," he said. 
 
 " It seems to me there's only one thing to 
 do." 
 
 He looked up quickly into her face. " What's 
 that?" Then he looked down again. 
 
 " Go to her." 
 
 " Go to her ! " he repeated almost scornfully. 
 " A lot of good that would do." Then he raised 
 his head again. " I don't believe she's dying," 
 he cried passionately. " It's a trick. It's one
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 173 
 
 of her games. Oh, she's tried that kind of thing 
 on me before. She did it once too often." 
 
 Dorothea waited a moment before she re- 
 plied : 
 
 " I don't see how it can be a trick. Miss 
 Flagler could have no motive in telling me, and 
 Mrs. Swayne couldn't have any in telling her" 
 
 " Mrs. Swayne who is Mrs. Swayne ? I've 
 never heard of her before." 
 
 " I don't know anything about her," said 
 Dorothea, with a touch of resentment in her 
 tone. 
 
 He fixed his eyes on the carpet again, and 
 kept them there for several minutes. Dorothea 
 could hear the regular ticking of the clock on 
 the mantelpiece, and she tried to resist the 
 temptation to count the beats ; she kept saying 
 to herself that she had no right to urge him to 
 go to his wife ; he must know better than she 
 could what his duty was ; nevertheless, she was 
 determined that he should go. 
 
 When he spoke again there was a suggestion 
 of struggle in his voice. 
 
 " I suppose you're right. I ought to go. 
 She's my wife she I've married her." 
 
 His hat rolled on the floor, and he covered 
 his face with his hands. 
 
 12
 
 174 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " I hope she will die ! " he groaned. 
 
 " Aleck ! " 
 
 Then he subsided, and she waited for him to 
 make up his mind what to do. When he looked 
 up she thought his generosity had won ; he 
 seemed more at ease than he had been since he 
 entered the room. 
 
 " I can't possibly go," he said. " It wouldn't 
 do any good. I'll send her money." 
 
 He picked up his hat and rose as if about 
 to leave. 
 
 " I think you'll be sorry," said Dorothea, 
 rising too. 
 
 For an instant he seemed shaken. 
 
 " I don't think you can I don't believe you 
 can understand the circumstances." 
 
 " I understand that she is a woman and 
 your wife. If she has made you if she has 
 wronged you, it will be all the more generous 
 of you to forgive her." 
 
 " There are some things a man can't for- 
 give," he said doggedly, passing his hand across 
 his hat. 
 
 " Then men are less generous than women. 
 Women forgive men a great many things- " 
 
 His face, which had been very pale, turned 
 scarlet, and when she saw the interpretation he
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 175 
 
 had put upon her words her own face flushed, 
 too. 
 
 He looked away from her. 
 
 " I know I'm a coward," he said. 
 
 " I don't believe you are a coward, Aleck. 
 And if you will go to your wife now you'll 
 show that you are not." 
 
 " I swore I'd never go near her again. I 
 stood it as long as I could. I know how it 
 seems to you " 
 
 " You surely don't consider such' an oath as 
 that binding?" she said, cutting him short. 
 
 " It would be too late to go now, anyway," 
 he replied, taking his gloves from his pocket. 
 " The last train has left. I'll think about it to- 
 night, and if I decide to go, I'll start in the 
 morning." 
 
 She was about to let him leave the room, 
 but when he offered her his hand and said, 
 " I'm sorry that you've been dragged into this 
 business," a sudden impulse moved her to make 
 another appeal : 
 
 " I want you to promise me to go, Aleck. 
 If your wife is dying it can do you no harm, 
 and it may do her good. At any rate, it will be 
 a satisfaction to you afterward that you've 
 done it."
 
 176 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 He seemed to be absorbed in rubbing his 
 glove on his right hand, and he kept his eyes 
 away from her face. 
 
 " You know I'd do anything in the world for 
 you," he replied, " except that." 
 
 " Then you don't care for my good opinion?" 
 
 He was standing in the middle of the room, 
 staring at his hands. His gloves were tight, and 
 he had trouble in getting them on. As he 
 laboured over the second one, he seemed to be 
 considering her question. As he buttoned it, 
 he said : 
 
 " Shall I lose your good opinion by not 
 going ? " 
 
 " You'll certainly gain it if you go." 
 
 He flushed again and looked into her face. 
 
 " I believe that you are the best woman in 
 the world," he said. 
 
 " Then you will go, Aleck ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She impulsively extended her hand again. 
 
 " Good-bye. I am sure you'll be glad some 
 day." 
 
 He held her hand for a moment and then 
 walked to the door. There he turned and said : 
 
 " I'll write to you from Paris." 
 
 Dorothea stood still until she heard the out-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 side door close and his steps die away up the 
 street. Then she lighted one of the candles on 
 the mantel and turned out the gas. But instead 
 of going to her room she went to the window 
 and opened the curtains. 
 
 The street was deserted save for the presence 
 of a policeman, who was standing in front of the 
 house in the light of the gas lamps. She was 
 wondering if Aleck French was walking home ; 
 he would probably sit up late, packing. Then 
 she tried to imagine what would happen to him 
 the next day ; after reaching Paris she thought 
 of him as taking a cab and going at once to the 
 hospital of St. Lazare. The white haggard 
 woman with feverish black eyes that she pic- 
 tured to herself lying on a cot surely she didn't 
 belong to Aleck ! What a feeling of loathing 
 he would have as he approached her and spoke 
 to her in her own language! Of course he 
 spoke of it badly ; it seemed to her absurd that 
 he should speak it at all ; his natural tongue was 
 English, with a marked American accent. 
 
 When she reached the corridor leading to 
 her room she heard Wood's discreet tap. She 
 tiptoed back, and without opening the door 
 asked him softly what he wanted. He replied 
 that he wanted to know if miss wouldn't take a
 
 i;8 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 light luncheon before going to bed ; he had 
 some cold chicken and some claret for her. 
 Dorothea smiled and thanked him, and said she 
 didn't care to eat anything. Then she went 
 quietly into her mother's room. Through the 
 darkness she could see two shining eyes. 
 
 "I thought you were asleep, mother," she 
 said. 
 
 " So I was, but I woke up a few minutes ago. 
 Didn't I hear you talking with some one ? " 
 
 " Wood came to ask if I wanted something 
 to eat." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " Good-night, mother." 
 
 " Good-night."
 
 XIII. 
 
 DOROTHEA slept badly, and woke so early in 
 the morning that she had to wait an hour before 
 her mother was ready for breakfast. In order 
 to distract herself, she devoted this hour to 
 painting. When the clock struck nine she 
 thought of Aleck French as probably getting 
 ready for Paris. Her mother had promised to 
 go shopping with Mrs. Ladd in the afternoon ; 
 Mrs. Ladd was to call for her at half past two. 
 To escape the call Dorothea took herself off to 
 South Kensington Museum, which she had not 
 yet visited. 
 
 There she found a number of people stand- 
 ing in groups in front of the larger canvases, or 
 strolling listlessly from one picture to another. 
 Some of the pictures she knew through copies, 
 and these she was glad to see in the originals. 
 After looking at several of them she was at- 
 tracted by a small reproduction of a Greek 
 temple by a Dutch artist whose work she rec- 
 
 179
 
 !8o THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 ognised at once. A tall man in a frock coat 
 was bending before it and examining it closely. 
 She stood a few feet behind him at one side. 
 The work seemed to her admirable in composi- 
 tion and colouring ; the gleaming white marble 
 of the temple was perfectly reproduced and 
 stood out against the deep-blue sky ; on the 
 steps were a group of girls, holding poppies in 
 their hands ; even the petals of the flowers had 
 been clearly outlined and painted. The man in 
 front of the picture seemed to become suddenly 
 aware of Dorothea's presence, for he turned 
 quickly and said : 
 
 " Oh, I beg Miss Wayne ? Is it possi- 
 ble ? " 
 
 " I didn't recognise you," she said, taking 
 his hand, and losing her composure for an in- 
 stant. 
 
 " I don't often turn my back to you," Sir 
 Hubert laughed. 
 
 " Do you like it ? " she asked, indicating the 
 picture, to hide her embarrassment. 
 
 " Yes, very much though, I confess, I don't 
 approve of it. This is just the kind of work the 
 conservatives would like." 
 
 " Yes. The technique is wonderful," she 
 said.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. igl 
 
 "It's like one of the old masters, isn't it? 
 Most of the new men seem to despise detail." 
 
 " I sometimes think it is pure laziness on 
 their part," said Dorothea, with a smile. " They 
 don't want to take the trouble to be thorough." 
 
 This remark seemed to strike him as hu- 
 morous, for he laughed immoderately. " I 
 shall tell Wilson about that. You know his 
 work, I suppose ? He's mad on the subject of 
 impressionism. He's the one that converted me 
 years ago." 
 
 " We shall have to bring you back to the 
 true faith," she said, with a smile. 
 
 " I acknowledge that some of the impression- 
 ist work seems ridiculous to me. I saw a new 
 picture of Faure's the other day and I couldn't 
 make out what it was. It seemed to consist of 
 a purple haze, and it might have passed for 
 half a dozen things. I believe the artist called 
 it Winter, but I heard a lady describe it after- 
 ward as a field of heather. But when an im- 
 pressionist does do a good thing, it is marvel- 
 lously fine, it seems to me." 
 
 " When a genius is an impressionist I can't 
 help admiring his work," said Dorothea, smil- 
 ing. " But don't you think that impressionism 
 gives an excuse to painters that haven't genius
 
 1 82 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 to do things carelessly and to substitute eccen- 
 tricity and affectation in place of it?" 
 
 " I dare say you are quite right. I shall want 
 to think that over." 
 
 " But I really know very little about it," said 
 Dorothea, feeling that she had been altogether 
 too didactic. " I've had it dinned into my ears 
 all my life that only the work that was perfect 
 in detail could last." 
 
 " But the impressionist would say that 
 there's no such thing as perfection in detail, un- 
 less it means that detail should be subordinated 
 perfectly. It's quite confusing to a layman all 
 these contradictory theories about art." 
 
 " It's confusing to those who try to paint a 
 little, too. That's why I pin my faith to one 
 school." 
 
 " I suppose that's the safest way." 
 
 They had been standing in front of the 
 Dutchman's picture and Sir Hubert turned to it 
 again and pointed out bits in it that seemed to 
 him especially fine. Then he called attention to 
 a figure that seemed to be a little out of draw- 
 ing. No one but an artist, Dorothea said to her- 
 self, would have noticed it. 
 
 " I think you must paint a little, yourself," 
 she said.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 183 
 
 " Only a little a very little in the merest 
 amateur way." 
 
 " Did you study while you were in Paris?" 
 
 " Yes a little. But I didn't work much, 
 you see. I didn't go in for the thing in dead 
 earnest, as most of the other fellows were do- 
 ing. I felt as if I were a bit of a loafer, and 
 they, of course, never considered me one of 
 themselves." 
 
 They walked along one side of the room, 
 stopping occasionally as a picture attracted 
 their attention. Sir Hubert pointed out his 
 favourites, and most of them Dorothea liked 
 too. He knew nearly every picture in the 
 place, he said ; he had been at the museum hun- 
 dreds of times. " In one respect," he added, 
 " I'm different from most of my countrymen. I 
 know the sights of London almost as well as a 
 travelling American does. I suppose you've 
 seen most of them." 
 
 Dorothea replied that she had not, as yet ; 
 she hadn't even seen the Tower. 
 
 "Then I'll take you there, if you'll let 
 me. I'm a great authority on the Tower. 
 I'll be almost as good as one of the guides. 
 What do you say to to-morrow after- 
 noon?"
 
 !84 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " That will suit me if my mother isn't ill or 
 hasn't anything else for me to do." 
 
 They wandered into some of the other rooms 
 and discussed the pictures there. Dorothea was 
 surprised by the keenness of his criticisms ; it 
 made her realize how much she herself had to 
 learn. When it was time for her to leave the 
 place Sir Hubert asked if he might put her 
 down at Mandeville Place, and they entered a 
 hansom together. It was not until Dorothea 
 had nearly reached home that she felt uncom- 
 fortable from being in a cab in London with a 
 man she knew so slightly. 
 
 Her mother, however, had no such scruple. 
 It was pleasure, not annoyance, that made 
 her exclaim, when her daughter entered the 
 house : 
 
 " Where in the world did you pick up Sir 
 Hubert Downes?" 
 
 " I met him at the South Kensington Mu- 
 seum," Dorothea replied, as she removed her 
 cape. 
 
 " Did he speak about your going down to 
 Broadoaks ? " 
 
 Dorothea looked at her mother in surprise. 
 "Going down to Broadoaks? What do you 
 mean?"
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 185 
 
 " Lady Dowries was at the Ladds'. She 
 wants us to go down to Broadoaks next Satur- 
 day for a week." 
 
 " We can't go, of course." 
 
 " Can't go ? Why can't we go ? I'm sure it 
 would be a great deal better than staying in this 
 poky old place." 
 
 Dorothea's head disappeared for a moment 
 behind the door of her wardrobe ; her mother 
 could see only her feet and the lower part of her 
 skirt ; so she addressed these : 
 
 " It seems to me you oppose everything I 
 want to do." 
 
 " I don't want to oppose you, mother," Doro- 
 thea replied, her voice sounding as if it were 
 muffled by the dresses in the wardrobe. " But 
 I can't understand why you should want to go 
 to Lady Downes'. We've only met her a few 
 times, and we shall simply put ourselves under 
 obligations." 
 
 " Well, we've come here to see English life, 
 and I'd like to know how we're going to see it 
 shut up in four walls like this. Of course, you 
 can go round to art galleries and have a good 
 time, while I stay at home. I know the country 
 would do me good, and that's why " 
 
 " Very well, mother," said Dorothea, wearily.
 
 186 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " If you want to go to Broadoaks I'm willing. 
 Only I think we ought not to promise to stay 
 more than three or four days." 
 
 Now that the victory was won Mrs. Wayne 
 had a moment of silent complacency. Then she 
 resumed : " It seems very strange to me that he 
 didn't speak of it." 
 
 " He ? Speak of what ? " 
 
 " Of the invitation Sir Hubert Downes." 
 
 " I suppose he wanted to give us a chance to 
 refuse," the girl replied, controlling her irrita- 
 tion. 
 
 The day's adventures had tired Dorothea, 
 and before dinner she jlay on the couch in the 
 drawing room and tried to sleep ; but in spite 
 of herself her thoughts turned again to Aleck 
 French. It was after five o'clock ; he must be 
 in Paris by this time. She wondered what he 
 was doing, what his feelings were ; and she fan- 
 cied a thousand wild impossibilities. The more 
 she thought about him the more serious she be- 
 came, and at dinner her face was flushed and 
 she ate little ; she knew that her mother was 
 watching her covertly ; so she tried to appear 
 as unconcerned as possible. Mrs. Wayne was 
 putting her own constructions upon her 
 daughter's preoccupation and indifference to
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 food; she gave her fancy free rein, and her 
 thoughts were quite as wild as Dorothea's. 
 
 After dinner Mrs. Wayne became immersed 
 in a letter to the Misses Marbury, whom she 
 had strangely neglected since her arrival in 
 England. These ladies, however, had sent her 
 minute chronicles of their doings ; they had re- 
 mained in New York two weeks after Mrs. 
 Wayne's departure, where they had suffered 
 from loneliness and the heat. Maple Valley, 
 however, had surpassed in beauty even their 
 expectations. There were some delightful peo- 
 ple at their boarding house Prof. Lawson and 
 his wife, of Amherst Prof. Lawson had writ- 
 ten a book on biology, and he also took a great 
 interest in mediaeval history and art. They 
 often went to walk with him in the early even- 
 ings, and he instructed them with regard to 
 the vegetable and plant life around them. The 
 sunsets in Maple Valley were grand. Miss 
 Millicent attempted a description of a particu- 
 larly fine one, but at the end of the sixth page 
 she ended with the remark that, after all, it 
 couldn't be described. The sisters supposed 
 that Mrs. Wayne and Miss Dorothea were en- 
 joying England. Had they been at the art 
 galleries in London yet? Miss Sophia called
 
 188 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 attention to a particularly fine picture by Her- 
 komer in the Grafton Gallery. She had read a 
 description of it in the Chronicle. She'd give 
 anything in the world to be able to see it, but, 
 as she couldn't, Mrs. Wayne must see it for her. 
 Mrs. Wayne, however, had no intention of 
 doing any such thing. Indeed, the letters of 
 the sisters disappointed her ; they struck alto- 
 gether too high a note. She would have pre- 
 ferred the personal detail. Only a sudden de- 
 sire to tell them all about her daughter's social 
 success persuaded her to reply to their commu- 
 nications. Now, however, that she had begun, 
 she found herself turning over page after page 
 of description and anecdote, beginning with 
 an account of her meeting with Mrs. Ladd, 
 and quoting largely from the social leader's 
 revelations of American and English society. 
 Then she went on to reveal the eccentricities 
 of London life and of the English character as 
 she had observed it, paying special reference to 
 the Downes and to Susan, Countess of Blooms- 
 bury, whose title had profoundly impressed her 
 imagination. As she wrote she felt inspired by 
 the picture that came to her mind of the flutter- 
 ing agitation of the sisters when they should 
 receive her letter ; they would retire to their
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 189 
 
 room and read it aloud with many exclamations 
 and knowing comments. In the glow of the 
 communication she felt the spiritual exaltation 
 that her earnest talks with them about Doro- 
 thea had always given her. She realized now, 
 for the first time since the separation from 
 them, how sympathetic they had been, and she 
 blamed herself for not having answered their 
 letters before. 
 
 At about half past nine, just as Mrs. Wayne 
 was about to begin the climax of her disclo- 
 sures, the announcement of the invitation to 
 visit the Downes, the door bell rang. Dorothea 
 started and dropped in her lap the book she had 
 been trying to read. 
 
 " I wonder if that can be any one for us?" 
 she said. 
 
 " Of course it isn't," Mrs. Wayne replied, 
 without looking up from her writing. " This 
 time of night! " 
 
 Dorothea heard Wood glide to the door, 
 and a moment later he was standing before her. 
 
 " A telegram for you, miss." 
 
 Before opening it she went back to her seat. 
 Then she quietly tore the end of the envelope 
 and read the inclosure. Her mother was watch- 
 ing her. 
 13
 
 JQO THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 For a moment Dorothea said nothing. Then 
 she replied : " Aleck French's wife is dead." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne looked dazed. She dropped 
 her pen and stood up between her chair and 
 the table. 
 
 " Dead ! " she repeated. 
 
 " Yes ; she died this afternoon." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's eyes flashod, and she grew 
 white around the lips. 
 
 " Let me see that telegram," she said. 
 
 Dorothea passed to her the thin slip of 
 paper, and she ran her eyes over the typewrit- 
 ten line : 
 
 "Paris, July 27. She died this afternoon, 
 half an hour before I got here. ALECK." 
 
 " So you knew about this?" said Mrs. Wayne, 
 her mind flashing back to Aleck French's last 
 call, and running here and there in search of 
 proof for the suspicion that had taken shape in 
 her consciousness. Aleck French had not had 
 an opportunity to speak to Dorothea alone dur- 
 ing his last call. Perhaps she had seen him 
 since then. The night before, as she lay in bed, 
 she thought she had heard his voice ; now she
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. ! 9 ! 
 
 was sure she had, and, according to her habit, 
 when her daughter acknowledged that she knew 
 Mrs. French had been ill, she blurted out her 
 conviction : 
 
 " He was here last night. I suppose," she 
 added sarcastically, " he came sneaking round 
 late, when he knew I'd be in bed." 
 
 Dorothea began to breathe hard. 
 
 " Mother!" 
 
 " Don't call me mother," cried Mrs. Wayne, 
 losing all control of herself. " I'm ashamed of 
 you. I used to think you had some sense of 
 decency. I asked you last night if any one had 
 been here, and you lied to me ; but that isn't 
 the worst you've done. I don't wonder you 
 were ashamed to tell me the truth," she went 
 on breathlessly, growing more angry. " Ever 
 since you've been in London you've acted 
 outrageously, meeting him in art galleries and 
 all kinds of public places. Before he was mar- 
 ried you didn't care a snap of your finger about 
 him no, not a snap ! Don't you suppose that 
 I know how you've been carrying on for the 
 last three weeks? Now that that disgraceful 
 woman he threw you over for is dead, I sup- 
 pose you'll want to get him back again. I 
 should think "
 
 1 9 2 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 ." Mother ! " 
 
 Dorothea had risen from her chair, and the 
 telegram curled on the floor in front of her 
 where the widow had thrown it. Her face 
 had grown white and her nostrils were quiv- 
 ering. 
 
 " I won't have you talk to me like that," she 
 went on more quietly. " I've endured enough 
 since I've been over here, but I won't be in- 
 sulted even by my own mother. It's true 
 that I did lie to you last night, but I lied 
 simply because I knew you would put a 
 wrong interpretation on Aleck French's visit. 
 You misinterpret everything I do. You treat 
 me as if I had no self-respect, no character ! 
 You " 
 
 Tears had been gathering in Mrs. Wayne's 
 eyes, and now they overflowed. " To think 
 that you should talk to me like this!" she 
 sobbed, throwing up her arms and then clasp- 
 ing her hands over her face. " My own daugh- 
 ter, too ! To think that I should have brought 
 you into the world and reared you, and then 
 have you turn on me like this ! I've never had 
 any one talk to me so in my life ! " 
 
 She threw herself in her chair and buried 
 her face in her hands on the table. Dorothea
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 193 
 
 picked up the telegram from the floor, tore it, 
 and dropped the pieces into the fireplace. Then 
 she left the room and softly closed the door 
 leading into the bedrooms, while her mother 
 sobbed out her misery.
 
 XIV. 
 
 DOROTHEA knew that her mother did not 
 really believe the charges she had made against 
 her, and with this knowledge she tried to console 
 herself. The accusations still hurt, however. 
 She ceased to think about the news that had 
 caused the quarrel, or, rather, this was so inter- 
 mingled with the quarrel that she could not 
 think of it apart. After a time she straightened 
 out the confusion of her thoughts, and was able 
 to look at the situation in all its bearings. For 
 Aleck's sake she could not help feeling glad that 
 the woman was dead. Of course, this would 
 have no effect upon herself. 
 
 The next morning her mother took break- 
 fast in bed, and did not appear in the drawing 
 room till ten o'clock ; so she did not see the 
 letter from Paris that Dorothea found at her 
 plate. 
 
 " I had a rough passage across the channel," 
 it said, "and I was fearfully sick. I didn't feel 
 
 194
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 195 
 
 much better when I reached Paris. I took a 
 cab to the hospital, and found that she had died 
 a little before five o'clock. She had been there 
 a week with pneumonia, and she'd been uncon- 
 scious for three days. So even if I'd gone last 
 night, it wouldn't have done any good. I shall 
 stay here in Paris for a few days, and see to 
 some business things and try to make some plan 
 for the future. I cabled father last night, but I 
 sha'n't get an answer till to-morrow if at all. I 
 shall hope to see you in London again." 
 
 That was all. She felt disappointed. But 
 what more could she have expected ? He 
 had surely given details enough. Yet she would 
 have liked to know about the woman ; she won- 
 dered if Aleck would let her see a photograph 
 of her sometime. Then she felt ashamed of her 
 curiosity. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne made no mention of Aleck 
 French ; she simply ignored the unpleasantness 
 of the evening before, and proceeded to discuss 
 the coming visit to' the Downes. She had de- 
 cided to take both of her new dresses ; she was 
 glad she had something decent to wear for din- 
 ner ; of course, there'd be a lot of other people 
 there. 
 
 Dorothea, on the contrary, felt unable to
 
 196 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 display any enthusiasm over the visit ; her only 
 reason for consenting to make it was a desire to 
 gratify her mother. She did not like the pros- 
 pect of passing four consecutive days with Mrs. 
 Follett Ladd. For, of course, as Lady Downes 
 had said, Mrs. Ladd would be at Broadoaks at 
 the same time. To make sure of this unpleasant 
 probability, she said : 
 
 " Is Mrs. Ladd going with us ? " 
 
 " Is she going with us ? Do you suppose I'd 
 go down there unless she was there ? It would 
 be very funny if Lady Downes " 
 
 " And Mr. Ladd too ? " 
 
 " I don't know anything about that, but I 
 suppose so." A moment later Mrs. Wayne 
 added : " Mrs. Ladd said that Mr. Boyd had 
 been asked." 
 
 Two sharp eyes were upon her, but Doro- 
 thea did not flinch. She was vexed, neverthe- 
 less, and she wondered vaguely if she could not 
 escape making the visit, if she couldn't con- 
 struct a pretext for staying in London and let- 
 ting her mother go without her ; but her moth- 
 er, she was sure, would suspect that she wanted 
 to stay behind to see Aleck French again. She 
 felt as if she were caught in a net, and instead 
 of struggling in the meshes, she resigned herself
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 197 
 
 to the situation. She would try to make the 
 best of the visit ; it would at least be amusing 
 and she would enjoy Lady Downes. Of Sir 
 Hubert she tried not to think much ; but she 
 could not help reflecting on Harrington Boyd's 
 cynical observation of Mrs. Ladd's machina- 
 tions. Her mother seemed to divine her 
 thoughts, for she blurted out : 
 
 " Mrs. Ladd was very much annoyed when 
 Lady Downes told her Mr. Boyd was going to 
 be there." 
 
 " She used to be a friend of Mr. Boyd's." 
 
 " Well, she isn't any more. She says he 
 hasn't any heart." 
 
 In spite of herself, Dorothea laughed. 
 
 " I don't see what there is funny about that," 
 said her mother. 
 
 " It's funny that Mrs. Ladd has only just 
 found it out, that's all after knowing him for 
 years." 
 
 " She says she's disappointed in him." 
 
 As Dorothea made no comment, Mrs. Wayne 
 went on : 
 
 " I don't like him at all. I think he's the 
 most affected man I've ever known." 
 
 " You used to like him well enough in 
 Hull."
 
 198 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " So did you, for that matter. I should 
 think from the way you 
 
 " I like him just as well now," Dorothea re- 
 plied quickly, to head her mother off. 
 
 " When I compare him with a man like Sir 
 Hubert Downes ! " Mrs. Wayne exclaimed. 
 " He is a man ! " 
 
 Dorothea had taken her workbasket from 
 the mantel and placed it on the table. She 
 stood over it, so absorbed in trying to thread a 
 needle in the dim light that she did not reply. 
 Mrs. Wayne waited nervously till the thread 
 had passed through the needle's eye and had 
 been caught on the other side. 
 
 " Lady Downes told me that Sir Hubert was 
 very much interested in you." 
 
 Dorothea sat by the table, and, after turning 
 a kid glove inside out, began deftly to sew the 
 end of one of the fingers. 
 
 " I'm sure that's very kind of him." 
 
 " I told her what you said about him." 
 
 Dorothea looked up quickly. 
 
 "What did I say?" 
 
 " You said you thought he was very fine- 
 looking and interesting." 
 
 " I don't think I said that, mother. You 
 made a mistake."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Well, you said something like it, anyway," 
 the widow replied irritably. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne wanted to say a great many 
 more things, but after looking intently at her 
 daughter, whose head was bent over the glove, 
 she didn't dare. She was satisfied, however, 
 that Dorothea had caught the significance of 
 her remarks, and, in spite of the consciousness 
 that she had been balked again, she felt an 
 admiration for the girl's reserve. Dorothea, 
 she said to herself, was growing more and more 
 like her father. She wondered if duchesses 
 wore coronets. Sir Hubert was only a baronet, 
 but she supposed there must be some system 
 of promotion in the British aristocracy. Lady 
 Bloomsbury, however, was a countess, and at 
 the dinner given by the Downes she had worn 
 no jewelry whatever ; but that might have been 
 due to her eccentricity, to what Mrs. Ladd 
 called her "silly affectation of democracy." 
 
 " It's the same spirit that made Marie Antoi- 
 nette masquerade as a shepherdess," the social 
 leader had remarked, and Mrs. Wayne had be- 
 come convinced of the folly of the principle 
 that all people were equal. The Downes were 
 sufficient proof that blood would tell ; Mrs. 
 Wayne ignored the fact that blood betrayed a
 
 200 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 great many hideous secrets; she preferred to 
 consider the matter only in its social application. 
 She felt sure that either in her own ancestry or 
 in her husband's there had been a dash of noble 
 blood, which had found expression in Doro- 
 thea's majesty. If all went well, her daughter 
 would simply come into her inheritance. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's happiness would have been 
 complete if she could have threshed out her 
 ambitions and her hopes with the Misses Mar- 
 bury ; but their limitations, she feared on con- 
 sideration, were such that they could be of no 
 help in a critical situation like this ; they would 
 simply rush into wild theories and fluttering 
 suggestions of no practical value ; but, at any 
 rate, they would be able to appreciate the 
 cloud thrown on the prospect by Aleck French. 
 
 At the thought of Aleck French Mrs. 
 Wayne's spirits drooped ; but they revived 
 again when she remembered that Dorothea was 
 to go to the Tower that afternoon with Sir 
 Hubert Downes. 
 
 The next few days were spent by Mrs. 
 Wayne in feverish agitation ; Dorothea had 
 never known her to be so active, and she was 
 prepared at any moment to see her collapse. 
 Dorothea's own preparations were few ; she had
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 2 QI 
 
 decided to take with her three frocks to wear 
 by day, and two dinner dresses. Her mother 
 would have been pleased if she had carried her 
 whole wardrobe, but she was firm in her refusal 
 to do this. 
 
 " We shall be there only four days, and it 
 would be foolish to go with a lot of trunks^as 
 if we intended to stay a month;" she said. 
 
 " But they may want us to stay longer," her 
 mother insisted. 
 
 " I think we shall have quite enough of it," 
 Dorothea replied, to her mother's secret solici- 
 tude, for Mrs. Wayne thought she saw in the 
 remark a threat. 
 
 " I hope you'll at least make an effort to be 
 civil to these people," she cried, when she had 
 weighed the speech. 
 
 " I'll behave as well as I know how," Doro- 
 thea laughed. 
 
 At Mrs. Ladd's suggestion Mrs. Wayne had 
 planned to take an afternoon train for Penley ; 
 they would arrive at half past four and the 
 Downes' carriage would meet them. 
 
 At Paddington Station they met Lady 
 Bloomsbury, who, attired in one of her wonder- 
 ful red gowns, seemed almost to glow in the 
 gloom of the day.
 
 202 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " I've been looking for you," said the count- 
 ess, walking up to them. " Lady Downes wrote 
 me you were going down on this train. Have 
 you bought your tickets yet ? Let us go in the 
 same carriage." 
 
 " I'll get the tickets, mother," said Dorothea. 
 " You stay with Lady Bloomsbury." 
 
 " But mind you don't get first-class tickets. 
 You Americans are so extravagant ! I always 
 go second." 
 
 Dorothea presently returned, tickets in hand. 
 They found an empty second-class compart- 
 ment, and took possession of it. 
 
 " I do hope no one will come in," said the 
 countess, depositing herself in a corner. " One 
 of these windows we'll put down" she went on, 
 seizing the window strap, " and I'll take charge 
 of the other. There are about ten tunnels be- 
 tween here and Penley and you have to keep 
 pulling the window up and down. One minute 
 you're choking and the next minute you're 
 gasping." 
 
 When the train had started Lady Blooms- 
 bury proceeded to give an account of the life 
 at Broadoaks. 
 
 "Lady Downes is an ideal hostess," she said. 
 " She has the great art of letting her guests
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 203 
 
 alone. It's always a satisfaction to me when 
 I'm there to feel that I'm not obliged to smile 
 at breakfast. Lady Downes has breakfast sent 
 up to the rooms, after the Continental fashion, 
 you know, only she gives you more to eat than 
 they do on the Continent. It's ghastly to have 
 to be amiable in the morning, isn't it? I always 
 feel as cross as two sticks. It's bad enough for 
 us to endure one another when we feel wide- 
 awake and alive. I'm really never awake till 
 twelve. It's a fresh shock to me when I open 
 my eyes in the morning and find myself con- 
 fronted with life again." 
 
 Lady Bloomsbury was on the watch for a 
 tunnel, and as the train shot into one she pulled 
 up the window with a quick movement of the 
 strap. Then, for a few moments, they all sat 
 back in their seats, the lights in the compart- 
 ment giving the darkness a sickly pallor. When 
 the train shot into daylight again the window 
 fell with a bang. 
 
 " But you wouldn't want to go to bed some 
 night and never wake again, Lady Blooms- 
 bury ? " Mrs. Wayne cried, taking up the thread 
 of talk. 
 
 " If I answered you literally, I should say 
 yes. I can't think of anything more delightful
 
 204 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 than eternal sleep. But, you see, there's always 
 the horrid possibility of waking in something 
 a great deal worse than the ' garish day,' " she 
 laughed. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne looked mystified ; she did not 
 understand this kind of talk. Dorothea saw at 
 once that Lady Bloomsbury was not above talk- 
 ing for effect ; indeed, her speeches during the 
 rest of the journey confirmed the impression ; she 
 seemed quite unlike the straightforward, matter- 
 of-fact woman who had offered her so much 
 gratuitous advice at Lady Downes' reception a 
 few days before. She kept pulling the window 
 up and down and was silent only as the train 
 passed through the tunnels. When Penley was 
 reached she breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 " I do dislike railway journeys so ! " she said. 
 " And there's good Sir Hubert waiting for us," 
 she added, leaning out of the window. 
 
 Sir Hubert was standing on the platform of 
 the station, eagerly scanning the first-class car- 
 riages. Dorothea saw his face light up suddenly 
 as he hurried forward to greet some one whom 
 she could not see. When she left the carriage 
 she recognised the well-groomed figure of Har- 
 rington Boyd. 
 
 " I looked for you, but I couldn't find you at
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 205 
 
 first," said Sir Hubert, as he turned with a smile 
 to Lady Bloomsbury and Dorothea. 
 
 " Haven't you known me long enough to 
 know that I never go first-class ? " cried the 
 countess. 
 
 "Lady Bloomsbury is so fond of the middle 
 classes," Boyd remarked, as he shook hands 
 with Dorothea. 
 
 " That's why she came with us," Dorothea 
 explained amiably, to the horror of her 
 mother. 
 
 For an instant Boyd looked confused ; then 
 he added rather lamely : " I shall always travel 
 second-class in future, Miss Wayne. You've 
 conferred distinction on it." 
 
 Two burly countrymen were attending to 
 the traps, and Sir Hubert led the ladies to the 
 carriages that stood at. the other side of the sta- 
 tion. Harrington Boyd turned to give directions 
 about his own luggage, and a moment later 
 joined the group. 
 
 " This carriage will hold three people very 
 comfortably," Sir Hubert was saying, "and the 
 other I'll drive myself and take some one with 
 me. How shall we arrange it? " 
 
 " Let me arrange it," Lady Bloomsbury in- 
 terposed. " Mrs. Wayne and Mr. Boyd and I 
 14
 
 2o6 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 will go in this one, and you take Miss Wayne in 
 the other." 
 
 Every one seemed pleased with this plan save 
 Harrington Boyd, who said nothing and looked 
 disgruntled. Sir Hubert helped Dorothea on 
 the seat in the little yellow cart and sprang 
 after her. 
 
 " We'll get there a little while before they 
 do," he said, starting the horse and turning to 
 the ladies who were still trying to adjust them- 
 selves comfortably in the other vehicle. 
 
 The cart tipped spasmodically and Dorothea 
 was obliged to cling to it in order to keep her 
 balance. For a few moments Sir Hubert looked 
 straight ahead without speaking. The horse, of 
 a deep chestnut, with great haunches, seemed to 
 be full of spirit. Dorothea could feel her hair 
 flying over her forehead and her cheeks flam- 
 ing ; the green fields flashed on either side, the 
 grass sparkling in the sunshine that had just 
 broken through the clouds after a light rain. 
 On the horizon hung a purple haze, making just 
 the atmosphere that Dorothea had noticed in 
 one of the pictures at the National Gallery. 
 Here and there they passed low red-brick houses 
 with vines running over their fronts and over 
 the brick walls that divided one from another.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 2O/ 
 
 " It's going to be pleasant, I think," said Sir 
 Hubert, when the horse had quieted to a regular 
 trot. " We had a little shower an hour ago. I 
 wonder if it rained on your way down. Some- 
 times it doesn't rain in the city when it is raining 
 here. We get a good many showers. That's 
 why the country is so fertile." A moment later, 
 " It's a beastly place London," Sir Hubert 
 went on. " I don't understand why visitors like 
 it so much." 
 
 " But they are apt to see it at the best sea- 
 son, aren't they ? " 
 
 "Yes. Perhaps that accounts for it; but I 
 know some Americans that live in London all 
 the year round ; they like it better than Paris. 
 Many people do, for that matter even artists. 
 You'd expect artists to dislike it." 
 
 " I thought that most of them preferred 
 Paris." 
 
 "They prefer it during their student days, 
 but many of them drift over here afterward." 
 
 They had passed the little brick houses and 
 come into a wide stretch of unbroken country ; 
 in the distance Dorothea could see between the 
 trees the tall spires of what seemed to be a great 
 castle. She pointed to them and asked what 
 they were.
 
 20 8 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " That's our place," Sir Hubert replied. 
 " We go in a roundabout way to get to it. 
 From here it's only three miles off in a straight 
 line, but by the road it's nearly five." 
 
 They presently turned into a road that led 
 through a forest, under interlacing trees, with 
 branches so thick that the sunlight could not 
 penetrate them. The air was heavy with the 
 odour of plants and wild flowers, and musical 
 with the twittering of birds and the chirping of 
 insects ; the trees exhaled a delicious fragrance. 
 
 For the time Dorothea gave herself up to 
 the enjoyment of the country. She wished that 
 she and her mother could find a place like this, 
 where they might pass the rest of the summer ; 
 her mother would surely thrive in this air, and 
 she would herself find pleasure and profit in 
 sketching the scenery. It did not occur to her 
 that the solitude of such a place would depress 
 her mother to such an extent as to destroy what- 
 ever physical benefit she might have from it; 
 Mrs. Wayne's restless energy since her arrival in 
 England seemed to indicate that excitement was 
 the best of tonics for her. 
 
 For three miles the cart passed under the in- 
 terlacing branches and Dorothea noted several 
 bits of scenery that would have made good
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 2OQ 
 
 studies. She thought with regret of the month 
 she had spent in the city ; all those precious 
 weeks might have been spent in some such 
 place as this ; if she had her way she would live 
 in the country all the year round ; she was not 
 surprised that so many English people disliked 
 the city, as Sir Hubert did. What a delightful 
 life he must lead here ! She could not help 
 comparing it with the lives of most of the men 
 she knew, spent in a ceaseless effort to make 
 money, or in a ceaseless effort to add to what 
 they had already made. Sir Hubert, as he sat 
 beside her, was the embodiment of healthful- 
 ness and content and repose. Though they 
 had ridden for more than a mile without speak- 
 ing he seemed not in the least embarrassed. 
 
 When they came into the open again the 
 sun was shining. For two miles they drove 
 along the deserted road. Then, in the dis- 
 tance, beside a smalt white cottage, Dorothea 
 saw a wide gate stretching across the road. 
 As they approached it, an old woman in a 
 white muslin cap came out and opened the gate. 
 She smiled and bowed when they entered the 
 park ; then closing the gate, she turned and 
 watched them for a moment with the smile 
 still on her face.
 
 2io THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 The road was smooth and hard, and wound 
 in curves over the hill, leading to the house. 
 
 " I should like to take you over the place a 
 bit," said Sir Hubert. " We shall have plenty 
 of time before the others get here." 
 
 They turned into a road that ran along the 
 side of the hill and led to an artificial lake, 
 where three small boats lay at a miniature 
 wharf. Beside it stood a white summer house, 
 more than twice as large as the lodge they had 
 just passed. 
 
 " This is where I try my hand at painting 
 now and then," Sir Hubert explained. " I've 
 set up a kind of studio there." 
 
 " I should like to see it some time," said 
 Dorothea. " You know, you promised once to 
 show me your work." 
 
 " Did I ? " he laughed. " I'm afraid it isn't 
 worth showing. But, of course, you'll see the 
 studio. There's a special room that my mother 
 and I have set apart for you. We thought 
 you might like to do some work while you 
 were here." 
 
 They drove on to a small stone structure 
 a half-mile away. The rough stone had been 
 blackened by centuries of damp, and with its 
 ivy, which more than half covered the walls, it
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 211 
 
 seemed to Dorothea one of the most picturesque 
 specimens of Romanesque she had ever seen. 
 Sir Hubert seemed pleased with her delight 
 over it. 
 
 "Yes, they seldom build anything just like 
 that now," he said. " We're very proud of it. 
 To-morrow I'll take you inside. I had the 
 doors opened to-day to air the place. We 
 don't use the church now. We haven't had 
 a curate since five years before my father 
 died. My father had a quarrel with him, and 
 while he stayed he'd never go into the place, 
 and he wouldn't allow the servants to go 
 either. So the poor devil used to preach 
 every Sunday to three or four of the old 
 women from the village. He stayed on for 
 three years to get the salary ; he knew father 
 wouldn't send him away. Then he got another 
 living and went off. By that time we'd grown 
 used to staying away on Sundays, and we never 
 took any one in his place. Besides," he added, 
 with a smile, " we can't afford to keep a curate 
 of our own. When we want to go to church 
 we drive down to Penley." 
 
 Sir Hubert turned the horse's head to the 
 right, and drove past the summer house again 
 and then up the hill. " This road leads to the
 
 212 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 house. Our stables are over there," he said, 
 pointing with his whip toward the left. " You 
 can just catch a glimpse of them through the 
 trees. To-morrow, if it's fine, I should like to 
 show you our horses. We have a few good 
 ones left ; we used to have the stables full, but 
 that was before we began to economize." 
 
 Before the top of the hill was reached, 
 Dorothea could see the tall spires of Broad- 
 oaks. Then the whole castle stood out sud- 
 denly before her. On first view it seemed very 
 impressive and beautiful, though afterward she 
 noticed in it what seemed to her serious faults 
 of architecture. Long and narrow, with a be- 
 wildering number of turrets and towers, it was 
 apparently of stone, and was half covered with 
 ivy, some of which ran to the very top of the 
 turrets. 
 
 " It doesn't look very old," said Sir Hubert, 
 as they drove through the enormous iron gate- 
 way that led to the house, " though it was built 
 in the tenth century. Before my grandfather 
 tampered with it it must have been rather fine. 
 He thought it wasn't pretty enough ; so he 
 plastered the brick over and added all these 
 silly little ornaments that spoil the effect. He's 
 the one that laid out our garden. You can just
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 213 
 
 see it from here. All those fountains and stat- 
 ues he set up, and he planned the walks and the 
 shrubbery, too. He wanted to make a miniature 
 Versailles out of it," he added, with a smile, 
 " and we're paying the cost of his improvements 
 now."
 
 XV. 
 
 SIR HUBERT climbed down from his seat to 
 open the heavy iron gates leading- to the house. 
 As he mounted again and took the reins from 
 Dorothea's hands, he said with a smile : 
 
 " In our palmy days we used to have serv- 
 ants do these things for us. But now we do 
 them ourselves." 
 
 His mother was standing in the doorway, 
 waving her hand in welcome ; the figure in out- 
 line behind her Dorothea recognised as Mrs. 
 Follett Ladd. 
 
 " Where are the others?" cried Mrs. Ladd, 
 as Sir Hubert helped her down from the cart. 
 
 When Dorothea explained that they were 
 coming and had received greetings, Lady 
 Downes led her through the dark hall and up 
 the wide oak staircase. 
 
 " I've decided to put you on the second 
 floor, so that your mother shall have only one 
 flight to climb," she said. " Dp you like the 
 
 214
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 215 
 
 sun in the morning ? I hope so. I always do ; 
 1 like to begin the day cheerfully." 
 
 Lady Downes threw open one of the doors 
 in the long hall, the sides of which were deco- 
 rated with old prints, and they entered a small 
 square room furnished in red and gold. The 
 walls were covered with a thick, dull-red paper 
 that looked like cloth ; a canopy of red satin, 
 embroidered with gold, hung over the large 
 oak bed. As she looked around, Dorothea gave 
 a little cry of delight. 
 
 " Oh, how lovely ! " 
 
 "Do you really like it?" asked Lady 
 Downes, with a smile. " We don't often use 
 this room ; it seems almost too fine, too preten- 
 tious for everyday use. It's quite the grandest 
 room in the house. There's a tradition that it 
 was furnished to receive Queen Elizabeth ; she 
 was travelling through England and Sir Geof- 
 frey Downes you'll see his picture in the din- 
 ing room invited her to pass a night here. 
 That crown on the canopy was made for her." 
 
 Dorothea came very near smiling at the 
 thought of her mother occupying the bed 
 where Queen Elizabeth had slept. What his- 
 toric possibilities were in that ! It would thrill 
 the Misses Marbury when they heard of it, and
 
 2l6 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 would furnish material for conversation for the 
 rest of her mother's life. 
 
 Lady Downes turned to the door that led 
 into another room and opened it. 
 
 " This is a very small place to put you into," 
 she said, " but I thought you'd want to be near 
 your mother." 
 
 The room was little more than half the size 
 of the other, but it looked attractive. It was 
 furnished very simply, in blue ; on the walls 
 were a few prints like those in the hall, and a 
 copy of Guido Reni's Beatrice Cenci. It 
 was really nothing more than a dressing room, 
 but Dorothea expressed her satisfaction with it. 
 
 When Lady Downes had left her Dorothea 
 went to the window and looked out. Below 
 stretched a wide greensward marked with the 
 white lines of a tennis court. At some distance 
 away the trees were swaying on the slope of 
 the hill and above them rose a circle of smoke. 
 Not a house could be seen, and Dorothea had 
 a sudden sense of loneliness. 
 
 She realized for the first time since she had 
 been in England how far away from home she 
 was, and she longed for familiar scenes and 
 familiar faces. She had never been fond of 
 Oswego, but now, in her mind, it assumed rare
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 217 
 
 attractions. She thought of the street where 
 she lived, of the crooked trees that shaded the 
 house in summer. Then she thought of the 
 years she had wanted to come to Europe, of 
 the visit to England she had planned to take 
 with her father. If he had lived that visit would 
 have been so different from the one she was 
 now making. She wondered why nearly every- 
 thing in England was disappointing her. Then 
 she recalled her determination in London to 
 make the most of her opportunities, to enjoy 
 herself as well as she could. During her stay 
 at Broadoaks, she resolved to keep to that ; she 
 would steal away in the morning, and make 
 some sketches ; the rest of the day she would 
 play, as well as she could, the part her mother 
 had forced upon her. 
 
 A few minutes later Mrs. Wayne came pant- 
 ing into the next room, and Dorothea went in 
 to meet her. As soon as the servant had de- 
 posited her traps on the floor and she was alone 
 with her daughter Mrs. Wayne looked around. 
 
 " Did you ever see anything like this be- 
 fore ? Isn't it magnificent ? " she said, in an 
 awe-stricken voice. 
 
 Dorothea repeated what Lady Downes had 
 told her about the apartment, and the widow
 
 2i8 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 was awed into momentary silence. She won- 
 dered what Annetta Griffin would think of 
 this ; she must write her all about it. She had 
 a fantastic thought that it was not herself but 
 her daughter who ought to occupy the sumptu- 
 ous apartment and sleep in the royal bed ; 
 nevertheless she quickly decided to occupy 
 that herself ; even to her sense of fitness she 
 could not make so great a personal sacrifice. 
 The room surpassed her splendid conceptions 
 of baronial grandeur ; it atoned for the ab- 
 sence of the crimson carpet on the staircase ; in 
 spite of the agitation of her entrance, she had 
 noticed that the halls and the stairs were of 
 polished hard wood. 
 
 Lady Downes had urged. Mrs. Wayne to 
 rest from the fatigue of her journey before 
 dinner, and she sent up some tea and toast. 
 But Mrs. Wayne was too nervous to rest ; she 
 occupied herself in unpacking her wardrobe 
 and hanging her new dresses so that they 
 should not be crushed. Dorothea would have 
 liked to go out and walk about the place ; she 
 was afraid, however, that Lady Downes or Sir 
 Hubert would see her and feel obliged to en- 
 tertain her. She disliked being " entertained." 
 For this reason visiting had always been dis-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 219 
 
 agreeable to her, except at a few places where 
 she was allowed to do as she pleased. When it 
 was time for dinner Mrs. Wayne was pale with 
 excitement, and so nervous that she had to 
 cling to her daughter's arm for support. Mrs. 
 Ladd, who brought up behind her, gave her 
 courage, however, so that when they entered 
 the long drawing room, she felt able to play 
 her part. A glance at Dorothea, moreover, 
 lent her additional support ; in her dinner 
 dress of white corded silk, Dorothea had never 
 looked finer, and her repose, the widow said 
 to herself, had never been more regal. It was 
 more than maternal solicitude that kept Mrs. 
 Wayne's eyes fixed upon her. Her imagina- 
 tion was inspired, intoxicated. If Annetta 
 Griffin could only see her child at that mo- 
 ment ! Mrs. Wayne's sharp eyes saw also that 
 Sir Hubert and Harrington Boyd were im- 
 pressed by the vision. How strange that these 
 two men should be admiring her daughter at 
 the same moment, in the same place ! For the 
 moment her heart fairly warmed toward Har- 
 rington Boyd. She felt sure that Dorothea 
 cared nothing for him, and this saved her from 
 fearing him ; besides, his interest in her daugh- 
 ter might prove of service during the next few
 
 220 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 days. Mrs. Wayne had not read romances all 
 her life for nothing. 
 
 The dining room was hung with family por- 
 traits and with battle flags and trophies. Sir 
 Hubert sat beside Dorothea and told her stories 
 of various members of his family that the por- 
 traits represented and the history of the most 
 interesting of the trophies. The men had nearly 
 all been fighters ; he and his father were almost 
 the only peaceful ones. Most of his anecdotes 
 were related humorously, as if he were afraid of 
 seeming to boast. As Dorothea listened to him 
 her eyes wandered over the great room, over 
 the heavy carvings on the walls, over the bal- 
 cony that looked down on the scene, through 
 the windows that let in the red rays of the 
 setting sun, and gave her a view of the smooth 
 green lawn and the waving trees beyond. 
 
 This was what English country life really 
 meant, she said to herself. How beautiful it 
 was ! It surpassed all the descriptions that she 
 had ever read of it. She did not wish to speak ; 
 she was content to sit still, enjoying her impres- 
 sions and listening to Sir Hubert's pleasant Eng- 
 lish voice. Most of the conversation was sus- 
 tained by Mrs. Follett Ladd and Lady Blooms- 
 bury ; they seemed, indeed, to be trying to out-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 221 
 
 do each other; that is, during the first of the 
 meal, for after a time Lady Bloomsbury gave 
 up the contest, and went on talking inaudibly to 
 Harrington Boyd. Presently Mrs. Ladd ap- 
 peared to realize that her exuberance was out 
 of harmony with the tranquillity of the hour, 
 and the dinner came to a close in a low hum of 
 voices that hardly broke the silence. The serv- 
 ants noiselessly brought in the candles, and the 
 guests lingered for a few moments in the dim 
 light. Coffee was served on the lawn ; as the 
 darkness deepened and the moon rose, they 
 strolled away, Dorothea with Sir Hubert, Lady 
 Bloomsbury with Harrington Boyd, and the 
 other ladies together, with Follett Ladd beside 
 them, smoking his cigar. 
 
 When Dorothea returned that night to 
 Queen Elizabeth's bedchamber she felt as if she 
 had passed an almost perfect evening ; she had 
 allowed herself to forget her cares and to enjoy 
 the charm of the place and the time. Her 
 mother, however, expressed disappointment 
 that Lady Downes' other guests consisted of 
 the Ladds and Lady Bloomsbury and Harring- 
 ton Boyd only. She had hoped to make fresh 
 connections, to establish more intricate relations 
 with the British aristocracy. 
 15
 
 222 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 After the first day at Broadoaks Dorothea 
 found that she could do as she pleased there. 
 Her mother devoted herself to Mrs. Ladd, and 
 Mrs. Ladd's husband was rarely seen about the 
 place except at luncheon and dinner and during 
 the evening ; at these times he had very little to 
 say. He seemed to exist chiefly for the purpose 
 of smoking cigars ; save at table, he was rarely 
 seen without a big cigar in his mouth. 
 
 At Broadoaks Mrs. Wayne fell at once into 
 luxurious habits ; she took breakfast in bed at 
 half past eight, then slept again till eleven. Her 
 afternoons were devoted to communion with 
 Lady Downes and Mrs. Follett Ladd. Indeed, 
 from luncheon till bedtime one of these ladies 
 was rarely seen unaccompanied by the other 
 two. Whenever Dorothea caught a glimpse of 
 them crossing the lawn or taking tea on the 
 veranda of the summerhouse, where she joined 
 them at four o'clock, they were indulging in the 
 passionate conversation of people who meet at a 
 railway station after years of separation and 
 before the train arrives that is to tear them 
 apart endeavour to talk out their confidences. 
 She marvelled at the inexhaustible fertility of 
 their topics. At night, while preparing for bed, 
 bits from these conferences used to be flung to
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 223 
 
 her from the adjoining- room ; occasionally, her 
 mother would desert Queen Elizabeth's cham- 
 ber to give a dramatic repetition of some par- 
 ticularly vital passage. Mrs. Wayne was rapidly 
 becoming" an authority on the scandals of the 
 British aristocracy ; Dorothea was at first sur- 
 prised that Lady Downes should care to spend 
 her time in retailing gossip, but she soon discov- 
 ered that most of this came from Mrs. Ladd, 
 who knew far more than her hostess about 
 Burke's Peerage. Dorothea would have been 
 bored by these tales if she hadn't observed that 
 her mother fairly bloomed under them ; never 
 since her husband's death had the widow seemed 
 so strong and happy ; at dinner her complexion 
 used to soften and reveal suggestions of au- 
 tumnal beauty. 
 
 Dorothea was herself happier than she had 
 been since reaching England ; her enjoyment 
 may have been the greater because she had not 
 expected to enjoy the visit at Broadoaks. Her 
 mother had ceased to criticise her ; indeed, she 
 was given so much independence that she some- 
 times wondered at it ; it seemed like the result 
 of a plan. The first morning after her arrival 
 she was awakened at six o'clock by the flam- 
 ing of the sun. She rose quickly and hurried
 
 224 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 into the next room to draw the curtains there 
 so that her mother might not be awakened 
 too. For a moment she was frightened ; in the 
 fierce glare the red hangings made the place look 
 as if it were on fire. Her mother was sleeping 
 quietly, strands of her thin gray hair hanging 
 over her forehead, with one arm stretched on 
 the coverlet. When Dorothea lay down again 
 she was unable to sleep. So she decided to go 
 out for a walk before breakfast. 
 
 The air was crisp and cool and the grass 
 sparkled in the sun. The country looked as 
 fresh as if it were spring. The foliage of the 
 trees was of a vivid green ; in America the trees 
 were just beginning to become dry and sere and 
 the first leaves were falling. She followed the 
 path that led to the lake for fear of losing her 
 way if she chose another. No one was in sight ; 
 and the great house had the air of being 
 asleep. 
 
 When she had gone halfway toward the 
 lake she noticed a wide path running across 
 the hill to the east. She decided to change her 
 course and explore ; even if she lost her way it 
 would merely make her late for breakfast. For 
 several moments she walked under the trees, 
 and then suddenly came upon an open space
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 225 
 
 within sight of a group of low buildings which 
 she supposed to be the stables. Her supposi- 
 tion was confirmed when a man came from be- 
 hind one of the buildings leading a horse by a 
 rope. He was presently followed by another 
 figure, which she recognised as Sir Hubert 
 Downes. For a moment she thought of turn- 
 ing back into the path to keep out of sight. 
 Then she decided that this would be foolish ; so 
 she walked on toward the buildings. Sir Hu- 
 bert did not see her till she had gone halfway 
 toward him. Then he looked surprised and he 
 hurried to meet her. He was in a riding suit, 
 with high boots splashed with mud, and his 
 cheeks were even ruddier than they usually 
 seemed. 
 
 "Aren't you up very early?" he said with 
 a smile, as he offered her his hand. " Are all 
 Americans as energetic as you are ? " 
 
 " I'm not usually so energetic myself," Doro- 
 thea explained. " The sun woke me. But I 
 like the country in the morning." 
 
 " Do you ride ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 " I used to when my father was alive. But 
 I haven't ridden since." 
 
 " Oh ! " Sir Hubert looked sympathetic, but 
 he couldn't think of anything appropriate to say.
 
 226 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to try it again ? " he asked 
 after a moment. 
 
 Her eyes brightened. " I should like it 
 very much, but I haven't my habit here." 
 
 " I think we can get one for you. We'll 
 try a horse to-morrow morning if you like. 
 There's a pretty country between here and 
 Hillsborough." 
 
 They were walking round the stables, and 
 when they reached one of the buildings Sir 
 Hubert pushed the door open and led the way 
 in. 
 
 " I'll show you the mare that I think would 
 suit you," he said. " She's very gentle, but she 
 has some spirit, too. You'll like her." 
 
 The horses standing quietly in the stalls 
 looked very contented and sleek. Sir Hubert 
 went up to one of them, a large sorrel, and 
 patted her on the face and mane. 
 
 " Come in, Miss Wayne," he said. " Nellie 
 won't hurt you. She's the most affectionate 
 creature in the world. Whoa, Nellie ! Look 
 out for your skirts, Miss Wayne." 
 
 Dorothea slid into the stall beside the horses 
 and Nellie's great purple eyes turned to her 
 inquiringly. The examination seemed to be 
 satisfactory, for the horse thrust her head
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 227 
 
 forward till it almost touched her visitor's 
 face. 
 
 " I knew Nellie would like you," Sir Hubert 
 laughed. " That's a great compliment, too. 
 Sometimes she turns her head away when she 
 has callers, and refuses to pay any attention to 
 them." 
 
 Nellie kept trying to rub her mouth against 
 Dorothea's face. Sir Hubert seemed to be 
 greatly amused. 
 
 " She's trying to kiss you. Don't be afraid. 
 She often kisses me. It's a little trick I taught 
 her when she was a colt. Here, Nellie, give 
 me a kiss, won't you ? I haven't had a kiss 
 from you since yesterday morning." 
 
 Nellie, however, refused to turn. She had 
 thrust out her tongue and was trying to lick 
 Dorothea's cheek. 
 
 " She's never treated me like that," Sir Hu- 
 bert went on. " You've made a conquest, Miss 
 Wayne." 
 
 Sir Hubert patted Nellie affectionately and 
 drew out of the stall. Dorothea turned from 
 the horse's caresses and followed, saying she 
 was sorry she hadn't brought some lumps of 
 sugar with her. Then she looked at the other 
 horses, one of whom Sir Hubert called Flash,
 
 228 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 and described as the only racer in the sta- 
 bles. 
 
 " If I were very rich," he said, " I'm afraid I 
 should ruin myself with racing. That's a little 
 weakness in our family. My grandfather made 
 a fortune by it, but he lost it all before he had 
 a chance to spend any of it on the estate." 
 
 They passed into the other stables, several 
 of which presented rows of empty stalls, and 
 were described by Sir Hubert as mementoes of 
 the family's palmy days. Most of the other 
 horses that Dorothea saw were heavy animals, 
 used on the estate for farm work. Dorothea 
 was impressed by the perfect orderliness that 
 she saw everywhere. Sir Hubert, she thought, 
 must be an excellent manager. When she 
 spoke of the difficulty of taking care of such a 
 large place, he laughed and said it was easy 
 enough when one had nothing else to do. It 
 was a terrible expense too much for people of 
 their limited means. But for his mother he 
 would have sold it long before. She had a 
 great pride in it, though, and she couldn't be 
 happy anywhere else. 
 
 When they went back to the house they 
 found Harrington Boyd walking in the garden. 
 He seemed surprised to see them together.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 229 
 
 " I thought I was the only early bird," he 
 smiled, " besides Sir Hubert. I believe he never 
 goes to bed. He sits up all night to get a repu- 
 tation for being an early riser." 
 
 " You'd better come in and take some break- 
 fast with us," said Sir Hubert amiably. " Miss 
 Wayne is going to take it with my mother and 
 myself." 
 
 " Thanks, very much ; but I've breakfasted 
 already in my room." 
 
 " Aren't you equal to two ? I am al- 
 ways." 
 
 " But I don't go tearing about the country 
 beforehand, as you do. I have to preserve my 
 energy. I've got three hours of work ahead of 
 me before luncheon." 
 
 The next day Dorothea had her first ride ; 
 it exhilarated her and gave her an appetite only 
 a little less great than Sir Hubert's. She found 
 herself opposite Lady Downes at the little table 
 in the breakfast room, where the sun was flam- 
 ing in through the open windows. Lady 
 Downes seemed at her best in the early morn- 
 ing. 
 
 " I always wake up cheerful, and I'm never 
 so glad to be alive as I am then," she said, re- 
 minding Dorothea of Lady Bloomsbury's speech
 
 230 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 on the same subject. " It's a sign of good 
 health, Dr. March says." 
 
 Dorothea sometimes wondered at her unflag- 
 ging cheerfulness ; nearly all the American 
 women that she knew had the blues occasion- 
 ally. Lady Downes, in spite of her sixty-five 
 years, never seemed even fatigued. 
 
 " When I was your age, my dear," she said 
 to Dorothea one day, " I used to think nothing 
 of walking twenty miles across the country. 
 Once I walked fifteen miles to a ball and then 
 back again. There was a disease among the 
 horses; so we couldn't drive. And the next 
 day I got up as usual at half past six and had 
 breakfast with my father. I was a Brackenbury, 
 and the Brackenburys are famous for their 
 health." Then she added proudly, " Hubert 
 is like them." 
 
 Lady Downes loved to talk about her son, 
 and when Dorothea was alone with her she 
 sang his praises. One of her chief pleasures lay 
 in recounting in detail the plots that scheming 
 dowagers had made to entrap him for their 
 daughters. From all of these he had extricated 
 himself with wonderful skill, without giving 
 offence to any one. Lady Downes believed that 
 Hubert didn't have an enemy in the world ;
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 23! 
 
 among the people of the village he was re- 
 garded as a hero ; they often asked him to 
 settle their disputes, instead of going to law 
 about them, and they accepted his decision 
 without the least objection ; they knew how 
 honest he was. 
 
 After breakfast Dorothea devoted herself 
 till luncheon to sketching ; she soon became ac- 
 quainted with the most picturesque spots on the 
 place, and these gave her plenty of material. 
 Occasionally she met Sir Hubert in her wan- 
 derings ; but he usually passed her with a 
 bow and a smile ; he always seemed busy at 
 these times, though just what he did she was 
 unable to make out. She took one long walk 
 with Lady Bloomsbury, who displayed a great 
 liking for her and confided to her many of her 
 secrets. With Dorothea Lady Bloomsbury put. 
 off her affectations; yet her views seemed curi- 
 ously inconsistent and eccentric, as if they had 
 been warped by the life she had led since her 
 marriage. At the age of eighteen she had 
 fallen in love with the man who, in spite of the 
 opposition of the family, afterward became her 
 husband ; even then his vices were known, but 
 she had refused to believe the stories current 
 about him. Her account of the seven years
 
 232 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 she had lived with him shocked Dorothea ; 
 Lady Bloomsbury seemed to take pleasure in 
 dwelling on the most painful details. As a 
 member of the Church of England, she had 
 very strict ideas about divorce and she had re- 
 fused to seek even a judicial separation. Some- 
 times she amused Dorothea by giving her advice 
 about marriage. 
 
 " No woman should marry till she's thirty- 
 five," she said one day. " Until then she's in- 
 capable of forming a rational opinion about 
 men. Besides, if she does wait till she's thirty- 
 five she'll probably see the wisdom of not mar- 
 rying at all ; so she escapes the risk of knowing 
 the greatest misery that any woman can know. 
 Above all things, my dear, never marry an 
 Englishman; Englishmen don't know how to 
 treat women. I've heard that Americans make 
 the best husbands, but I haven't known enough 
 of them to be able to judge for myself. Any- 
 way, they can't be worse than Englishmen. 
 The only Englishman I've ever known who I 
 thought could make a woman really happy is 
 Sir Hubert Downes, and in my opinion he'll 
 never marry any one. His mother has made 
 him what he is, and she'll keep him as he is ; 
 he's so wrapped up in her that he'll never see
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 233 
 
 any one to compare with her. After all, it's 
 the women that make men what they are. We 
 spoil them, and then they turn on us and rend 
 us, as some one has said about some animals." 
 
 At times Dorothea was unable to follow the 
 convolutions of Lady Bloombury's thought ; 
 it seemed to run from one topic to another 
 with an untiring swiftness. Lady Bloomsbury's 
 quick deductions were often quite unwarranted ; 
 like many clever women, always seeking for 
 motives, she drew conclusions from insufficient 
 facts, she was too quick to form an opinion. 
 
 When confronted with a question on vital 
 topics Dorothea was often obliged to say that 
 she didn't know, she hadn't thought enough 
 about the subject, or she hadn't had experience 
 enough to judge. At first she feared that 
 Lady Bloomsbury would think, because of 
 this lack of readiness, that she was stupid ; 
 but she soon discerned that it made no differ- 
 ence ; even if she had disagreed with her, the 
 countess would not have changed her mind 
 on any point. 
 
 Of Harrington Boyd, Dorothea saw very 
 much more than she had hoped during her 
 stay at Broadoaks. He had a habit for hap- 
 pening around after her ride in the morn-
 
 234 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 ing with Sir Hubert, and in the evenings he 
 persistently devoted himself to her. When he 
 was not with her, however, he spent much of 
 his time with Lady Bloomsbury. There was a 
 suggestion of camaraderie between them that 
 surprised Dorothea ; she suspected, too, that 
 Boyd was making a study of Lady Blooms- 
 bury, prying into her secrets as he had done 
 with the original of Mabel Granger. Once she 
 had a fancy that he was trying to flirt with 
 Lady Bloomsbury in her presence, possibly for 
 the purpose of making her jealous ; but this 
 fancy she dismissed as absurd ; she despised 
 him, but she believed he had too much in- 
 telligence to do that. After the fourth day, 
 as she reviewed her visit, she felt glad that she 
 had come to Broadoaks, and she was sorry to 
 leave the next afternoon.
 
 XVI. 
 
 AT the very moment when Dorothea was 
 thinking of her departure from Broadoaks her 
 mother was in conference with Lady Downes 
 and Mrs. Ladd. The subject under discussion 
 was the prolongation of Mrs. Wayne's visit for 
 at least three or four days. For the sake of 
 appearances Mrs. Wayne thought it best to be 
 coy. She would have liked to remain with 
 Lady Downes all summer, but it was only 
 with apparent difficulty that she was finally 
 persuaded to linger till the end of the week. 
 The Ladds had decided to stay a few days 
 longer. 
 
 When Mrs. Wayne spoke to Dorothea about 
 the change of plan she was surprised to en- 
 counter no objection. Mrs. Wayne had de- 
 cided to pass most of the month of August 
 in Scotland, that is, she had suggested the 
 plan to her daughter ; secretly, she relied on 
 a certain dramatic event to shape her move- 
 
 235
 
 236 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 ments quite differently. During her talks with 
 Mrs. Ladd at Broadoaks she had had the most 
 intense spiritual experiences of her life ; there 
 were moments when she felt exalted, when she 
 seemed hardly to touch the earth. Oswego, 
 New York, the Misses Marbury, even Annetta 
 Griffin, were as remote from her as if they 
 lived in another sphere. Sometimes in the 
 morning, when she sat alone in Queen Eliza- 
 beth's room, the red-silk hangings ablaze in 
 the sunshine, she became almost frightened ; 
 she was like one who trembled from too much 
 happiness, from a consciousness of the grim 
 humour of fate. 
 
 The next morning Dorothea rose at half past 
 six to take her ride with Sir Hubert. She 
 found him waiting in the lower hall ; the 
 horses were standing at the door. 
 
 With Nellie Dorothea had established the 
 most friendly relations ; every morning the 
 horse kissed her and lapped her face and 
 munched the bits of sugar that she gave her. 
 
 To-day, instead of riding Flash, Sir Hubert 
 rode Roderick, a new horse that he had bought 
 only a few weeks before. At first Roderick 
 seemed restless, but after they passed out of the 
 park, into the broad road, he settled to a steady
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 237 
 
 trot, and Nellie followed. The morning was 
 cool and clear and the slanting rays of the sun 
 shot through the trees. Dorothea's face glowed 
 as she rose and sank in the saddle. For several 
 moments Sir Hubert didn't speak, then he called 
 out: 
 
 " I'm glad this isn't going to be our last ride." 
 " So am I," Dorothea responded. 
 " I wish you could be here for the hunting 
 season. You'd like that." 
 
 " I'm afraid we shall be in America then." 
 Roderick spurted and bore his rider several 
 yards away from Nellie. Sir Hubert reined 
 him in, however, and allowed Dorothea to 
 overtake him. 
 
 " When do you go back ? " he asked, when 
 she was at his side again and they were riding 
 together. 
 
 " Early next month, I think. Mother will 
 be anxious to see her old friends again by 
 that time." 
 
 " But you would like to stay longer ? " 
 " Yes, I like England very much." 
 Their horses had lapsed into a walk, and for 
 a moment they went on side by side. Then Sir 
 Hubert started Roderick into a trot again, 
 Nellie clattering behind him. 
 
 16
 
 238 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " You'd make a famous mount. You and 
 Nellie would beat the field," he laughed. 
 " You must be a born rider. You're in sym- 
 pathy with your horse. That's a great point." 
 
 Nellie was going too fast to allow Dorothea 
 to acknowledge the compliment. For the next 
 half hour they spoke only at intervals, and gave 
 themselves up to the exhilaration of riding. 
 Suddenly, Dorothea saw a bicyclist coming rap- 
 idly toward her. Before she had time to slacken 
 speed, she passed Roderick and flew up the road 
 toward the turning that led to Renwick. Doro- 
 thea did not understand the cause of this sudden 
 increase of speed. She tried to rein Nellie in, 
 but the effort had the effect of making her go 
 faster. Then she decided to let the rein hang 
 loose and the horse tire herself out. She 
 didn't feel nervous ; she supposed Nellie had 
 been frightened by something on the road, 
 and would grow quiet again in a few mo- 
 ments. She did not dare turn into the Ren- 
 wick road for fear of being thrown. 
 
 So Nellie, rapidly gaining speed, shot 
 straight ahead, apparently determined to es- 
 cape from some unknown terror. Dorothea 
 could hear the clattering of Roderick's hoofs 
 behind her ; Sir Hubert had evidently started
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 239 
 
 in pursuit. If he had been riding Flash he 
 might easily have overtaken her ; but for some 
 moments he was unable to lessen the distance 
 between the two horses. 
 
 Dorothea was now thoroughly frightened ; 
 she said to herself that if Nellie didn't subside 
 in a few minutes she should fall from the sad- 
 dle from sheer terror. Even now she sat 
 mechanically in her seat ; a sudden change of 
 the horse's motion would surely throw her. 
 The steady beat of the hoofs on the hard 
 road seemed to be pounding itself on her brain. 
 
 For several moments she felt as if she were 
 clinging to life by the merest thread of con- 
 sciousness. Then she heard Roderick ap- 
 proaching ; she wondered what would happen if 
 he came up to her. Surely Sir Hubert would 
 not attempt to stop him ; if he seized Nellie's 
 bridle she would herself be thrown forward 
 and trampled. She knew that he was only a 
 hand's length behind her, but she could not 
 put her fears into speech. The two animals 
 were neck and neck now. She could not see 
 Sir Hubert's face, but she fancied that she 
 saw it, white and rigid. He stretched out his 
 hand and grasped Nellie's bridle near the bit. 
 For several moments the two horses ran to-
 
 240 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 gether. Dorothea knew that she could not 
 keep her seat much longer, but when Sir 
 Hubert cried, " Hold on, Miss Wayne ! She'll 
 calm down in a minute," she determined not to 
 yield to her weakness. 
 
 Sir Hubert's promise was not literally kept, 
 for at least three minutes passed before he 
 brought Nellie to a standstill. Then he jumped 
 from Roderick, who was wet with foam, and, 
 still clinging to Nellie's bridle, he gave one 
 hand to Dorothea and helped her from her 
 seat. She came near sinking to the ground, 
 but with an effort she staggered to the fence 
 on one side of the road, and hung over it, trying 
 to catch her breath. 
 
 For several minutes she stood there without 
 speaking, shaking her head whenever Sir Hu- 
 bert made a suggestion for her comfort. Then 
 she brushed her hair back from her forehead 
 and turned her white face toward him with a 
 faint smile. 
 
 " I think I'm all right now," she said. 
 
 " By Jove, you've got grit ! " he exclaimed, 
 looking down at her admiringly. Then he be- 
 gan to apologize for the behaviour of the horse. 
 " It was that bicyclist that we passed near the 
 Renwick road. Nellie isn't used to the bicycle
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 241 
 
 yet, and it always frightens her." He bent over 
 and looked curiously at one of Nellie's feet. 
 
 " Then that was why she ran away," said 
 Dorothea, seeking an explanation for Nellie's 
 misbehaviour that would soothe her injured 
 pride as a rider. 
 
 " Yes, that must have been it." Then he 
 added, looking around vaguely on the open 
 country. " She's dropped one of her shoes. I 
 don't know how we're going to get home." 
 
 He turned to Dorothea again. Their eyes 
 met and they both laughed. 
 
 " We're in a fix, as you Americans say." 
 
 " If I weren't so weak I shouldn't mind 
 walking back," said Dorothea. 
 
 " But what should we do with the horses ? " 
 
 " If Nellie were shod I could ride her back. 
 Couldn't we take her to Renwick and have 
 her shod ? " 
 
 " You wouldn't be afraid to ride her again ! " 
 Sir Hubert cried in surprise. " You certainly 
 have grit." 
 
 For several moments they discussed the 
 situation, and finally decided to go to Popple- 
 ton, the nearest village, about a mile away, 
 where Nellie could be shod. Sir Hubert in- 
 sisted upon placing Dorothea's saddle on
 
 242 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Roderick, and as she rode he walked by her 
 side, leading Nellie. He wanted to ride Nellie, 
 but he yielded to Dorothea's objections. Doro- 
 thea was surprised not to feel the effects of her 
 fright more than she did. She was still nerv- 
 ous and pale ; but she felt curiously happy, 
 perhaps at the thought of having had such an 
 unexpected escape from serious injury and 
 possible death. She rode slowly, so that Sir 
 Hubert might keep pace with her ; Roderick, 
 moreover, seemed to be exhausted from his 
 hard run, and Nellie's listless gait and the 
 shamefaced way in which she hung her head 
 showed she had lost her spirit. 
 
 When they reached the village they found a 
 blacksmith at his forge. Tt would take at least 
 half an hour to shoe Nellie, he said. Doro- 
 thea resigned herself to wait, and Sir Hubert 
 looked impatient. 
 
 " Aren't you hungry ? " he asked, smiling 
 down at her. 
 
 She shook her head. " But you must be." 
 
 " I am," he acknowledged. " While we're 
 waiting we might go up to the hotel and take 
 breakfast. Then we can have another one when 
 we go back." 
 
 She smiled her consent, and rose from the
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 243 
 
 wooden chair that the blacksmith had placed 
 for her beside the open doors of his shop. They 
 walked up the winding road leading to the cen- 
 tre of the village, past low brick houses like those 
 she had seen during the drive from Penley to 
 Broadoaks. It was barely half past seven, and 
 they met groups of labourers on their way to 
 work; the houses had the air of just waking 
 up ; most of the front windows were open and 
 muslin curtains swayed in the breeze. The 
 little front gardens were filled with flowers, giv- 
 ing the soft morning air a faint fragrance. 
 
 Dorothea observed these details half uncon- 
 sciously ; afterward they came back to her with 
 surprising distinctness. Sir Hubert hardly 
 spoke; they walked together like two people 
 who knew each other well enough to dispense 
 with speech when they had nothing in particu- 
 lar to say. 
 
 At the hotel, in spite of Dorothea's protests, 
 Sir Hubert ordered what he called an " Ameri- 
 can breakfast," and she felt obliged to eat. 
 There was something in his manner toward her 
 that she had not noticed before, an odd combina- 
 tion of deference and tenderness which amused 
 and touched her. Though she now felt no bad 
 effects from her fright, he acted as if she were
 
 244 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 still to be treated as a sufferer. When they re- 
 turned to the blacksmith's they had a contest as 
 to who should ride Nellie home. Dorothea won, 
 and when she sat in the saddle again and patted 
 Nellie's head she laughed into his face. She 
 nodded to the blacksmith, and, as Sir Hubert 
 mounted, she clattered down the road. In his 
 grimy leather apron the blacksmith watched 
 them till they had turned the corner that took 
 them from his sight.
 
 XVII. 
 
 WHEN they reached Broadoaks they found 
 Lady Downes and Mrs. Ladd in a state of nerv- 
 ous apprehension. A tradesman of the village, 
 coming down the hill from Renwick, had seen 
 Sir Hubert in pursuit of Dorothea's horse and 
 informed the servants at Broadoaks of the run- 
 away. In a moment both horses had disap- 
 peared, and he could not tell whether they had 
 taken the road toward Renwick or Penley 
 Manor. 
 
 The servant repeated the news to Lady 
 Downes, who at once sent Harrington Boyd in 
 a carriage to Renwick in search of Dorothea ; 
 she had heard her son say the night before that 
 he intended to go to Renwick in the morning. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd, excitable when there was no 
 cause for excitement, and cool in an emergency, 
 was at once consulted. She quickly decided 
 that the tradesman might have made a mistake ; 
 he had seen the horses in full gallop and had 
 
 215
 
 246 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 rashly concluded that one of them was running 
 away ; in any event, Mrs. Wayne must not be in- 
 formed of the news. 
 
 Dorothea was amused to hear that he had 
 not yet returned from his quest of her. When 
 she had given an account of her adventure, Lady 
 Downes was moved to tears, though Dorothea 
 had tried to be as matter of fact as possible. 
 She urged Dorothea to go to her room and lie 
 down ; she must be suffering from the shock. 
 
 To please her, Dorothea did go to her room ; 
 but she did not lie down. Though it was past 
 nine o'clock her mother still slept ; so she tip- 
 toed through the room. On her dressing table 
 she found a letter in the handwriting of Aleck 
 French, bearing the postmark " London." She 
 tore it open and read the dozen lines that it con- 
 tained. These announced his return from Paris 
 the night before and ended with the request that 
 he might come to see her. She could not un- 
 derstand why the letter vexed her. She did not 
 realize that she was still suffering from the 
 shock of the morning ; she merely knew that 
 she felt nervous and irritable, and could not face 
 her mother without betraying her feelings. 
 So she put on her hat and went out of the 
 room.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 247 
 
 The house was quiet, and she met no one on 
 the stairs or in the lower hall. She noticed 
 a door that led into the garden. This she 
 opened and walked along the path toward the 
 woods. Only a few feeble-looking flowers were 
 in the beds, cut into squares by low hedges of 
 evergreens. In the centre of each stood a white 
 marble figure of mythology, in nearly every in- 
 stance with a piece chipped off the face and 
 blackened and worn with age. When Dorothea 
 reached the farther end of the garden she turned 
 and looked back on the house. The cathedral- 
 like windows were flashing in the sun, and the 
 whole place seemed to glow. No one was in 
 sight. 
 
 The path led down a steep incline, and then 
 wound along the slope of the hill. Dorothea 
 followed it to the lake at the end, directly oppo- 
 site the summerhouse. She walked along the 
 edge, and as she approached the bank a man's 
 figure came from behind the- studio. When he 
 lifted his tennis cap and smiled Dorothea saw 
 that he was Harrington Boyd. 
 
 " I've been waiting for you," he said, as they 
 approached within speaking distance. 
 
 " Have you really ? " she replied, with a 
 touch of the superciliousness that she practised
 
 248 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 on no one but him. " How did you know I 
 was coming?" 
 
 " I knew you came down here to sketch 
 every morning. I suppose you're taking advan- 
 tage of this lovely country." 
 
 Dorothea looked vaguely around. " It is a 
 lovely country," she said. 
 
 " Won't you sit down on the veranda for a 
 moment? We can have a quiet talk then. I 
 was glad to hear you had come out of your little 
 accident so well," he said, with a smile that 
 made her feel uncomfortable. " I suppose they 
 told you I'd been in pursuit of you." 
 
 She thanked him for the trouble he had 
 taken in her behalf. Then she sat on the seat 
 that he offered her, and looked across the lake 
 to the west. The air seemed to sparkle in the 
 sunlight. 
 
 " This is England," said Harrington Boyd, 
 making a sweeping gesture with his hand. 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " This is England at its best. On a day like 
 this it's the finest country in the world. But I 
 never could understand why it is called ' Merrie 
 England.' Externally, at any rate, England is 
 the saddest country in the world. But after all, 
 there's nothing like that," he went on, pointing
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 249 
 
 toward Broakoaks. " There's poetry there 
 there's history, art, romance, civilization, every- 
 thing that lifts life from the dead level of the 
 commonplace, and makes it really worth living." 
 
 She did not reply. 
 
 " We pretend we don't care for those things," 
 he resumed, " but that's just because we don't 
 have them, or rather because we can't have 
 them. So we set. up other things in their 
 places and try to make ourselves think they are 
 fine." 
 
 In spite of herself, Dorothea smiled. 
 
 " England is spoiling you," she said. 
 
 He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. 
 Then he said : 
 
 " I'm sure it won't spoil you''' 
 
 She began to feel uneasy, and was about to 
 suggest that she must resume her work. Then 
 she thought she heard a noise in the studio 
 above. She wondered if any one could be 
 there. She herself had a key to the door, but 
 she rarely took the trouble to lock it. The 
 studio seemed to be free to any one who chose 
 to enter. She looked up toward the open win- 
 dow, but seeing no one, she decided that she 
 had been mistaken. 
 
 " How curious it is that we should be sitting
 
 250 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 here in this place ! " Boyd resumed. " Let me 
 see. It's just about a year since I met you." 
 
 " A year next August," Dorothea replied 
 briskly, as if referring to a matter of business. 
 
 He looked out at the lake, but his eyes 
 seemed to see nothing. 
 
 " How many things have happened since 
 then ! " he said, apparently soliloquizing. 
 
 " To you ? Have they ? " 
 
 " Do you know," he went on, ignoring her 
 question, " my meeting you last year was one of 
 the best things that ever happened to me. You 
 taught me a great many things." 
 
 Did I really ? " 
 
 Dorothea's face turned scarlet, and he seemed 
 to take pleasure in the confusion he was causing 
 her. 
 
 " Yes, you taught me a great deal about 
 women and a great deal about myself. Before 
 I met you I didn't know myself. Now, thanks 
 to you," he added with a laugh, " I've made a 
 very interesting acquaintance." 
 
 He glanced at her again to see what effect 
 his words were having. Her face was impas- 
 sive. 
 
 " I suppose you remember that I told you I 
 was in love with you," he resumed. " Or per-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 251 
 
 X 
 
 haps you've forgotten it. I dare say a good 
 many men have told you that. So, perhaps you 
 won't mind if I tell you now that I was quite 
 mistaken." 
 
 " No ; I don't mind," Dorothea replied. " I 
 am not at all surprised." 
 
 " You interested me more than any one I had 
 ever known. That was why I thought I was in 
 love with you. I must confess that you interest 
 me still yes, you interest me very much. At 
 this moment, you are even more interesting to 
 me than you were last year. There are more 
 complications now, you see. You don't mind 
 my being so frank with you, do you ? If you 
 weren't so intelligent I shouldn't be so frank. 
 But we are both intelligent. So why shouldn't 
 we speak out?" 
 
 He smiled down into her face, but she did 
 not look at him, and her own face did not change 
 expression. " I think I have always been frank 
 with you," she said quietly. 
 
 " You have been more than frank. You have 
 been as outspoken as well, as any woman can 
 be with a man. I suppose you wonder why I 
 say this to you. I say it so that we may be 
 friends again. Since we've been at Broadoaks 
 you haven't treated me quite as if we were
 
 252 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 friends. Can't we be friends?" he concluded, 
 holding out his hand. 
 
 She ignored the hand. 
 
 " Of course we can be friends," she laughed. 
 " There's no reason in the world why we 
 shouldn't be." 
 
 He did not offer his hand a second time. 
 When he spoke again she thought she detected 
 a suggestion of irritation in his tone. 
 
 " You are really a remarkable person. After 
 going through what you went through this 
 morning nine women out of ten would take to 
 their beds for weeks. But you look as if noth- 
 ing had happened, as if you rather enjoyed the 
 experience of risking your life." 
 
 Dorothea could not have told why this 
 speech vexed her. Afterward, when she 
 thought it over, she saw that she had a vague 
 consciousness of the insinuation it contained. 
 Harrington Boyd kept his eyes upon her, but 
 she was looking straight ahead. He still smiled, 
 but the smile was not particularly joyous. 
 
 " It was really providential," he went on, 
 "your horse's running away." 
 
 " Providential ? " 
 
 " Yes, opportune. It was just the kind of 
 adventure that would please Mrs. Ladd. It's
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 253 
 
 given a delicious touch of romance to your 
 visit." 
 
 Dorothea turned and looked at him coldly. 
 
 " I don't understand you." 
 
 He burst out laughing, and returned her 
 look without flinching ; but she thought she 
 detected a faint flush around his eyes. 
 
 " I assure you I don't mean to be enig- 
 matical," he said. " It's been plain enough to 
 me all along. Don't you suppose I know why 
 Mrs. Ladd secured the invitation for you and 
 your mother to come up here ? She wanted to 
 bag Sir Hubert for you. Surely it can't be 
 that you haven't seen that any one as keen 
 as you are! Your mother and Mrs. Ladd 
 had it all planned out before you came, and 
 even Lady Dovvnes is in the conspiracy. So 
 you'll understand what I mean by saying the 
 runaway horse was opportune. It was a very 
 pretty incident, and it will help matters along. 
 Those things are often revelations to men ; it 
 opens their eyes. I haven't a doubt Sir Hu- 
 bert " 
 
 Dorothea had been breathing hard and 
 looking at him with whitening lips, as if fas- 
 cinated by what he was saying. Suddenly, 
 
 she rose from her seat. " I won't listen to 
 17
 
 254 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 another word. How dare you insult me like 
 this? I thought you had at least the man- 
 ners of a gentleman, but now I see you 
 would stoop to anything, even to insulting 
 a woman, to gratify your petty spite." 
 
 She turned to gather her wraps, which had 
 fallen on the chair. 
 
 " I think I understand what you mean," he 
 said, with a smile. " You imagine that I'm 
 jealous of Sir Hubert. You're quite mistaken 
 there. On the contrary, I've done all I could 
 to help on the little conspiracy. I've really 
 been magnanimous, and this is the way you 
 show your appreciation. But I never expect 
 gratitude from a woman in these matters." 
 
 She had taken her wraps in her hand, and 
 was walking past him as if she neither heard 
 nor saw him. Her face, which had turned 
 pale, was flushed now, and her eyes were dark 
 with anger. 
 
 As she approached the house her anger 
 subsided and she felt, so weak and ill that she 
 feared she should become faint before reach- 
 ing her room. She felt that she had just had 
 an illumination ! For the moment her resent- 
 ment against Harrington Boyd was lost in her 
 self-accusation ! All he had said was true, she
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 255 
 
 kept crying to herself. She had been a fool 
 not to know it before ! But she had really 
 known it, and she had chosen to ignore the 
 truth, to allow herself to be caught in the 
 toils of her mother's scheming with that 
 woman from New York. Oh, she was justly 
 punished ! Of course, every one in the house 
 understood why she had come there and must 
 despise her as a vulgar adventuress. At this 
 moment they were probably laughing, as Har- 
 rington Boyd had done, over the runaway of 
 the morning, and saying that it was a clever 
 trick. Her whole body tingled with shame at 
 the thought. But she would take herself out 
 of such an odious position. She would not 
 stay another night under the roof of Sir Hu- 
 bert Downes !
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ON reaching the house Dorothea hurried 
 up the stairs. She was startled to find her 
 mother still in bed ; it seemed to her that since 
 the early hours of the morning she had herself 
 passed through the experiences of years ; dur- 
 ing this time her mother had been sleeping. 
 Mrs. Wayne saw that something dramatic had 
 either happened or was going to happen. For 
 a moment a consciousness of her mother's 
 thoughts restrained Dorothea ; then as she un- 
 pinned her hat before the looking-glass, which 
 reflected her white face, she burst out. 
 
 " We can't stay here any longer, mother. 
 We must leave to-day as we intended." 
 
 " Leave to-day ? " Mrs. Wayne sat up, and 
 her nightdress assumed a pinkish hue from 
 the sun and the red hangings. " What are you 
 talking about ? " 
 
 " I mean that we must go away from 
 here. I can't stay a day longer. I wont 
 
 256
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 257 
 
 stay. If you won't come with me I shall go 
 alone." 
 
 Dorothea kept her back turned to the bed 
 so that her mother should not scrutinize her 
 face. 
 
 " You must be crazy. When we told them 
 yesterday " 
 
 " No matter what we told them ! " Dorothea 
 cried, almost hysterically. " Nothing- in the 
 world will make me stay here another day. 
 I've had enough of it. I can't bear it any 
 longer. I must have my way about this. I've 
 yielded to you in everything since we came 
 over here. I've done things that I didn't want 
 to do. I've humiliated myself, I've put up 
 with impudence and insults. Now I won't en- 
 dure it any longer. I'm going this afternoon. 
 I won't " 
 
 Her voice broke and she hurried into her 
 own room and closed the door. 
 
 Mrs. Wayne leaned on her elbow and stared 
 at the door, as if trying to read there some ex- 
 planation of her daughter's conduct. Then she 
 began to weep softly into one hand. Suddenly, 
 as if on impulse, she dried her tears, rose from 
 the bed, and dressed herself quickly. Opening 
 the door leading into the hall, she peered up
 
 258 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 and down, and then slipped over to Mrs. 
 Ladd's room at one end of the corridor. 
 
 There was no response to her knock, and 
 she turned away with a look of bitter disap- 
 pointment. For a moment, she hesitated at 
 her daughter's door, then entered without 
 knocking. A trunk stood in the middle of 
 the room. Dorothea was packing her dresses. 
 
 " Perhaps you'll give me an explanation now 
 of this freak of yours," said Mrs. Wayne, with 
 exaggerated dignity. 
 
 " I've already given you an explanation, 
 mother," Dorothea replied, busily continuing 
 packing. " I can't stay here any longer." 
 
 " That's no explanation at all. What am I 
 to say to Lady Dovvnes ? What am I to " 
 
 " You can tell her that I don't feel well, if 
 you like. Nellie ran away with me this morn- 
 ing, and she'll think it's that." 
 
 " Nellie ran away with you ! Is that 
 the " 
 
 " No, it isn't the reason. I was frightened a 
 little, but that's all. I'm all right again now. 
 But I can't stay and I won't stay. If you are 
 coming with me I'll pack your things for 
 you." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne went into her own room with-
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 259 
 
 out replying. She felt as if she had an illumi- 
 nation. After the runaway, Sir Hubert, in the 
 agitation of the moment, had proposed to 
 Dorothea and Dorothea had refused him. She 
 had an anguished desire to share this revelation 
 with Mrs. Follett Ladd, and she paced up and 
 down the room listening intently for Mrs. 
 Ladd's footsteps in the hall. If the Misses 
 Marbury were only with her ! They would 
 throw on this complication the fine light of 
 their intelligence. Even Annetta Griffin would 
 be sympathetic, in spite of her persistent fond- 
 ness for taking Dorothea's part. When, finally, 
 Mrs. Ladd's brisk step echoed along the corri- 
 dor, Mrs. Wayne opened the door, and inter- 
 cepted her. Mrs. Ladd would have entered 
 Queen Elizabeth's chamber if her friend 
 hadn't made a sign that the conference must 
 be elsewhere. 
 
 For an hour the two ladies were closeted 
 in Mrs. Ladd's room. When Mrs. Wayne 
 emerged, her face wore a look of chastened suf- 
 fering, exalted by hope. The social leader had 
 manifested no surprise on hearing that Doro- 
 thea was bent on leaving Broadoaks at once, 
 but she had not offered an explanation of the 
 girl's conduct. She did suggest, however, that
 
 260 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Sir Hubert would probably pursue Dorothea 
 to London, and this lent Mrs. Wayne a moral 
 support that enabled her to endure the sacri- 
 fice of cutting short her visit. She agreed 
 that it was well for the girl to be coy, and 
 Mrs. Ladd's reasoning made her secretly proud 
 of her daughter. 
 
 On returning to her room she found Doro- 
 thea collecting her things for their departure. 
 She made no remonstrance and she sat on the 
 bed. 
 
 " Has Sir Hubert been proposing to you ? " 
 she said. 
 
 Dorothea's face turned scarlet. 
 
 "Proposing to me?" she repeated, uncon- 
 sciously imitating her mother's method of par- 
 rying an attack. 
 
 "Yes proposing to you," Mrs. Wayne in- 
 sisted irritably. " Don't you suppose I know 
 that he's in love with you ? Any one could see 
 that from the way he looks at you, and from 
 the way he's acted ever since you've been 
 here." 
 
 " You are quite mistaken, mother. He's not 
 in love with me and I'm not in love with him. 
 And as for his proposing to me, that is ab- 
 surd."
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 2 6l 
 
 Mrs. Wayne's spirits came very near sinking- 
 again, but the thought of Mrs. Ladd's logic 
 buoyed them up ; Dorothea's remarks were 
 merely another instance of her maidenly modesty. 
 It was quite possible that Sir Hubert had not 
 proposed in words ; indeed, now that she had 
 time to think the matter over, she felt sure that 
 there had been no formal declaration ; he had 
 probably given her a sudden caress which she 
 had resented ; at this moment, her daughter 
 must be experiencing the conflicting emotions 
 of fear and joy, of exaltation and despair that 
 accompany the awakening of love. The situa- 
 tion was romantic, intense, dramatic. Mrs. 
 Wayne would have given a year of her life 
 for the privilege of talking it over with An- 
 netta Griffin. How many times Annetta Grif- 
 fin had told her that Dorothea had a great 
 capacity for affection ! 
 
 " Of course," she said, " you can't go down 
 to luncheon. I've asked Mrs. Ladd to say 
 you're ill. It's the only thing to be done under 
 the circumstances." 
 
 Dorothea had not realized that her mother 
 would take her literally, and oblige her to pose 
 as an invalid ; she saw, however, that the merest 
 courtesy made it necessary for her to offer some
 
 2 62 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 plausible excuse to her hostess for her sud- 
 den departure. A few minutes later Lady 
 Downes appeared at the door of Queen Eliza- 
 beth's chamber and Dorothea was obliged to 
 steal into her own room. She could hear her 
 mother explaining that Dorothea was feeling 
 just a little better, but not well enough to leave 
 her room for the present ; she had been more 
 shaken by the accident than she had at first 
 imagined. How one lie entailed another ! Doro- 
 thea thought. Before she could escape from 
 Broadoaks she would be forced to say and act 
 a dozen untruths. When luncheon was brought 
 to her the luncheon of an invalid, a thin broth, 
 with toast and a bit of chicken she could not 
 help smiling at the humour of the situation. She 
 ate it all at the risk of betraying the fraud, and 
 she could have eaten as much again ; but she 
 didn't dare ask for more. Since her early break- 
 fast at the inn she had acquired a large appetite. 
 At two o'clock she finished packing. The 
 train left Penley for London at four, and the car- 
 riage would take them from Broadoaks a little 
 before three. It suddenly occurred to her that 
 she hadn't sent Wood word to prepare dinner ; 
 so she called one of the maids and sent him a 
 telegram. A few minutes later she found her
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 263 
 
 hostess in the drawing room with her mother 
 and Mrs. Ladd, and she received a commiser- 
 ating greeting. 
 
 " I was afraid you'd feel the effects of it, 
 dear. One always does after the first excite- 
 ment is over. Do sit down here. How pale 
 you are! You must have had a very great 
 shock." 
 
 Lady Downes went on to explain that she 
 wouldn't urge Miss Wayne to change her mind 
 about leaving Broadoaks ; she had already 
 urged her mother to no purpose. She had 
 promised herself, however, the pleasure of hav- 
 ing them with her again before they returned 
 to America, perhaps when they came back to. 
 London from Scotland. Mrs. Wayne had told 
 her all about the Scotland plans. 
 
 The three men presently entered the draw- 
 ing room and added their sympathy and regrets 
 at Dorothea's departure. Sir Hubert seemed 
 to be greatly distressed by her illness. 
 
 Mrs. Ladd's eyes were fixed upon her, and 
 once she fancied that she saw the social leader 
 glance contemptuously at Harrington Boyd. 
 Follett Ladd lapsed into a chair in the corner, 
 and appeared to be even more sullen than usual. 
 The conversation flagged ; every one seemed
 
 264 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 constrained, and Lady Dovvnes, in spite of her 
 aplomb, was flustered. There was a visible relief 
 among the ladies when Sir Hubert asked Doro- 
 thea if she wouldn't go over to the stables and 
 receive a formal apology from Nellie for her 
 conduct of the morning. Dorothea flushed as 
 she rose to accept the invitation, and Harring- 
 ton Boyd smiled at Mrs. Ladd, who was staring 
 serenely at Mrs. Wayne. 
 
 Sir Hubert did not speak until they had 
 passed the rows of grinning statuary in the gar- 
 den, and entered the path under the trees that 
 led to the stables. Then he said, with the 
 English upward inflection that she liked to 
 hear: 
 
 " I'm uncommonly sorry you're leaving, Miss 
 Wayne." 
 
 " Thank you. I'm sorry, too. I've enjoyed 
 being here very much." 
 
 " But not so much as we've enjoyed having 
 you my mother and I. You've brightened us 
 up immensely." 
 
 Dorothea could scarcely keep from smiling. 
 In her state of mind at that moment the idea of 
 her brightening any one up seemed absurd. 
 
 " I shall miss those morning rides," Sir Hu- 
 bert went on awkwardly.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 265 
 
 " But you'll take them just the same," she 
 said, for lack of something better to say. 
 
 " Oh, yes. But it'll be different. I shall feel 
 lonely," Sir Hubert laughed. " And I shall hate 
 to think," he added, as an afterthought, " that 
 on our last ride together you had such a beastly 
 accident. But we did have a rather pleasant 
 morning of it afterward, didn't we ? Or, rather, 
 I did. I sha'n't forget that breakfast at the inn. 
 It " 
 
 " There's one thing I must tell you before I 
 go," Dorothea interrupted. " I am not it isn't 
 true that I'm ill from the accident I just said 
 that as an excuse. I am perfectly well ; only I 
 feel that I must go. That's why I " 
 
 She stopped, her words becoming entangled 
 in her confusion. Sir Hubert looked at her in 
 surprise ; he could not believe she had told a 
 lie ; he felt sure there must be a misunderstand- 
 ing somewhere. While he was trying to dis- 
 cover it Dorothea regained her composure. 
 
 " 1 wanted to tell you so that you shouldn't 
 blame yourself. The runaway was nothing. 
 An hour afterward I felt as well as I'd been be- 
 fore it." 
 
 " But why are you going away then ? " Sir 
 Hubert insisted.
 
 266 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 Dorothea was not prepared for this cross- 
 questioning- and she did not know what answer 
 to make. For a moment she walked on with- 
 out speaking. Then, " I am going because I 
 must," she said. " I I can't explain to you 
 the reason." 
 
 He had fallen a step behind her so that 
 she might have the whole of the narrow 
 path. 
 
 " Has the reason anything to do with me ? 
 Have I have I done anything to offend 
 you ? " 
 
 His first question had made Dorothea catch 
 her breath ; the second gave her so much re- 
 lief, and at the same time seemed so odd to 
 her, that she laughed out. 
 
 " Oh, no. I don't believe you could do 
 anything to offend me," she replied without 
 thinking. 
 
 They had come into the open again and he 
 walked on by her side across the hill toward 
 the stables. 
 
 " I thought, perhaps, this morning perhaps 
 you thought I I had taken a liberty asking 
 you to take breakfast at that inn. I shouldn't 
 have done, it, perhaps, if you'd been an English 
 girl ; but I knew that Americans were so much
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 267 
 
 more sensible about that. And then it was 
 such a pleasure to me to be there with you. 
 I hope you didn't mind if I showed that too 
 much ; but I really felt so relieved when it 
 turned out when I knew you were safe, you 
 know. Till that happened I didn't I didn't 
 realize how much I cared for you." 
 
 Dorothea's eyes were fixed on the grass ; 
 her face was burning. She was blaming her- 
 self for having come out with him, for not 
 having avoided this scene ; but his words gave 
 her a strange sense of elation. She made an 
 effort to keep back this feeling, however, and 
 she waited almost breathlessly for him to 
 speak again. 
 
 " I wanted to tell you that I loved you 
 this morning," he went on. " I think I have 
 loved you ever since that first night I met 
 you at Mrs. Ladd's. And to-day when this 
 morning, it seemed to me that if any harm 
 came to you it would be the worst thing that 
 could happen to me. I wanted to tell you that 
 then, but I was afraid that might be taking an 
 unfair advantage of you. Perhaps I ought 
 not to tell you now. I haven't any reason to 
 think you could care for me. But before you 
 go I want you to know about it, and ask you
 
 2 68 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 to be ray wife. Of course, I don't expect you 
 to promise now. I'm willing to " 
 
 Dorothea knew that he was going on with 
 his talk to hide his embarrassment ; but she 
 could not find the right words with which 
 to stop him. Now, however, she felt that she 
 must speak. 
 
 " I can't promise," she cried quickly. " I 
 am sorry I'm sorry you've said this to me. 
 I do respect you I think you are I cant 
 
 promise " she broke down helplessly. " Oh, 
 
 if you knew all about me," she went on a mo- 
 ment later, " you wouldn't have any respect 
 for me." 
 
 " I should consider myself very lucky if I 
 could take you as you are," he said, with a 
 faint smile. " Won't you leave it undecided 
 for a while ? I'm not conceited enough to 
 think that I can make you care for me in the 
 short time you've known me. Perhaps after 
 you go back to America you'll let me come 
 to see you there. I've wanted to go for a 
 long time, you know. I don't want you to 
 commit yourself to anything or to give me any 
 encouragement 
 
 " I couldn't do that," Dorothea interrupted. 
 " It would be doing you a great wrong. You
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 269 
 
 can come to America if you want to, of course ; 
 but you must never think there can be any- 
 thing between us. That is impossible." 
 
 " Then you you think you couldn't care 
 for me ? " he asked, with a touching sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 " I never could marry you," Dorothea re- 
 plied firmly, keeping- her head away from him. 
 " If you come to America, it would be better 
 for us both not to see each other there." 
 
 She did not dare to glance at Sir Hubert's 
 face. He made no reply, and they walked on 
 in silence. They were within a few minutes' 
 walk of the stables, but Dorothea suddenly de- 
 cided that she must turn back. She could 
 not bear the thought of going in there now. If 
 she went to bid Nellie good-bye she knew that 
 she would make herself ridiculous by bursting 
 into tears. She would have liked to gather her 
 skirts round her and run away from Sir Hu- 
 bert ; his presence tortured her. 
 
 " I'm afraid I don't feel equal to going on 
 any farther," she said. " Perhaps we'd better 
 turn back." 
 
 " If you are tired I'll drive you back," he 
 said, with a quick look of alarm at her pale 
 face. 
 
 18
 
 2 ~o THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " No, I'd rather walk," she replied nerv- 
 ously. 
 
 On the way to the house they scarcely 
 spoke. Dorothea was reminded of her walk 
 with Harrington Boyd on that last night at 
 Hull, a year before. She had been mortified 
 then ; now she had a feeling of hopeless misery, 
 of impotent rebellion against fate. It was bad 
 enough that she should herself have to suffer 
 it was shameful that she should bring suffering 
 on others. Yet at the moment all her pity 
 was for herself. She longed to go away to 
 some place where she could give herself up 
 to her misery. This, however, was just what she 
 couldn't do ; she would have to wear her mask 
 to the end of her visit. When she returned 
 to the drawing room at Broadoaks she seemed 
 as impassive as usual.
 
 XIX. 
 
 ON their way to London Dorothea and her 
 mother had to endure the society of three 
 elderly ladies and a fat man ; so their conversa- 
 tion was restrained. It was after six o'clock 
 when they reached the city. At the lodgings 
 in Mandeville Place they found the curtains of 
 the drawing room drawn, the room bright with 
 lamps and lighted candles, the table shining 
 with its damask cloth and glass. Wood dis- 
 played an obsequious pleasure at being able to 
 serve them again, and his wife emerged from 
 the kitchen to greet them. During the meal 
 Mrs. Wayne had very little to say ; from her 
 manner, however, Dorothea saw that she was 
 keeping something in reserve. For this she 
 had prepared herself; she had decided to tell 
 the whole truth at any cost; it would clear the 
 ground, and enable her to begin a new chapter 
 in her life. Moreover, she was disgusted with 
 lying ; during the day she had told lies enough 
 to destroy any one's self-respect. 
 
 271
 
 272 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 As soon as the table was cleared and Wood 
 left the room Mrs. Wayne spoke up. 
 
 " Perhaps you'll tell me now what happened to- 
 day," she said, with an unusual authority of tone. 
 
 " Do you mean why I wanted to leave 
 Broadoaks?" Dorothea asked quietly. 
 
 " Yes ; why you changed your mind all of a 
 sudden. What made you do it?" 
 
 Dorothea repeated her conversation of the 
 morning with Harrington Boyd. She expected 
 her mother to be confounded by it; instead, 
 however, the widow became enraged. 
 
 " Do you mean to say," she cried, " that you 
 would allow yourself to care what that creature 
 said ? Why, he was jealous because Sir Hubert 
 was paying you attention. Couldn't you see 
 that? Couldn't you see that he said those 
 things out of spite? I didn't believe you could 
 be such a ninny. Everybody saw it even Lady 
 Downes ! " 
 
 Dorothea was so unprepared for this attack 
 that she could not formulate a reply. Besides, 
 she was appalled by her mother's complete in- 
 difference to the charges Harrington Boyd had 
 brought against her. She turned away, and 
 would have ended the conversation if her 
 mother hadn't broken out again.
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 273 
 
 " It will be a judgment on you if you lose 
 him. I never saw any one so reckless as you 
 are ! Just for the sake of a little pique you are 
 risking- the chance of a lifetime." 
 
 " If you are referring to Sir Hubert, mother, 
 you are quite mistaken. You might as well put 
 out of your mind, once for all, any thought of 
 my marrying him." 
 
 Her mother's eyes blazed. 
 
 " What do you mean by that?" she cried. 
 
 " I mean exactly what I say, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne bent forward in her seat. " Do 
 you mean to say," she said slowly, with a sug- 
 gestion of horror in her tone " do you mean to 
 say you've refused him ? " 
 
 " He asked me to be his wife this afternoon, 
 and I told him that I couldn't marry him under 
 any circumstances." 
 
 Mrs. Wayne jumped to her feet. Her face 
 was pale, and her lips quivered. 
 
 " Oh, you fool, you fool ! " she cried. 
 
 Dorothea wondered why she did not become 
 angry. Her mother's reproaches failed to ex- 
 cite her in the least ; she seemed to have lost 
 spirit. She sat without speaking as the thin 
 figure confronted her. 
 
 " How can you look me in the face ? Do you
 
 274 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 suppose I don't know why you've done this? 
 I saw the letter you got from Aleck French this 
 morning on your dressing table. So you had to 
 come down here and meet him before his wife 
 was cold in her coffin ! To think that 1 should 
 have brought up such a daughter!" she sobbed. 
 " I thought I should have some comfort out of 
 you in my old age. You'll break my heart ! 
 You've broken it already ! " 
 
 She buried her face in her hands, and walked 
 out of the room, sobbing convulsively. Doro- 
 thea heard her throw herself on her bed and 
 give herself up to a fit of weeping. Dorothea 
 herself felt numb ; her body ached. These out- 
 breaks of her mother's, though common enough 
 in her life, always terrified her. For several 
 moments she was unable to move ; then she 
 rose stiffly from her seat and closed the door 
 that her mother had left open. The sobbing 
 in the next room was subsiding; after it her 
 mother would fall asleep. 
 
 For nearly half an hour Dorothea walked 
 up and down the apartment, thinking of the 
 hideous failure her European visit had been. 
 She wondered if her whole life were going 
 to be a tragedy. Then she tried to shake 
 off such morbid thoughts. Her life, she told
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 275 
 
 herself, was quite as happy as most lives. 
 She had had disappointments : so had every 
 one ; several of her friends had had greater 
 disappointments. She loved life ; she was in- 
 terested in her work ; she did not have the 
 thousand and one worries of people of small 
 means ; she could enjoy many luxuries that 
 most people were denied. No, on the whole 
 she was happy, quite happy. Then she thought 
 of Sir Hubert Downes, and she came very near 
 softening. She tried to delude herself into 
 thinking that her regret was wholly for him. 
 She had been culpable in going there ; she had 
 never seriously encouraged him ; yet she had 
 done him a great wrong. 
 
 When her mother's sobs had ceased Doro- 
 thea sat at her desk. She wished that she 
 were at home in Oswego ; she felt as if she 
 were the victim of a hideous conspiracy. 
 Then she blamed herself for having allowed 
 people to interfere with her, for not having 
 asserted her rights. She had been weak, the 
 most pitiable of cowards. For the first time 
 in her life she longed for some one to con- 
 fide in. 
 
 It was strange that at this moment she 
 should have thought of Aleck French ; he
 
 276 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 was the last person in the world that she 
 could tell of her experiences at Broadoaks. 
 Yet she was more eager to see him now 
 than she had ever been ; with him she al- 
 ways felt at ease ; he seemed to understand 
 her, to know when to let her alone. She 
 recalled long walks they had taken together 
 in Oswego on cold autumn afternoons when 
 the leaves were turning to red and yellow, 
 and for miles they had scarcely spoken. 
 With shame she remembered how she had 
 secretly resented his crudeness. Now she was 
 glad he hadn't changed, glad he was what he 
 was, big and homely, glad even that he had 
 freckles on his hands. The days came back to 
 her when she used to go to see his father, who 
 was secretly proud of Aleck, in spite of his op- 
 position to Aleck's career, and who liked to 
 make foolish jokes about Aleck's devotion to 
 her. She realized bitterly her folly in having 
 allowed even for so short a time Harrington 
 Boyd's fine manner to weigh against Aleck's 
 sturdy honesty. Even Aleck's suffering of the 
 past year glorified him in her mind. Like him, 
 many men had done wrong, but few had ac- 
 cepted the consequences so bravely ! His let- 
 ter to her announcing his marriage was the
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 277 
 
 best testimony he could have given of his 
 almost childlike simplicity ; he had none of 
 the guile that had brought so much vexation 
 into her own life. She forgot his duplicity 
 with her before his marriage, or rather she 
 considered that merely as a part of the fault 
 he had already atoned for. 
 
 He was the only friend she had in Lon- 
 don, and to him she turned in her loneliness 
 and misery. She took from her desk a sheet 
 of paper and wrote him a hasty note, tell- 
 ing of her visit at Broadoaks and of her 
 return to London, ending with a promise to 
 meet him at the National Gallery the next 
 afternoon if her mother were well enough to 
 be left alone. She added this condition on 
 an impulse; it suddenly occurred to her that 
 her mother, after the excitement of weeks of 
 feverish activity, would probably have one of 
 her reactions. When the reaction did come 
 it would be violent. 
 
 Her fear proved prophetic, for the next 
 morning Mrs. Wayne was in a raging fever. 
 Dorothea became so alarmed that she sent 
 Wood out for the physician who had at- 
 tended the Spanish lodger a few weeks be- 
 fore. He was a portly figure of fifty with
 
 278 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 a manner of alarming seriousness. After con- 
 ferring with the invalid, he solemnly asked 
 Dorothea if her mother had had a shock ; 
 then Dorothea proceeded to give a history 
 of her mother's ailments and the doctor 
 thoughtfully fingered his eyeglasses. On 
 Dorothea's venturing to suggest that her 
 mother had tired herself out and needed a 
 rest, he lifted his eyes with a deprecating 
 dubiousness. She conceived a great dislike 
 for him and hoped that he wouldn't come 
 again ; but he did come the next day, and 
 he came every other day for a week. Dur- 
 ing this time Dorothea did not once leave 
 the lodgings, save for a short walk late in 
 the afternoon of the fifth day. She had written 
 to Aleck French of her mother's illness and 
 promised to meet him when she could. 
 
 From the first day Mrs. Wayne sank into 
 abject weakness and melancholy ; her only in- 
 terest in life centred in the question whether 
 , there were any mail. This Dorothea inter- 
 preted as a desire for news from Mrs. Fol- 
 lett Ladd. 
 
 When several days had passed and no news 
 was received, Mrs. Wayne's melancholy deep- 
 ened into nostalgia and Dorothea found herself
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 279 
 
 growing cynical. Mrs. Ladd had evidently 
 lost interest in her friends from Osvvego. 
 Dorothea spoke to the doctor about her 
 mother's homesickness and asked if it wouldn't 
 be best for her to be taken on board the 
 steamer. The doctor hesitated, then he con- 
 scientiously announced that the voyage and 
 the sight of familiar places and faces would 
 probably be beneficial to the sufferer. So 
 Dorothea wrote for berths on the ship that 
 sailed from Southampton the following Tues- 
 day. 
 
 If she had examined her feelings she might 
 have discovered that she herself, as well as her 
 mother, was suffering from a disappointment ; 
 but at this time self-examination was just what 
 she was careful to avoid. Sir Hubert was not a 
 man to force himself on any one ; her answer 
 had been final, and he had sense and discretion 
 enough to appreciate the fact. Two days be- 
 fore the day set for her departure she wrote to 
 Aleck French that she would meet him at the 
 National Gallery on Monday afternoon at three 
 o'clock ; now that her mother was about to go 
 home, she seemed to be improving and could be 
 safely left alone. 
 
 Dorothea found French in the columned por-
 
 2go THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 tico of the Gallery ; he explained that he had 
 been through all the rooms looking for her. 
 
 " Wouldn't you rather take a drive than go 
 up there ? " he said. " It's a pity not to be out 
 such a fine day as this." 
 
 Dorothea suggested that they drive toward 
 Hampstead and then walk ; this would give 
 them a chance to talk things over. On the way 
 in the cab she was tempted to ask him about his 
 wife ; but she did not, and he had nothing to 
 say on the subject. He did speak casually of 
 Miss Flagler, whom he had seen several times 
 in Paris. Arthur Roberts had told him that 
 the engagement was not to be announced till 
 after their return to New York ; Roberts had 
 been offered a position at the League ; so they 
 would be sure of an income. 
 
 " It's been a rather bad end to your summer, 
 hasn't it ? " he said. 
 
 " It has all been a disappointment, Aleck. I 
 feel now as if I never wanted to see Europe 
 again. It's only another ideal shattered." 
 
 He looked at her in surprise. " That doesn't 
 sound like you, Dorothea." 
 
 " I'm afraid I've changed since I came over 
 here," she said, with a smile. 
 
 When they reached Hampstead French
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 2 8l 
 
 stopped the hansom and they walked in the di- 
 rection of the Heath. 
 
 " So you're really going to-morrow ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I wish I were going with you." 
 
 For a moment Dorothea was silent. Then 
 she said : 
 
 " Have you made up your mind to go 
 back?" 
 
 He turned his face toward hers. " No. I 
 couldn't make up my mind till I had spoken to 
 you about it." 
 
 She felt her face flushing. 
 
 " I thought you had decided to come." 
 
 " I want to go I want to go very much 
 now that other business has settled itself. I 
 should like to see my father again. I should 
 like to make it up with him." 
 
 " Yes, you ought to make it up with him," 
 she repeated mechanically. 
 
 To-day he seemed to her bigger and cruder 
 than he ever had been, and the gentleness of his 
 manner with her contrasted oddly with the 
 roughness of his looks. He reminded her of a 
 great Newfoundland dog, especially when he 
 looked down at her with his big eyes.
 
 282 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " Father was always fond of you," he went 
 on. " He used to say you were the finest girl in 
 Oswego. I believe it was you that made him 
 send me over here." 
 
 Dorothea walked on without speaking. 
 
 A moment later, he resumed : " Perhaps I 
 ought not to say what I'm going to say, Doro- 
 thea, but I just want you to know that I care 
 for you more than ever, and if I could undo 
 some time in the future what I've done, and be 
 what I used to be to you I'd do it, and I'd 
 consider myself the luckiest man in the world. 
 I don't ask you to marry me ; I haven't any 
 right to do that. But I think I shall always 
 love you, Dorothea I know I shall. And if 
 you'll let me go back home and try to wipe out 
 the past, I'll do my best to to 
 
 Dorothea was holding down her head ; so 
 she could not see the expression of regret and 
 yearning in his face. Before speaking she tried 
 to formulate what she had to say, but she could 
 not collect her thoughts. 
 
 " If you if you ask me to to promise any- 
 thing," she replied incoherently, " Aleck 
 
 " I don't. I haven't any right to do that. If 
 you told me that you loved some one else, or 
 hated me, or didn't want me to be where you
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 283 
 
 were, I'd stay away, I'd stay over here in Lon- 
 don or Paris. I don't think I could bear to see 
 you in love with any one else or married. I'm 
 not man enough for that. But if you " 
 
 She looked up quickly into his face. 
 
 " I don't think I shall ever marry, Aleck, if 
 you mean that," she replied. " Perhaps I shall 
 change my mind many women say that but I 
 don't think I shall. I think you ought to go 
 home. You ought to go home to your father, 
 and you ought to stay at home. You belong 
 there. We shall be good friends, Aleck, just as 
 we used to be. Don't you think we ought to 
 have stayed friends just friends, I mean? 
 That would have been better for both of us, it 
 seems to me." 
 
 He turned his head away and did not speak 
 for several moments. 
 
 " I know you're right," he said, about my 
 going home. And I I don't blame you. I 
 think I'll probably do as you say. At any rate, 
 I'll think about it." 
 
 Then they talked of other things, chiefly 
 about his work ; he outlined plans for new pic- 
 tures that he had in mind. Presently they 
 turned and walked part way back to the lodg- 
 ings, and then took a hansom. To French's re-
 
 284- 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 quest that he might see her off the next day, 
 Dorothea replied that her mother was so ill, 
 perhaps it would be better for him not to come. 
 Although a rather lame reason, it satisfied him, 
 and he bade her good-bye, saying that he might 
 see her in Oswego before very long.
 
 XX. 
 
 ON entering the hall of the lodgings Doro- 
 thea was surprised to hear her mother's voice 
 coming from the drawing room. She opened 
 the door quickly, and her heart gave a wild 
 jump ; Sir Hubert Downes was standing 
 there, engaged in conversation with the in- 
 valid, who had changed her nightdress for one 
 of her finest gowns. For a moment there was 
 a tableau. On seeing Dorothea Sir Hubert had 
 risen ; now he stood returning the look of min- 
 gled surprise and pleasure with which Doro- 
 thea was regarding him. It was Mrs. Wayne 
 who broke the silence. 
 
 " Sir Hubert has been waiting for you for 
 more than an hour." 
 
 Dorothea extended her hand, and he seized 
 it with a fervour that made her face burn. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," she said quietly. 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 He stood smiling, and waiting for her to 
 sit down. 
 
 19 885
 
 286 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " I suppose you're surprised to find me 
 up ? " Mrs. Wayne went on, turning to her 
 daughter. She displayed a restless energy ; 
 her cheeks, which early in the afternoon 
 were of a yellowish pallor, were now shot 
 with pink, and her dull eyes shone. " But 
 I couldn't let Sir Hubert sit here all alone. 
 He came about an hour after you left. 
 We've been having a long talk. I've just 
 been telling him he's done me more good 
 than all the doctors in creation could have 
 done." 
 
 Dorothea had taken off her gloves and al- 
 lowed her wrap to fall upon the couch. 
 
 " Here, give me those things," her mother 
 went on, extending both hands, " I'll leave 
 them in your room. Sir Hubert wants to 
 talk with you. I guess he's had enough of 
 me for a while. Perhaps " she added at the 
 door " perhaps you can persuade him to 
 stay fo.r dinner. He wouldn't promise me. 
 I suppose he thought you might not come 
 and he'd have to take dinner all alone with 
 me." 
 
 She went away laughing hysterically at 
 her silly joke ; she seemed almost beside her- 
 self with joy. She felt that she was about
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 2 8/ 
 
 to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, 
 and the prospect intoxicated her. 
 
 Dorothea, whose heart was beating violent- 
 ly, closed the door, left half open ; then, 
 ashamed of having closed it, she had an impulse 
 to turn back. But she resisted, and took the 
 chair that her mother vacated. She hardly 
 dared to look Sir Hubert in the face ; her 
 chief thought was to control herself, to keep 
 her voice from trembling. But the silence was 
 so long that she lifted her eyes at last, and 
 tried to formulate a remark. 
 
 " I hope your mother is very well," she 
 said. 
 
 " Yes, thank you that is " he stammered. 
 Then he stopped for a moment. " No, the 
 fact is," he went on slowly, " she hasn't been 
 well since you left. She's very delicate, you 
 know, though she doesn't seem so, and I think 
 your little accident upset her." 
 
 " I'm very sorry. But she hasn't been ill, 
 1 hope ? " 
 
 " Not really ; only a bit out of sorts." 
 
 "And the Ladds are they still with you?" 
 Dorothea asked, to keep up the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 " They left this morning. Boyd left three
 
 288 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 days ago. So we're quite alone, my mother 
 and I." 
 
 Another silence fell upon them. Dorothea 
 could think of nothing to say. Her mind ran 
 over a series of irrelevant topics. At last 
 she decided that it would be safe to men- 
 tion her departure the next day. 
 
 " I suppose my mother has told you about 
 our leaving." 
 
 " Yes, and it made me realize how lucky I 
 was to come to-day. I might have missed 
 you. I thought you'd be here for some time 
 longer." 
 
 For a moment he seemed to be gathering 
 himself together for a great effort. Then he 
 burst out : 
 
 " I've been telling your mother what I 
 came for. I've made a clean breast of it to 
 
 her, and " He stopped and looked into her 
 
 face. " It's about that fellow, Boyd," he 
 went on. " I know what he said about you, 
 and why you left our house so suddenly. 
 And I've I've come to tell you how sorry 
 I am, and how how indignant my mother 
 and I are that you should have been in- 
 sulted under our roof. If you could have 
 told us but, of course, you couldn't do that
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 289 
 
 but if we could have known about it, we 
 should have protected you from any further 
 annoyance." 
 
 At first Dorothea was bewildered by his 
 incoherence ; but after a moment she gasped : 
 
 " Then my mother has told you ! " 
 
 " It was Mrs. Ladd who first told. She told 
 my mother last night. My poor old mother 
 had been worrying about me ; you know I 
 haven't any secrets from her, and she knew how 
 how cut up I'd been when you when you 
 told me that you couldn't care for me as I did 
 for you. I suppose Mrs. Ladd saw it too, she's 
 so keen. At any rate, last night Mrs. Ladd had 
 a long talk with my mother, and they spoke 
 about you. Mother had been a little hurt by 
 But that was because she couldn't understand, 
 vou know, why every one didn't admire me as 
 she does. I suppose all mothers are like that. 
 Then Mrs. Ladd spoke up for you, and she told 
 us what Boyd said about you on the veranda of 
 the studio. This morning my mother told me, 
 and then I took the train for London and came 
 here." 
 
 He looked confused after his long speech, 
 and sat gazing in Dorothea's face. 
 
 " I'm sorry you've come so far to tell me
 
 290 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 this," said Dorothea. " You weren't in any way 
 to blame, and, of course, I've never blamed you 
 for a moment." 
 
 " But you ran away from us ; you treated us 
 as if you thought we'd believe that man's insin- 
 uations. You see, I've found out all about it. 
 Your mother has told me what Mrs. Ladd didn't 
 tell," he added, with a faint smile. 
 
 " I did what I had to do, what any one with 
 the least self-respect would have done in my 
 place." 
 
 "But you might have trusted us more," he 
 said reproachfully. 
 
 " How did Mrs. Ladd know ? " Dorothea 
 asked. " It isn't possible that Mr. Boyd told 
 her." 
 
 For a moment, Sir Hubert looked confused 
 again. 
 
 " That was one reason why she hadn't spoken 
 before. She felt as if it would be dishonourable. 
 She overheard accidentally." 
 
 " Then she was in the studio at the time," 
 said Dorothea. " I remember that I thought I 
 heard a noise there." 
 
 "She didn't have time to show herself before 
 it was all over. Of course, she couldn't have 
 helped hearing, and it was only only what my
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 29! 
 
 mother said to her that made her .see that she 
 ought to tell. In fact, she asked my mother if I 
 hadn't proposed to you, and when my mother 
 said I had, she couldn't keep silent any longer." 
 
 In spite of herself, Dorothea smiled at Sir 
 Hubert's earnestness in trying not to incrimi- 
 nate any one save the real culprit. . 
 
 " It's all over now," she said. 
 
 Sir Hubert's eyes flashed. " I should like 
 nothing better than to give that fellow a sound 
 thrashing." 
 
 " The best thing to do is to forget all about 
 it," said Dorothea. 
 
 " It made me wonder," he went on con- 
 fusedly ; "in fact, that's what I really came here 
 for to find out if that was why you discouraged 
 me so. Of course, I have no reason to think 
 you really could care for me, but if it hadn't 
 happened you might perhaps have given me a 
 chance." 
 
 " I couldn't do anything except what I did 
 do under the circumstances," Dorothea replied, 
 her face flaming. " I should have been the 
 most contemptible creature in the world if I 
 had." 
 
 " Because that man said those things about 
 you?"
 
 292 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 " No, not that. But because he made me 
 realize that they were true." 
 
 " True ? " Sir Hubert gasped. 
 
 " Yes, true that is, true enough to make me 
 despise myself for going to Broadoaks, for ac- 
 cepting your kindness when, if I had allowed 
 myself to think, I should have known why Mrs. 
 Ladd had introduced me to you, and why she 
 had persuaded your mother to invite me. Oh, 
 I don't blame her. She simply has a weakness 
 for managing " 
 
 " But my mother invited you of her own 
 accord," Sir Hubert interrupted, with a look of 
 bewilderment and pain in his eyes. " No, not 
 exactly that. She invited you because I asked 
 her to." 
 
 "You asked her to?" 
 
 "Yes. Mrs. Ladd had nothing whatever to 
 do with it. Even if she had I should be the last 
 person to blame her." 
 
 " But I thought when I went there oh, I 
 ought not to have gone. I went because I knew 
 it would please my mother." 
 
 " Then you didn't want to come ? " 
 
 " Yes, I did want to come, too," she acknowl- 
 edged, seeing how rude her remark had been. 
 " I didn't mean that what you think. I allowed
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 293 
 
 myself to drift. It was only after Mr. Boyd said 
 those things about me that I understood what I 
 had done, what an odious position I had placed 
 myself in." 
 
 " But that was the merest fancy. It's only 
 because you're so sensitive that you've accused 
 yourself." 
 
 Tears had come into her eyes and she turned 
 her head away to hide them. 
 
 " You're very generous," she said. 
 
 " I'm generous to myself," he replied, with a 
 smile. " But I'm glad you think I'm generous. 
 That gives me courage to ask you if what hap- 
 pened the day you left us had anything to do 
 with your saying you never could care for 
 me." 
 
 For a moment she did not reply. Then she 
 said : 
 
 " Yes ; that was one of the reasons if if 
 that was what I said." 
 
 She could not see the light that leaped into 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Perhaps I can get over the others some 
 day. Won't you tell me what they are ? " 
 
 " I didn't know my own mind. I felt con- 
 fused and ashamed. I was afraid of doing any- 
 thing that might be considered underhanded or
 
 294 
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 
 
 or indelicate anything I might be sorry for 
 afterward." 
 
 " But if that's all, surely now, after what I've 
 said, you can't feel like that. You know, I didn't 
 expect very much. I only wanted you to know 
 how much I loved you, and I thought that per- 
 haps some time you might learn to care for me. 
 But, of course, if there's some one else 
 
 " There's no one else." 
 
 " Of course, you hardly know me now," he 
 stammered. 
 
 " You don't know me," said Dorothea, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " I know that I love you," he replied. 
 " That's enough." 
 
 A moment later he went on: 
 
 " And will you let me come to see you ? " 
 
 " We are leaving for America to-morrow," 
 Dorothea repeated. 
 
 " I know that, but I can leave for America, 
 too. I think I've told you that I've been on the 
 point of going for years. I can't go to-morrow. 
 I shouldn't like to leave my mother so suddenly. 
 Then, if I wait a week or two, perhaps I shall 
 be able to persuade her to come with me. Will 
 you let me come ? " 
 
 His deep eyes were fixed upon her, and she
 
 THE INTRIGUERS. 295 
 
 felt a thrill of happiness that she had never 
 known. It was a long time before she could 
 trust herself to speak. 
 
 " Yes, you may come," she said, at last. 
 
 He extended his hand impulsively, and held 
 hers for a moment. 
 
 " Thank you," said he. 
 
 She rose and started for the door. 
 
 11 Shall I tell mother you are going to stay 
 for dinner ? " 
 
 " If you want me to," he replied, smiling. 
 
 For a few moments she left him. When she 
 returned he thought she had been crying. But 
 there were no tears in Mrs. Wayne's eyes. As 
 she entered the room she felt as if she were re- 
 ceiving her reward for years of maternal devo- 
 tion. 
 
 THE END.
 
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 167. Fidelis. By ADA CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 168. Into the Highways and Hedges. By F. F. MoNTrfisoB. 
 
 169. The Vengeance of James Vansittart. By Mrs. J. II. 
 
 170. A Study in Prejudices. By GEORGE PASTON. 
 
 171. The Mistress of Q>n?st. By ADELINE SERGEANT. 
 
 172. In the Year of Jubilee. By GEORGE GISSING. 
 
 173. In Old New England. By HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. 
 
 174. Mrs. Musgrave and Her Husband. By R. MARSH. 
 
 175. Xot Counting the Cost. By TASMA. 
 
 176. Out of Due Season. By ADELINE SERGEANT. 
 
 177. Scytta or Charybdte ? By RUODA BROUGHTON. 
 
 178. In Defiance of the. King. By C. C. HOTCHKISS. 
 
 179. A Bid for Fortune. By GUY BOOTHBY. 
 
 180. The Eing of Andaman. By J. M ACL AREN COBBAN. 
 
 181. Mr*. Tregaski-f. By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PBAED. 
 
 182. The Desire of the Moth. By CAPEL VANE. 
 
 183. A Sc>f- Denying Ordinance. By M. HAMILTON. 
 
 184. Successors to the Title. By Mrs. L. B. W T ALFORD.
 
 APPLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY.- (Continued.) 
 
 185. The Lost Stradivarim. By J. MEADE FALKNER. 
 
 186. The Wrong Man. By DOROTHEA GERARD. 
 
 187. In the Day of Adversity. By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 
 
 188. Mistress Dorothy Marvin. By J. C. SNAITH. 
 
 189. A Flash of Summer. By Mrs. \V. K. CLIFFORD. 
 
 190. The Dancer in Yellow. By W. E. NORRIS. 
 
 "K)l. The Chronicles of Martin Hewitt. By ARTHUR MORRISON. 
 
 192. A Winning Hazard. By Mrs. ALEXANDER. 
 
 193. The Picture of Las Cruets. By CHRISTIAN REID. 
 
 194. The Madonna of a Day. By L. DOUGALL. 
 
 195. The Riddle Ring. By JUSTIN MCCARTHY. 
 13o. A Humble Enterprise. By ADA CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 197. Dr. Nikola. By GUT BOOTIIBT. 
 
 198. An Outcast of the Islands. By JOSEPH CONRAD. 
 
 199. The King's Revenge. By CLAUDE BRAT. 
 
 200. Denounced. By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. 
 
 201. A Court Intrigue. By BASH, THOMPSON. 
 
 202. The Idol-Maker. By ADELINE SERGEANT. 
 
 203. The Intriguers. By JOHN D. BARRT. 
 
 Each, 12mo, paper cover, 50 cents j cloth, $1,00 1 
 
 GEORG EBERS'S ROMANCES, 
 
 Each, IGino, paper, 4O cents per volume; cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 Sets of 24 volumes, cloth, in box, $18. OO. 
 In tlie Blue Pike. A Romance of German Life in the early Sixteenth Century. 
 
 Translated by MART J. SAFFORD. 1 volume. 
 In the Fire of the Forge. A Romance of Old Nuremberg. Translated by 
 
 MART J. SAFFORD. a volumes. 
 
 Cleopatra. Translated by MART J. SAFFORD. 2 volumes. 
 A Thorny Path. (PEHASPERA.) Translated by CLARA BELL. 2 volumes. 
 An Egyptian Princess. Translated by ELEANOR GROVE. 2 volumes. 
 TTarda. Translated by CLARA BELL. 2 volumes. 
 Homo Sum. Translated by CLARA BELL. 1 volume. 
 The Sisters. Translated by CLARA BELL. 1 volume. 
 A Question. Translated by MART J. SAFFORD. 1 volume. 
 The Emperor. Translated by CLARA BELL. 2 volumes. 
 The Burgomaster's Wife. Translated by MART J. SAFFORD. 1 volume. 
 A Word, only a Word. Translated by MART J. SAFFORD. 1 volume. 
 Serapis. Translated by CLARA BELL. 1 volume. 
 The Bride of the Nile. Translated by CLARA BELL. 2 volumes. 
 Margery. (GRED.) Translated by CLARA BELL. 2 volumes. 
 Joshua. Translated by MART J. SAFFORD. 1 volume. 
 The Elixir, and Other Tales. Translated by Mrs. EDWARD H. BELL. 
 
 With Portrait of the Author. 1 volume. 
 
 "Dr. Ebers's romances founded on ancient history are hardly equaled by any 
 other living author. ... He makes the men and women and the scenes move 
 before the reader with living reality. "Boston Home Journal. 
 
 " Georg Ebers writes stories of ancient times with the conscientiousness of a 
 true investigator. His tales are eo carefully told that large portions of them 
 might be clipped or quoted by editors of truide-books and authors of histories in- 
 tended to be popular." New York Herald. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers ; or sent by mail on receipt of price by the publishers, 
 D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue, New York.
 
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