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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 WHERE LOVE IS
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM J. LOCKE 
 
 "Bettef is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled *x 
 and hatred therewith" 
 
 The Proverbs of Solomon 
 
 New York 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 Publishers
 
 Copyright, 1903 
 BY JOHN LANE
 
 PA 
 
 Chapter 
 
 I. THE FIRST GLIMPSE I 
 
 II. THE FOOL'S WISDOM 14 
 
 III. A MODERN BETROTHAL 27 
 
 IV. THE GREAT FROCK EPISODE 38 
 
 V. A BROKEN BUTTERFLY 50 
 
 VI. THE LOVERS 66 
 
 VII. A MAD PROPHET 79 
 
 VIII. HER SERENE HIGHNESS 86 
 
 IX. SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION 98 
 
 X. Two IDYLLS 117 
 
 XI. DANGER 133 
 
 XII. NORMA'S ENLIGHTENMENT , 146 
 
 XIII. THE OPTIMIST AT LARGE 158 
 
 XIV. THE BUBBLE REPUTATION 169 
 
 XV. MRS. HARDACRE LAUGHS 183 
 
 XVI. IN THE WILDERNESS 197 
 
 XVII. THE INCURABLE MALADY 206 
 
 XVIII. A RUDDERLESS SHIP 222 
 
 XIX. ABANA AND PHARPAR 237 
 
 XX. ALINE PREPARES FOR BATTLE 250 
 
 XXI. THE MOTH MEETS THE STAR 261 
 
 885406
 
 Contents 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 XXII. CATASTROPHE 274 
 
 XXIII. NORMA'S HOUR 288 
 
 XXIV. MRS. HARDACRE FORGETS 301 
 
 XXV. THE LAND OF ENCHANTMENT 311 
 
 XXVI. EARTH AGAIN 324 
 
 XXVII. A DINNER OF HERBS 337 
 
 XXVIII. THE WORD OF ALINE 348
 
 WHERE LOVE IS
 
 WHERE LOVE IS 
 
 Chapter I 
 THE FIRST GLIMPSE 
 
 " TT T AVE you dined at Ranelagh lately ? " asked Norma 
 
 I 1 Hardacre. 
 
 -- -*- " I have never been there in my life," replied 
 Jimmie Padgate. " In fact," he added simply, " I am not 
 quite sure whether I know where it is." 
 
 "Yours is the happier state. It is one of the dullest 
 spots in a dull world." 
 
 " Then why on earth do people go there ? " 
 
 The enquiry was so genuine that Miss Hardacre relaxed 
 her expression of handsome boredom and laughed. 
 
 " Because we are all like the muttons of Panurge," 
 she said. " Where one goes, all go. Why are we here 
 to-night ? " 
 
 "To enjoy ourselves. How could one do otherwise in 
 Mrs. Deering's house ? " 
 
 " You have known her a long time, I believe," remarked 
 Norma, taking the opportunity of directing the conversa- 
 tion to a non-contentious topic. 
 
 " Since she was in short frocks. She is a cousin of 
 King's that 's the man who took you down to dinner " 
 
 She nodded. " I have known Mr. King many weary 
 ages." 
 
 i i
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " And he has never told me about you ! " 
 
 " Why should he ? " 
 
 She looked him full in the face, with the stony calm of 
 the fashionable young woman accustomed to take excellent 
 care of herself. Her companion met her stare in whim- 
 sical confusion. Even so ingenuous a being as Jimmie 
 Padgate could not tell a girl he had met for the first time 
 that she was beautiful, adorable, and graced with divine 
 qualities above all women, and that intimate acquaintance 
 with her must be the startling glory of a lifetime. 
 
 " If I had known you for ages," he replied prudently, 
 " I should have mentioned your name to Morland King." 
 
 u Are you such friends then ? " 
 
 " Fast friends : we were at school together, and as I was 
 a lonely little beggar I used to spend many of my holidays 
 with his people. That is how I knew Mrs. Deering in 
 short frocks." 
 
 " It 's odd, then, that I have n't met you about before," said 
 the girl, giving him a more scrutinising glance than she had 
 hitherto troubled to bestow upon him. A second after- 
 wards she felt that her remark might have been in the 
 nature of an indiscretion, for her companion had not at 
 all the air of a man moving in the smart world to which 
 she belonged. His dress-suit was old and of lamentable 
 cut ; his shirt-cuffs were frayed ; a little bone stud, threaten- 
 ing every moment to slip the button-hole, precariously 
 secured his shirt-front. His thin, iron-grey hair was un- 
 tidy ; his moustache was ragged, innocent of wax or tongs 
 or any of the adventitious aids to masculine adornment. 
 His aspect gave the impression, if not of poverty, at least 
 of narrow means and humble ways of life. Although he 
 had sat next her at dinner, she had paid little attention to 
 
 2
 
 The First Glimpse 
 
 him, finding easier entertainment in her conversation with 
 King on topics of common interest, than in possible argu- 
 ment with a strange man whom she heard discussing the 
 functions of art and other such head-splitting matters with 
 his right-hand neighbour. Indeed, her question about 
 Ranelagh when she found him by her side, kter, in the 
 drawing-room was practically the first she had addressed to 
 him with any show of interest. 
 
 She hastened to repair her maladroit observation by add- 
 ing before he could reply, 
 
 " That is rather an imbecile thing to say considering 
 the millions of people in London. But one is apt to talk 
 in an imbecile manner after a twelve hours' day of hard 
 racket in the season. Don't you think so ? One's stock of 
 ideas gets used up, like the air at the end of a dance." 
 
 " Not if you keep your soul properly ventilated," he 
 answered. 
 
 The words were, perhaps, not so arresting as the man- 
 ner in which they were uttered. Norma Hardacre was 
 startled. A little shutter in the back of her mind seemed 
 to have flashed open for an elusive second, and revealed a 
 prospect wide, generous, alive with free-blowing airs. 
 Then all was dark again before she could realise the vision. 
 She was disconcerted, and in a much more feminine way 
 than was habitual with her she glanced at him again. This 
 time she lost sight of the poor, untidy garments, and found 
 a sudden interest in the man's kind, careworn face, and his 
 eyes, wonderfully blue and bright, set far apart in the head, 
 that seemed to look out on the world with a man's courage 
 and a child's confidence. She was uncomfortably conscious 
 of being in contact with a personality widely different from 
 that of her usual masculine associates. This her training 
 
 3
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 and habit of mind caused her to resent ; despising the faint 
 spiritual shock, she took refuge in flippancy. 
 
 " I fear our Tobin tubes get choked up in London," she 
 said with a little laugh. " Even if they did n't they are 
 wretched things, which create draughts; so anyway our 
 souls are free from chills. Look at that woman over there 
 talking to Captain Orton every one knows he's pay- 
 master-general. A breath of fresh air in Mrs. Chance's 
 soul would give it rheumatic fever." 
 
 The abominable slander falling cynically from young lips 
 brought a look of disapproval into Jimmie Padgate's eyes. 
 
 " Why do you say such things ? " he asked. " You 
 know you don't believe them." 
 
 " I do believe them," she replied defiantly. " Why 
 shouldn't one believe the bad things one hears of one's 
 neighbours ? It 's a vastly more entertaining faith than 
 belief in their virtues. Virtue being its own reward 
 is deadly stale to one's friends and unprofitable to oneself." 
 
 " Cynicism seems cheap to-day," said Jimmie, with a 
 smile that redeemed his words from impertinence. " Won't 
 you give me something of yourself a little more worth 
 having ? " 
 
 Norma, who was leaning back in her chair fanning her- 
 self languidly, suddenly bent forward, with curious anima- 
 tion in her cold face. 
 
 " I don't know who you are or what you are," she 
 exclaimed. " Why should you want more than the ordi- 
 nary futilities of after-dinner talk ? " 
 
 " Because one has only to look at you," he replied, " to 
 see that it must be very easy to get. You have beauty 
 inside as well as outside, and everybody owes what is beau- 
 tiful and good in them to their fellow-creatures." 
 
 4
 
 The First Glimpse 
 
 " I don't see why. According to you, women ought to 
 go about like mediaeval saints." 
 
 " Every woman is a saint in the depths of her heart," 
 said Jimmie. 
 
 "You are an astonishing person," replied Norma. 
 
 The conversation ended there, for Morland King came 
 up with Constance Deering : he florid, good-looking, per- 
 fectly groomed and dressed, the type of the commonplace, 
 well-fed, affluent Briton ; she a pretty, fragile butterfly of a 
 woman. Jimmie rose and was led off to another part of 
 the room by his hostess. King dropped into the chair 
 Jimmie had vacated. 
 
 " I see you have been sampling my friend Jimmie 
 Padgate. What do you make of him ? " 
 
 "I have just told him he was an astonishing person," 
 said Norma. 
 
 " Dear old Jimmie ! He 's the best fellow in the world," 
 said King, laughing. "A bit Bohemian and eccentric 
 artists generally are " 
 
 " Oh, he 's an artist ? " inquired Norma. 
 
 " He just manages to make a living by it, poor old chap ! 
 He has never come off, somehow." 
 
 " Another neglected genius ? " 
 
 " I don't know about that," replied Morland King in a 
 matter-of-fact way, not detecting the sneer in the girl's 
 tone. " I don't think he 's a great swell I 'm no judge, 
 you know. But he has had a bad time. Anyway, he 
 always comes up smiling. The more he gets knocked the 
 more cheerful he seems to grow. I never met any one like 
 him. The most generous, simple-minded beggar living." 
 
 " He must be wonderful to make you enthusiastic," said 
 Norma. 
 
 5
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " Look at him now, talking to the Chance woman as if 
 she were an angel of light." 
 
 Norma glanced across the room and smiled contempt- 
 uously. 
 
 " She seems to like it. She 's preening herself as if the 
 wings were already grown. Connie," she called to her 
 hostess, who was passing by, " why have you hidden Mr. 
 Padgate from me all this time ? " 
 
 The butterfly lady laughed. " He is too precious. I 
 can only afford to give my friends a peep at him now and 
 then. I want to keep him all to myself." 
 
 She fluttered away. Norma leaned back and hid a yawn 
 with her fan ; then, rousing herself with an effort, made 
 conversation with her companion. Presently another man 
 came up and King retired. 
 
 " How is it getting on ? " whispered Mrs. Deering. 
 
 " Oh, steady," he replied with his hands in his pockets. 
 
 " Lucky man ! " 
 
 Morland King shrugged his shoulders. "The only 
 thing against it is papa and mamma chiefly mamma. 
 A Gorgon of a woman ! " 
 
 " You '11 never get a wife to do you more credit than 
 Norma. With that face I wonder she is n't a duchess by 
 now. There was a duke once, but a fair American 
 eagle came and swooped him off" under Norma's nose. 
 You see, she 's not the sort of girl to give a man much 
 encouragement." 
 
 " Oh, I can't stand a woman who throws herself at your 
 head," said King, emphatically. 
 
 " What a funny way men have nowadays of confess- 
 ing to the tender passion ! " said Mrs. Deering, laughing. 
 
 " What would you have a fellow do ? " he asked. 
 
 6
 
 The First Glimpse 
 
 " Spout blank verse about the stars and things, like a 
 Shakespearean hero ? " 
 
 " It would be prettier, anyhow." 
 
 Well, if you will have it, I 'm about as hard hit as a 
 man ever was there ! " 
 
 " I 'm delighted to hear it," said his cousin. 
 
 A short while afterwards the dinner-party broke up. 
 
 " I don't know whether you care to mix with utter 
 worldlings like us, Mr. Padgate," said Norma, as she bade 
 him good-bye, " but we are always in on Tuesdays." 
 
 " I '11 tie him hand and foot and bring him," said King. 
 " Good-night, old chap. I 'm giving Miss Hardacre a lift 
 home in the brougham." 
 
 Before Jimmie could say yes or no, they were gone. He 
 found himself the last. 
 
 " You are certainly not going for another hour, Jimmie," 
 said Mrs. Deering, as he came forward to take leave. 
 " You will sit in that chair and smoke and tell me all 
 about yourself and make me feel good and pretty." 
 
 "Very well," he assented, laughing. "Turn me out 
 when it's time for me to go." 
 
 -It had been the customary formula between them for 
 many years ; for Jimmie Padgate lacked the sense of time 
 and kept eccentric hours, and although Connie Deering 
 delighted in her rare confidential chats with him, a woman 
 with a heavy morrow of engagements must go to bed at a 
 reasonable period of the night. She was a woman in the 
 middle thirties, a childless widow after a brief and almost 
 forgotten married life, rich, pleasure-loving, in the inner 
 circle of London society, and possessing the gayest, kind- 
 est, most charitable heart in the world. Her friendship 
 with Norma Hardacre had been a thing of recent date. 
 
 7
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 She had cultivated it first on account of her cousin Morland 
 King ; she had ended in enthusiastic admiration. 
 
 " It is awfully good of you," she said, when they were 
 comfortably settled down to talk, " to waste your time with 
 my unintelligent conversation." 
 
 " There 's no such thing as unintelligent conversation,'* 
 he declared. 
 
 " For a man like you there must be." 
 
 " I could hold an intelligent conversation with a rabbit," 
 said Jimmie. 
 
 Norma Hardacre, on arriving home, entered the drawing- 
 room, where her mother was reading a novel. 
 
 " WeH ? " said Mrs. Hardacre, looking up. 
 
 Norma threw her white silk cloak over the back of a chair. 
 
 " Connie sent her love to you." 
 
 " Is that all you have to say ? " asked her mother, 
 sharply. She was a faded woman who had once possessed 
 beauty of a cold, severe type ; but the years had pinched 
 and hardened her features, as they had pinched and hardened 
 her heart. Her eyes were of that steel grey which the 
 light of laughter seldom softens, and her smile was but a 
 contraction of the muscles of the lips. Even this perfunc- 
 tory tribute to politeness which had greeted Norma's en- 
 trance vanished at the second question. 
 
 " Morland King drove me home. What a difference there 
 is between a private brougham and the beastly things we 
 get from the livery-stable ! " 
 
 " He has said nothing ? " 
 
 " Of course not. I should have told you if he had." 
 
 " Whose fault is it ? " 
 
 Norma made a gesture of impatience. " My fault, if 
 
 8
 
 The First Glimpse 
 
 you like. I don't lay traps to catch him. I don't keep 
 him dangling about me, and I don't flatter his vanities or 
 make appeal to his senses, I suppose. I can't do it." 
 
 " Don't behave like a fool, Norma," said Mrs. Hardacre, 
 rapping her book with a paper-knife. "You have got to 
 marry him. You know you have. Your father and I 
 are coming to the end of things. You ought to have 
 married years ago, and when one thinks of the chances you 
 have missed, it makes one mad. Here have we been 
 pinching and scraping " 
 
 " And borrowing and mortgaging," Norma interjected. 
 
 " to give you a brilliant position," Mrs. Hardacre con- 
 tinued, unheeding the interruption, "and you cast all our 
 efforts in our teeth. It 's sheer ingratitude. Why you 
 threw over Lord Wyniard I could never make out." 
 
 " You seem to forget that, after all, there is a physical 
 side to marriage," said Norma, with a little shudder of 
 disgust. 
 
 " I hate indelicacy in young girls," said Mrs. Hardacre, 
 freezingly. " One would think you had been brought up 
 in a public house." v 
 
 " Then let us avoid indelicate subjects," retorted Norma, 
 opening the first book to her hand. " Where is papa ? " 
 
 " Oh, how should I know ? " said Mrs. Hardacre, irritably. 
 
 There was silence. Norma pretended to read, but her 
 thoughts, away from the printed lines, caused her face to 
 harden and her lips to curl scornfully. She had been used 
 to such scenes with her mother ever since she had worn a 
 long frock, and that was seven years ago, when she came 
 out as a young beauty of eighteen. The story of financial 
 embarrassment had lost its fine edge of persuasion by over- 
 telling. She had almost ceased to believe in it, and the 
 
 9
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 lingering grain of credence she put aside with the cynical 
 feeling that it was no great concern of hers, so long as her 
 usual round of life went on. She had two hundred a year 
 of her own, all of which she spent in dress, so that in that 
 one particular at least, if she chose to be economical, she 
 was practically independent. Money for other wants was 
 generally procurable, with or without unpleasant dunning 
 of her parents She lived very little in their home in 
 Wiltshire, a beautiful and stately young woman of fashion 
 being a decorative adjunct to smart country-house parties. 
 In London, if she sighed for a more extensive establish- 
 ment and a more luxurious style of living, it was what she 
 always had done. She had hated the furnished house or 
 flat and the livery-stable carriage ever since her first season. 
 In the same way she had always considered the omission 
 from her scheme of life of a yacht and a villa at Cannes 
 and diamonds at discretion as a culpable oversight on the 
 part of the Creator. But the sordid makeshift of exist- 
 ence to which she was condemned was not a matter of 
 yesterday. In spite of the financial embarrassments of the 
 maternal fable she had noticed no cutting down of custom- 
 ary expenditure. Her father still played the fool on the 
 stock exchange, her mother still attired herself elaborately 
 and disdained to eat otherwise than a la carte at expensive 
 restaurants, and she, Norma, went whithersoever the smart 
 set drifted her. She had nothing to do with the vulgarity 
 of financial embarrassments. 
 
 As to the question of marriage she was as fully deter- 
 mined as her mother that she should make a brilliant 
 match. She had had two or three disappointments the 
 unwary duke, for instance. On the other hand she had 
 refused eligibles like Lord Wyniard out of sheer caprice. 
 
 10
 
 The First Glimpse 
 
 The only man who had given her a moment's stir of the 
 pulses, a moment's thought of throwing her cap over the 
 windmills, was a young soldier in the Indian Staff Corps. 
 But he belonged to her second season, before she had 
 really seen the world and grasped the inner meaning of 
 life. Besides, her mother had almost beaten her; and in 
 an encounter between the dragon who guarded the gold of 
 her daughter's affections and the young Siegfried, it was 
 the hero that barely escaped destruction ; he fled to India 
 for his life. Norma lost all sight and count of him for 
 three years. Then she heard that he had married a school- 
 fellow of hers and was a month-old father. It was with 
 feelings of peculiar satisfaction and sense of deliverance 
 that she sent her congratulations to him, her love to his 
 wife, and a set of baby shoes to the child. She had 
 cultivated by this time a helpful sardonic humour. 
 
 There was now Morland King, within reasonable dis- 
 tance of a proposal. Her experience detected the signs, 
 although little of sentimentality had passed between them. 
 He was young, as marrying men go a year or two under 
 forty of good family, fairly good-looking, very well off, 
 with a safe seat in Parliament being kept warm for him by 
 a valetudinarian ever on the point of retirement. Norma 
 meant to accept him. She contemplated the marriage as 
 coldly and unemotionally as King contemplated the seat in 
 Parliament. But through the corrupted tissue of her being 
 ran one pure and virginal thread. She used no lures. She 
 remained chastely aloof, the arts of seduction being tem- 
 peramentally repugnant to her. Knowledge she had of 
 good and evil (a euphemism, generally, for an exclusive 
 acquaintance with the latter), and she was cynical enough in 
 her disregard of concealment of her knowledge ; but she 
 
 ii
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 revolted from using it to gain any advantage over a man. 
 At this period of her life she set great store by herself, 
 and though callously determined on marriage condescended 
 with much disdain to be wooed. Her mother, bred in a 
 hard school, was not subtle enough to perceive this antith- 
 esis. Hence the constant scenes of which Norma bitterly 
 resented the vulgarity. " We pride ourselves on being 
 women of the world, mother," she said, "but that does n't 
 prevent our remembering that we are gentlefolk." Whereat, 
 on one occasion, Mr. Hardacre, in his flustering, feeble way, 
 had told Norma not to be rude to her mother, only to draw 
 upon himself the vials of his wife's anger. 
 
 He came in now, during the silence that had fallen on 
 the two women a short, stout, red-faced man, with a bald 
 head, and a weak chin, and a drooping foxy moustache 
 turning grey. He was bursting with an interminable tale 
 of scandal that he had picked up at his club a respect- 
 able institution with an inner coterie of vapid, middle-aged 
 dullards whose cackle was the terror of half London so- 
 ciety. It is a superstition among good women that man is 
 too noble a creature to descend to gossip. Ten minutes 
 in the members' smoking-room of the Burlington Club 
 would paralyse the most scandal-mongering tabby of Bath, 
 Cheltenham, or Tunbridge Wells. 
 
 " We were sure she was a wrong 'un from the first," he 
 explained in a thick, jerky voice to his listless auditors. 
 " And now it turns out that she was in thick with poor 
 Billy Withers, you know, and when Billy broke his neck 
 that was through another blessed woman I '11 tell you 
 all about her by'm bye when Billy broke his neck, his 
 confounded valet got hold of Mrs. Jack's letters, and how 
 she paid for 'em 's the cream of the story " 
 
 12
 
 The First Glimpse 
 
 " We need not have that now, Benjamin," said Mrs. 
 'Hardacre, with a warning indication that reverence was 
 due to the young. 
 
 " Well, of course that 's the end of it," replied Mr. 
 Hardacre, in some confusion. 
 
 But Norma rose with a laugh of hard mockery. 
 
 "The valet entered the service of Lord Wyniard, and 
 now there 's a pretty little divorce case in the air, with 
 Jack Dugdale as petitioner and Lord Wyniard as co- 
 respondent. Are n't you sorry, mother, I did n't marry 
 Wyniard and reform him, and save society this terrible 
 scandal ? " 
 
 Turning from her disconcerted parents, Norma pulled 
 back the thick curtains from the French window and 
 opened one of the doors. 
 
 " What are you doing that for ? " cried Mrs. Hardacre 
 irritably, as the cold air of a wet May night swept through 
 the room. 
 
 " I 'm going to try to ventilate my soul," said Norma, 
 stepping on to the balcony.
 
 Chapter II 
 THE FOOL'S WISDOM 
 
 LK.E the inexplicable run on a particular number 
 at the roulette-table, there often seems to be a 
 run on some particular phenomenon thrown up 
 by the wheel of daily life.- Such a recurrent incident 
 was the meeting of Norma and Jimmie Padgate during 
 the next few weeks. She met him at Mrs. Deering's, 
 she ran across him in the streets. Going to spend a week- 
 end out of town, she found him on the platform of 
 Paddington Station. The series of sheer coincidences 
 established between them a certain familiarity. When next 
 they met, it was in the crush of an emptying theatre. They 
 found themselves blocked side by side, and they laughed as 
 their eyes met. 
 
 " This seems to have got out of the domain of vulgar 
 chance and become Destiny," she said lightly. 
 
 " I am indeed favoured by the gods," he replied. 
 
 "You don't deserve their good will because you have 
 never come to see me." 
 
 Jimmie replied that he was an old bear who loved to 
 growl selfishly in his den. Norma retorted with a refer- 
 ence to Constance Deering. In her house he could growl 
 altruistically. 
 
 "She pampers me with honey," he explained.
 
 The Fool's Wisdom 
 
 " I am afraid you '11 get nothing so Arcadian with us," 
 she replied, " but I can provide you with some excellent 
 glucose." 
 
 They were moved a few feet forward by the crowd, and 
 then came to a halt again. 
 
 " This is my ward, Miss Aline Marden," he said, pre- 
 senting a pretty slip of a girl of seventeen, who had hung 
 back shyly during the short dialogue, and looked with 
 open-eyed admiration at Jimmie's new friend. " That is 
 how she would be described in a court of law, but I don't 
 mind telling you that really she is my nurse and foster- 
 mother." 
 
 The girl blushed at the introduction, and gave him an 
 imperceptible twitch of the arm. Norma smiled at her 
 graciously and asked her how she had liked the play. 
 
 " It was heavenly," she said with a little sigh. " Did n't 
 you think so ? " 
 
 Norma, who had characterised the piece as the most 
 dismal performance outside a little Bethel, was preparing a 
 mendacious answer, when a sudden thinning in the crush 
 brought to her side Mrs. Hardacre, from whom she had 
 been separated. Mrs. Hardacre inquired querulously for 
 Morland King, who had gone in search of the carriage. 
 Norma reassured her as to his ability to find it, and in- 
 troduced Jimmie and Aline. Mr. Padgate was Mr. King's 
 oldest friend. Mrs. Hardacre bowed disapprovingly, took 
 in with a hard glance the details of Aline's cheap, home- 
 made evening frock, and the ready-made cape over her 
 shoulders, and turned her head away with a sniff. She had 
 been put out of temper the whole evening by Norma's glacial 
 treatment of King, and was not disposed to smile at the 
 nobodies whom it happened to please Norma to patronise. 
 
 15
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 At last King beckoned to them from the door, and they 
 crushed through the still waiting crowd to join him. By 
 the time Jimmie Padgate and his ward had reached the 
 pavement they had driven off. 
 
 " I wonder if we can get a cab," said Jimmie. 
 
 " Cab ! " cried the girl, taking his arm affectionately. 
 " One would think you were a millionaire. You can go 
 in a cab if you like, but I 'm going home in a 'bus. Come 
 along. We '11 get one at Piccadilly Circus." 
 
 She hurried him on girlishly, talking of the play they 
 had just seen. It was heavenly, she repeated. She had 
 never been in the stalls before. She wished kind-hearted 
 managers would send them' seats every night. Then 
 suddenly : 
 
 " Why did n't you tell me how beautiful she was ? " 
 
 " Who, dear ? " 
 
 "Why, Miss Hardacre. I think she is the loveliest 
 thing I have ever seen. I could sit and look at her all 
 day long. Why don't you paint her portrait in that 
 wonderful ivory-satin dress she was wearing to-night ? 
 And the diamond star in her hair that made her look like 
 a queen did you notice it ? Why, Jimmie, you are not 
 paying the slightest attention ! " 
 
 " My dear, I could repeat verbatim every word you 
 have said," he replied soberly. " She is indeed one of the 
 most beautiful of God's creatures." 
 
 " Then you '11 paint her portrait ? " 
 
 " Perhaps, dear." said Jimmie, " perhaps." 
 
 Meanwhile in the brougham King was giving Norma 
 an account of Jimmie's guardianship. She had asked him 
 partly out of curiosity, partly to provide him with a sub- 
 ject of conversation, and partly to annoy her mother, 
 
 16
 
 The Fool's Wisdom 
 
 whose disapproving sniff she had noted with some resent- 
 ment. And this in brief is the tale that King told. 
 
 Some ten years ago, John Marden, a brother artist of 
 Jimmie Padgate's, died penniless, leaving his little girl of 
 seven with the alternative of fighting her way alone through 
 an unsympathetic world, or of depending on the charity of 
 his only sister, a drunken shrew of a woman, the wife of a 
 small apothecary, and the casual mother of a vague and 
 unwashed family. Common decency made the first alter- 
 native impossible. On their return to the house after the 
 funeral, the aunt announced her intention of caring for 
 the orphan as her own flesh and blood. Jimmie, who had 
 taken upon himself the functions of the intestate's tem- 
 porary executor, acquiesced dubiously. The lady, by no 
 means sober, shed copious tears and a rich perfume of 
 whisky. She called Aline to her motherly bosom. The 
 child, who had held Jimmie's hand throughout the mourn- 
 ful proceedings, for he had been her slave and play- 
 fellow for the whole of her little life, advanced shyly. Her 
 aunt took her in her arms. But the child, with instinctive 
 repugnance to the smell of spirits, shrank from her kisses. 
 The shrew arose in the woman ; she shook her vindic- 
 tively, and gave her three or four resounding slaps on 
 face and shoulders. Jimmie leaped from his chair, tore 
 the scared little girl from the vixen's clutches, and tak- 
 ing her bodily in his arms, strode with her out of the 
 house, leaving the apothecary and his wife to settle matters 
 between them. It was only when he had walked down 
 the street and hailed a cab that he began to consider the 
 situation. 
 
 " What on earth am I to do with you ? " he asked 
 whimsically.
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 The small arms tightened round his neck. " Take me 
 to live with you," sobbed the child. 
 
 " Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings we learn 
 wisdom. So be it," said Jimmic, and he drove home with 
 his charge. 
 
 As neither aunt nor uncle nor any human being in the 
 wide world claimed the child, she became mistress of 
 Jimmie's home from that hour. Her father's pictures and 
 household effects were sold off to pay his creditors, and a 
 little bundle of torn frocks and linen was Aline's sole legacy. 
 
 " I happened to look in upon him the evening of her 
 arrival," said King, by way of conclusion to his story. u In 
 those days he managed with a charwoman who came only 
 in the mornings, so he was quite alone in the place with the 
 kid. What do you think I found him doing ? Sitting 
 cross-legged on the model-platform with a great pair of 
 scissors and needles and thread, cutting down one of his 
 own night garments so as to fit her, while the kid in a 
 surprising state of deshabille was seated on a table, kicking 
 her bare legs and giving him directions. His explanation 
 was that Miss Marden's luggage had not yet arrived and 
 she must be made comfortable for the night ! But you 
 never saw anything so comic in your life." 
 
 He leaned back and laughed at the reminiscence, not 
 unkindly. Mrs. Hardacre, bored by the unprofitable tale, 
 stared at the dim streets out of the brougham window. 
 Norma, on friendlier terms with King, the little human 
 story having perhaps drawn them together, joined in the 
 laugh. 
 
 " And now, I suppose, when she grows a bit older, Mr. 
 Padgate will marry her and she will be a dutiful little wife 
 and they will live happy and humdrum ever after." 
 
 18
 
 The Fool's Wisdom 
 
 " I hope he will provide her with some decent rags to 
 put on," said Mrs. Hardacre. " Those the child was wear- 
 ing to-night were fit for a servant maid." 
 
 " Jimmie would give her his skin if she could wear it," 
 said Morland, somewhat tartly. 
 
 This expression of feeling gave him, for the first time, 
 a special place in Norma's esteem. After all, a woman 
 desires to like the man who in a few months' time may 
 be her husband, and hitherto Morland had presented a 
 negativity of character which had baffled and irritated her. 
 The positive trait of loyalty to a friend she welcomed in- 
 stinctively, although if charged with the emotion she 
 would have repudiated the accusation. When the carriage 
 stopped at the awning and red strip of carpet before the 
 house in Eaton Square where a dance awaited her, and she 
 took leave of him, she returned his handshake with almost 
 a warm pressure and sent him away, a sanguine lover, to 
 his club. 
 
 The next morning Constance Deering, taking her on 
 a round of shopping, enquired how the romance was 
 proceeding. 
 
 u He has had me on probation," replied Norma, " and 
 has been examining all my points. I rather think he finds 
 me satisfactory, and is about to make an offer." 
 
 " What an idyllic pair you are ! " laughed her friend. 
 
 Norma took the matter seriously. 
 
 " The man is perfectly right. He is on the lookout 
 for a woman who can keep up or perhaps add to his social 
 prestige, who can conduct the affairs of a large establish- 
 ment when he enters political life, who can possibly give 
 him a son to inherit his estate, and who can wear his 
 family diamonds with distinction and it does require a 
 
 19
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 woman of presence to do justice to family diamonds, you 
 know. He looks round society and sees a girl that may suit 
 him. Naturally he takes his time and sizes her up. I have 
 learned patience and so I let him size to his heart's content. 
 On the other hand, what he can give me falls above the 
 lower limit of my requirements, and personally I don't 
 dislike him." 
 
 " Mercy on us ! " cried Constance Deering, " the man 
 is head over ears in love with you ! " 
 
 " Then I like him all the better for dissembling it so 
 effectually," said Norma, " and I hope he '11 go on dis- 
 sembling to the end of the chapter. I hate sentiment." 
 
 They were walking slowly down Bond Street, and hap- 
 pened to pause before a picture-dealer's window, where a 
 print of a couple of lovers bidding farewell caught Mrs. 
 Deering's attention. 
 
 " I call that pretty," she said. " Do you hate love too ? " 
 
 Norma twirled her parasol and moved away, waiting for 
 the other. 
 
 "Love, my dear Connie, is an appetite of the lower 
 middle classes." 
 
 " My dear Norma ! " the other exclaimed, " I do wish 
 Jimmie Padgate could hear you ! " 
 
 Norma started at the name. " What has he got to do 
 with the matter ? " 
 
 " That 's one of his pictures." 
 
 "Oh, is it?" said Norma, indifferently. But feminine 
 curiosity compelled a swift parting glance at the print. 
 
 " I imagine our guileless friend has a lot to learn," she 
 added. " A few truths about the ways of this wicked 
 world would do him good." 
 
 " I promised to go and look round his studio to-morrow 
 
 20
 
 The Fool's Wisdom 
 
 morning; will you come and give him his first lesson?", 
 asked Mrs. Deering, mischievously. 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Norma. 
 
 But the destiny she had previously remarked upon seemed 
 to be fulfilling itself. A day or two afterwards his familiar 
 figure burst upon her at a Private View in a small picture- 
 gallery. His eyes brightened as she withdrew from her 
 mother, who was accompanying her, and extended her 
 hand. 
 
 " Dear me, who would have thought of seeing you here ? 
 Do you care for pictures ? Why have n't you told me ? 
 I am so glad." 
 
 " Love of Art did n't bring me here, I assure you," re- 
 plied Norma. 
 
 Then what did ? " 
 
 Jimmie in his guilelessness had an uncomfortable way 
 of posing fundamental questions. In that respect he was 
 like a child. Norma smiled in silent contemplation of the 
 real object of their visit. At first her mother had tossed 
 the cards of invitation into the waste-paper basket. It was 
 advertising impudence on the part of the painter man, 
 whom she had met but once, to take her name in vain 
 on the back of an envelope. Then hearing accidentally 
 that the painter man had painted the portraits of many 
 high-born ladies, including that of the Duchess of Wilt- 
 shire, and that the Duchess of Wiltshire herself their 
 own duchess, who gave Mrs. Hardacre the tip of her 
 finger to shake and sometimes the tip of a rasping tongue 
 to meditate upon, whom Mrs. Hardacre had tried any time 
 these ten years to net for Heddon Court, their place in 
 the country had graciously promised to attend the Pri- 
 vate View, in her character of Lady Patroness-in-Chicf of 
 
 21
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 the painter man, Mrs. Hardacre had hurried home and had 
 set the servants' hall agog in search of the cards. Eventu- 
 ally they had been discovered in the dust-bin, and she had 
 spent half an hour in cleansing them with bread-crumbs, 
 much to Norma's sardonic amusement. The duchess not 
 having yet arrived, Mrs. Hardacre had fallen back upon 
 the deaf Dowager Countess of Solway, who was discours- 
 ing to her in a loud voice on her late husband's method 
 of breeding prize pigs. Norma had broken away from this 
 exhilarating lecture to greet Jimmie. 
 
 He kept his eager eyes upon her, still waiting for an 
 answer to his question : 
 
 " What did ? " 
 
 Norma, fairly quick-witted, indicated the walls with a 
 little comprehensive gesture. 
 
 " Do you call this simpering, uninspired stuff Art ? " she 
 said, begging the question. 
 
 41 Oh, it 's not that," cried Jimmie, falling into the trap. 
 " It 's really very good of its kind. Amazingly clever. 
 Of course it 's not highly finished. It 's impressionistic. 
 Look at that sweeping line from the throat all the way 
 down to the hem of the skirt," indicating the picture in 
 front of them and following the curve, painter fashion, with 
 bent-back thumb; "how many of your fellows in the Acad- 
 emy could get that so clean and true ? " 
 
 " I have just met Mr. Porteous, who said he could n't 
 stay any longer because such quackery made him sick," 
 said Norma. 
 
 Jimmie glanced round the walls. Porteous, the Royal 
 Academician, was right. The colour was thin, the model- 
 ling flat, the drawing tricky, the invention poor. A dull 
 soullessness ran through the range of full-length por- 
 
 22
 
 The Fool's Wisdom 
 
 traits of women. He realised, with some distress, the 
 clever insincerity of the painting ; but he had known Fol- 
 jambe, the author of these coloured crimes, as a fellow- 
 student at the Beaux-Arts in Paris, and having come to see 
 his work for the first time, could not bear to judge harshly. 
 It was characteristic of him to expatiate on the only merit 
 the work possessed. 
 
 "Mr. Porteous even said," continued Norma, "that it 
 was scandalous such a man should be making thousands 
 when men of genius were making hundreds. It was tak- 
 ing the bread out of their mouths." 
 
 " I am sorry he said that," said Jimmie. " I think we 
 ought rather to be glad that a man of poor talent has been 
 so successful. So many of them go to the wall." 
 
 " Do you always find the success of your inferior rivals 
 so comforting ? " asked Norma. " I don't." She thought 
 of the depredatory American. 
 
 Jimmie pushed his hat to the back of his head a dis- 
 coloured Homburg hat that had seen much wear and 
 rammed his hands in his pockets. 
 
 " It 's horrible to regard oneself and one's fellow-crea- 
 tures as so many ghastly fishes tearing one another to pieces 
 so as to get at the same piece of offal. That's what it all 
 comes to, does n't it ? " 
 
 The picture of the rapt duke as garbage floating on the 
 tide of London Society brought with it a certain humourous 
 consolation. That of her own part in the metaphor did 
 not appear so soothing. Jimmie's proposition being, how- 
 ever, incontrovertible, she changed the subject and enquired 
 after Aline. Why had n't he brought her ? 
 
 " 1 am afraid we should have argued about Foljambe's 
 painting," said Jimmie, with innocent malice. 
 
 23
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " And we should have agreed about it," replied Nortna. 
 She talked about Aline. Morland King had been tale- 
 bearing. It was refreshing, she confessed, once in a way 
 to hear good of one's fellow-creatures : like getting up 
 at six in the morning in the country and drinking milk 
 fresh from the cow. It conferred a sense of unaccustomed 
 virtue. The mention of milk reminded her that she was 
 dying for tea. Was it procurable ? 
 
 " There 's a roomful of it. Can I take you ? " asked 
 Jimmie, eagerly. 
 
 She assented. Jimmie piloted her through the chatter- 
 ing crowd. On the way they passed by Mrs. Hardacre, 
 still devoting the pearls of her attention to the pigs. She 
 acknowledged his bow distantly and summoned her daugh- 
 ter to her side. 
 
 u What are you affiche-\ng yourself with that nondescript 
 man for ? " she asked in a cross whisper. 
 
 Norma moved away with a shrug, and went with Jimmie 
 into the crowded tea-room. There, while he was fighting 
 for tea at the buffet, she fell into a nest of acquaintances. 
 Presently he emerged from the crush victorious, and, as he 
 poured out the cream for her, became the unconscious tar- 
 get of sharp feminine glances. 
 
 " Who is your friend ? " asked one lady, as Jimmie 
 retired with the cream-jug. 
 
 " I will introduce him if you like," she replied. He 
 reappeared and was introduced vaguely. Then he stood 
 silent, listening to a jargon he was at a loss to comprehend. 
 The women spoke in high, hard voices, with impure vowel 
 sounds and a clipping of final consonants. The conversa- 
 tion gave him a confused impression of Ascot, a horse, a 
 foreign prince, and a lady of fashion who was characterised as 
 
 24
 
 The Fool's Wisdom 
 
 a "rotter." Allusion was also made to a princely restaurant, 
 which Jimmie, taken thither one evening by King, regarded 
 as a fairy-land of rare and exquisite flavours, and the 
 opinion was roundly expressed that you could not get any- 
 thing fit to eat in the place and that the wines were poison. 
 
 Jimmie listened wonderingly. No one seemed disposed 
 to controvert the statement, which was made by quite a 
 young girl. Indeed one of her friends murmured that she 
 had had awful filth there a few nights before. A smartly 
 dressed woman of forty who had drawn away from the 
 general conversation asked Jimmie if he had been to 
 Cynthia yet. He replied that he very seldom went to 
 theatres. The lady burst out laughing, and then seeing 
 the genuine enquiry on his face, checked herself. 
 
 " I thought you were trying to pull my leg," she ex- 
 plained. " I mean Cynthia, the psychic, the crystal gazer. 
 Why, every one is going crazy over her. Do you mean to 
 say you have n't been ? " 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " said Jimmie. 
 
 " You may scoff, but she 's wonderful. Do you know 
 she actually gave me the straight tip for the Derby ? She 
 did n't mean to, for she does n't lay herself out for that sort 
 of thing but she said, after telling me a lot of things about 
 myself things that had really happened she was getting 
 tired, I must tell you c I see something in your near 
 future it is a horse with a white star on its forehead 
 it has gone I don't know what it means.' I went to the 
 Derby. I had n't put a cent on, as I had been cleaned 
 out at Cairo during the winter and had to retrench. The 
 first horse that was led out had a white star on his forehead. 
 None of the others had. It was St. Damien a thirty to 
 one chance. I backed him outright for ^300. And now 
 
 25
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 I have ^"9000 to play with. Don't tell me there 's noth- 
 ing in Cynthia after that." 
 
 The knot of ladies dissolved. Jimmie put Norma's tea- 
 cup down and went slowly back with her to the main room. 
 He was feeling depressed, having lost his bearings in this 
 unfamiliar world. Suddenly he halted. 
 
 " I wish you could pinch me," he said. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " To test whether I am awake. Have I really heard a 
 sane and educated lady expressing her belief in the visions 
 of a crystal-gazing adventuress ? " 
 
 "You have. She believes firmly. So do heaps of 
 women." 
 
 " I hope to heaven you don't ! " he cried with a sudden 
 intensity. 
 
 " What concern can my faith be to you ? " she asked. 
 
 " 1 beg your pardon. No concern at all," he said apolo- 
 getically. " But I generally blurt out what is in my mind." 
 
 " And what is in your mind ? I am a person you can 
 be quite frank with." 
 
 " I could n't bear the poem of your life to be sullied by 
 all these vulgarities," said Jimmie. 
 
 41 As I remarked to you the first evening I met you, Mr. 
 Padgate," she said, holding out her hand by way of dis- 
 missal, " you are an astonishing person ! " 
 
 The poem of her life ! The phrase worried her before 
 she slept that night. She shook the buzzing thing away 
 from her impatiently. The poem of her life ! The man 
 was a fool. 
 
 26
 
 Chapter III 
 A MODERN BETROTHAL 
 
 A YOUNG woman bred to a material view of the 
 cosmos and self-trained to cynical expression of 
 her opinions may thoroughly persuade herself that 
 marriage is a social bargain in which it would be absurd for 
 sentiment to have a place, and yet when the hour comes 
 for deciding on so trivial an engagement, may find herself 
 in an irritatingly unequable frame of mind. For Norma 
 the hour had all but arrived. Morland King had asked to 
 see her alone in view of an important conversation. She 
 had made an appointment for ten o'clock, throwing over her 
 evening's engagements. Her parents were entertaining a 
 couple of friends in somebody else's box at the opera, and 
 would return in time to save the important conversation 
 from over-tediousness. She intended to amuse herself 
 placidly with a novel until King's arrival. 
 
 This was a week or two after her encounter with Jimmie 
 at the picture-gallery, since which occasion she had neither 
 seen nor heard of him. He had faded from the surface of 
 a consciousness kept on continued strain by the thousand 
 incidents and faces of a London season. To Jimmie the 
 series of meetings had been a phenomenon of infinite im- 
 port. She had come like a queen of romance into his 
 homely garden, and her radiance lingered, making the 
 roses redder and the grass more green. But the queenly 
 
 27
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 apparition herself had other things to think about, and 
 when she had grown angry and called him a fool, had 
 dismissed him definitely from her mind. It was annoying 
 therefore that on this particular evening the fool phrase 
 should buzz again in her ears. 
 
 She threw down her book and went on to the balcony, 
 where, on this close summer night, she could breathe a 
 little cool air. A clock somewhere in the house chimed 
 the half-hour. Morland was to come at ten. She longed 
 for, yet dreaded, his coming ; regretted that she had stayed 
 away from the opera, where, after all, she could have ob- 
 served the everlasting human comedy. She had dined 
 early ; the evening had been interminable ; she felt nervous, 
 and raged at her weakness. She was tired, out of harmony 
 with herself, fretfully conscious too of the jarring notes in 
 a room furnished by uneducated people of sudden wealth. 
 The Wolff-Salamons, out of the kindness of their shrewd 
 hearts, had offered the house for the season to the Hard- 
 acres, who had accepted the free quarters with profuse 
 expressions of gratitude ; which, however, did not prevent 
 Mr. Hardacre from railing at the distance of the house 
 (which was in Holland Park) from his club, or his wife 
 from deprecating to her friends her temporary residence in 
 what she was pleased to term the Ghetto. Nor did the 
 Wolff-Salamons' generosity mitigate the effect of their 
 furniture on Norma's nerves. When Jimmie's phrase 
 came into her head with the suddenness of a mosquito, 
 she could bear the room no longer. 
 
 She sat on the balcony and waited for Morland. There 
 at least she was free from the flaring gold and blue, and the 
 full-length portrait of the lady of the house, on which with 
 delicate savagery the eminent painter had catalogued all
 
 A Modern Betrothal 
 
 the shades of her ancestral vulgarity. Perhaps it was this 
 portrait that had brought back the irony of Jimmie's tribute. 
 The poem of her life ! She sat with her chin on her palm, 
 thinking bitterly of circumstance. She had never been 
 happy, had grown to disbelieve in so absurd and animal a 
 state. It had always been the same, as far back as she 
 could remember. Her childhood : nurses and governesses 
 a swift succession of the latter till she began to regard 
 them as remote from her inner life as the shop girl or rail- 
 way guard with whom she came into casual contact. The 
 life broken by visits abroad to fashionable watering or 
 gambling places where she wandered lonely and proud, 
 neglected by her parents, watching with keen eyes and 
 imperturbable face the frivolities, the vices, the sordid- 
 nesses, taking them all in, speculating upon them, resolving 
 some problems unaided and storing up others for future 
 elucidation. Her year at the expensive finishing school 
 in Paris where the smartest daughters of America babbled 
 and chattered of money, money, till the air seemed unfit 
 for woman to breathe unless it were saturated with gold 
 dust. As hers was not, came discontent and overweening 
 ambitions. Yet the purity was not all killed. She remem- 
 bered her first large dinner-party. The same Lord Wyniard 
 of the unclean scandal had taken her down. He was thirty 
 years older than she, and an unsavoury reputation had 
 reached even her young ears. The man regarded her with 
 the leer of a satyr. She realised with a shudder for the 
 first time the meaning of a phrase she had constantly met 
 with in French novels "/'/ la devetit de ses yeux." His 
 manner was courtly, his air of breeding perfect; yet he 
 managed to touch her fingers twice, and he sought to lead 
 her on to dubious topics of conversation. She was frightened.. 
 
 29
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 In the drawing-room, seeing him approach, she lost her 
 head, took shelter with her mother, and trembling whispered 
 to her, " Don't let that man come and talk to me again, 
 mother, he 's a beast." She was bidden not to be a fool. 
 The man had a title and twenty thousand a year, and she 
 had evidently made an impression. A week afterwards 
 her mother invited a bishop and his wife and Lord Wyniard 
 to dinner, and Lord Wyniard took Norma down again. 
 And that was her start in the world. She had followed 
 the preordained course till now, with many adventures 
 indeed by the way, but none that could justify the haunting 
 phrase the poem of her life ! 
 
 Was the man such a fool, after all ? Was it even igno- 
 rance on his part ? Was it not, rather, wisdom on a lofty 
 plane immeasurably above the commonplaces of ignorance 
 and knowledge ? The questions presented themselves to 
 her vaguely. She was filled with a strange unrest, a crav- 
 ing for she knew not what. Yet she would shortly have 
 in her grasp all or nearly all that she had aimed at in 
 life. She counted the tale of her future possessions 
 houses, horses, diamonds, and the like. She seemed to 
 have owned them a thousand years. 
 
 The clock in the house chimed ten in a pretentious 
 musical way, which irritated her nerves. The silence after 
 the last of the ten inexorable tinkles fell gratefully. Then 
 she realised that in a minute or two Morland would arrive. 
 Her heart began to beat, and she clasped her hands together 
 in a nervous suspense of which she had not dreamed herself 
 capable. A cab turned the corner of the street, approached 
 with crescendo rattle, and stopped at the house. She saw 
 Morland alight and reach up to pay the cabman. For a 
 silly moment she had a wild impulse to cry to him over 
 
 3
 
 A Modern Betrothal 
 
 the balcony to go away and leave her in peace. She waited 
 until she heard the footman open the front door and admit 
 him, then bracing herself, she entered the drawing-room, 
 looked instinctively in a mirror, and sat down. 
 
 She met him cordially enough, returned his glance some- 
 what defiantly. The sight of him, florid, sleek, faultlessly 
 attired, brought her back within the every-day sphere of 
 dulled sensation. He held her hand long enough for him 
 to say, after the first greeting : 
 
 "You can guess what I 've come for, can't you ? " 
 
 "I suppose I do," she admitted in an off-hand way. 
 " You will find frankness one of my vices. Won't you sit 
 down ? " 
 
 She motioned him to a chair, and seating herself on a sofa, 
 prepared to listen. 
 
 " I 've come to ask you to marry me," said King. 
 
 "Well ? " she asked, looking at him steadily. 
 
 " I want to know how it strikes you," he continued after 
 a brief pause. " I think you know practically all that I 
 can tell you about myself. I can give you what you want 
 up to about fifteen thousand a year it will be more when 
 my mother dies. We 're decent folk old county family 
 I can offer you whatever society you like. You and I 
 have tastes in common, care for the same things, same sort 
 of people. I 'm sound in wind and limb never had a 
 day's illness in my life, so you would n't have to look after 
 a cripple. And I 'd give the eyes out of my head to have 
 you ; you know that. How does it strike you ? " 
 
 Norma had averted her glance from him towards the end 
 of his speech, and leaning back was looking intently at 
 her hands in her lap. For the moment she felt it im- 
 possible to reply. The words that had formulated them-
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 selves in her mind, " I think, Mr. King, the arrangement 
 will be eminently advantageous to both parties," were too 
 ludicrous in their adequacy to the situation. So she 
 merely sat silent and motionless, regarding her manicured 
 finger-nails, and awaiting another opening. King changed 
 his seat to the sofa, by her side, and leaned forward. 
 
 " If you had been a simpler, more unsophisticated girl, 
 Norma, I should have begun differently. I thought it 
 would please you if I put sentiment aside." 
 
 Her head motioned acquiescence. 
 
 " But I 'm not going to put it aside," he went on. " It 
 has got its place in the world, even when a man makes a 
 proposal of marriage. And when I say I 'm in love with 
 you, that I have been in love with you since the first time 
 I saw you, it 's honest truth." 
 
 " Say you have a regard, a high regard, even," said 
 Norma, still not looking at him, " and I '11 believe you." 
 
 " I 'm hanged if I will," said Morland. " I say I 'm in 
 love with you." 
 
 Norma suddenly softened. The phrase tickled her ears 
 again this time pleasantly. The previous half-hour's 
 groping in the dark of herself seemed to have resulted in 
 discovery. She gave him a fleeting smile of mockery. 
 
 "Listen," she said. "If you will be contented with 
 regard, a high regard, on my side, I will marry you. I 
 really like you very much. Will that do ? " 
 
 " It is all I ask now. The rest will come by and by." 
 
 " I 'm not so sure. We had better be perfectly frank 
 with each other from the start, for we shall respect each 
 other far more. Anyhow, if you treat me decently, as I am 
 sure you will, you may be satisfied that I shall carry out my 
 part of the bargain. My bosom friends tell one another 
 
 32
 
 A Modern Betrothal 
 
 that I am worldly and heartless and all that but I 've 
 never lied seriously or broken a promise in my life." 
 
 " Very well. Let us leave it at that," said Morland, 
 " I suppose your people will have no objection ? " 
 
 " None whatever," replied Norma, drily. 
 
 " When can I announce our engagement ? " 
 
 " Whenever you like." 
 
 He took two or three reflective steps about the room 
 and reseated himself on the sofa. 
 
 " Norma," he said softly, bending towards her, " I 
 believe on such occasions there is a sort of privilege 
 accorded to a fellow may I ? " 
 
 She glanced at him, hesitated, then proffered her cheek. 
 He touched it with his lips. 
 
 The ceremony over, there ensued a few minutes of 
 anticlimax. Norma breathed more freely. There had 
 been no difficulties, no hypocrisies. The mild approach 
 to rapture on Morland's part was perhaps, after all, only 
 a matter of common decency, to be accepted by her as a 
 convention of the scene a falre. So was the kiss. She 
 broke the spell of awkwardness by rising, crossing the 
 room, and turning off an electric pendant that illuminated 
 the full-length portrait on the wall. 
 
 " We can't stand Mrs. Wolff-Salamon's congratulations 
 so soon," she said with a laugh. 
 
 Conversation again became possible. They discussed 
 arrangements. King suggested a marriage in the autumn. 
 Norma, with a view to the prolongation of what appealed 
 to her as a novel and desirable phase of existence maiden- 
 hood relieved of the hateful duty of husband-hunting and 
 unclouded by parental disapprobation pleaded for delay 
 till Christmas. She argued that in all human probability 
 3 33
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 the Parliamentary vacancy at Cosford, the safe seat on 
 which Morland reckoned, would occur in the autumn, and 
 he could not fix the date of an election at his own good 
 pleasure. He must, besides, devote his entire energy to 
 the business ; time enough when it was over to think of 
 such secondary matters as weddings, bridal tours, and the 
 setting up of establishments. 
 
 " But you have to be considered, Norma," he said, half 
 convinced. 
 
 u My dear Morland," she replied with a derisive lip, " I 
 should never dream of coming between you and your 
 public career." 
 
 He reflected a moment/ "Why should we not get 
 married at once ? " 
 
 Norma laughed. " You are positively pastoral ! No, 
 my dear Morland, that 's what the passionate young lover 
 always says to the coy maiden in the play, but if you will 
 remember, it does n't seem to work even there. Besides, 
 you must let me gratify my ambitions. When I was very 
 young, I vowed I would marry an emperor. Then I toned 
 him down into a prince. Later, becoming more practical, 
 I dreamed of a peer. Finally I descended to a Member 
 of Parliament. I can't marry you !>efore you are a 
 Member." 
 
 " You could have had dozens of 'em for the asking, 
 I 'm sure," returned the prospective legislator with a grin. 
 " Take them all round, they 're a shoddy lot." 
 
 He yielded eventually to Norma's proposal, alluding, 
 however, with an air of ruefulness, to the infinite months 
 of waiting he would have to endure. Tactfully she 
 switched him ofF the line of sentiment to that of soberer 
 politics. She put forward the platitude that a Parliamen- 
 
 3-3
 
 A Modern Betrothal 
 
 tary life was one of great interest. Morland did not rise 
 even to this level of enthusiasm. 
 
 " 'Pon my soul, I really don't know why I 'm going in 
 for it. I promised old Potter years ago that I would come 
 in when he gave up, and the people down there more or 
 less took it for granted, the duchess included, and so with- 
 out having thought much of it one way or the other, I find 
 myself caught in a net. It will be a horrible bore. The 
 whole of the session will be one dismal yawn. Never to be 
 certain of sitting down to one's dinner in peace and com- 
 fort. Never to know when one will have to rush off at a 
 moment's notice to take part in a confounded division. 
 To have shoals of correspondence on subjects one knows 
 nothing of and cares less for. It will be the life of a 
 sweated tailor. And I, of all people, who like to take 
 things easy ! I 'm not quite sure whether I 'm an idiot 
 or a hero." 
 
 He ended in a short laugh and leaned against the mantel- 
 piece, his hands in his pockets. 
 
 " It would be the sweet and pretty thing for me to say," 
 remarked Norma, " that in my eyes you will always be 
 heroic." 
 
 " Well, 'pon my soul, I shall be. We '11 see precious 
 little of one another." 
 
 " We '11 have all the more chance of prolonging our 
 illusions," she replied. 
 
 On the whole, however, her conduct towards him was 
 irreproachable. The thaw from her usual iciness to this 
 comparatively harmless raillery flattered the lover's self- 
 esteem. ^Woman-wise, as every man in the profundity of 
 his vain heart believes himself to be, he not only attributed 
 the change to his own powers of seduction, but interpreted 
 
 35
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 it as significant of a yet greater transformation. A man of 
 Morland's type is seldom afflicted with a morbid subtlety 
 of perception; and when he has gained for his own per- 
 sonal use and adornment a woman of singular distinction, 
 he may be readily pardoned for a slight attack of fatuity. 
 
 The idyllic hour was brought to a close by the return of 
 Norma's parents. As Norma, shrinking from the vul- 
 garity of the prearranged scene and intolerable maternal 
 coaching in her part, had not informed them* of her 
 appointment with Morland, alleging as an excuse for not 
 going to the opera a disinclination to be bored to tears by 
 Aida, they were mildly surprised by his presence in the 
 house at so late an hour. In a few words he acquainted 
 them with what had taken place. He formally asked their 
 consent. Mr. Hardacre wrung his hand fervently. Mrs. 
 Hardacre's steel-grey eyes glittered welcome into her 
 family. She turned to her dear child and expressed her 
 heartfelt joy. Norma, submissive to conventional decen- 
 cies, suffered herself to be kissed. Mother and daughter 
 had given up kissing as a habit for some years past, though 
 they practised it occasionally before strangers. Mr. Hard- 
 acre put his arm around her in a diffident way and patted 
 her back, murmuring incoherent wishes for her happiness. 
 Everything to be said and done was effected in a perfectly 
 well-bred manner. Norma spoke very little, regarding the 
 proceedings with an impersonal air of satiric interest. At 
 last Mr. Hardacre suggested to Morland a chat over 
 whisky and soda and a cigar in the library. In unso- 
 phisticated circles it is not unusual at such a conjuncture 
 for a girl's friends and relations to afford the lovers some 
 unblushing opportunity of bidding each other a private 
 farewell. Norma, anticipating any such possible though 
 
 36
 
 A Modern Betrothal 
 
 improbable departure from sanity on the part of her parents, 
 made good her escape after shaking hands in an ordinary 
 way with Morland. Mrs. Hardacre followed her upstairs, 
 eager to learn details, which were eventually given with 
 some acidity by her daughter, and the two men retired 
 below. 
 
 " My boy," said Mr. Hardacre, as they parted an hour 
 afterwards, " you will find that Norma has had the training 
 that will make her a damned fine woman." 
 
 37
 
 Chapter IV 
 THE GREAT FROCK EPISODE 
 
 JIMMIE PADGATE was the son of a retired 
 commander in the Navy, of irreproachable birth and 
 breeding, of a breezy impulsive disposition, and with 
 a pretty talent as an amateur actor. Finding idleness the 
 root of all boredom, he took' to the stage, and during the 
 first week of his first provincial tour fell in love with 
 the leading lady, a fragile waif of a woman of vague 
 upbringing. That so delicate a creature should have to 
 face the miseries of a touring life the comfortless lodg- 
 ings, the ill-cooked food, the damp death-traps of dressing- 
 rooms, the long circuitous Sunday train-journeys roused 
 him to furious indignation. He married her right away, 
 took her incontinently from things theatrical, and found 
 congenial occupation in adoring her. But the hapless 
 lady survived her marriage only long enough to see Jimmie 
 safe into short frocks, and then fell sick and died. The 
 impulsive sailor educated the boy in his own fashion for 
 a dozen years or so, and then he, in his turn, died, leaving 
 his son a small inheritance to be administered by his only 
 brother, an easy-going bachelor in a Government office. 
 This inheritance sufficed to send Jimmie to Harrow, 
 where he began his life-long friendship with Morland 
 King, and to the cole des Beaux-Arts in Paris, where 
 he learned many useful things beside the method of paint-
 
 The Great Frock Episode 
 
 ing pictures. When he returned to London, his uncle 
 handed him over the hundred or two that remained, and, 
 his duty being accomplished, fell over a precipice in the 
 Alps, and concerned himself no more about his nephew. 
 Then Jimmie set to work to earn his living. 
 
 When he snatched the child Aline from the embraces 
 of her tipsy aunt and carried her out into the street, 
 wondering what in the world he should do with her, he was 
 just under thirty years of age. How he had earned a live- 
 lihood till then and kept himself free from debt he scarcely 
 knew. When he obtained a fair price for a picture, he 
 deposited a lump sum with his landlord in respect of rent 
 in advance, another sum with the keeper of the little res- 
 taurant where he ate his meals, and frittered the rest away 
 among his necessitous friends. In the long intervals be- 
 tween sales, he either went about penniless or provided 
 himself with pocket money by black and white or other 
 odd work that comes in the young artist's way. His resi- 
 dence at that time consisted in a studio and a bedroom in 
 Camden Town. His wants were few, his hopes were 
 many. He loved his art, he loved the world. His optimistic 
 temperament brought him smiles from all those with whom 
 he came in contact even from dealers, when he wasted 
 their time in expounding to them the commercial value of 
 an unmarketable picture. He was quite happy, quite irre- 
 sponsible. When soberer friends reproached him for his 
 hand-to-mouth way of living, he argued that if he scraped 
 to-day he would probably spread the butter thick to- 
 morrow, thus securing the average, the golden mean, which 
 was the ideal of their respectability. As for success, that 
 elusive will-o'-the-wisp, the man who did not enjoy the 
 humour of failure never deserved to succeed. 
 
 39
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 But when he had rescued Aline from the limbo over the 
 small apothecary's shop, as thoughtlessly and as gallantly 
 as his father before him had rescued the delicate lady from 
 the trials of theatrical vagabondage, he found himself face 
 to face with a perplexing problem. That first night he 
 had risen from an amorphous bed he had arranged for him- 
 self on the studio floor, and entered his own bedroom on 
 tiptoe, and looked with pathetic helplessness on the tiny 
 child asleep beneath his bedclothes. If it had been a boy, 
 he would have had no particular puzzle. A boy could 
 have been stowed in a corner of the studio, where he could 
 have learned manners and the fear of God and the way 
 of smiling at adversity. He would have profited enor- 
 mously, as Jimmie felt assured, by his education. But 
 with a girl it was vastly different. An endless vista of 
 shadowy, dreamy, delicate possibilities perplexed him. He 
 conceived women as beings ethereal, with a range of ex- 
 quisite emotions denied to masculine coarseness. Even 
 the Rue Bonaparte had not destroyed his illusion, and he 
 still attributed to the fair Maenads of the Bal des Quatre-z' 
 Arts the lingering fragrance of the original Psyche. Of 
 course Jimmie was a fool, as ten years afterwards Norma 
 had decided ; but this view of himself not occurring to 
 him, he had to manage according to his lights. Here was 
 this mysterious embryo goddess entirely dependent on him. 
 No corner of the studio and rough-and-tumble discipline 
 for her. She must sleep on down and be covered with 
 silk ; the airs of heaven must not visit her cheek too 
 roughly ; the clatter of the brazen world must not be 
 allowed to deafen her to her own sweet inner harmonies. 
 Jimmie was sorely perplexed. 
 
 His charwoman next morning could throw no light on
 
 The Great Frock Episode 
 
 the riddle. She had seven children of her own, four of 
 them girls, and they had to get along the best way they 
 could. She was of opinion that if let alone and just phys- 
 icked when she had any complaint, Aline would grow up 
 of her own accord. Jimmie said that this possibility had 
 not struck him, but doubtless the lady was right. Could 
 she tell him how many times a day a little girl ought to be 
 fed and what she was to eat ? The charwoman's draft 
 upon her own family experiences enlightened Jimmie so 
 far that he put a sovereign into her hand to provide a 
 dinner for her children. After that he consulted her no 
 more. It was an expensive process. 
 
 Meanwhile it was obvious that a studio and one bed- 
 room would not be sufficient accommodation, and Jimmie, 
 greatly daring, took a house. He also engaged a resident 
 housekeeper for himself and a respectable cat for Aline, 
 and when he had settled down, after having spent every 
 penny he could scrape together on furniture, began to 
 wonder how he could pay the rent. A month or two 
 before he would have as soon thought of Buying a palace in 
 Park Lane as renting a house in St. John's Wood a 
 cheap, shabby little house, it is true; but still a house, with 
 drawing-room, dining-room, bedrooms, and a studio built 
 over the space where once the garden tried to smile. He 
 wandered through it with a wonderment quite as childish 
 as that of Aline, who had helped him to buy the furniture. 
 But how was he ever going to pay the rent ? 
 
 After a time he ceased asking the question. The ravens 
 that fed Elijah provided him with the twenty quarterly pieces 
 of gold. Picture-dealers of every hue and grade supplied 
 him with the wherewithal to live. In those early days he 
 penetrated most of the murky byways of his art alleys- 
 
 41
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 he would have passed by with pinched nose a year before, 
 when an empty pocket and an empty stomach concerned 
 himself alone. Now, when the money for the last picture 
 had gone, and no more was forthcoming by way of advance 
 on royalties on plates, and the black and white market was 
 congested, he did amazing things. He copied old Masters 
 for a red-faced, beery print-seller in Frith Street, who found 
 some mysterious market for them. The price can be 
 gauged by the fact that years afterwards Jimmie recognised 
 one of his own copies in an auction room, and heard it 
 knocked down as a genuine Velasquez for eleven shillings 
 and sixpence. He also painted oil landscapes for a dealer 
 who did an immense trade in this line, selling them to 
 drapers and fancy-warehousemen, who in their turn retailed 
 them to an art-loving public, framed in gold, at one and 
 eleven pence three farthings ; and the artist's rate of pay- 
 ment was five shillings a dozen panels supplied, but not 
 the paint. To see Jimmie attack these was the child 
 Aline's delight. In after years she wept in a foolish way 
 over the memory. He would do half a dozen at a time : 
 first dash in the foregrounds, either meadows or stretches of 
 shore, then wash in bold, stormy skies, then a bit of water, 
 smooth or rugged according as it was meant to represent 
 pool or sea ; then a few vigorous strokes would put in a ship 
 and a lighthouse on one panel, a tree and a cow on a second, 
 a woman and a cottage on a third. And all the time, as he 
 worked at lightning speed, he would laugh and joke with 
 the child, who sat fascinated by the magic with which each 
 mysterious mass of daubs and smudges grew into a living 
 picture under his hand. When his invention was at a loss, 
 he would call upon her to suggest accessories ; and if she 
 cried out "windmill," suddenly there would spring from 
 
 4*
 
 The Great Frock Episode 
 
 under the darting brush-point a mill with flapping sails 
 against the sky. Now and again in his hurry Jimmie 
 would make a mistake, and Aline would shriek with 
 delight : 
 
 " Why, Jimmie, that's a cow ! " 
 
 And sure enough, horned and uddered, and with casual 
 tail, a cow was wandering over the ocean, mildly speculat- 
 ing on the lighthouse. Then Jimmie would roar with 
 laughter, and he would tether the cow to a buoy and put in 
 a milkmaid in a boat coming to milk the cow, and at 
 Aline's breathless suggestion, a robber with a bow and 
 arrow shooting the unnatural animal from the lighthouse 
 top. Thus he would waste an hour elaborating the absurd- 
 ity, finishing it off beautifully so that it should be worthy 
 of a place on Aline's bedroom wall. 
 
 The months and years passed, and Jimmie found him- 
 self, if not on the highroad to fortune, at least relieved of 
 the necessity of frequenting the murky byways aforesaid. 
 He even acquired a little reputation as a portrait painter, 
 much to his conscientious but comical despair. " I am 
 taking people's money under false pretences," he would 
 say. " I am an imaginative painter. I can't do portraits. 
 Your real portrait painter can jerk the very soul out of a 
 man and splash it on to his face. I can't. Why do they 
 come to me to be photographed, when Brown, Jones, or 
 Robinson would give them a portrait ? Why can't they 
 buy my subject-pictures which are good ? In taking their 
 money I am a mercenary, unscrupulous villain ! " Indeed, 
 if Aline had not been there to keep him within the bounds 
 of sanity, his Quixotism might have led him to send his 
 clients to Brown or Jones, where they could get better 
 value for their money. But Aline was there, rising gradu- 
 
 43
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 ally from the little child into girlhood, and growing in grace 
 day by day. After all, the charwoman seemed to be right. 
 The tender plant, left to itself, thrived, shot up apparently 
 of its own accord, much to Jimmie's mystification. It 
 never occurred to him that he was the all in all of her 
 training her mother, father, nurse, teacher, counsellor, 
 example. Everything she was susceptible of being taught 
 by a human being, he taught her from the common rudi- 
 ments when she was a little child to the deeper things of 
 literature and history when she was a ripening maiden. 
 Her life was bound up with his. Her mind took the pre- 
 vailing colour of his mind as inevitably as the grasshopper 
 takes the green of grass or the locust the grey-brown of 
 the sand. But Jimmie in his simple way regarded the 
 girl's sweet development as a miracle of spontaneous 
 growth. 
 
 Yet Aline on her part instinctively appreciated the child 
 in Jimmie, and from very early years assumed a quaint 
 attitude of protection in common every-day matters. From 
 the age of twelve she knew the exact state of his financial 
 affairs, and gravely deliberated with him over items of 
 special expenditure ; and when she was fourteen she prof- 
 ited by a change in housekeepers to take upon herself the 
 charge of the household. Her unlimited knowledge of 
 domestic science was another thing that astounded Jimmie, 
 who to the end of hi^ days would have cheerfully given two 
 shillings a pound for potatoes. And thus, while adoring 
 Jimmie and conscious that she owed him the quickening 
 of the soul within her, she became undisputed mistress of 
 her small material domain, and regarded him as a kind of 
 godlike baby. 
 
 At last there came a memorable day. According to a 
 
 44
 
 The Great Frock Episode 
 
 custom five or six years old, Jimmie and Aline were to 
 spend New Year's Eve with some friends, the Frewen- 
 Smiths. He was a rising architect who had lately won two 
 or three important competitions and had gradually been 
 extending his scale of living. The New Year's Eve party 
 was to be a much more elaborate affair than usual. Aline 
 had received a beautifully printed card of invitation, with 
 " Dancing " in the corner. She looked through her slender 
 wardrobe. Not a frock could she find equal to such a 
 festival. And as she gazed wistfully at the simple child's 
 finery laid out upon her bed, a desire that had dawned 
 vaguely some time before and had week by week broadened 
 into craving, burst into the full blaze of a necessity. She 
 sat down on her bed and puckered her young brows, con- 
 sidering the matter in all its aspects. Then, with her sex's 
 guilelessness, she went down to the studio, where Jimmie 
 was painting, and put her arms round his neck. Did he 
 think she could get a new frock for Mrs. Frewen-Smith's 
 party ? 
 
 " My dear child," said Jimmie in astonishment, " what 
 an idiotic question ! " 
 
 " But I want really a nice one," said Aline, coaxingly. 
 
 " Then get one, dear," said Jimmie, swinging round on 
 his stool, so as to look at her. 
 
 " But I 'd like you to give me this one as a present. 
 I don't want it to be like the others that I help myself to 
 and you know nothing about although they all are 
 presents, if it comes to that I want you to give me this 
 one specially." 
 
 Jimmie laid down palette and mahl-stick and brush, 
 and from a letter-case in his pocket drew out three five- 
 pound notes. 
 
 45
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Will this buy one ? " 
 
 The girl's eyes filled with tears. " Oh, you are silly, 
 Jimmie," she cried. " A quarter of it will do." 
 
 She took one of the notes, kissed him, and ran out of the 
 studio, leaving Jimmie wondering why the female sex were 
 so prone to weeping. The next day he saw a strange 
 woman established at the dining-room table. He learned 
 that it was a dressmaker. For the next week an air of 
 mystery hung over the place. The girl, in her neat short 
 frock and with her soft brown hair tied with a ribbon, went 
 about her household duties as usual ; but there was a sub- 
 dued light in her eyes that Jimmie noticed, but could not 
 understand. Occasionally he'enquired about the new frock. 
 It was progressing famously, said Aline. It was going to 
 be a most beautiful frock. He would have seen nothing 
 like it since he was born. 
 
 "Vanity, thy name is little girls," he laughed, pinching 
 her chin. 
 
 On the evening of the 3151 of December Jimmie, in his 
 well-worn evening suit, came down to the dining-room, 
 and for the first time in his life waited for Aline. He sat 
 down by the fire with a book. The cab that had been 
 ordered drew up outside. It was a remarkable thing for 
 Aline to be late. After a while the door opened, and a 
 voice said, " I am ready." Jimmie rose, turned round, and 
 for a moment stared stupidly at the sight that met his eyes. 
 It was Aline certainly, but a new Aline, quite a different 
 Aline from the little girl he had known hitherto. Her 
 brown hair was done up in a mysterious manner on the top 
 of her head, and the tip of a silver-mounted tortoise-shell 
 comb (a present, she afterwards confessed, from Constance 
 Deering, who was in her secret) peeped coquettishly from 
 
 46 '
 
 The Great Frock Episode 
 
 the coils. The fashionably-cut white evening dress showed 
 her neck and shoulders and pretty round arms, and dis- 
 played in a manner that was a revelation the delicate 
 curves of her young figure. A little gold locket that 
 Jimmie had given her rose and fell on her bosom. She 
 met his stare in laughing, blushing defiance, and whisked 
 round so as to present a side view of the costume. The 
 astonishing thing had a train. 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " cried Jimmie. " It never entered 
 my head ! " 
 
 What ? " 
 
 41 That you 're a young woman, that you 're grown up, 
 that we'll have all the young men in the place falling 
 in love with you, that you '11 be getting married, and that 
 I 'm becoming a decrepit old fogey. Well, God bless my 
 soul ! " 
 
 She came up and put her hands on his shoulders and 
 kissed him. 
 
 " You think it becoming, don't you, Jimmie ? " 
 
 " Becoming ! Why, it 's ravishing ! It 's irresistible ! Do 
 you mean to say that you got all that, gloves and shoes and 
 everything, out of a five-pound note ? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " said Jimmie in astonishment. 
 
 In this manner came realisation of the fact that the tiny 
 child he had undressed and put to sleep in his own bed ten 
 years before had grown into a woman. The shock brought 
 back some of the old perplexities, and created for a short 
 while an odd shyness in his dealings with her. He treated 
 her deferentially, regarded apologetically the mean viands 
 on which he forced this fresh-winged goddess to dine, went 
 out and wasted his money on adornments befitting her 
 
 47
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 rank, and behaved with such pathetic foolishness that 
 Aline, crying and laughing, threatened to run away and 
 earn her living as a nursery-maid if he did not amend 
 his conduct. Whereupon there was a very touching 
 scene, and Jimmie's undertaking to revert to his pre- 
 vious brutality put their relations once more on a sound 
 basis ; but all the same there stole into Jimmie's environ- 
 ment a subtle grace which the sensitive in him was 
 quick to perceive. Its fragrance revived the tender grace 
 of a departed day, before he had taken Aline a day 
 that had ended in a woeful flight to Paris, where he had 
 arrived just in time to follow through the streets a poor 
 little funeral procession to a' poor little grave-side in the 
 cemetery of Bagneux. Her name was Sidonie Bourdain, 
 and she was a good girl and had loved Jimmie with all 
 her heart. 
 
 The tender grace was that of March violets. The 
 essence of a maid's springtide diffused itself through the 
 house, and springtide began to bud again in the man's 
 breast. It was a strange hyperphysical transfusion of 
 quickening sap. His jesting pictured himself as of a 
 sudden grown hoary, the potential father of a full-blown 
 woman, two or three years short of grandfatherdom. But 
 these were words thrown off from the very lightness of a 
 mood, and vanishing like bubbles in the air. Deep down 
 worked the craving of the man still young for love and 
 romance and the sweet message in a woman's eyes. It 
 was a gentle madness utterly unsuspected by its victim 
 but a madness such as the god first inflicts upon him 
 whom he desires to drive to love's destruction. In the 
 middle of it all, while Aline and himself were finding a 
 tentative footing on the newly established basis of their 
 
 48
 
 The Great Frock Episode 
 
 relationship, the ironical deity took him by the hand and 
 led him into the cold and queenly presence of Norma 
 Hardacre. 
 
 After that Jimmie fell back into his old ways with Aline, 
 and the Great Frock Episode was closed.
 
 Chapter V 
 
 A BROKEN BUTTERFLY 
 
 ArlNE sat in the studio, the picture of housewifely 
 concern, mending Jimmie's socks. It was not 
 the unoffending garments that brought the ex- 
 pression into her face, but her glance at the old Dutch 
 clock so old and crotchety that unless it were tilted to 
 one side it would not consent to go whose hands had 
 come with an asthmatic whir to the hour of eleven. And 
 Jimmie had not yet come down to breakfast. She had 
 called him an hour ago. His cheery response had been her 
 sanction for putting the meal into preparation, and now the 
 bacon would be uneatable. She sighed. Taking care of 
 Jimmie was no light responsibility. Not that he would 
 complain ; far from it. He would eat the bacon raw or 
 calcined if she set it before him. But that would not be 
 for his good, and hence the responsibility. In slipping 
 from her grasp and doing the things he ought not to do, he 
 was an eel or a twelve-year-old schoolboy. Last night, for 
 instance, instead of finishing off some urgent work for an 
 art periodical, he had assured her in his superlative manner 
 that it was of no consequence, and had wasted his evening 
 with her at the Earl's Court Exhibition. It had been warm 
 and lovely, and the band and the bright crowd had set her 
 young pulses throbbing, and they had sat at a little table, 
 and Jimmie had given her some celestial liquid which she 
 had sucked through a straw, and altogether, to use her
 
 A Broken Butterfly- 
 unsophisticated dialect, it had been perfectly heavenly. 
 But it was wrong of Jimmie to have sacrificed himself for 
 her pleasure, and to have deceived her into accepting it. 
 For at three or four o'clock she had heard him tiptoeing 
 softly past her door on his way to bed, and the finished 
 work she had found on his table this morning betrayed his 
 occupation. Even the consolation of scolding him for 
 oversleep and a spoiled breakfast was thus denied. She 
 spread out her hand in the sock so as to gauge the extent 
 of a hole, and, contemplating it, sighed again. 
 
 The studio was a vast room distempered in bluish grey, 
 and Aline, sitting solitary at the far end, in the line of a 
 broad quivering beam of light that streamed through a lofty 
 window running the whole width of the north-east side, 
 looked like a little brown saint in a bare conventual hall. 
 For an ascetic simplicity was the studio's key-note. No 
 curtains, draperies, screens, Japaneseries, no artistic scheme 
 of decoration, no rare toys of furniture filled the place with 
 luxurious inspiration. Here and there about the walls 
 hung a sketch by a brother artist; of his own unsold 
 pictures and studies some were hung, others stacked to- 
 gether on the floor. An old, rusty, leather drawing-room 
 suite distributed about the studio afforded sitting accommo- 
 dation. There was the big easel bearing the subject-picture 
 on which he now was at work, with a smaller easel carrying 
 the study by its side. On the model-stand a draped lay 
 figure sprawled grotesquely. A long deal table was the 
 untidy home of piles of papers, books, colours, brushes, 
 artistic properties. A smaller table at the end where Aline 
 sat was laid for breakfast. It was one of Jimmie's eccen- 
 tricities to breakfast in the studio. The dining-room for 
 dinner he yielded to the convention; for lunch, perhaps;
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 for breakfast, no. All his intimate life had been passed in 
 the studio ; the prim little drawing-room he scarcely entered 
 half-a-dozen times in the year. 
 
 Aline was contemplating the hole in the sock when the 
 door opened. She sprang to her feet, advanced a step, and 
 then halted with a little exclamation. 
 
 " Oh, it 's you ! " 
 
 " Yes. Are you disappointed ? " asked the smiling 
 youth who had appeared instead of the expected Jimmie. 
 
 " I can get over it. How are you, Tony ? " 
 
 Mr. Anthony Merewether gave her the superfluous 
 assurance that he was in good health. He had the pleasant 
 boyish face and clean-limbed'figure of the young English- 
 man upon whom cares sit lightly. Aline resumed her 
 work demurely. The young man seated himself near by. 
 
 " How is Jimmie ? " 
 
 " Whom are you calling ' Jimmie ' ? " asked Aline. 
 " Mr. Padgate, if you please." 
 
 "You call him Jimmie." 
 
 " I 've called him so ever since I could speak. I think 
 it was one of the first three words I learned. When you 
 can say the same, you can call him Jimmie." 
 
 " Well, how is Mr. Padgate ? " the snubbed youth asked 
 with due humility. 
 
 "You can never tell how a man is before breakfast. 
 Why are n't you at work ? " 
 
 He bowed to her sagacity, and in answer to her question 
 explained the purport of his visit. He was going to spend 
 the day sketching up the river. Would she put on her hat 
 and come with him ? 
 
 " A fine lot of sketching you 'd do, if I did," said Aline. 
 
 The young man vowed with fervour that as soon as he 
 
 52
 
 A Broken Butterfly 
 
 had settled down to a view he would work furiously and 
 would not exchange a remark with her. 
 
 " Which would be very amusing for me," retorted Aline. 
 " No, I can't come. I 'm far too busy. I 've got to hunt 
 up a model for the new picture." 
 
 Tony leant back in his chair, dispirited, and began to 
 protest. She laughed at his woeful face, and half yielding, 
 questioned him about trains. He overwhelmed her with a 
 rush of figures, then paused to give her time to recover. 
 His eyes wandered to the breakfast-table, where lay Jimmie's 
 unopened correspondence. One letter lay apart from the 
 others. Tony took it up idly. 
 
 11 Here 's a letter come to the wrong house." 
 
 " No ; it is quite right," said Aline. 
 
 " Who is David Rendell, Esquire ? " 
 
 " Mr. Rendell is a friend of Jimmie's, I believe." 
 
 " I have never heard of him. What 's he like ? " 
 
 " I don't know. Jimmie never speaks of him," replied 
 Aline. 
 
 "That's odd." 
 
 The young man threw the letter on the table and re- 
 turned to the subject of the outing. She must accompany 
 him. He felt a perfect watercolour working itself up 
 within him. One of those dreamy bits of backwater. 
 He had a title for it already, "The Heart of Summer." 
 The difference her presence in the punt would make to the 
 picture would be that between life and deadness. 
 
 The girl fluttered a shy, pleased glance at him. But she 
 loved to tease ; besides, had she not but lately awakened to 
 the sweet novelty of her young womanhood ? 
 
 " Perhaps Jimmie won't let me go." 
 
 Tony sprang to his feet. " Jimmie won't let you go ! " 
 
 S3
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 he exclaimed in indignant echo. u Did he ever deny you 
 a pleasure since you were born ? " 
 
 Her eyes sparkled at his tribute to the adored one's ex- 
 cellences. " That 's just where it is, you see, Tony. His 
 very goodness to me won't let me do things sometimes." 
 
 The servant hurried in with the breakfast-tray and the 
 news that the master was coming down. Aline anxiously 
 inspected the bacon. To her relief it was freshly cooked. 
 In a minute or two a voice humming an air was heard outside, 
 and Jimmie entered, smilingly content with existence. 
 
 " Hallo, Tony, what are you doing here, wasting the 
 morning light ? Have some breakfast ? Why have n't 
 you laid a place for him ? " 
 
 Tony declined the invitation, and explained his presence. 
 Jimmie rubbed his hands. 
 
 " A day on the river ! The very thing for Aline. It 
 will do her good." 
 
 " I did n't say I was going, Jimmie." 
 
 " Not going ? Rubbish. Put on your things and be off 
 at once." 
 
 " How can I until I have given you your breakfast ? 
 And then there 's the model you would never be able 
 to engage her by yourself. And you must have her 
 to-morrow." 
 
 u I know I 'm helpless, dear, but I can engage a model." 
 
 " And waste your time. Besides, you won't be able to 
 find the address." 
 
 " There are cab-horses, dear, with unerring instinct." 
 
 " Your breakfast is getting cold, Jimmie," said Aline, not 
 condescending to notice the outrage of her economic 
 principles. 
 
 Eventually Jimmie had his way. Tony Merewether 
 
 54
 
 A Broken Butterfly 
 
 was summarily dismissed, but bidden to return in an hour's 
 time, when Aline would be graciously pleased to be ready. 
 She poured out Jimmie's coffee, and sat at the side of the 
 table, watching him eat. He turned to his letters, picked 
 up the one addressed to " David Rendell." Aline noticed a 
 shade of displeasure cross his face. 
 
 " Who is Mr. Rendell, Jimmie ? " asked Aline. 
 
 " A man I know, dear," he replied, putting the envelope 
 in his pocket. He went on with his breakfast meditatively 
 for a few moments, then opened his other letters. He 
 threw a couple of bills across the table. His face had re- 
 gained its serenity 
 
 " See that these ill-mannered people are paid, Aline." 
 
 " What with, dear ? " 
 
 " Money, my child, money. What ! " he exclaimed, 
 noting a familiar expression on her face. " Are we run- 
 ning short ? Send them telegrams to say we '11 pay next 
 week. Something is bound to come in by then." 
 
 " Mrs. Bullingdon ought to send the cheque for her 
 portrait," said Aline. 
 
 " Of course she will. And there 's something due from 
 Hyam. What a thing it is to have great expectations ! 
 Here 's one from Renshaw," he said, opening another 
 letter. " c Dear Padgate ' Dear Padgate ! " He put his 
 hands on the table and looked across at Aline. " Now, 
 what on earth can I have done to offend him ? I Ve been 
 1 Dear Jimmie' for the last twelve years." 
 
 Aline shook her young head pityingly. " Doo'r you 
 know yet that it is always l Dear Padgate ' when they want 
 to borrow money of you ? " 
 
 Jimmie glanced at the letter and then across the table 
 again. 
 
 S/
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " Dear me," he said thoughtfully. " Your knowledge 
 of the world at your tender age is surprising. He does 
 want money. Poor old chap ! It is really quite touching. 
 'For the love of God lend me four pounds ten to carry me 
 on to the end of the quarter.' ' 
 
 " That 's two months off. Mr. Renshaw will have to 
 be more economical than usual," said Aline, drily. " I am 
 afraid he drinks dreadfully, Jimmie." 
 
 " Hush, dear ! " he said, becoming grave. " A man's in- 
 firmities are his infirmities, and we are not called upon to be 
 his judges. How much have we in the house altogether ? " 
 he asked with a sudden return to his bright manner. 
 
 " Ten pounds three and sixpence." 
 
 "Why, that's a fortune. Of course we can help Ren- 
 shaw. Wire him his four pounds ten when you go out." 
 
 " But, Jimmie " expostulated this royal person's min- 
 ister of finance. 
 
 " Do what I say, my dear," said Jimmie, quietly. 
 
 That note in his voice always brought about instant sub- 
 mission, fetched her down from heights of pitying protection 
 to the prostrate humility of a little girl saying " Yes, Jimmie," 
 as to a directing providence. She did not know from 
 which of the two positions, the height or the depth, she 
 loved him the more. As a matter of fact, the two ranges 
 of emotion were perfect complements one of the other, 
 the sex in her finding satisfaction of its two imperious 
 cravings, to shelter and to worship. 
 
 The Renshaw incident was closed, locked up as it were 
 in her heart by the little snap of the "Yes, Jimmie." One 
 or two other letters were discussed gaily. The last to be 
 opened was a note from Mrs. Deering. u Come to lunch 
 on Sunday and bring Aline. I am asking your friend 
 
 56
 
 A Broken Butterfly 
 
 Norma Hardacre." Aline clapped her hands. She had 
 been longing to see that beautiful Miss> Hardacre again. 
 Of course Jimmie would go ? He smiled. } 
 
 " Another unconscious sitting for the portrait," he said. 
 His glance wandered to a strainer that tood with its face 
 to the wall, at a further end of the room, and he became 
 absent-minded. Lately he had been dreaming a boy's 
 shadowy dreams, too sweet as yet for him to seek to give 
 them form in his waking hours. A warm touch on his 
 hand brought him back to diurnal things. It was the 
 coffee-pot held by Aline. 
 
 " I have asked you twice if you would have more 
 coffee," she laughed. 
 
 " I suppose I 'm the happiest being in existence," he 
 said irrelevantly. 
 
 Aline poured out the coffee. " You have n't got much 
 to make you happy, poor dear ! " she remarked, when the 
 operation was concluded. 
 
 His retort was checked by a violent peal at the front 
 door-bell and a thundering knock. 
 
 " That 's Morland," cried Jimmie. " He is like the day 
 of doom always heralds his approach by an earthquake." 
 
 Morland it was, in riding tweeds, a whip in his hand. 
 He pointed an upbraiding finger at the half-eaten break- 
 fast. The sloth of these painters ! Aline flew to the loved 
 one's protection. Jimmie had not gone to bed till four. 
 The poor dear had to sleep. 
 
 "I did n't get to bed till four, either," said Morland, 
 with the healthy, sport-loving man's contempt for people 
 who require sleep, u but I was up at eight and was riding 
 in the Park at nine. Then I thought I 'd come up here. 
 I 've got some news for you." 
 
 57
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Aline escaped. Morland's air of health and prosperity 
 overpowered her. She did not dare whisper detraction of 
 him to Jimmie, in whose eyes he was incomparable, but to 
 Tony Merewether she had made known her wish that 
 he did not look always so provokingly clean, so eternally 
 satisfied with himself. All the colour of his mind had gone 
 into his face, was her uncharitable epigram. Aline, it will 
 be observed, saw no advantage in a tongue perpetually 
 tipped with honey. c 
 
 " What is your news ? " asked Jimmie, as soon as they 
 were alone. 
 
 " I have done it at last," said Morland.. 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " Proposed. I 'm engaged. I 'm going to be married." 
 
 Jimmie's honest face beamed pleasure. He wrung 
 Morland's hand. The best news he had heard for a long 
 time. When had he taken the plunge into the pool of 
 happiness ? 
 
 u Last night." 
 
 " And you have come straight to tell me ? It is like 
 you. I am touched, ft is good to know you carry me in 
 your heart like that." 
 
 Morland laughed. " My dear old Jimmie " 
 
 u I am so glad. I never suspected anything of the kind. 
 Well, she 's an amazingly lucky young woman whoever she 
 is. When can I have a timid peep at the divinity ? " 
 
 u Whenever you like why, don't you know who it 
 is ? " 
 
 tc Lord, no, man ; how should I ? " 
 
 " It 's Norma Hardacre." 
 
 " Norma Hardacre ! " The echo came from Jimmie as 
 from a hollow cave, and was followed by a silence no less 
 
 58
 
 A Broken Butterfly 
 
 cavernous. The world was suddenly reduced to an empty 
 shell, black, meaningless. 
 
 " Yes," said Morland, with a short laugh. He carefully 
 selected, cut, and lit a cigar, then turned his back and ex- 
 amined the half-finished picture. He felt the Briton's 
 shamefacedness in the novelty of the position of affianced 
 lover. The echo that in Jimmie's ears had sounded so 
 forlorn was to him a mere exclamation of surprise. His 
 solicitude as to the cigar and his inspection of the picture 
 saved him by lucky chance from seeing Jimmie's face, 
 which wore the blank, piteous look of a child that has had 
 its most cherished possession snatched out of its hand and 
 thrown into the fire. Such episodes in life cannot be 
 measured by time as it is reckoned in the physical universe. 
 To Jimmie, standing amid the chaos of his dreams, in- 
 definite hours seemed to have passed since he had spoken. 
 For indefinite hours he seemed to grope towards recon- 
 struction. He lived intensely in the soul's realm, where 
 time is not, was swept through infinite phases of emotion ; 
 finally awoke to a consciousness of renunciation, full and 
 generous. Perhaps a minute and a half had elapsed. He 
 crossed swiftly to Morland and clapped him on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 " The woman among all women I could have wished 
 for you." 
 
 His voice quavered a little; but Morland, turning round, 
 saw nothing in Jimmie's eyes but the honest gladness he 
 had taken for granted he should find there. The earnest 
 scrutiny he missed. He laughed again. 
 
 14 There are not many in London to touch her," he said 
 in his self-satisfied way. 
 
 ' Is there one ? " 
 
 59
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 "You seem more royalist than well, than Morland 
 King," said the happy lover, chuckling at his joke. " I 
 wish I had the artist's command of superlatives as you 
 have, Jimmie. It would come in deuced handy sometimes. 
 Now if, for instance, you wanted to describe the reddest 
 thing that ever was, you would find some hyperbolic image 
 for it, whereas I could only say it was damned red. See 
 what I mean ? " 
 
 u It does n't matter what you say, but what you feel," 
 said Jimmie. " Perhaps we hyperbolic people fritter away 
 emotions in the mere frenzy of expressing them. The 
 mute man often has deeper feelings." 
 
 " Oh, I 'm not going to set up as an unerupted volcano," 
 laughed Morland. " I 'm only the average man that has 
 got the girl he has set his heart on and of course I 
 think her in many ways a paragon, otherwise I should n't 
 have set my heart on her. There are plenty to pick from, 
 God knows. And they let you know it too, by Jove. 
 You 're lucky enough to live out of what is called Society, 
 so you can't realise how they shy themselves at you. 
 Sometimes one has to be simply a brute and dump 'em 
 down hard. That 's what I liked about Norma Hardacre. 
 She required no dumping." 
 
 " I should think not," said Jimmie. 
 
 "There 's one thing that pleases me immensely," Mor- 
 land remarked, " and that is the fancy she has taken for 
 you. It 's genuine. I Ve never heard her talk of any one 
 else as she does of you. She is not given to gush, as you 
 may have observed." 
 
 " It 's a very deep pleasure to me to hear it," said Jimmie, 
 looking bravely in the eyes of the happy man. " My opin- 
 ion of Miss Hardacre I have told you already." 
 
 60
 
 Morland waved his cigar as a sign of acceptance of the 
 tribute to the lady. 
 
 "I was thinking of myself," he said. "There are a 
 good many men I shall have to drop more or less when 
 I 'm married. Norma would n't have 'em in the house. 
 There are others that will have to be on probation. Now 
 I shouldn't have liked you to be on probation to run 
 the risk of my wife not approving of you caring to see 
 you you know what I mean. But you 're different from 
 anybody else, Jimmie. I 'm not given to talking sentiment 
 but we 've grown up together and somehow, in spite 
 of our being thrown in different worlds, you have got to 
 be a part of my life. There ! " he concluded with a sigh 
 of relief, putting on his hat and holding out his hand, 
 "I've said it!" 
 
 The brightening of Jimmie's eyes gave token of a heart 
 keenly touched. Deeply rooted indeed must be the affec- 
 tion that could have impelled Morland to so unusual a 
 demonstration of feeling. His nature was as responsive 
 as a harp set in the wind. His counterpart in woman 
 would have felt the tears well into her eyes. A man is 
 allowed but a breath, a moisture, that makes the eyes 
 bright. Morland had said the final word of sentiment ; 
 equally, utterly true of himself. Morland was equally 
 a part of his life. It were folly to discuss the reasons. 
 Loyal friendships between men are often the divinest of 
 paradoxes. \~ 
 
 The touch upon Jimmie's heart was magnetic. It 
 soothed pain. It set free a flood of generous emotion, 
 even thanksgiving that he was thus allowed vicarious joy 
 in infinite perfections. It was vouchsafed him to be happy 
 in the happiness of two dear to him. This much he said 
 
 61
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 to Morland, wi*:h what intensity of meaning the fortunate 
 lover was a myriad leagues from suspecting. 
 
 44 I '11 see you safely mounted," said Jimmie, opening the 
 studio door. Then suddenly like a cold wind a memory 
 buffeted him. He shut the door again. 
 
 " I forgot. I have a letter for you. It came this 
 morning." 
 
 Morland took the letter addressed to " David Rendell " 
 which Jimmie drew from his pocket, and uttered an angry 
 exclamation. 
 
 44 1 tnought this infernal business was over and done 
 with." 
 
 He tore open the envelope, read the contents, then tilted 
 his hat to the back of his head, and sitting down on one of 
 the dilapidated straight-backed chairs of the leather suite, 
 looked at Jimmie in great perplexity. In justice to the 
 man it must be said that anger had vanished. 
 
 41 1 suppose you know what these letters mean that you 
 have been taking in for me ? " 
 
 " I have never permitted myself to speculate," said 
 Jimmie. 4t You asked me to do you a very great service. 
 It was a little one. You are not a man to do anything 
 dishonourable. I concluded you had your reasons, which 
 it would have been impertinent of me to inquire into." 
 
 It 's the usual thing," said Morland, with a self-incrim- 
 inatory shrug. "A girl." 
 
 44 A love affair was obvious." 
 
 Morland spat out an exclamation of impatient disgust for 
 himself and rose to his feet. 
 
 44 Heaven knows how it began she was poor and 
 lonely almost a lady and she had beauty and manners 
 and that sort of thing above hr class." 
 
 62
 
 A Broken Butterfly 
 
 " They always have," said Jimmie, with a pained ex- 
 pression. " You need n't tell me the story. It 's about the 
 miserablest on God's earth, is n't it now ? " 
 
 " I suppose so. Upon my soul, I 'm not a beast, Jimmie ! " 
 
 The unwonted rarefied air of sentiment that he had 
 been breathing for the last twelve hours had, as it were, 
 intoxicated him. Had the letter reached him the day 
 before, he would have left the story connected with it in 
 the cold-storage depository where men are wont to keep 
 such things. No one would have dreamed of its exist- 
 ence. But now he felt an exaggerated remorse, a craving 
 for confession, and yet he made the naked remorseful hu- 
 man's instinctive clutch at palliatives. 
 
 " Upon my soul, I 'm not a beast, Jimmie. I swear I 
 loved her at first. You know what it is. You yourself 
 loved a little girl in Paris you told me about it did n't 
 you?" 
 
 Jimmie set his teeth, and said, u Yes." 
 
 Morland went on. 
 
 " Some women have ways with them, you know. They 
 turn you into one of those toy thermometers you hold 
 ihe bulb, and the spirit in it rises and bubbles. She got 
 hold of me that way I bubbled, I suppose it was n't 
 her fault, she was sweet and innocent. It was her nature. 
 You artistic people call the damned thing a temperament, 
 I believe. Anyhow I was in earnest at the beginning. 
 Then one always does I found it was only a passing 
 fancy." 
 
 " And like a passing cab it has splashed you with mud. 
 How does the matter stand now ? " 
 
 " Read this," said Morland, handing him the letter. 
 
 " Dearest," it ran, " the time is coming when you can 
 
 63
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 be very good to me. Jenny." That was all. Jimmie, 
 holding the paper in front of him, looked up distressfully 
 at Morland. 
 
 " l The time is coming when you can be very good to 
 me.' How confoundedly pathetic ! Poor little girl ! Oh, 
 damn it, Morland, you are going to be good to her, are n't 
 you ? " 
 
 " I '11 do all I can. Of course I '11 do all I can. I tell 
 you I 'm not a beast. Heaps of other men would n't care 
 a hang about it. They would tell her to go to the devil. 
 I 'm not that sort." 
 
 " I know you *re not," said Jimmie. 
 
 Morland lit another cigar with the air of a man whose 
 virtues deserve some reward. 
 
 "The letter can only have one interpretation. Have 
 you known of it?" 
 
 "Never dreamed of it." 
 
 " Was there any question of marriage ? " 
 
 "None whatever. Difference of position and all the 
 rest of it. She quite understood. In fact, it was Jike your 
 Quartier Latin affair." 
 
 Jimmie winced. "It wasn't the Quartier Latin and 
 I was going to marry her only she died before oh, 
 don't mind me, Morland. What 's going to be done now ? " 
 
 Morland shrugged his shoulders again, having palliated 
 himself into a more normal condition. His conscience, to 
 speak by the book, was clothed and in its right mind. 
 
 "It's infernally hard lines it should come just at this 
 time. You see, I 've heaps of things to think about. My 
 position Parliament I 'm going to contest Cosford in 
 the autumn. If the constituency gets hold of any scandal, 
 I 'm ruined. You know the Alpine heights of morality of 
 
 64
 
 A Broken Butterfly 
 
 > 
 
 a British constituency and there's always some moral 
 scavenger about. And then there 's Norma " 
 
 " Yes, there 's Norma," said Jimmie, seriously. 
 
 "It 's unpleasant, you see. If she should know " 
 
 "It would break her heart," said Jimmie. 
 
 Morland started and looked at Jimmie stupidly, his 
 mental faculties for the second paralysed, incapable of 
 grappling with the idea. Was it scathing sarcasm or sheer 
 idiocy? Recovering his wits, he realised that Jimmie was 
 whole-heartedly, childishly sincere. With an effort he 
 controlled a rebellious risible muscle at the corner of his 
 lip. 
 
 " It would give her great pain," he said in grave acqui- 
 escence. 
 
 " It 's a miserable business," said Jimmie. 
 
 Morland paced the studio. Suddenly he stopped. 
 
 " Should there be any unpleasantness over this, can I 
 rely on your help to pull me through ? " 
 
 " You know you can," said Jimmie. 
 
 Morland looked relieved. 
 
 " May I write a note ? " 
 
 Jimmie pointed to a corner of the long deal table. 
 
 " You 'II find over there all the materials for mending a 
 broken butterfly," he said sadly.
 
 Chapter VI 
 THE LOVERS 
 
 PROUD in the make-believe that he was a fashion- 
 able groom, the loafer holding Morland's horse 
 touched his ragged hat smartly at his temporary 
 master's approach. 
 
 " Give him something, Jimmie ; I have n't any change," 
 cried Morland. He mounted and rode away, debonair, 
 with a wave of farewell. Jimmie drew from his pocket 
 the first coin to hand, a florin, and gave it to the loafer, 
 who came down forthwith from his dreams of high estate 
 to commonplace earth, and after the manner of his class 
 adjured the Deity to love the munificent gentleman. The 
 two shillings would bring gladness into the hearts of his 
 sick wife and starving children. Subject to the attestation 
 of the Deity, he put forward as a truth the statement that 
 they had not eaten food for a week. He himself was a 
 hard-working man, but the profession of holding horses in 
 the quiet roads of St. John's Wood was not lucrative. 
 
 " You 're telling me lies, I 'm afraid," said Jimmie, 
 " but you look miserable enough to say anything. Here ! ' 
 
 He gave him two more shillings. The loafer thanked 
 him and made a bee-line for the nearest public-house, while 
 Jimmie, forgetting for the moment the pitiable aspect that 
 poor humanity sometimes wears in the persons of the 
 lowly, watched Morland's well-set-up figure disappear at 
 the turn of the road. There was no sign of black care 
 
 66
 
 The Lovers 
 
 sitting behind that rider. It perched instead on Jimmie's 
 shoulders, and there stayed for the rest of the day. In 
 spite of his staunch trust in Morland's honour and upright- 
 ness, he found it hard to condone the fault. The parallel 
 which Morland had not too ingenuously drawn with the 
 far-away passionate episode in his own life had not seemed 
 just. He had winced, wondered at the failure in tact, 
 rebelled against the desecration of a memory so exquisitely 
 sad. The moment after he had forgiven the blundering 
 friend and opened his heart again to pity. He was no 
 strict moralist, turning his head sanctimoniously aside at 
 the sight of unwedded lovers. His heart was too big and 
 generous. But between the romance of illicit love and the 
 commonplace of vulgar seduction stretched an immeasur- 
 able distance. The words of the pathetic note, however, 
 lingering in his mind, brought with them a redeeming fra- 
 grance. They conjured up the picture of sweet woman- 
 hood. They hinted no reproach ; merely a trust which 
 was. expected to be fulfilled. To her Morland was the 
 honourable gentleman all knew ; he had promised nothing 
 that he had not performed, that he would not perform. All 
 day long, as he sat before his easel, mechanically copying 
 folds of drapery from the lay figure on the platform, Jimmie 
 strove to exonerate his friend from the baser fault, and to 
 raise the poor love affair to a plane touched by diviner rays. 
 But the black care still sat upon his shoulders. 
 
 The next morning he rose earlier than usual, and sought 
 Morland at his house in Sussex Gardens. He found him 
 eating an untroubled breakfast. Silver dishes, tray, and 
 service were before him. A great flower-stand filled with 
 Marechal Niel roses stood in the centre of the table. Fine 
 pictures hung round the walls. Rare china, old oak chairs, 
 
 67
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 and sideboard bright with silver bowls all the harmonious 
 and soothing luxury of a rich man's dining-room, gave the 
 impression of ease, of a life apart from petty cares, petty 
 vices, petty ambitions. A thick carpet sheltered the ears 
 from the creaking footsteps of indiscretion. Awnings 
 before the open windows screened the too impertinent 
 light of the morning sun. And the face and bearing of 
 the owner of the room were in harmony with its atmos- 
 phere. Jimmie reproached himself for the doubts that had 
 caused his visit. Morland laughed at them. Had he not 
 twice or thrice declared himself not a beast ? Surely 
 Jimmie must trust his oldest friend to have conducted 
 himself honourably. There was never question of mar- 
 riage. There had been no seduction. Could n't he under- 
 stand ? They had parted amicably some three months 
 ago, each a little disillusioned. Morland was generous 
 enough to strip a man's vanity from himself and stand 
 confessed as one of whom a superior woman had grown 
 tired. The new development of the affair revealed yester- 
 day had, he repeated, come upon him like an unexpected 
 lash. The irony of it, too, in the first flush of his engage- 
 ment ! Naturally he was remorseful ; naturally he would 
 do all that a man of honour could under the circumstances. 
 
 " More is not expected and not wanted. On my word 
 of honour," said Morland. 
 
 He had been upset, he continued smilingly. The con- 
 sequences might be serious to himself, not so much to 
 Jenny. There were complications in the matter that 
 might be tightened not by Jenny into a devil of a 
 tangle. Had he not pleaded special urgency when he had 
 first asked Jimmie to take in the letters under a false 
 name/? It might be a devil of a tangle, he repeated. 
 
 68
 
 The Lovers 
 
 " But till that happens and please God it may never 
 happen we may dismiss the whole thing from our 
 minds," said Morland, reassuringly. " Jenny will want 
 for nothing, and want nothing. Do you think if there 
 were any melodramatic villainy on my conscience I would 
 go and engage myself to marry Norma Hardacre ? " 
 
 This was the final argument that sent the black care, 
 desperately clinging with the points of its claws, into infinite 
 space. Jimmie smiled again. Morland waved away the 
 uncongenial topic and called for a small bottle of champagne 
 on ice. A glass apiece, he said, to toast the engagement. 
 Rightly, champagne was the wine of the morning. 
 
 "It is the morning sunshine itself distilled," said Jimmie, 
 lifting up his glass. 
 
 He went home on the top of an omnibus greatly cheered, 
 convinced that, whatever had happened, Morland had 
 done no grievous wrong. When Aline went to the studio 
 to summon him to lunch, she found him busy upon the 
 sketch portrait of Norma, and humming a tune a habit of 
 his when work was proceeding happily under his fingers. 
 She looked over his shoulder critically. 
 
 " That 's very good," she condescended to remark. 
 "Now that Miss Hardacre is engaged to Mr. King, why 
 don't you ask her to come and sit ? " 
 
 " Do you think it 's a good likeness ? " he asked, leaning 
 back and regarding the picture. 
 
 " It is the best likeness you have ever got in a portrait," 
 replied Aline, truthfully. 
 
 " Then, wisest of infants, what reason could I have for 
 asking Miss Hardacre to sit ? Besides, I don't want her 
 to know anything about it." 
 
 Aline glowed with inspiration. Why should things the 
 
 69
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 most distantly connected with somebody else's marriage 
 so exhilarate the female heart ? 
 
 " Is it going to be a wedding present, Jimmie ? " 
 
 " It is a study in indiscretion, my child," he replied 
 enigmatically. 
 
 " You are perfectly horrid." 
 
 " I suppose I am," he admitted, looking at the portrait 
 with some wistfulness. " Ugly as sin, and with as much 
 manners as a kangaroo cr- does your feminine wisdom 
 think a woman could ever fall in love with me ? " 
 
 She touched caressingly the top of his head where the hair 
 was thinning, and her feminine wisdom made this astound- 
 ing answer: 
 
 " Why, you are too old, Jimmie dear." 
 
 Too old ! He turned and regarded her for a moment 
 in rueful wonder. Absurd though it was, the statement 
 gave him a shock. He was barely forty, and here was this 
 full-grown, demure, smiling young woman telling him he 
 was too old for any of her sex to trouble their heads about 
 him. His forlorn aspect brought a rush of colour to the 
 girl's cheeks. She put her arms round his neck. 
 
 " Oh, Jimmie, I have hurt you. I 'm sorry. I 'm a silly 
 little goose. It 's a wonder that every woman on earth 
 isn't in love with you." 
 
 " That is the tone of exaggerated affection, but not of 
 conviction," he said. " I am the masculine of what in a 
 woman is termed passee. I might gain the esteem of a 
 person of the opposite sex elderly like myself, but my 
 gallant exterior can no longer inspire a romantic passion. 
 My day is over. No, you have not hurt me. The sword 
 of truth pierces, but it does not hurt." 
 
 Then he broke into his good, sunny laughter, and rose 
 
 70
 
 The Lovers 
 
 and put his arm with rough tenderness round her shoulder, 
 as he had done ever since she could walk. 
 
 " You are the youngest thing I have come across for a 
 long time." 
 
 Aline, as she nestled up against him on their way out 
 of the studio, was thus impressed with a salutary con- 
 sciousness of her extreme youth. But this in itself magnified 
 Jimmie's age. She loved him with a pure passionate 
 tenderness ; no one, she thought, could know him without 
 loving him ; but her ideal of the hero of romance for whom 
 fair ladies pined away in despairing secret was far different. 
 She was too young as yet, too little versed in the signs 
 by which the human heart can be read, to suspect what 
 his playful question implied of sadness, hopelessness, 
 renunciation. 
 
 On Sunday they lunched with Connie Deering. Morland 
 and Norma and old Colonel Pawley, an ancient acquaint- 
 ance of every one, were the only other guests. It was 
 almost a family party, cried Connie, gaily ; and it had been 
 an inspiration, seeing that the invitations had been sent 
 out before the engagement had taken place. Jimmie and 
 Aline, being the first arrivals, had their hostess to themselves 
 for a few moments. 
 
 " They both think it bad form to show a sign of it, 
 but they are awfully gone upon each other," Connie said. 
 " So you must n't judge Norma by what she says. All 
 girls like to appear cynical nowadays. It 's the fashion. 
 But they fall in love in the same silly way, just as they 
 used to." 
 
 " I am glad to hear they are fond of one another," said 
 Jimmie. "The deeper their love the happier I shall 
 
 71
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 The little lady looked at him for a second out of the 
 corner of her eye. 
 
 " What an odd thing to say ! " 
 
 " It ought to be a commonplace thing to feel." 
 
 " In the happiness of others there is always something 
 that is pleasing. By giving him the lie like that you will 
 make poor Rochefoucauld turn in his grave." 
 
 " He ought to be kept revolving like Ixion," said 
 Jimmie. " His maxims are the Beatitudes of Hell." 
 
 He laughed off the too trenchant edge of his epigram, 
 qualifying it in his kind way. After all, you must n't take 
 your cynic too literally. No -doubt a kindly heart beats in 
 the ducal bosom. 
 
 " I should like to know your real opinion of the devil," 
 laughed Mrs. Deering. 
 
 The opportunity for so doing was lost for the moment. 
 The lovers entered, having driven together from the Park. 
 At the sight of Norma, Aline twitched Jimmie's arm with 
 a little gasp of admiration and Jimmie's breath came faster. 
 He had not seen her hitherto quite so coldly, radiantly 
 beautiful. Perhaps it was the great white hat she wore, a 
 mystery of millinery, chiffon and roses and feathers melting 
 one with the other into an effect of broad simplicity, that 
 formed an unsanctified but alluring halo to a queenly head. 
 Perhaps it was the elaborately simple cream dress, open- 
 worked at neck and arms, that moulded her ripe figure into 
 especial stateliness. Perhaps, thought poor Jimmie, it was 
 the proud loveliness into which love was wont to trans- 
 figure princesses. 
 
 She received Connie's kiss and outpouring of welcome 
 with her usual mocking smile. " If you offer me congratu- 
 lations, I shall go away, Connie. I have been smirking 
 
 72
 
 The Lovers 
 
 for the last hour and a half. We were so exhausted by 
 playing the sentimental idiots that we did n't exchange a 
 word on our way here ; though I believe Morland likes 
 it. We saw those dreadful Fry-Robertsons bearing down 
 upon us. He actually dragged me up to meet them, as 
 who should say ' Let us go up and get congratulated.' ' 
 
 " I don't see why I should hide my luck under a bushel,'* 
 laughed Morland. 
 
 " Thank you for the compliment," said Norma, " But 
 if you won at Monte Carlo you would n't pin the bank- 
 notes all over your coat and strut about the street. By the 
 way, Connie, we're late. Need we apologise? " 
 
 "You 're not the last. Colonel Pawley is coming." 
 
 " Oh dear ! that old man radiates boredom. How can 
 you stand him, Connie ? " 
 
 " He 's the sweetest thing on earth," said her hostess. 
 
 Norma laughed a little contemptuously and came forward 
 to greet Aline and Jimmie. As she did so, her face softened. 
 Jimmie, drawing her aside, offered his best wishes. 
 
 "The happiness of a man whom I have loved like a 
 brother all my life can't be indifferent to me. On that 
 account you must forgive my speaking warmly. May you 
 be very happy." 
 
 " I shall be happy in having such a champion of my 
 husband for a brother-in-law," said Norma, lightly. 
 
 "A loyal friend of your own, if you will," said Jimmie. 
 
 There was a short pause. Norma ran the tip of her 
 gloved finger down the leaf of a plant on a stand. They 
 were by the window. A vibration in his voice vaguely 
 troubled her. 
 
 " What do you really mean by i loyal' ? " she said at last, 
 without looking at him.
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 u The word has but one meaning. If I tried to explain 
 further, I should only appear to be floundering in fatuity." 
 
 " I believe you are the kind that would stick to a woman 
 through thick and thin, through good repute and ill repute. 
 That 's what you mean. Only you don't like to hint that 
 I might at any time become disreputable. I may. All 
 things are possible in this world." 
 
 " Not that," said Jimmie. " Perhaps I was uncon- 
 sciously pleading for myself. Say you are a queen 
 in your palace. While humbly soliciting a position in 
 your household, I somewhat grandiloquently submit my 
 qualifications." 
 
 " What 's all this about ? " asked Morland, coming up, 
 having overheard the last sentence. 
 
 " I am pleading for a modest position in Her Majesty's 
 Household," said Jimmie. 
 
 "We '11 fit him up with cap and bells," laughed Morland, 
 " and make him chief jester, and give him a bladder to 
 whack us over the head with. He 's fond of doing that 
 when we misbehave ourselves. Then he can get us out 
 of our scrapes, like the fellow in Dumas what 's his name 
 Chicot, was n't it ? " 
 
 Pleased with his jest, he turned to acquaint Connie with 
 Jimmie's new dignity. Both the jest and the laugh that 
 greeted it jarred upon Norma. Jimmie said to her good- 
 humouredly : 
 
 " I might be Chicot, the loyal friend, without the cap an<J 
 bells. I am a dull dog." 
 
 She looked out of the window and laughed somewhat 
 bitterly. 
 
 " I think you are a great deal too good to have anything 
 to do with any of us." 
 
 . 74
 
 The Lovers 
 
 " It pleases you to talk arrant nonsense," said he. 
 
 Luncheon was announced. At table Jimmie and Norma 
 were neighbours. Aline sat between Morland, who was 
 next to Norma, and old Colonel Pawley. As the latter at 
 first talked to Mrs. Deering, Aline and Morland carried 
 on a frigid conversation. They had never been friends. 
 To Morland, naturally, she was merely a little girl of no 
 account, who had often been annoyingly in the way when 
 he wanted to converse with Jimmie ; and Aline, with a 
 little girl's keen intuition, had divined more of his real 
 character than she was aware of, and disliked and distrusted 
 him. Like a well-brought-up young lady she answered 
 " yes " and " no " politely to his remarks, but started no 
 fresh topic. At last, to her relief, Colonel Pawley rescued 
 her from embarrassed silence. To him she had extended 
 her favour. He was a short fat man, with soft hands and 
 a curious soft purring voice, and the air rather of a com- 
 fortable old lady than of a warrior who had retired on 
 well-merited laurels. He occupied his plentiful leisure by 
 painting on silk, which he made into fans for innumerable 
 lady acquaintances. In his coat-tail pocket invariably re- 
 posed a dainty volume bound in crushed morocco a copy of 
 little poems of his own composition and this, when he was 
 in company with a sympathetic feminine soul, he would 
 abstract with apoplectic wheezing and bashfully present. 
 He also played little tunes on the harp. Aline, with 
 the irreverence of youth, treated him as a kind of human 
 toy. 
 
 His first word roused the girl's spontaneous gaiety. She 
 bubbled over with banter. The mild old warrior chuckled 
 with her, threw himself unreservedly into the childish play. 
 Connie whispered to Jimmie : 
 
 75
 
 Where Love Is * 
 
 " I shoul 1 like to tie a bit of blue ribbon round his neck 
 and turn him loose in a meadow. I am sure he would 
 frisk." 
 
 Morland exchanged casual remarks with Norma. She 
 answered absently. The change in Aline from the unsmil- 
 ing primness wherewith Morland's society had cloaked her 
 to sunny merriment with Colonel Pawley was too marked 
 to escape her attention. In spite of the ludicrousness of 
 the comparison, she could not help perceiving that the old 
 man who radiated boredom had a quality of charm unpos- 
 sessed by Morland, and she felt absurdly disappointed with 
 her lover. During the last Jew days she had made up her 
 mind to like him. Sober forecast of a lifetime spent in the 
 inevitable intimacy of marriage had forced her to several 
 conclusions. One, that it was essential to daily comfort 
 that a woman should find the personality of a husband 
 pleasing rather than antipathetic. With more ingenuous- 
 ness than the world would have put to her credit, she had 
 set herself deliberately to attain this essential ideal. The 
 natural consequence was a sharply critical attitude and a 
 quickly developing sensitiveness, whereby, as in a balance 
 of great nicety, the minor evidences of his character were 
 continually being estimated. Thus, Morland's jest before 
 luncheon had jarred upon her. His careless air of patron- 
 age had betrayed a lack of appreciation of something the 
 word " spiritual " was not in her vocabulary, or she might 
 have used it of something, at all events, in his friend 
 which differentiated him from the casual artist and which 
 she herself had, not without discomfort, divined at their 
 first meeting. The remark had appeared to her in bad 
 taste. Still ruffled, she became all the more critical, and 
 noted with displeasure his failure to have won a child's 
 
 76
 
 The Lovers 
 
 esteem. And yet she felt a touch of resentment against 
 Jimmie for being the innocent cause of her discomposure. 
 It gave rise to a little feline impulse to scratch him and 
 see whether he were not mortal like every one else. 
 
 " Do you ever exhibit at the Royal Academy ? " she 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 " They won't have me," said he. 
 
 " But you send in, don't you ? " 
 
 " With heart-breaking regularity. They did have me 
 once." He sighed. " But that was many years ago, when 
 the Academy was young and foolish." 
 
 " I have heard they are exceedingly conservative," said 
 Norma, with the claws still unsheathed. " Perhaps you 
 work on too original lines." 
 
 But she could draw from him no expression of vanity. 
 He smiled. " I suppose they don't think my pictures 
 good enough," he said simply. 
 
 " Jimmie's work is far too good for that wretched Acad- 
 emy," said Connie Deering. "The pictures there always 
 give you a headache. Jimmie's never do." 
 
 " I should like to kill the Academy," Aline broke in 
 sharply, on the brink of tears. A little tragedy of murdered 
 hopes lurked in her tone. Then, seeing that she had 
 caused a startled silence, she reddened and looked at her 
 plate. Jimmie laughed outright. 
 
 " Is n't she bloodthirsty ? All the seventy of them 
 weltering in their gore ! Only the other day she said she 
 would like to slaughter the whole Chinese Empire, because 
 they ate puppies and birds'-nests ! " 
 
 Connie chimed a frivolous remark in tune with Jimmie. 
 Morland, as befitted a coming statesman, took up the par- 
 able of the march westwards of the yellow races. Colonel
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Pawley, who had been through the Taeping rebellion, was 
 appealed to as an authority on the development of the 
 Chinaman. He almost blushed, wriggled uncomfortably, 
 and as soon as he could brought the conversation to the 
 milder topic of Chinese teacups. Successful, he sighed 
 with relief and told Aline the story of the willow pattern. 
 The Royal Academy was forgotten. But Norma felt guilty 
 and ashamed. 
 
 Nor was she set more at ease with herself by a careless 
 remark of Morland's as Connie's front door closed behind 
 them an hour or so later. 
 
 " I am afraid you rather Fubbed it into poor old Jimmie 
 about the Academy. The little girl looked as if she would 
 like to fly at you. She is a spoiled little cat." 
 
 " I have noticed she does n't seem to like you," answered 
 Norma, sourly. 
 
 The drive as far as Grosvenor Place, where Norma pro- 
 posed to pay a solitary call, was not as pleasant as he had 
 anticipated. He parted from her somewhat resentful of 
 an irritable mood, and walked back towards Sussex Gardens 
 through the Park, reviling the capriciousness of woman.
 
 Chapter VII 
 A MAD PROPHET 
 
 A VIOLENT man, pallid and perspiring, with 
 crazy dark eyes and a voice hoarse from the effort 
 to make himself heard above the noise of a hymn- 
 singing group a few yards to the right and of a brazen- 
 throated atheist on the left, was delivering his soul of 
 its message to mankind a confused, disconnected, oft- 
 delivered message, so inconsequent as to suggest that it 
 had been worn into shreds and tatters of catch-phrases by 
 process of over-delivery, yet uttered with the passion of one 
 inspired with a new and amazing gospel. 
 
 " I am speaking to you, the working-men, the proletariat, 
 the downtrodden slaves of the plutocracy, the creators in 
 darkness of the wealth that the idlers enjoy in dazzling 
 halls of brightness. I do not address the bourgeoisie rot- 
 ting in sloth and apathy. They are the parasites of the 
 rich. They sweat the workers in order to pander to the 
 vices of the rich. They despise the poor and grovel before 
 the rich. They shrink from touching the poor man's 
 hand, but they offer their bodies slavishly to the kick of the 
 rich man's foot. It is not in their hands, but in yours, 
 brother toilers and brother sufferers, that lies the glorious 
 work of the great social revolution whose sun just rising is 
 tipping the mountain-tops with its radiant promise of an 
 immortal day. It is against them and not with them that 
 
 79
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 you have to struggle. In that day of Armageddon you 
 will find all tailordom, all grocerdom, all apothecarydom, all 
 attorneydom arrayed in serried ranks around the accursed 
 standards of plutocracy, of aristocracy, of bureaucracy. 
 Beware of them. Have naught to do with them on peril 
 of your salvation. The great social revolution will come 
 not from above, but from below, from the depths. De pro- 
 fundis clamavi! From the depths have I cried, O Lord ! " 
 He paused, wiped his forehead, cleared his throat, and 
 went on in the same strain, indifferent to ribald interjections 
 and the Sunday apathy of his casual audience. The mere 
 size of the crowd he was addressing seemed to satisfy him. 
 The number was above the average. A few working-men 
 in the inner ring drank in the wild utterances with pathetic 
 thirst. The majority listened, half amused, half attracted 
 by the personality of the speaker. A great many were 
 captivated by the sonority of the words, the unfaltering roll 
 of the sentences, the vague associations and impressions 
 called up by the successive images. It is astonishing what 
 little account our sociological writers take of the elementary 
 nature of the minds of the masses ; how easily they are 
 amused ; how readily they are imposed upon ; how little 
 they are capable of analytical thought ; at the same time, 
 how intellectually vain they are, which is their undoing. 
 The ineptitudes of the music hall which make the judicious 
 grieve the satirical presentment, for instance, of the 
 modern fop, which does not contain one single salient 
 characteristic of the type, which is the blatant conven- 
 tion of fifty years back are greeted with roars of unin- 
 telligent laughter. Books are written, vulgar, fallacious, 
 with a specious semblance of philosophical profundity, and 
 sell by the hundred thousand. The masses read thenr 
 
 80
 
 A Mad Prophet 
 
 without thought, without even common intelligence. It is 
 too great an intellectual effort to grasp the ideas so disin- 
 genuously presented j but the readers can understand just 
 enough to perceive vaguely that they are in touch with the 
 deeper questions of philosophy, and through sheer vanity 
 delude themselves into the belief that they are vastly 
 superior people in being able to find pleasure in literature 
 of such high quality. And the word Mesopotamia is still 
 blessed in their ears. Nothing but considerations such as 
 these can explain the popularity of some of the well-known 
 Sunday orators in Hyde Park. The conductors of the 
 various properly organised mission services belong naturally 
 to a different category. It is the socialist, the revivalist, the 
 atheist, the man whose blood and breath seem to have turned 
 into inexhaustible verbiage, that present the problem. 
 
 Some such reflections forced themselves into the not 
 uncharitable mind of Jimmie as he stood on the outer 
 fringe of the pallid man's audience and listened wonderingly 
 to the inspired nonsense. He had left a delighted Aline to 
 be taken by Colonel Pawley to the Zoological Gardens, 
 and had strolled down from Bryanston Square to the north 
 side of the Park. To lounge pleasantly on a Sunday after- 
 loon from group to group had always been a favourite 
 <unday pastime, and the pallid man was a familiar figure. 
 Jimmie had often thought of painting him as the central 
 character of some historical picture an expectorated Jonah 
 crying to Nineveh, or a Flagellant in the time of the plague, 
 with foaming mouth and bleeding body, calling upon the 
 stricken city to repent. His artist's vision could see 
 the hairy, haggard, muscular anatomy beneath the man's 
 rusty black garments. He could make a capital picture 
 out of him. 
 
 6 81
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 The man paused only for a few seconds, and again took 
 up his parable the battle of the poor and the rich. The 
 flow of words poured forth, platitude on platitude, in turbid 
 flood, sound and fury signifying elusively, sometimes the 
 collectivist doctrine, at others the mere sans-culotte hatred 
 of the aristocrat. Jimmie, speculating on the impression 
 made by the oratory on the minds of the audience, moved 
 slightly apart from the crowd. His glance wandering away 
 took in Morland on his way home, walking sedately on the 
 path towards the Marble Arch. He ran across the few 
 yards of intervening space and accosted his friend gaily. 
 
 " Come and have a lesson in public speaking, and at the 
 same time hear the other side of the political question." 
 
 " What ! go and stand among that rabble ? " cried 
 Morland, aghast. 
 
 " You '11 have to stand among worse, so you had better 
 get used to it. Besides, the man is a delightful fellow, with 
 a face like Habakkuk, capable of everything. To hear him 
 one would think he were erupting red-hot lava, whereas 
 really it is molten omelette. Come. Your purple and 
 fine linen will be a red rag to him." 
 
 Laughing, he dragged the protesting Morland within 
 earshot of the speaker. Morland listened superciliously for 
 a few moments. 
 
 " What possible amusement can you find in this drivel ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " It is so devilish pathetic," said Jimmie, " so human 
 the infinite aspiration and the futile accomplishment. 
 Listen." 
 
 The hymn next door had ceased, the atheist was hunting 
 up a reference, and the words of the pallid man's peroration 
 resounded startlingly in the temporary silence: 
 
 82
 
 A Mad Prophet 
 
 " In that day when the sovereign people's will is law, 
 when the weakest and the strongest shall share alike in the 
 plenteous bounty of Providence, no longer shall the poor 
 be mangled beneath the Juggernaut car of wealth, no 
 longer shall your daughters be bound to the rich man's 
 chariot-wheels and whirled shrieking into an infamy worse 
 than death, no longer shall the poor man's soul burn with 
 hell fire at the rich man's desecration of the once pure 
 woman that he loves, no more rottenness, foulness, stench, 
 iniquity, but the earth shall rest in purity, securely folded 
 in the angel wings of peace ! " 
 
 He waved his arms in a gesture of dismissal, turned his 
 back on the crowd, and sat down exhausted on the little 
 wooden bench that had been his platform. The crowd 
 gradually moved away, some laughing idly, others reflect- 
 ively chewing the cud of their Barmecide meal. Morland 
 pointed a gold-mounted cane at the late speaker. 
 
 " Who and what is this particular brand of damned fool ? " 
 
 Jimmie checked with a glance a working-man who had 
 issued from the inner ring and was passing by, and trans- 
 lated Morland's question into soberer English. 
 
 "Him?" replied the working-man. "That's Daniel 
 Stone, sir. Some people say he 's cracked, but he always 
 has something good to say and I like listening to him." 
 
 " What does he do when he is n't talking ? " asked Jimmie. 
 
 " Snatches a nap and a mouthful of food, I should say, 
 sir," said the man, with a laugh. He caught Jimmie's 
 responsive smile, touched his cap, like the downtrodden 
 slave that he was, and went on his way. Jimmie glanced 
 round for Morland and saw him striding off rapidly. He 
 ran after him. 
 
 " What is the hurry ? " 
 
 83
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 ** That damned man " 
 
 44 Which? The one I was talking to ? You surely did n't 
 object ? " 
 
 " Of course not. The other Daniel Stone ' 
 
 " Well, what of him ? " 
 
 " He 's a dangerous lunatic. I have heard of him. 
 Why the devil did you want me to make an exhibition of 
 myself among this scum ? " 
 
 Jimmie stared. Morland broke into a laugh and held 
 out his hand. "Never mind. The beast got on my 
 nerves with his chariot wheels and his desecration of 
 maidens and the rest of it. I' must be off. Good-bye." 
 
 Jimmie watched him disappear through the gate and 
 turned back towards the groups. The pallid man was still 
 sitting on his bench ; a few children hung round and 
 scanned him idly. Presently he rose and tucked his bench 
 under his arm, and walked slowly away from the scene of 
 his oratory. His burning eyes fixed themselves on Jimmie 
 as he passed by. Jimmie accosted him. 
 
 " I have been greatly interested in your address." 
 
 " I saw you with another of the enemies of mankind. 
 You are a gentleman, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I hope so," said Jimmie, smiling. 
 
 " Then I have nothing to do with you," retorted the 
 man, with an angry gesture. " I hate you and all your 
 class." 
 
 u But what have we done to you ? " 
 
 " You have turned my blood into gall and my soul into 
 consuming fire." 
 
 "Let us get out of the dust and sit down under a 
 tree and talk it over. We may get to understand each 
 other." 
 
 84
 
 A Mad Prophet 
 
 " I have no wish to understand you," said the man, 
 coldly. " Good-day to you." 
 
 " Good-day," said Jimmie, with a smile. u I am sorry 
 you will not let us be better acquainted." 
 
 He turned to the next group, who were listening to a 
 disproof of God's existence. But the atheist was a com- 
 monplace thunderer in a bowler hat, whose utterances fell 
 tame on Jimmie's ears after those of the haggard-eyed 
 prophet. He wandered away from the crowd, striking 
 diagonally across the Park, and when he found comparative 
 shade and solitude, cast himself on the grass beneath a 
 tree. The personality of Daniel Stone interested him. 
 He began to speculate on his daily life, his history. Why 
 should he have vowed undying hatred against his social 
 superiors ? He reminded Jimmie of a character in fiction, 
 and after some groping the association was recalled. It 
 was the monk in Dumas, the son of Miladi. He wove an 
 idle romance about the man. Perhaps Stone was the dis- 
 inherited of noble blood, thirsting for a senseless vengeance. 
 Gradually the drowsiness of deep June fell upon him. He 
 went fast asleep, and when he awoke half an hour after- 
 wards and began to walk homewards, he thought no more 
 of Daniel Stone. 
 
 But on following Sunday afternoons he frequently stood 
 for a while to listen to the man. It was always the same 
 tale sound and fury, signifying nothing. On one occasion 
 he caught Jimmie's eye, and denounced him vehemently as 
 an enemy of society. After that, Jimmie, who was of a 
 peaceful disposition, ceased attending his lectures. He 
 sympathised with Morland.
 
 Chapter VIII 
 HER SERENE HIGHNESS 
 
 A'RETTY quarrel between a princess and a duchess 
 gave rise to circumstances in which the destiny 
 of Jimmie was determined, or in which, to speak 
 with modern metaphor, the germ of his destiny found the 
 necessary conditions for development. Had it not been for 
 this quarrel, Jimmie would not have stayed at the Hardacres' 
 house ; and had he not been their guest, the events here- 
 after to be recorded would not have happened. Such con- 
 catenation is there In the scheme of human affairs. 
 
 The Duchess of Wiltshire was a mighty personage in 
 the Hardacres' part of the county. She made social laws 
 and abrogated them. She gave and she took away the 
 brevet of county rank. She made and unmade marriages. 
 To fall under the ban of her displeasure was to be dis- 
 graced indeed. She held a double sway in that the duke, 
 her husband, had delegated to her his authority in sublunary 
 matters, he being a severe mathematician and a dry astron- 
 omer, who looked at the world out of dull eyes, and 
 regarded it with indifference as a mass of indistinguishable 
 atoms forming a nebula, a sort of Milky Way, concerning 
 which philosophic minds had from time to time theorised. 
 He lived icily remote from society ; the duchess, on the 
 contrary, was warmly interested in its doings. In the 
 county she reigned absolute ; but in London, recognising 
 the fact that there were other duchesses scattered about 
 
 86
 
 Her Serene Highness 
 
 Mayfair and Belgravia, she was high-minded enough to 
 modify her claims to despotic government. She felt it, 
 however, her duty to decree that her last reception should 
 mark the end of the London season. 
 
 To this reception the Hardacres were always invited. 
 In previous years they had mounted the great staircase of 
 Wiltshire House, their names had been called out, the 
 duchess had given them the tips of her fingers, and the 
 duke, tall, white-haired, ascetic, had let them touch his 
 hand with the air of a man absently watching ants crawl 
 over him ; they had passed on, mixed with the crowd, and 
 seen their host and hostess no more. But this year, to 
 Mrs. Hardacre's thrilling delight, the duchess gave her 
 quite a friendly squeeze, smiled her entire approbation of 
 Mrs. Hardacre's existence, and detained her for a moment 
 in conversation. 
 
 " Don't forget to come and have a little talk with me 
 later. I have n't seen you since dear Norma's engagement." 
 
 To dear Norma she was equally urbane, called her a 
 lucky girl, and presented her as a bride-elect to the duke, 
 who murmured a vague formula of congratulation which 
 he had remembered from early terrestrial days. 
 
 " I can't tell you how proud I am of you, Norma ! " 
 said Mrs. Hardacre, with a lump in her throat, as they 
 passed on. " The dear duchess ! I wonder if I am suffi- 
 ciently grateful to Providence." 
 
 Norma, although in her heart pleased by the manifesta- 
 tion of ducal favour, could not let the opportunity for a 
 taunt pass by. 
 
 " You can refer to it in your prayers, mother : 4 O God, 
 I thank Thee for shedding Her Grace upon me.' Won't 
 that do, father 3 ' 
 
 87
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " Eh, what ? " asked Mr. Hardacre, very red in the face, 
 trailing half a pace behind his wife and daughter. 
 
 Norma repeated her form of Thanksgiving. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! Devilish good ! Tell that in the club," 
 he said in high good-humour. His wife's glance suddenly 
 withered him. 
 
 " I don't approve of blasphemy," she said. 
 
 " Towards whom, mother dear ? " asked Norma, suavely. 
 " The Almighty or the duchess ? " 
 
 " Both," said Mrs. Hardacre, with a snap. 
 
 Mr. Hardacre, seeing in the distance a man to whom he 
 thought he could sell a horse^ escaped from the domestic 
 wrangle. Mother and daughter wandered through the 
 crowd, greeted by friends, pausing here and there to ex- 
 change a few words, until they came to the door of the 
 music-room, filled to overflowing, where an operatic singer 
 held the assembly in well-bred silence. At the door 
 the crush was ten deep. On the outskirts conversation 
 hummed like an echo of the noise from the suite of rooms 
 behind. There they were joined by Morland. Mrs. 
 Hardacre told him of the duchess's graciousness. He 
 grinned, taking the information with the air of a man to 
 whom the favour of duchesses bestowed upon his betrothed 
 is a tribute to his own excellence. He thought she would 
 be pleased, he said. They must get the old girl to come to 
 the wedding. Mrs. Hardacre was pained, but she granted 
 young love indulgence for the profanity. If they only 
 could, she assented, the success of the ceremony would be 
 assured. Norma turned to Morland with a laugh. 
 
 " We shall be married with a vengeance, if it 's sancti- 
 fied by the duchess. Do you think a parson is at all 
 necessary ? " 
 
 88
 
 Her Serene Highness 
 
 He joined in her mirth. She drew him aside. 
 
 " Well, what 's the news ? " 
 
 He accounted, loverwise, for his day. At last he said : 
 
 "I looked in upon Jimmie Padgate this morning. I 
 wanted him to go to Christie's and buy a picture or two 
 for me for us, I ought to say," he added, with a little 
 bow. " He knows more about 'em than I do. He 's a 
 happy beggar, you know," he exclaimed, after a short 
 pause. 
 
 " What makes you say so ? " 
 
 " His perfect conviction that everything is for the best 
 in the best of all possible worlds. There he was sitting at 
 lunch over the black scrag end of a boiled mutton bone and 
 a rind of some astonishing-looking yellow cheese abso- 
 lutely happy. And he waved his hand towards it as if 
 it had been a feast of Lucullus and asked me to share 
 it." 
 
 " Did you ? " asked Norma. 
 
 " I had n't time," said Morland. " I was fearfully busy 
 to-day." 
 
 Norma did not reply. She looked over the heads of the 
 crowd in front of her towards the music-room whence 
 came the full notes of the singer. Then she said to him 
 with a little shiver : 
 
 " I am glad you are a rich man, Morland." 
 
 " So am I. Otherwise I should not have got you." 
 
 " That 's true enough," she said. " I pretend to scoff 
 at all this, but I could n't live without it." 
 
 " It has its points," he assented, turning and regarding 
 the brilliant scene. 
 
 Norma turned with him. She was glad it was her 
 birthright and her marriage-right. The vast state ball- 
 
 89
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 room, lit as with full daylight by rows of electric lampt 
 cunningly hidden behind the cornices and the ground-glass 
 panels of the ceiling, stately with its Corinthian pilaster? 
 and classic frieze, its walls adorned with priceless pictures, 
 notably four full-length cavaliers of Vandyck, smiling down 
 in their high-bred way upon this assembly of their descend- 
 ants, its atmosphere glittering with jewels, radiant with 
 colour, contained all the magnificence, all the aristocracy, 
 all the ambitions, all the ideals that she had been trained to 
 worship, to set before her as the lodestars of her life's des- 
 tiny. Here and there from amid the indistinguishable mass 
 of diamonds, the white flesh of women's shoulders, the black 
 and white chequer and brilliant uniforms of men, flashed out 
 the familiar features of some possessor of an historic name, 
 some woman of world-famed beauty, some great personage 
 whose name was on the lips of Europe. There, by the 
 wall, lonely for the moment, stood the Chinese Ambassa- 
 dor, in loose maroon silk, and horse-tail plumed cap, his 
 yellow, wizened face rendered more sardonic by the thin 
 drooping grey moustache and thin grey imperial, looking 
 through horn spectacles, expressionless, impassive, inhu- 
 manly indifferent, at one of the most splendid scenes 
 a despised civilisation could set before him. There, in 
 the centre of a group of envious and unembarrassed ladies, 
 an Indian potentate blazed in diamonds and emeralds, and 
 rolled his dusky eyes on charms which (most oddly to his 
 Oriental conceptions) belonged to other men. Here a 
 Turk's red fez, a Knight of the Garter's broad blue sash, an 
 ambassador's sparkle of stars and orders; and there the 
 sweet, fresh rosebud beauty of a girl caught for a moment 
 and lost in the moving press. And there, at the end of 
 the vast, living hall, a dimly seen haggard woman, with a 
 
 90
 
 Her Serene Highness 
 
 diamond tiara on her grey hair, surrounded by a little court, 
 of the elect, sat Her Serene Highness, the Princess of 
 Herren-Rothbeck, sister to a reigning monarch, and bosom 
 friend, despite the pretty quarrel, of Her Grace the Duchess 
 of Wiltshire. 
 
 The song in the music-room coming to an end, the audi- 
 ence for the most part rose and pressed into the ballroom. 
 The Hardacres and Morland were driven forward. There 
 was a long period of desultory conversation with acquaint- 
 ances. Morland, proud in the possession of Norma's 
 beauty, remained dutifully attendant, and received congrat- 
 ulations with almost blushing gratification. Mrs. Hardacre y 
 preoccupied by anticipation of her promised talk with the 
 duchess, kept casting distracted glances at the door whereby 
 the great lady would enter. The appearance from a group 
 of neighbouring people of a pleasant young fellow with a 
 fair moustache and very thin fair hair, who greeted her 
 cordially, brought her back to the affairs of the moment. 
 This was the Honourable Charlie Sandys, a distant relative 
 of the duchess, and her Grand Vizier, Master of the 
 Horse, Groom of the Chambers, and general right-hand 
 man. He was two and twenty, and had all the amazing 
 wisdom of that ingenuous age. Morland shook hands 
 with him, but being tapped on the arm by the fan of a 
 friendly dowager, left him to converse alone with Mrs. 
 Hardacre and Norma. The youth indicated Morland's 
 retiring figure by a jerk of the head. 
 
 " Parliament Cosford division." 
 
 " We hope so," said Mrs. Hardacre. 
 
 " Must get in. Radical for her constituency would 
 make duchess buy her coffin. The end of the world for 
 her. She has a great idea of King. Going to take him- 
 
 9 1
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 up con amore. And when she does take anybody up 
 well " 
 
 His wave of the hand signified the tremendous con- 
 sequences. 
 
 u She does n't merely uproot him" said Norma, whose 
 mind now and then worked with disconcerting swiftness, 
 " but she takes up also the half-acre where he is planted." 
 
 " Just so," replied the youth. "Not only him, but his 
 manservant and maidservant, his ox and his ass and every- 
 thing that is his. Funny woman, you know one of the 
 best, of course, but quaint. Thinks the Member for 
 Cosford is ordained by Providence to represent her in 
 Parliament." 
 
 He rattled on, highly pleased with himself. Norma cast 
 a malicious glance at her mother, who perceptibly winced. 
 They were shining in the duchess's eyes in a light borrowed 
 from Morland. They were taken up with the ox and the 
 ass and the remainder of Morland's live-stock. That was 
 the reason, then, of the exceptional marks of favour be- 
 stowed on them by Her Grace. Mrs. Hardacre kept the 
 muscles of her lips at the smile, but her steely eyes grew 
 hard. Norma, on the contrary, was enjoying herself. 
 Charlie Sandys was unconscious of the little comedy. 
 
 " I am glad to see the princess here to-night," said 
 Mrs. Hardacre, by way of turning the conversation. 
 
 The youth made practically the same reply as he had 
 made at least a dozen times to the same remark during the 
 course of the evening. He was an injudicious Groom of the 
 Chambers, being vain of the privileges attached to his post. 
 
 " There has been an awful row, you know," he said 
 confidentially, looking round to see that he was not over- 
 heard. "They have scarcelv made it up yet." 
 
 93
 
 Her Serene Highness 
 
 *Do tell us about it, Mr. Sandys," said Norma, smil- 
 ing upon him. 
 
 " It 's rather a joke. Let us get out of the way and 
 I '11 tell you." 
 
 He piloted them through the crush into a corridor, and 
 found them a vacant seat by some palms. 
 
 " It's all about pictures,'* he resumed. " Princess wants 
 to have her portrait painted in London. Why she should n't 
 have it made in Germany I don't know. Anyhow she 
 comes to duchess for advice. Duchess has taken up 
 Foljambe, you know chap that has painted about twenty 
 miles of women full length " 
 
 " We saw the dear duchess at his Private View," Mrs. 
 Hardacre interjected. 
 
 " Yes. She runs him for all she 's worth. Told the 
 princess there was only one man possible for her portrait, 
 and that was Foljambe. Princess she 's as hard as nails, 
 you know inquires his price, knocks him down half. He 
 agrees. Everything is arranged. Princess to sit for the 
 portrait when she stays with duchess at Chiltern Towers in 
 September " 
 
 " Oh, we are going to have the princess down with us ?." 
 Mrs. Hardacre grew more alert. 
 
 "Yes. Couldn't find time to sit now going next 
 week to Herren-Rothbeck coming back in September. 
 Well, it was all settled nicely you know the duchess's 
 way. On Friday, however, she takes the princess to see 
 Foljambe's show for the first time. Just like her. The 
 princess looks round, drops her lorgnon, cries out, ' Lieber 
 Gott in Himmel ! The man baints as if he was bainting 
 on de bavement ! ' and utterly refuses to have anything ** 
 do with him. I tell you there were ructions ! " 
 
 93
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 He embraced a knee and leant back, laughing boyishly 
 at the memory of the battle royal between the high-born 
 dames. 
 
 " Then who is going to paint the portrait ? " asked 
 Norma. 
 
 " That 's what I am supposed to find out," replied the 
 youth. " But I can't get a man to do it cheap enough. 
 One can't go to a swell R. A. and ask him to paint a por- 
 trait of a princess for eighteen pence." 
 
 Norma had an inspiration. 
 
 " Can I recommend a friend of mine ? " 
 
 " Would he do it ? " 
 
 " I think so if I asked him." 
 
 " By Jove, who is he ? " asked the youth, pulling down 
 his shirtcuff for the purpose of making memoranda. 
 
 " Mr. James Padgate, 10 Friary Grove, N. W. He is 
 Mr. King's most intimate friend." 
 
 " He can paint all right, can't he ? " asked the youth. 
 
 " Beautifully," replied Norma. " Friary, not Priory," 
 she corrected, watching him make the note. She felt the 
 uncommon satisfaction of having performed a virtuous act ; 
 one almost of penance for her cruelty to him on Sunday 
 week, the memory of which had teased a not over-sensitive 
 conscience. The scrag end of boiled mutton and the rind 
 of cheese had also affected her, stirred her pity for the poor 
 optimist, although in a revulsion of feeling she had shivered 
 at his lot. She had closed her eyes for a second, and some 
 impish wizardry of the brain had conjured up a picture of 
 herself sitting down to such a meal, with Jimmie at the 
 other side of the table. It was horrible. She had turned 
 to fill her soul with the solid magnificence about her. The 
 pity for Jimmie lingered, however, as a soothing sensation, 
 
 94
 
 Her Serene Highness 
 
 and she welcomed the opportunity of playing Lady Boun- 
 tiful. She glanced with some malice from the annotated 
 
 O 
 
 cuff to her mother's face, expecting to see the glitter of 
 disapproval in her eyes. To her astonishment, Mrs. Hard- 
 acre wore an expression of pleased abstraction. 
 
 Charlie Sandys pocketed his gold pencil and retired. He 
 was a young man with the weight of many affairs on his 
 shoulders. 
 
 u That 's a capital idea of yours, Norma," said Mrs. 
 Hardacre. 
 
 " I 'm glad you think so," replied Norma, wonderingly. 
 
 " I do. It was most happy. We '11 do all we can to 
 help Morland's friend. A most interesting man. And if 
 the princess gives him the commission, we can ask him 
 down to Heddon to stay with us while he is painting the 
 picture." 
 
 Norma was puzzled. Hitherto her mother had turned 
 up the nose of distaste against Mr. Padgate and all his 
 works. Whence this sudden change ? Not from sweet 
 charitableness, that was certain. Hardly from desire to 
 please Morland. Various solutions ran in her head. Did 
 an overweening ambition prompt her mother to start forth 
 a rival to the duchess, as a snapper up of unconsidered 
 painters ? Scarcely possible. Defiance of the duchess ? 
 That way madness could only lie ; and she was renowned 
 for the subtle caution of her social enterprises. The little 
 problem of motive interested her keenly. At last the light 
 flashed upon her, and she looked at Mrs. Hardacre almost 
 with admiration. 
 
 " What a wonderful brain you have, mother! " she cried, 
 half mockingly, half in earnest. " Fancy your having 
 schemed out all that in three minutes." 
 
 95
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Enjoyment of this display of worldcraft was still in her 
 eyes when she came across Morland a little later j but she 
 only told him of her recommendation of Jimmie to paint 
 the princess's portrait. He professed delight. How had 
 she come to think of it ? 
 
 " I think I must have caught the disease of altruism 
 from Mr. Padgate," she said. Then following up an idle 
 train of thought : 
 
 " l I suppose you often put work portraits and things 
 in his way ? " 
 
 * I can't say that I do." 
 
 "Why not ? You know hundreds of wealthy people." 
 
 u Jimmie is not a man to be patronised," said Morland, 
 sententiously, " and really, you know, I can't go about 
 touting for commissions for him." 
 
 " Of course not," said Norma ; " he is far too insig- 
 nificant a person to trouble one's head about." 
 
 Morland looked pained. 
 
 " I don't like to hear you talk in that way about Jim- 
 m-," he said reproachfully. 
 
 The little scornful curl appeared on her lip. 
 
 " Don't you ? " was all she vouchsafed to say. Un- 
 reasonably irritated, she turned aside and caught a passing 
 attache of the French Embassy. Morland, dismissed, 
 sauntered off, and Norma went down to supper with the 
 young Frenchman, who entertained her for half an hour 
 with a technical description of his motor-car. And the 
 trouble, he said, to keep it in order. It needed all the 
 delicate cares of a baby. It was as variable as a woman. 
 
 " I know," said Norma, stifling a yawn. " La donna e 
 automobile" 
 
 On the drive home in the hired brougham, whose ot- 
 
 96
 
 Her Serene Highness 
 
 vious hircdom caused Norma such chafing of spirit, Mrs. 
 Hardacre glowed with triumph, and while her husband 
 dozed dejectedly opposite, she narrated her good fortunes. 
 She had had her little chat with the duchess. They had 
 spoken of Mr. Padgate, Charlie Sandys having run to 
 show her his cuff immediately. The duchess looked 
 favourably on the proposal. A friend of Mr. King's was 
 a recommendation in itself. But the princess, she assever- 
 ated with ducal disregard of metaphor, had her own ideas 
 of art and would not buy a pig in a poke. They must 
 inspect Mr. Padgate's work before there was any question 
 of commission. She would send Charlie Sandys to them 
 to-morrow to talk over the necessary arrangements. 
 
 " I told her," said Mrs. Hardacre, " that Mr. Padgate 
 was coming to pay us a visit in any case in September, and 
 suggested that he could drive over to Chiltern Towers 
 every morning while the princess was honouring him with 
 sittings, and paint the picture there. And she quite jumped 
 at the idea." 
 
 * No doubt," said Norma, drily. 
 
 But her dryness had no withering effect on her mother's 
 exuberance. The hard woman saw the goal of a life's 
 ambition within easy reach, and for the exultant moment 
 softened humanly. She chattered like a school-girl. 
 
 " And she took me up to the princess," she said, " and 
 presented me as her nearest country neighbour. Was n't 
 that nice of her ? And the princess is such a sweet 
 woman." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! " said Norma. " How wicked people are ! 
 Every one says she is the most vinegarish old cat in 
 Christendom." 
 
 97
 
 Chapter IX 
 SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION 
 
 FAME and fortune were coming at last. There was 
 no doubt of it in Jimmie's optimistic mind. For 
 years they had lagged with desperately heavy feet, 
 but now they were in sight, slowly approaching, hand in 
 hand. Jimmie made fantastic preparations to welcome them, 
 and wore his most radiant smile. In vain did Aline, with 
 her practical young woman's view of things, point to the 
 exiguity of the price fixed by Her Serene Highness. If that 
 was the advent of fortuntf, she came in very humble guise, 
 the girl insinuated. Jimmie, with a magnificent sweep of 
 the hand, dismissed such contemptible considerations as 
 present pounds, shillings, and pence. He was going to 
 paint the portrait of the sister of a reigning monarch. Did 
 not Aline see that this might lead to his painting the por- 
 trait of the reigning monarch himself? Would not the 
 counterfeit presentment of one crowned head attract the 
 attention of other crowned heads to the successful artist ? 
 Did she not see him then appointed painter in ordinary to 
 all the emperors, kings, queens, princes, and princesses of 
 Europe ? He would star the Continent, make a royal 
 progress from court to court, disputed for by potentates 
 and flattered by mighty sovereigns. He grew dithyrambic, 
 a condition in which Aline regarded him as hopelessly im- 
 pervious to reason. His portraits, he said, would adorn 
 halls of state, and the dreams that he put on canvas, 
 
 98
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 hitherto disregarded by a blind world, would find places of 
 honour in the Treasure Houses of the Nations. It would 
 be fame for him and fortune for Aline. She should go 
 attired in silk and shod with gold. She should have a 
 stall at the theatre whenever she wanted, and a carriage 
 and pair to fetch her home. She should eat vanilla ices 
 every night. And then she might marry a prince and live 
 happy ever after. 
 
 " I don't want to marry a prince or any one else, dear," 
 Aline said once, bringing visions down into the light of 
 common day. " I just want to go on staying with you." 
 
 On another occasion she hinted at his possible espousal 
 of a princess. Again Jimmie dropped from the empyrean, 
 and rubbed his head ruefully. There was only one prin- 
 cess in the world for him, an enthroned personage of radiant 
 beauty who now and then took warm pity on him and 
 admitted him to her friendship, but of whom it were dis- 
 loyalty worse than all folly to think of. And yet he could 
 not help his heart leaping at the sight of her, or the thrill 
 quivering through him when he saw the rare softness come 
 into her eyes which he and none other had evoked. 
 What he had to give her he could give to no other woman, 
 no other princess. The gift was unoffered : it remained in 
 his own keeping, but consecrated to the divinity. He 
 enshrined it, as many another poor chivalrous wretch has 
 done, in an exquisite sanctuary, making it the symbol of a 
 vague sweet religion whose secret observances brought con- 
 solation. But of all this, not a whisper, not a sign to Aline. 
 When she spoke of marriageable princesses, he explained the 
 rueful rubbing of his head by reference to his unattractive 
 old fogeydom, and his unfitness for the life of high society. 
 
 But Aline ought to have her prince. The coming 
 
 99
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 fortune would help to give the girl what was due to her. 
 For himself he cared nothing. Cold mutton and heel of 
 cheese would satisfy him to the end of his days. And 
 fame ? In quieter moments he shrugged his shoulders. 
 An artist has a message to deliver to his generation, and 
 how can he deliver it if he cannot sell his pictures ? Let 
 him give out to the world what was best in him, and he 
 would be content. Let him but be able to say, " I have 
 delivered my message," and that would be fame enough. 
 
 These were things of the depths. The surface of his 
 mood was exuberant, almost childish, delight, tempered with 
 whimsical diffidence in his power of comporting himself 
 correctly towards such high personages. For the duchess, 
 who never did things by halves, and was also determined, 
 as she had said, of not buying a pig in a poke, had con- 
 veyed to him the intimation that Her Serene Highness 
 the Princess of Herren-Rothbeck would honour him with a 
 visit to his studio on the following Thursday. Jimmie 
 and Aline held long counsel together. What was the 
 proper way to receive a Serene Highness ? Jimmie had a 
 vague idea of an awning outside the door and a strip of red 
 baize down the steps and across the pavement. Tony 
 Merewether, who was called into consultation, suggested, 
 with the flippancy of youth, a brass band and a chorus of 
 maidens to strew flowers ; whereat Aline turned her back 
 upon him, and Jimmie, adding pages in fancy dress to hold 
 up the serene train and a major-domo in a court suit with 
 a wand, encouraged the offender. Aline retired from so 
 futile a discussion and went on sewing in dignified silence. 
 At last she condescended to throw out a suggestion. 
 
 "If I were you, Jimmie, I should get the princess some 
 portraits to look at." 
 
 100
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 " God bless my soul," cried Jimmie, putting down his 
 pipe, " I never thought of it. Tony, my boy, that child 
 with the innocence of the dove combines the wisdom of 
 the original serpent. My brain reels to think what I 
 should be without her. We '11 telegraph to all the people 
 that have sat to me and ask them to send in their portraits 
 by Thursday." 
 
 He crossed the studio and began to rummage among the 
 litter on the long table. Aline asked him what he was 
 looking for. 
 
 " Telegram forms. Why have n't we got any ? Tony, 
 run round the corner to the post-office, like a good boy, 
 and get some." 
 
 But Aline checked the execution of this maniacal pro- 
 ject. Three portraits would be quite sufficient. Jimmie 
 would have to pick out three ladies of whom he could best 
 ask such a favour, and write them polite little notes and 
 offer to send a van in the orthodox way to collect the pic- 
 tures. Jimmie bowed before such sagacity, and wrote the 
 letters. 
 
 In the course of the week the portraits arrived, and the 
 studio for a whole day became the undisputed kingdom of 
 Aline and a charwoman. The long untidy table, so dear to 
 Jimmie, was ruthlessly cleared and set in dismaying order. 
 The frame-maker was summoned, and the unsold pictures 
 that had long slumbered sadly on the ground with their 
 faces to the wall, were dusted and hung in advantageous 
 lights. The square of Persian carpet, which Jimmie dur- 
 ing an unprotected walk through Regent Street had once 
 bought for Aline's bedroom, was brought down and spread 
 on the bare boards of the model-platform. A few cushions 
 were scattered about the rusty drawing-room suite, and 
 
 101
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 various odds and ends of artists' properties, bits of drapery, 
 screens, old weapons, were brought to light and used for 
 purposes of decoration. So that when Jimmie, who had 
 been banished the house for the day, returned in the 
 evening, he found a flushed and exhausted damsel await- 
 ing him in a transfigured studio. 
 
 " My dear little girl," he said, touched, " my dear little 
 girl, it 's beautiful, it 's magical. But you have tired your- 
 self to death. Why did n't you let me do all this ? " 
 
 "You would never have done it yourself, Jimmie. You 
 know you would n't," said Aline. " You would have 
 gone on talking nonsense about red baize strips and flower- 
 girls and pages anything to make those about you laugh 
 and be happy and you would never have thought of 
 showing off what you have to its full advantage." 
 
 " 1 should never have dreamed of robbing your poor 
 little room of its carpet, dear," he said. 
 
 They went upstairs for their simple evening meal, and 
 returned as usual to the beloved studio. Aline filled 
 Jimmie's pipe. 
 
 " Do you think I dare smoke in all this magnificence ? " 
 
 She laughed and struck a match. 
 
 " You did not realise what a lot of beautiful pictures 
 you had, did you ? " 
 
 " They make a brave show," he said, looking round. 
 " After all, I 'm not entirely sorry they have never been 
 sold. I should not like to part with them. No, I did not 
 realise how many there were." In spite of his cheeriness 
 the last words sounded a note of pathos that caught the 
 girl's sensitive ear. 
 
 "Let us make a tour of inspection," she said. They 
 wenr *he round, pausing long before each picture. He 
 
 102
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 said little, contrary to his habit, for he was wont to descant 
 on his work with playful magniloquence. He saw the 
 years unfold behind him and disclose the hopes of long ago 
 yet unfulfilled. What endless months of dreams and 
 thrills and passionate toil hung profitless upon these walls ! 
 Things there were, wrought from the depths of his radiant 
 faith in man, plucked from the heart of his suffering, con- 
 secrated by the purest visions of his soul. Had Aline been 
 an older woman, a woman who had loved him, lived with 
 him in a wife's intimate communion, instead of being merely 
 the tender-hearted child of his adoption, she would have 
 wept her heart out. For she, alone of mortals, would have 
 got behind such imperfections as there were, and would 
 have seen nothing but a crucifixion of the quivering things 
 torn out of the life of the beloved man. Only vaguely, 
 elusively did the girl feel this. But even her half-compre- 
 hending sympathy was of great comfort. She thought 
 no one in the world could paint like Jimmie, and held in 
 angry contempt a public that could pass him by. She was 
 hotly his advocate, furious at his rejection by hanging com- 
 mittees, miserably disappointed when his pictures came 
 back from exhibitions unsold, or when negotiations with 
 dealers for rights of reproduction fell through. But she 
 was too young to pierce to the heart of the tragedy ; and 
 Jimmie was too brave and laughter-loving to show his pain. 
 Other forces, too, had been at work in her development. 
 Recently her mind had been grappling with the problem of 
 her unpayable debt to him. This silent pilgrimage round 
 the years brought her thoughts instinctively to herself and 
 the monstrous burden she had been. 
 
 " I have been wondering lately, Jimmie dear," she said 
 at last, " whether you would not have been more successful 
 
 103
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 if you had not had all the worry and expense and responsi- 
 bility of me." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " he cried in simple amazement, " what- 
 ever are you talking of? " 
 
 She repeated her apologia, though in less coherent 
 terms. She felt foolish, as a girl does when a carefully 
 prepared expression of feeling falls upon ears which, 
 though inexpressibly dear, are nevertheless not quite 
 comprehending. 
 
 " You have had to do pot-boilers," she said, falling into 
 miserable bathos, u and I remember the five-shillings-a- 
 dozen landscapes and you would have spent all that 
 time on your real work Oh, don't you see what I mean, 
 Jimmie ? " 
 
 She looked up at him pathetically she was a slight slip 
 of a girl, and he was above the medium height. He 
 smiled and took her fresh young face between his hands. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " you 're the only successful piece 
 of work I 've ever turned out in my life. Please allow me 
 to have some artistic satisfaction and you have been 
 worth a gold-mine to me." 
 
 Thus each was comforted. Jimmie settled down to his 
 pipe and a book, Aline sat over her sewing the articles 
 to which she devoted her perennial industry were a never 
 solved mystery to him and they spent a pleasant even- 
 ing. The inevitable topic naturally arose in conversation. 
 They discussed the princess's visit, the great question 
 how was she to be received ? 
 
 "The best thing you can do," said the practical Aline, 
 "is to go to Mrs. Deering to-morrow and get properly 
 coached." 
 
 Jimmie looked at her in admiration. 
 
 104
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 "You are worth your weight in diamonds," he said. 
 " I will." 
 
 He carried out his project, and not only did he have the 
 pleasure of finding Connie at home undisturbed by strange 
 tea-drinking women, but Norma Hardacre came in soon 
 after his arrival. The two ladies formed themselves into a 
 committee of advice, and sent Jimmie home with most 
 definite notions regarding the correct method of receiving 
 Serene Highnesses. He also brought Aline the news that 
 the committee would honour him with a visit the following 
 morning, accompanied by Mrs. Hardacre, who had been 
 pleased to express a desire to see his pictures. 
 
 The appointed hour came, and with it the ladies. Mrs. 
 Hardacre's lips smiled sweetly at the man who was to be 
 taken up by a duchess and to paint the portrait of a 
 princess. She declared herself delighted with the studio 
 and professed admiration for the pictures. 
 
 " Are they all really your own, Mr. Padgate ? " she 
 asked, turning towards him, her tortoise-shell lorgnon held 
 sceptre-wise. 
 
 14 1 'm afraid so," answered Jimmie, with a smile. "Some- 
 times I wish they were not so much my own." 
 
 " But I should feel quite proud of them, if I were you," 
 said the lady, desirous to please. 
 
 Connie broke into a laugh, and explained that Jimmie 
 had implied a regret that they had found no purchasers. 
 Mrs. Hardacre sniffed. She did not like being laughed at, 
 especially as she had gone out of her way to be urbane. 
 This was unfortunate for Jimmie ; for though he strove 
 hard to remove the impression that he had consciously dug 
 a pit of ridicule for her entrapment, Mrs. Hardacre listened 
 to his remarks with suspicion and became painfully aware 
 
 105
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 of the shabbiness of his coat. Presently she regarded one 
 of the portraits that of a pretty, fluffy-haired woman. 
 
 " Dear me," she remarked somewhat frigidly, u that is 
 Mrs. Marmaduke Hewson." 
 
 Jimmie, in the simplicity of his heart, was delighted. 
 
 " Yes. A most charming lady. Do you know her ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; I don't know her, but I know of her." 
 
 Her stress on the preposition signified even deeper and 
 more far-reaching things than the nod of Lord Burleigh 
 in the play. 
 
 " What do you know of her ? " asked Jimmie, bluntly. 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre smiled frostily, and her lean shoulders 
 moved in an imperceptible shrug. 
 
 " Those matters belong to the realm of unhappy gossip, 
 Mr. Padgate ; but I 'm afraid the duchess won't find her 
 portrait attractive." 
 
 " It is really rather a good portrait," said Jimmie, in 
 puzzled modesty. 
 
 " That is the pity of it," replied Mrs. Hardacre, sweetly. 
 
 The victim smiled. " Surely the private character of the 
 subject can have nothing to do with a person's judgment 
 of a portrait as a specimen of the painter's art. And 
 besides, Mrs. Hewson is as dear and sweet and true a little 
 woman as I have ever met." 
 
 u You are not the first of your sex that has said so." 
 
 "And I most sincerely hope I shall not be the last," 
 said Jimmie, with a little flush and a little flash in his eyes 
 and the politest of little bows. Whereupon Mrs. Hard- 
 acre bit her lip and hated him. Norma, seizing the oppor- 
 tunity of contributing to the final rout of her mother, 
 unwittingly did Jimmie some damage. 
 
 u We women ought not to have given up fancy work," 
 
 1 06
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 she said in her hardest and most artificial tones. u As we 
 don't embroider with our fingers, we embroider with our 
 tongues. You can have no idea what an elaborate tissue 
 of lies has been woven about that poor little Mrs. Hewson. 
 I agree with Mr. Padgate. I am sorry you believe them, 
 mother." 
 
 Jimmie's grateful glance smote her undeserving heart. 
 She had gained credit under false pretences and felt hypo- 
 critical an unpleasant feeling, for the assumption of 
 unpossessed virtues was not one of her faults. She suc- 
 ceeded, however, in rendering her mother furious. In a 
 very short time Mrs. Hardacre remembered an engagement 
 and went away in a hansom-cab, refusing the seat in 
 Connie's carriage, which was put at her disposal on the 
 condition of her waiting a few moments longer. She had 
 thanked Jimmie, however, for the pleasure afforded by his 
 delightful pictures with such politeness when he saw her 
 into the cab, that he did not for a moment suspect that the 
 lady who had entered the house with expressions of friend- 
 liness had driven away in a rage, with feelings towards him 
 ludicrously hostile. He returned to the studio at peace 
 with all womankind ; not sorry that Mrs. Hardacre had de- 
 parted, but only because courtesy no longer demanded his 
 relegating to the second sphere of his attention the divine 
 personage of whom he felt himself to be the slave. No 
 suspicion of Mrs. Hardacre's spiteful motive in deprecating 
 the display of his most striking piece of portraiture ever 
 entered his head. He ran -down the studio stairs with the 
 eagerness of a boy released from the flattering but embar- 
 rassing society of his elders and free to enjoy the compan- 
 ionship of his congeners. And he was childishly eager to 
 show his pictures to Norma, to hear her verdict, to secure 
 
 107
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 her approval, so that he should stand in her eyes as a per- 
 son in some humble way worthy of the regard that Mor- 
 land said she bestowed on him. 
 
 He found his visitors not looking at pictures at all, but 
 talking to Aline, who rushed to him as soon as he entered 
 the studio. 
 
 " Oh, Jimmie just fancy ! Mrs. Deering is going to 
 take me to Horlingham on Saturday, and is coming upstairs 
 with me to see what I can do in the way of a frock. You 
 don't mind, do you? " 
 
 Jimmie looked down into the happy young face and 
 laughed a happy laugh. 
 
 " Mrs. Deering is an angel from the most exclusive part 
 of heaven," he said. And this was one of the rare occa- 
 sions on which he was guilty of a double meaning. Had 
 not the angel thus contrived an unlooked-for joy a few 
 minutes' undisturbed communion with his divinity ? 
 
 The first words that Norma spoke when they were alone 
 were an apology. 
 
 "You must not take what my mother said in ill part. 
 She and I have been bred, I 'm afraid, in a hard school." 
 
 " It was very kind of Mrs. Hardacre to warn me of the 
 possibility of the duchess being prejudiced against me by 
 the exhibition of a particular portrait. I can't conceive the 
 possibility myself. But still Mrs. Hardacre's intention was 
 kindly." 
 
 Norma turned her head away for a moment. She could 
 not trust herself to speak, for a stinging sarcasm with just a 
 touch of the hysterical would have been all she could 
 utter, and she had not the heart to undeceive him. She 
 shot into the by-path of the gossip concerning Mrs. 
 Hewson. 
 
 08
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 " Mother believes the stories about her. So do I in the 
 loose sort of way in which our faith in anything is com- 
 posed even in our fellow-creatures' failings." 
 
 u You defended her," said Jimmie. 
 
 " You made me do so." 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Either you, because you carry about with you an 
 uncomfortable Palace of Truth sort of atmosphere, or else 
 the desire to rub it into my mother." 
 
 " Rub what in ? " Jimmie was puzzled. 
 
 Norma laughed somewhat bitterly. She saw that he 
 was incapable of understanding the vulgar pettiness of the 
 scheme of motives that had prompted the utterances of her 
 mother and herself. She could not explain. 
 
 " I think you are born out of your century," she said. 
 
 It was lucky for Jimmie that he was unaware of the 
 passionate tribute the light words implied. She gave 
 him no time to answer, but carried him straight to the 
 pictures. 
 
 " I had no idea you did such beautiful work," she said, 
 looking around her. 
 
 Jimmie followed her glance, and the melancholy of the 
 artist laid its touch for a moment upon him. He sighed. 
 
 " They might have been beautiful if I had done what I 
 started out to do. It is the eternal tragedy of the clipped 
 wings." 
 
 She was oddly responsive to a vibration in his voice, and 
 gave out, like a passive violin, the harmonic of the struck 
 note. 
 
 " Better to have wings that are clipped than to have no 
 wings at all." 
 
 She had never uttered such a sentiment, never thought 
 
 109
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 such a thought in her life before. Her words sounded 
 unreal in her own ears, and yet she had a profound sense 
 of their sincerity. 
 
 "There is no apteryx among human souls," said Jimmie, 
 released from the melancholy fingers. They argued the 
 point in a lighter vein, discussed individual pictures. 
 Charmed by her sympathy, he spoke freely of his work, 
 his motives, his past dreams. Had Norma not begun to 
 know him, she might have wondered at the lack of bitter- 
 ness in his talk. To this man of many struggles and 
 many crushing disappointments the world was still young 
 and sweet, and his faith in the ultimate righteousness of 
 things undimmed. The simple courage of his attitude 
 towards life moved her admiration. She felt somewhat 
 humbled in the presence of a spirit stronger, clearer than 
 any into which chance had hitherto afforded her a glimpse. 
 And as he talked in his bright, half-earnest, half-humourous 
 way, it crossed her mind that there was a fair world of 
 thought and emotion in which she and her like had not set 
 their feet; not the world entirely of poetic and artistic 
 imaginings, but one where inner things mattered more than 
 outer circumstance, where it would not be ridiculous or 
 affected to think of the existence of a soul and its needs 
 and their true fulfilment. 
 
 Hitherto meeting him as an alien in her world, she had 
 regarded him with a touch of patronising pity. From this 
 she was now free. She saw him for the first time in harmony 
 with his environment, as the artist sensitive and responsive, 
 integral with the beautiful creations that hung around the 
 walls, and still homely and simple, bearing the rubs of 
 time as bravely and frankly as the old drawing-room suite 
 that furnished the unpretentious studio. Now it was she 
 
 no
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 who felt herself somewhat disconcertingly out of her 
 element. The sensation, however, had a curious charm. 
 
 There was one picture that had attracted her from the 
 first. She stood in front of it moved by its pity and 
 tenderness. 
 
 u Tell me about this one," she said without looking at 
 him. She divined that it was very near his heart. 
 
 In the foreground amid laughing woodland crouched a 
 faun with little furry ears and stumps of horns, and he 
 was staring in piteous terror at a vision ; and the vision 
 was that of a shivering, outcast woman on a wet pavement 
 in a sordid street. 
 
 " It is the joyous, elemental creature's first conception 
 of pain," said Jimmie, after a few moments' silence. " You 
 see, life has been to him only the sunshine, and the earth 
 drenched with colour and music as the earth ought to be 
 and now he sees a world that is coming grey with rain 
 and misty with tears, and he has the horror of it in his 
 eyes. I am not given to such moralising in paint," he 
 added with a smile. " This is a very early picture." He 
 looked at it for some time with eyes growing wistful. 
 " Yes," he sighed, " I did it many years ago." 
 
 " It has a history then ? " 
 
 " Yes," he admitted ; and he remembered how the out- 
 cast figure in the rain had symbolised that little funeral 
 procession in Paris and how terribly grey the world had 
 been. 
 
 Norma's chastened mood had not awed the spirit of 
 mockery within her, but had rendered it less bitter, and 
 had softened her voice. She waved her hand towards the 
 crouching faun. 
 
 " And that is you ? " she asked. 
 in
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Jimmie caught a kind raillery in her glance, and laughed. 
 Yes, she had his secret ; was the only person who had ever 
 guessed him beneath the travesty of horns and goat's feet. 
 
 " I like you for laughing," she said. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Other painters have shown me their pictures." 
 
 " Which signifies ? " 
 
 "That this is one of the most beautiful pictures I have 
 ever seen," she replied. 
 
 " But why are you glad that I laughed ? " asked Jimmie, 
 in happy puzzledom. 
 
 " I have told you, Mr. Padgate, all that I am going to 
 tell you." 
 
 " I accept the inscrutable," said he. 
 
 " Do you believe in the old pagan joy of life ? " she 
 asked after a pause. " I mean, was there, is there such a 
 thing ? One has heard of it ; in fact it is a catch phrase 
 that any portentous poseur has on the tip of hjs tongue. 
 When one comes to examine it, however, it generally 
 means champagne and oysters and an unpresentable lady, 
 and it ends with liver and and all sorts of things, don't 
 you know. But you are not a poseur I think you are 
 the honestest man I have ever met and yet you paint 
 this creature as if you utterly believe in what he typifies." 
 
 " It would go hard with me if I did n't," said Jimmie. 
 u I can't talk to you in philosophic terms and explain all 
 my reasons, because I have read very little philosophy. 
 When I do try, my head gets addled. I knew a chap once 
 who used to devour Berkeley and Kant and all the rest, and 
 used to write about them, and I used to sit at his feet in a 
 kind of awed wonder at the tremendousness of his brain. 
 A man called Smith. He was colossally clever," he added 
 
 112
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 after a reflective pause. " But I can only grope after 
 the obvious. Don't you think the beauty of the world is 
 obvious ? " 
 
 " It all depends upon which world," said Norma. 
 
 "Which world? Why, God's world. It is sweet to 
 draw the breath of life. I love living j don't you ? " 
 
 " I have never thought of it," she answered. " I should n't 
 like to die, it is true, but I don't know why. Most people 
 seem to spend two-thirds of their existence in a state of 
 boredom, and the rest in sleep." 
 
 "That is because they reject my poor faun's inherit- 
 ance." 
 
 " I have been asking you what that is." 
 
 " The joy and laughter of life. They put it from them." 
 
 How ? " 
 
 " They draw the soul's curtains and light the gas, instead 
 of letting God's sunshine stream in." 
 
 Norma turned away from the picture with a laugh. 
 
 " That reminds me of the first time I met you. You 
 told me to go and ventilate my soul. It gave me quite a 
 shock, I assure you. But I have been trying to follow 
 your precept ever since. Don't you think I am a little 
 bit fresher?" 
 
 For the moment the girl still lingering in her five-and- 
 twenty hard years flashed to the surface, adorably warming 
 the cold, finely sculptured face, and bringing rare laughter 
 into her eyes. Jimmie marvelled at the infinite sweetness 
 of her, and fed his poor hungry soul thereon. 
 
 "You look like a midsummer morning," he said 
 unsteadily. 
 
 The tone caught her, sobered her; but the colour deep- 
 ened on her cheek. 
 
 8 113
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " I '11 treasure that as a pretty compliment," she said. 
 
 There was a little space of silence quite a perilous 
 little space, with various unsaid things lurking in ambush. 
 Norma broke it first. 
 
 " Now I have seen everything, have n't I ? No. 
 There are some on the floor against the wall." 
 
 Jimmie explained their lack of value, showed her two 
 or three. They were mostly the wasters from his picture 
 factory, he said. She found in each a subject for admira- 
 tion, and Jimmie glowed with pleasure at her praise. 
 While he was replacing them she moved across the 
 studio. 
 
 " And this one ? " she asked, with her finger on the 
 top of a strainer. He looked round and followed swiftly 
 to her side. It was her own portrait with its face to the 
 wall. 
 
 u I am not going to show you that," he said hurriedly. 
 
 Why not ? " 
 
 " It 's a crazy thing." 
 
 " I should love to see it." 
 
 " I tell you it 's a crazy thing," he repeated. " A mad 
 artist's dream." 
 
 Norma arched her eyebrows. " Aha ! That is very 
 like a confession ! " 
 
 " Of what ? " 
 
 " The ideal woman ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," he said. 
 
 " I thought everything was so positive in your scheme of 
 life," she remarked teasingly. " Don't you know ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Jimmie, " I know." 
 
 Again the vibration that Jimmie, poorest of actors, could 
 not keep from his voice, stirred her. She felt the indelicacy 
 
 114
 
 Sentimental Education 
 
 of having trodden upon sanctified ground. She turned 
 away and sat down. They talked of other matters, some- 
 what self-consciously. Both welcomed the entrance of 
 Connie Deering and Aline. The former filled the studio 
 at once with laughing chatter. She hoped Norma had not 
 turned Jimmie's hair white with the dreadful things she 
 must have said. 
 
 " I don't turn a hair, as I 'm a mere worldling, but Jimmie 
 is an unsophisticated child of nature, and is n't accustomed 
 to you, my dear Norma." 
 
 She went on to explain that she was Jimmie's natural 
 protectress, and that they who harmed him would have to 
 reckon with her. Jimmie flew gaily to Norma's defence. 
 
 " And this child's garments ? " he asked, indicating 
 Aline, whose face was irradiated by a vision of splendid 
 attire. 
 
 " Don't meddle with what does n't concern you," replied 
 Connie, while she and the girl exchanged the glances of 
 conspirators. 
 
 A short while afterwards the two visitors drove away. 
 For some time Norma responded somewhat absently to 
 Mrs. Deering's light talk. 
 
 " I am so glad you have taken to Jimmie," said the 
 latter at last. " Is n't he a dear ? " 
 
 " I remember your saying that before. But is n't it 
 rather an odd word to use with reference to him ? " said 
 Norma. 
 
 " Odd ? But that 's just what he is." 
 
 Norma turned in some resentment on her friend. 
 
 "Oh, Connie, how dare we talk patronisingly of a man 
 like that ? He 's worth a thousand of the empty-souled, 
 bridge-playing people we live among." 
 
 "S
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 41 But that 's just why I call him a dear," said Mrs. 
 Deering, uncomprehendingly. 
 
 Norma shrugged her shoulders, fell into a silence which 
 she broke by asking : 
 
 " Do you know whom he is in love with ? " 
 
 " Good gracious, Norma," cried the little lady, in alarm. 
 " You don't say that Jimmie is in love ? Oh, it would 
 spoil him. He can't be ! " 
 
 "There was one picture of a woman which he 
 would not let me see," said Norma. 
 
 Well ? " 
 
 Norma paused for some seconds before she replied: 
 
 " He called it l a mad artist's dream.' I have been 
 wondering whether it was not better than a sane politician's 
 reality." 
 
 " What is a sane politician's reality, dear ? " Connie 
 asked, mystified. 
 
 " I am," said Norma. 
 
 Then, woman-like, she turned the conversation to the 
 turpitudes of her dressmaker. 
 
 116
 
 Chapter X 
 TWO IDYLLS 
 
 JIMMIE was trudging along the undulating highroad 
 that leads from Dieppe to the little village of Berneval, 
 very hot, very dusty, very thirsty, and very contented. 
 He carried a stick and a little black bag. His content pro- 
 ceeded from a variety of causes. In the first place it was 
 a glorious August day, drenched with sunshine and with 
 deep blue ether ; and the smiling plain of Normandy rolled 
 before him, a land of ripening orchards and lazy pastures. 
 He had been longing for the simple beauty of sun and sky 
 and green trees, and for the homely sights and sounds of 
 country things, and now he had his fill. Secondly, Aline 
 was having a much needed holiday. She had been growing 
 a little pale and languid, he thought, in London, after a 
 year's confined administering to his selfish wants. She was 
 enjoying herself, too, and the few days she had already 
 spent in the sea air had brought the blood to her cheeks 
 again. Thirdly, he was free for the moment from every- 
 day cares. A dealer had fallen from heaven into his studio 
 and paid money down for the copyright of two of his worst 
 pictures. Fourthly, he had definitely received the com- 
 mission for the portrait of the Princess of Herren-Rothbeck. 
 Her Serene Highness and her tutelary duchess had paid 
 their visit, expressed themselves delighted with his work 
 (the duchess especially commending the portrait of the 
 
 117
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 hapless Mrs. Marmaduke Hewson), and had driven away 
 in a most satisfactory condition of serenity and graciousness. 
 Jimmie was happy. What could man want more ? In 
 addition to all these blessings, Norma had written to him 
 from Lord Monzie's place in Scotland a letter a propos of 
 nothing, merely expressive of good-will and friendliness j 
 and he had received it that morning. He had never seen 
 her handwriting before. Bold, incisive, distinguished, it 
 seemed to complement his conception of the radiant lady, 
 and in a foolish way he tried to harmonise the ink-marks 
 with the curves of her proud lips, the setting of her eyes, 
 and the poise of her queenly' head. The dreariness of a 
 rainy afternoon with all the men and half the women away 
 on the grouse-moor had been, she said, her excuse for 
 writing. She sketched various members of the house- 
 party with light, satiric touches j notably one Theodore 
 Weever, an American, whose sister had married an impe- 
 cunious and embarrassing cousin of the Duchess of Wilt- 
 shire. He was building himself a palace in Fifth Avenue, 
 wrote Norma, and had been buying pictures in Europe to 
 decorate it with ; now he was anxious to purchase a really 
 decorative wife. Morland was expected in a few days, 
 and she would be glad when he appeared upon the scene. 
 She did not say why ; but Jimmie naturally understood 
 that her heart was yearning for the presence of the man 
 she loved. "I have very little to say that can interest 
 you," she concluded, " but you can say many things to 
 interest me : this letter is purely selfish, a mere minnow, 
 after all, that I use as bait." So Jimmie walked along the 
 dusty road thinking out an answer that could bring com- 
 fort to the Hero pining for her Leander ; thinking also of 
 Aline, and revelling in the sunshine. 
 
 118
 
 Two Idylls 
 
 He delighted, like a child, in all he saw. He stopped 
 before the red, gold, and green paradise of an orchard and 
 feasted upon its colour. He lingered in talk with a tiny 
 girl driving a great brown cow ; asked her its age, how 
 many calves it had had, its name, and whether she were not 
 afraid it would mistake her for a blade of grass and bite 
 her. The little girl scoffed at the possibility. She could 
 drive three cows, and, if it came to that, a bull. " fa me 
 connait, les betes" she said. Whereupon he put a couple 
 of sous in her hand and went on his way. Presently he 
 sat down on the rough wooden bench in front of a wayside 
 cafe and drank cider from an earthenware bowl, and played 
 with a mongrel puppy belonging to the establishment. 
 When the latter had darted off to bark amid the cloud of 
 dust and petroleum fumes left by a passing motor-car, 
 Jimmie, sipping his second bowl of sour cider in great con- 
 tent, re-read the precious letter, filled his pipe, and reflected 
 peacefully on the great harmony of things. The hopeless- 
 ness of his own love for Norma struck no discord. The 
 Stephen so closely connected with the life of Saint Catherine 
 of Siena did not love with less hope or more devotion. 
 
 He paid the few coppers for his reckoning, took up his 
 stick and little black bag, and trudged on refreshed, and as 
 he neared Berneval the expectation of Aline's welcome 
 gladdened him. He had rented for the month a cottage 
 with a straggling piece of ground behind, from an artist 
 friend whose possession it was. The friend had fixed 
 the figure absurdly low; the modest living under Aline's 
 experienced management was cheap, and the bonne a tout 
 faire cooked divinely for a few halfpence a day. By a 
 curious coincidence Mr. Anthony Merewether had also 
 pitched upon Berneval as a summer resting-place. He
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 had come on business, he gave out, and every morning 
 saw him issue from the hotel by the beach, armed with 
 easel and camp-stool, and the rest of the landscape-painter's 
 paraphernalia, and every evening saw him smoking cigarettes 
 on Jimmie's veranda. Whether the hours of sunshine saw 
 him consistently hard at work, Jimmie was inclined to 
 doubt. He certainly bathed a great deal and ran about 
 with Aline a great deal, and Jimmie read the pair moral 
 lessons on the evil effects of idleness. But Tony was a 
 fresh-minded boy ; his ingenuous conversation provided 
 Jimmie with much entertainment, and his presence on their 
 holiday gave him the satisfaction of feeling that Aline had 
 some one of her own age to play with. 
 
 The ramshackle vehicle, half diligence, half omnibus, 
 that plies between Berneval and Dieppe, passed him with 
 great cracking of whip and straining of rusty harness and 
 loud hue's from the driver, just as he entered the village. 
 It was late afternoon, and the trim white and green of the 
 place was bathed in mellow sunshine. The short cut home 
 lay up a lane and through the churchyard, a cluster of grey 
 slabs around a little grey church ; and many of the slabs 
 bore the story of the pitiless sea how Jean-fyjarie Dulac, 
 many years ago, was drowned at the age of nineteen, and 
 how Jacques Lemerre perished in a storm ; for it has been 
 from time immemorial a tiny village cf fisher-folk and every 
 family has given of its own to the waves. The pathos of 
 the simple legends on the stones always touched him as he 
 walked by; and now he paused to decipher some moss- 
 grown letters of fifty years ago. He stooped, made out the 
 same sad tale, moralised a little thereon, and rose with 
 a sigh of relief to greet the sunshine and the fair earth. 
 But the sight that suddenly met his eyes banished dead 
 
 120
 
 Two Idylls 
 
 fishermen and hungry sea and sunny tree-tops from his 
 mind. It was a boy and a girl very close together, his arm 
 about her waist, her head upon his shoulder, walking by 
 the little church. Their backs were towards him. ne 
 stared open-mouthed. 
 
 " God bless my soul ! " said he, in amazement. 
 
 Then he dropped his stick, which clattered upon a grave- 
 stone. 
 
 The foolish pair started at the sound, assumed a correct 
 attitude with remarkable swiftness, and turning, recognised 
 Jimmie. Tony Merewether, who was a fair youth, grew 
 very red and looked sheepish ; Aline awaited events 
 demurely, with downcast eyes. Jimmie pushed his old 
 Homburg hat to the back of his head, and in two or three 
 strides confronted them. He tried to look fiercely at 
 Tony. The young man drew himself up. 
 
 " I have asked Aline to marry me, sir," he said frankly. 
 "I was going to speak to you about it." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " said Jimmie, helplessly. 
 
 "We can't marry just yet," said Tony, "but I hope 
 you will give your consent." 
 
 Jimmie looked from one to the other. 
 
 " Why did n't you let me know of this state of things 
 before ? " 
 
 " I have n't done anything underhand. I thought you 
 guessed," said Tony. 
 
 " And you, Aline ? " 
 
 She stole a shy glance at him. 
 
 " I was n't quite sure of it until just now," she replied. 
 And then she blushed furiously and ran to Jimmie's arms. 
 u Oh, Jimmie dear, don't be cross ! " 
 
 " Cross, my child ? " he said. 
 
 121
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 The world of tender reproach in his tone couched her. 
 The ready tears started. 
 
 " You are an angel, Jimmie." 
 
 The hand that was on her shoulder patted it comfort- 
 ingly. 
 
 u No, dear, I am a blind elderly idiot. O Lord, Tony, 
 I hope you feel infernally ashamed of yourself." 
 
 u As Tony says, we sha'n't be able to get married for 
 a long, long time," said Aline, by way of consolation, 
 "so for years and years we'll go on in just the same 
 way." 
 
 U I only ask you to consent to our engagement, sir," 
 said Tony, diplomatically. " I am quite willing to wait for 
 Aline as long as you like." 
 
 The abandonment of Jimmie by Aline had been the 
 subject of the last half-hour's discussion between the lovers. 
 The thought of Jimmie alone and helpless appalled her. 
 She was a horrid selfish wretch, she had informed Tony, 
 for listening to a word he said. How could Jimmie live 
 by himself? She shuddered at the dismal chaos of the 
 studio, the gaping holes in his socks, the impossible meals, 
 the fleecing of him by every plausible beggar in frock coat 
 or rags, the empty treasury. He needed more care than 
 a baby. She would marry Tony, some day, because her 
 head was full of him, and because she had let him kiss 
 her and had found a peculiar, dreamy happiness during the 
 process, and because she could not conceive the possibility 
 of marrying any one else. But she was more than content 
 to leave the date indefinite. Perhaps, in the stretch of 
 aeons between now and then, something would happen to 
 release her from her responsibilities. She had made the 
 position luminously clear to Mr. Merewether before she 
 
 122
 
 Two Idylls 
 
 had consented to be foolish and walk about with her head 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 "No, until Jimmie gets properly suited," she said, quickly 
 following Tony's last remark. 
 
 " My dear foolish children," said Jimmie, " you had 
 better get married as soon as ever you can keep the wolf 
 from the door. What on earth is the good of waiting till 
 you are old ? Get all the happiness you can out of your 
 youth, and God bless you." 
 
 The young man bowed his head. 
 
 " I will give my life to her." 
 
 Jimmie touched him on the arm, waved his hand around, 
 indicating the little grey church, the quiet graves. 
 
 u This is not the place where a man should say such 
 a thing lightly," he said. 
 
 " 1 am not the man to say such a thing lightly in any 
 place," retorted the youth, with spirit. 
 
 Jimmie nodded approvingly. " My dear," he said to 
 Aline, "that is the way I like to hear a man talk." 
 
 He turned and collected the fallen stick and the black 
 bag which he had deposited by the side of the slab. He 
 had gone into Dieppe that morning partly for the sake 
 of the walk and partly to purchase some odds and ends 
 for the house. Aline, not trusting to his memory, had given 
 him a list of items with directions attached as to the places 
 where he was to procure them, so that when he came to 
 " pepper," he should seek it at a grocery and not at a 
 milliner's establishment. Now, without saying a word, 
 he opened the bag and rummaged among its queer contents, 
 which Aline regarded with some twinges of a tender con- 
 science. She ought to have gone into Dieppe herself, and 
 made her purchases like a notable housewife, instead of. 
 
 123
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 sending Jimmie and passing the day in selfish lovemaking. 
 The twinge grew sharper when Jimmie at last fished out 
 a little cardboard box and put it in her hands. 
 
 " At any rate, I can give you an engagement present 
 before Tony," he said with a laugh. 
 
 It was only an old filigree silver waist-buckle he had 
 picked up at a curio shop in the town, but it was a gem 
 of infinite value to the girl, for she knew that Jimmie's 
 love went with it. She showed it to Tony Merewether, 
 who admired the workmanship. 
 
 " If you can give me anything I shall prize more, you 
 will be a lucky fellow," she said in a low voice. 
 
 The three strolled quietly towards the cottage, and it was 
 Jimmie's arm that Aline clung to, and Mr. Merewether 
 who carried the black bag. That night, after she had dis- 
 missed the young man, she sat a long time with Jimmie on 
 the veranda, telling him in one shy breath of the wonder 
 that had suddenly come into her life, and in the next that 
 she would never leave him until he was rich and famous and 
 able to live by himself. Jimmie, unguileful in the nature of 
 men and maidens and the ways of this wicked world, kept 
 on repeating like a refrain his formula of astonishment : 
 
 " It never entered my head, dear, that you two children 
 would fall in love with one another." 
 
 " You don't think I ought n't to have done it, do you, 
 Jimmie ? " she said at last. 
 
 He broke into his happy laugh, and kissed her. " If 
 you want to please me, you '11 go on doing it," he said. 
 
 It was some time after he had gone to bed that sleep 
 came. Yes; Nature, the dear mother, had spoken, and 
 who could gainsay her? A clean, bright, healthy English 
 lad, and a clean, bright, healthy English girl had read truth 
 
 124
 
 Two Idylls 
 
 in each other's eyes. It was one of the sweet things in 
 the world, for which we who live in the world should 
 be thankful. The dimly seen white curtains of his bed 
 became gossamer veils that enveloped him with beauty. 
 Now, on either side, his inner life was touched by the 
 maffic of romance : the fair dream of these two children, 
 
 O ' 
 
 and the love of the other betrothed pair. It was on happy 
 eyelids that sleep settled at last. And Aline, too, lay awake, 
 her young cheeks burning at the delicious yet affrighting 
 memory of a kiss in the little churchyard, and her heart 
 swelling at the thought of the infinite goodness of Jimmie. 
 
 Meanwhile, unconscious of these idyllic happenings and 
 romantic speculations, Norma was enjoying herself in her 
 worldly way at Lord Monzie's place in Scotland. Lord 
 Monzie, a dissipated young man who had lately come into 
 the title, had married a well-to-do young woman in very 
 smart society. Consequently there was no lack of modern 
 entertainment in the house. So modern was everything 
 that the host had got down Mr. Joseph Ascherberg, the 
 financier, to hold a roulette bank every night against all 
 comers; but he took care that he himself, or his own 
 confidential man, turned the wheel and spun the marble. 
 Most of the people had unimaginative nicknames, the ex- 
 tremes of the Submerged Tenth and the Upper Ten thus 
 curiously meeting. Lord Monzie was called " Muggins; " 
 his bosom friend, and, as some whispered, his ame damnee, 
 Sir Calthrop Boyle, was alluded to as " The Boiler ; " and 
 Ascherberg responded to the appellation of " Freddy." 
 There were also modern conveniences for the gratification 
 of caprices or predilections that need not be insisted upon. 
 In fact the atmosphere was surcharged with modernity ; so 
 
 125
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 much so that Norma, who would have walked about the 
 Suburra of Imperial Rome with cynical indifference, gasped 
 a little when she entered it. One or two things actually 
 shocked her, at which she wondered greatly. She regarded 
 Mr. Ascherberg with extreme disfavour, and winced at the 
 women's conversation when they were cosily free from 
 men. For the first day or two she held herself somewhat 
 apart, preferring solitude on sequestered bits of terrace, 
 where she could read a novel, or look at the grey hills that 
 met the stretch of purple moorland. But gradually the 
 sweeter tone of mind which she had brought with her lost 
 its flavour, and having won sixty pounds from Ascherberg, 
 and having told the feminine coterie what she knew of the 
 Wyniard affair, she began to breathe the atmosphere without 
 much difficulty. Yet occasionally she had spasms of revolt. 
 In a corner of the drawing-room stood a marble copy of the 
 little Laughing Faun in the Louvre, put there by the late 
 baron, and every time her eye fell upon it, the picture of 
 another faun arose before her, and with it the memory of 
 a homely man with bright kind eyes, and she seemed to draw 
 a breath of purer air. But she called the fancy foolishness 
 and hardened her heart. 
 
 Still, had it not been for Theodore Weever, the American 
 man of affairs, she would probably have found some pretext 
 for an abrupt departure. He alone was a personality 
 among the characterless, vicious men and women of the 
 house-party. Short, spare, alert, bald-headed, clean-shaven, 
 clear-featured, he was of a type apart. Norma, who had a 
 keen intelligence, divined in him from the first an adversary 
 upon whom she could sharpen her wit and a companion 
 who would not bore her with dreary tales of sport or the 
 unprofitable details of his last night's play. And from 
 
 126
 
 Two Idylls 
 
 the first Theodore Weever was attracted towards Norma. 
 Their lax associates, in spite of her engagement to Morland 
 being perfectly well known and in spite of Morland's ex- 
 pected arrival, recognised their pairing with embarrassing 
 frankness, and said appalling things about them behind 
 their backs. For a few days therefore they found them- 
 selves inseparable. At last their friendship reached the 
 confidential stage. Mr. Theodore Weever avowed the 
 object of his present visit to England. He was in search 
 of a decorative wife. 
 
 " It ought to be as easy as turning over a book of wall- 
 papers," said Norma. 
 
 " And as difficult to choose," said he. 
 
 "You must know what scheme of colouring and design 
 you want." 
 
 u Precisely. I don't find it in the books of stock pat- 
 terns, either here or in America. And I 've ransacked 
 America." 
 
 "Is n't the line I believe in commercial circles they 
 call it a line is n't the line of specially selected duchesses 
 for the English market good enough for you ? " she asked 
 with a smile. 
 
 He was about to light a cigarette when she began her 
 question. He lit it and blew out the first few puffs of 
 smoke before he replied. They were sitting in Norma's 
 favourite nook on the terrace, where he, solitary male who 
 had not gone forth with a gun that morning, had been 
 gratuitously told by an obliging hostess that he would 
 find her. 
 
 " The American woman makes a good decorative duch- 
 ess," he said in his incisive tone, " because she has to 
 sweep herself clean of every tradition she was born with 
 
 127
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 and accept bodily the very much bigger and more dazzling 
 tradition of your old aristocracy. She can do it, because 
 she is infinitely sensitive and intelligent. But she is a 
 changed creature. She has to live up to her duke." 
 
 He puffed for a moment or two at his cigarette. 
 
 " Do you see what I am coming to ? " he continued. 
 " I am not an English duke. I am a plain American 
 citizen. No woman in America would make it her ideal 
 in life to live up to me." 
 
 "I don't mean to be rude," interrupted Norma, with a 
 laugh, " but do you think any Englishwoman would ? " 
 
 u I do," he replied. " Not to this insignificant, bald- 
 headed thing that is I, but to what in the way of position 
 and power I represent. An American woman would bring 
 her traditions along with her her superior culture, her 
 natural right to be enthroned as queen, her expectation 
 that I would take a back seat in my own house. It is I 
 that would become a sort of grotesque decoration in the 
 place. Now, I may be grotesque, but I will not consent 
 to be decorative. I fully intend to be master. I am not 
 going to be Mrs. Theodore Weever's husband. I want an 
 Englishwoman to bring along her traditions. She will 
 be naturally grande dame; she will come to my house, 
 my social world, frankly the wife of Theodore Weever, 
 and ready to support the dignity, whatever it may be, of 
 Theodore Weever, just as she would have supported the 
 dignity of Lord So and So, had she been married to 
 him in England." 
 
 " You will find thousands of English girls who can do 
 that," said Norma. " I don't see your difficulty." 
 
 " She must be decorative," said Weever. 
 
 " And that means ? " 
 
 128
 
 Two Idylls 
 
 " She must be a queenly woman, but one content to 
 be queen consort. Your queenly woman with brains 
 is not so easy to find. I have met only one in my life 
 who is beyond all my dreams of the ideal. Of course the 
 inherent malice of things screws her down like one blade 
 of a pair of scissors to another fellow." 
 
 " Who is the paragon ? " asked Norma. 
 
 " It would n't be fair on the other fellow to tell you," 
 said he. 
 
 " Is it sheer honesty, or the fear of being cut in half 
 by the pair of scissors that keeps you from coming between 
 them ? " 
 
 "I think it's honesty," he replied. "If I can guess 
 rightly, the scissors have n't so fine an edge on them as to 
 make them dangerous." 
 
 " They may be desperately in love with one another, for 
 all you know." 
 
 " They are delightful worldlings of our own particular 
 world, dear lady," said Weever, with a smile. 
 
 Thus was Norma given to understand that the post of 
 decorative queen consort in Mr. Theodore Weever's Fifth 
 Avenue palace was at her disposal. A year ago she might 
 have considered the offer seriously ; now that she felt 
 secure of a brilliant position as Morland's wife, she was 
 amused by its frank impudence. She held other laughing 
 conversations with him on the subject of his search, but, too 
 prudent to commit indiscretions, she gave no hint that she 
 had understood his personal allusion, and Weever was too 
 shrewd to proceed any further towards his own undoing. 
 They remained paired, however, to their mutual satisfaction, 
 until Morland's arrival, when Theodore Weever took his 
 departure. In fact, the same carriage that conveyed the 
 9 129
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 American to the station remained for a necessary half-hour 
 to meet Morland's train, and Norma, who dutifully drove 
 down to welcome her affianced, shared the carriage with the 
 departing guest. 
 
 She stood on the platform chatting with him as he leaned 
 out of the window. 
 
 u When shall we see each other again ? " she said idly. 
 
 " Next month." 
 
 " Where ? " she asked, somewhat taken aback by his 
 decided tone. 
 
 " I am putting in some time at Chiltern Towers. I had 
 a letter this morning from the duchess, asking me to come 
 and meet the Princess of Herren-Rothbeck." 
 
 They looked at each other, and Norma laughed. 
 
 " Beware of Her Serene Highness." 
 
 " Oh, I 've had dealings with her before," replied 
 Weever. " I reckon I get my money's worth. Don't 
 you fret about me." 
 
 The guard came up and touched his cap. 
 
 " We are oft" now, miss." 
 
 She shook hands with Weever, saying with a laugh, " I 
 hope you will find that bit of decoration." 
 
 " Don't you fret about that, either," he said with a quick, 
 hard glance. " I 'm in no hurry. I can wait." 
 
 The train started, and was soon swallowed by a tunnel a 
 few hundred yards up the line. Norma patrolled the plat- 
 form of the little wayside station waiting for Morland. 
 The place was very still. The only porter had departed 
 somewhither. The station-master had retired into his 
 office. The coachman outside the station sat like a well- 
 bred image on his box, and the occasional clink of the 
 harness, as the horses threw up their heads, sounded sharp 
 
 130
 
 Two Idylls 
 
 and clear. Nothing around but mountain and moorland ; 
 a short distance in front a ravine with a lazily trickling, 
 half-dried-up mountain stream. Here and there a clump 
 of larch and fir, and a rough granite boulder. An over- 
 cast sky threw dreariness on the silent waste. Norma 
 shivered, suddenly struck with a sense of isolation. She 
 seemed to stand in the same relation with her soul's horizon 
 as with the physical universe. The man that had gone 
 had left her with a little feeling of fear for the future, a 
 little after-taste of bitterness. The man that was coming 
 
 O 
 
 would bring her no thrill of joy. As she stood between a 
 drab sky and a bleak earth, so stood she utterly alone in the 
 still pause between a past and a future equally unillumined. 
 She longed for the sun to break out of the heaven, for 
 the sounds of joyous things to come from plain and moun- 
 tain ; and she longed for light and song in her heart. 
 
 She had been watching for the past few days the pro- 
 ceedings of a half-recognised, irregular union. The 
 woman was the frivolous, heartless, almost passionless wife 
 of a casual husband at the other end of the earth ; the man 
 an underbred fellow on the stock exchange. She ordered 
 him about and called him Tommy. He clothed her in 
 extravagant finery, and openly showed her his sovereign 
 male's contempt. Norma had overheard him tell her to 
 go to the devil and leave him alone, when she hinted one 
 night, in a whisper that was meant for his ears alone, that 
 he was drinking overmuch whisky. It was all so sordid, 
 so vulgar the bond between them so unsanctified by any- 
 thing like tenderness, chivalry, devotion. Norma had felt 
 the revulsion of her sex. 
 
 What would be the future ? By any chance like this 
 woman's life ? Would the day come when she would 
 
 13*
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 sell herself for a gown and a bracelet, throvvn at her with 
 a man's contemptuous word ? Was marriage very widely 
 different from such a union ? Was not she selling her- 
 self? Might not the man she was waiting for go the way 
 of so many others of his type, drink and coarsen and tell 
 her to go to the devil ? 
 
 She longed for the sun, but not a gleam pierced the leaden 
 sky ; she sought in her soul for a ray of light, but none came. 
 
 At last with a shriek and a billowing plume of smoke 
 the down train emerged from the tunnel. Norma set her 
 face in its calm ironic mask and waited for the train to 
 draw up. Only two passengers alighted, Morland and 
 his man. Morland came to her with smiling looks and 
 grasped her by the hand. 
 
 u You are looking more beautiful than ever," he whis- 
 pered, bringing his face close to hers. 
 
 She started back as if she had been struck. The fumes 
 of brandy were in his breath. Her hideous forebodings 
 were in process of fulfilment. 
 
 " The whole station will hear you," she said coldly, 
 turning away. 
 
 The Imp of Mischance rubbed his hands gleefully at 
 his contrivance. Morland, a temperate man, had merely 
 felt chilly after an all-night's journey, and, more out of 
 idleness than from a desire for alcohol, had foolishly taken 
 a sip out of his brandy flask a moment or two before, when 
 he was putting up his hand-bag. 
 
 Norma collected herself, summoned with bitter cynicism 
 her common-sense to her aid, and made smiling amends 
 for her shrewish remark. She suffered him to kiss her on 
 the drive home, and strove not to despise herself. 
 
 132
 
 Chapter XI 
 DANGER 
 
 HEDDON COURT had been purchased by a 
 wealthy Hardacre at the beginning of the nine- 
 teenth century, and was exhibited by his grand- 
 nephew, the present occupant, as a gem of Georgian 
 architecture. Mr. Hardacre had but a vague idea what 
 the definition meant, but it sounded very impressive. As 
 a matter of fact, it was a Palladian stone building, with 
 pediments over the windows and severe rustication on the 
 lower courses. As none of the succeeding Hardacres 
 had any money to devote to extensions, the building had 
 remained in its original perfection of formality, and Mr. 
 Hardacre did well to be proud of it. The ground's had 
 been laid out in the Italian style ; but the tastes and fashions 
 of over a hundred years had caused the classic architect's 
 design to be practically indiscernible. A lawn with trim 
 flower-beds, bounded by an arc of elm-trees and bordered 
 by a circular carriage drive faced the south front. Along 
 the east front ran a series of terraces. The highest, a foot 
 or two below the level of the drawing-room floor, ended 
 on the north in a porticoed temple, now used as an after- 
 noon lounge, and incongruously furnished with rugs and 
 frivolous wickerwork chairs and tables. The next terrace, 
 some eight feet below, was devoted to a tennis court. A 
 thick hedge of clipped yew and a screen of wire netting hid 
 
 133
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 the lowest, the most charming of all, which, surrounded on 
 all sides by a sloping bank and flanked on three sides by 
 tall trees, had been delicately turfed for a bowling-green 
 and was now used for croquet. 
 
 In this stately paradise, warmed by sunny September 
 weather, Jimmie had already spent two or three blissful 
 days. His only regret was the absence of Aline. She 
 had been invited, but for reasons in which doubtless Tony 
 Merewether had a place, she had declined the invitation. 
 She gave Jimmie to understand that she had already had 
 her holiday, that the house could not possibly look after 
 itself any longer, and that she had no clothes fit to appear 
 in among his grand friends. The last argument being un- 
 answerable, save by contentions at which the young 
 woman tossed a superior head, Jimmie had yielded and 
 come down alone. His regret, however, was tempered by 
 the reflection that Aline was probably enjoying herself after 
 the manner of betrothed maidens, and it did not seriously 
 affect his happiness. Either chance or the lady's own 
 sweet courtesy towards a guest had caused him to see much 
 of Norma. She had driven him over to Chiltern Towers, 
 where the sittings had begun. She had walked with him 
 to Gosford to show him the beautiful fourteenth-century 
 church with its decorated spire. She had strolled with 
 him up and down the croquet lawn. She had chatted 
 with him in the morning-room yesterday for a whole rainy 
 hour after lunch. His head was full of her beauty and 
 condescension. It was not unnatural that they should be 
 thrown much together. Morland's day was taken up by 
 partridges and electors. Mr. Hardacre, honestly afraid of 
 Jimmie, not knowing what on earth to talk to him about, 
 and only half comprehending his conversation, kept out of 
 
 134
 
 Danger 
 
 his way as much as his duties as host would allow, and 
 Mrs. Hardacre, who,- though exceedingly civil, had not for- 
 gotten her defeat in the studio, felt justified in leaving his 
 entertainment in the hands of others who professed to ad- 
 mire the creature. These were Norma, Morland, and 
 Connie Deering. 
 
 This afternoon they found themselves again alone 
 together, at tea in the classic temple at the end of the ter- 
 race. Mrs. Hardacre and Connie had driven off to pay a 
 call, and the men were shooting over ducal turnips. Jim- 
 mie had received an invitation to join the shooting-party, 
 but not having handled a gun since boyish days (and even 
 then Jimmie with firearms was Morland's conception of 
 the terror that walketh by day), and also having an ap- 
 pointment with the princess for a second sitting, he had 
 declined, and Morland, when he heard of it, had clapped 
 him on the back and expressed his fervent gratitude. 
 
 Jimmie had been narrating his morning's adventures at 
 Chiltern Towers, and explaining the point of view from 
 which he was painting the portrait. It was to be that of 
 the very great lady, with the blood of the earth's great 
 rulers in her veins. It was to be half full-length, just 
 showing the transparent, aristocratic hands set off by rich 
 old lace at the wrists. A certain acidity of temper be- 
 trayed by the pinched nostrils and thin lips he would try to 
 modify, as it would be out of keeping with his basic 
 conception. Norma listened, interested more in the 
 speaker than in the subject, her mind occasionally wan- 
 dering, as it had been wont to do of late, to a compar- 
 ison of ideals. Since that half-hour's loneliness on the 
 platform of the little Highland station, she had passed 
 through many hours of unrest. To-day the mood had
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 again come upon her. A talk with her mother about the 
 great garden-party they were giving in two days' time, 
 to which the princess and the duchess were coming, had 
 aroused her scorn ; a casual phrase of Morland's in refer- 
 ence to the election had jarred upon her ; a sudden meet- 
 ing in Cosford with Theodore Weever, and a laughing 
 reference to the decorative wife had brought back the 
 little shiver of fear. The only human being in the 
 world who could settle her mood and now she felt it 
 consciously was this odd, sweet-natured man who 
 seemed to live in a beautiful world. 
 
 As he talked she listened, and her mind wandered from 
 the subject. She thought of his life, his surroundings, of 
 the girl whose love affair he had told her of so tenderly. 
 She took advantage of a pause, occasioned by the handing 
 of a second cup of tea and the judicious choosing of cake, 
 to start the new topic. 
 
 "I suppose Aline is very happy." 
 
 Jimmie laughed. u What put my little girl into your 
 head ? " 
 
 "I have been thinking a good deal about her since you 
 wrote of her engagement. Is it really such an idyll ? " 
 
 " The love of two sweet, clean young people is always 
 idyllic. It is so untainted pure as a mountain spring. 
 There is nothing quite like it in the world." 
 
 " When are they going to set up house together ? " 
 
 " Soon, I hope." 
 
 " You will miss her." 
 
 " Of course," said Jimmie, " enormously. But the 
 thoughts of her happiness will keep me pleasant company. 
 I shall get on all right. Meanwhile it is beautiful to see 
 her. She doesn't know that I watch, but I do. It is 
 
 J36
 
 Danger 
 
 sweet to see her eyes brighten and her cheeks flush and to 
 hear her laughter. It is like stepping for an enchanted 
 moment into a fairy-tale." 
 
 " I wish I could step into it just for one enchanted 
 moment," said Norma. 
 
 " You ? " asked Jimmie. 
 
 " I have never been in one in my life. I disbelieved 
 in them till you came like an apostle of fairyland and 
 converted me. Now I want the consolations of my 
 faith." 
 
 An earnest note in her voice surprised him. She did 
 not meet his eyes. 
 
 " I don't understand you," he said. 
 
 "I thought perhaps you would," she answered. "You 
 seem to understand most things." 
 
 "You have your own happiness." 
 
 He hesitated on the word. A quick glance assured her 
 of his ingenuousness. She longed to undeceive him, to 
 shriek out her heartlessness, her contempt for herself and 
 for her life. But pride and loyalty to Morland restrained 
 her within bounds of sanity. She assented to his proposi- 
 tion with a gesture of the shapely hand that lay on the 
 tea-table absently tracing the pattern of the cloth. 
 
 " Yes, I have that. But it is n't the fairyland of those 
 two children. You yourself say there is nothing like it in 
 the world. You don't know how I pine for it sometimes 
 for the things that are sweet and clean and untainted 
 and pure as a mountain spring. They don't come my 
 way. They never will." 
 
 " You are wrong," said Jimmie. " Love will bring 
 them all to you that and a perfect wedded life and little 
 children." 
 
 137
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 For a flash she raised her eyes and looked full into his, 
 and for the first time the love in the man's heart surged 
 tumultuously. It rose of a sudden, without warning, flood- 
 ing his being, choking him. What it was of yearning, 
 despair, passion, horror that he saw in her eyes he knew 
 not. He did not read in them the craving of a starved 
 soul for food. To him their burning light was a mystery. 
 All that ever reached his consciousness was that it was a 
 look such as he had never before beheld in a woman's 
 face ; and against his will and against his reason it acted 
 like some dark talisman and unlocked floodgates. He 
 clenched the arms of the wickerwork chair, and bit his lip 
 hard, and stared at the ground. 
 
 Norma broke into a hard laugh, and lay back in her 
 chair. 
 
 " You must be thinking me a great fool," she said, in 
 her usual mocking tones. "When a woman tries to swim 
 in sentiment, she flounders, and either drowns or has to be 
 lugged ignominiously to shore. She can't swim like a man. 
 Thanks for the rescue, Mr. Padgate." 
 
 He looked at her for a moment. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he said curtly. 
 
 " I 'm back on dry land. Oh ! it is safer for me. 
 There I am protected by my little bodyguard of three 
 the World, the Flesh, and the Devil. I can't get on with- 
 out them." 
 
 Jimmie leaped from his chair and brought his clenched 
 hands down to his sides in a passionate gesture. 
 
 " Stop talking like that, I say ! " he cried imperiously. 
 
 Then meeting her scared and indignant glance, he bowed 
 somewhat wide of her. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, in a tone of no great 
 
 133
 
 Danger 
 
 apology, and marched out of the little temple and along the 
 gravelled walk of the terrace. Flight, or the loss of self- 
 control, was his only alternative. What she thought of 
 him he did not care. The sense of increasing distance 
 from her alone brought security to his soul. 
 
 At the further end he met Mrs. Deering just back from 
 her drive. 
 
 "Why, what is the matter, Jimmie ? " she asked, twirl- 
 ing an idle sunshade over her pretty head, for the terrace 
 was in deep afternoon shadow. 
 
 " Nothing," he replied, with a ghastly attempt at a 
 smile. " I am going for a walk before dinner." 
 
 He left her standing, reached the highroad and pounded 
 along it. What a fool he had been ! What a mad fool 
 he had been ! 
 
 Mrs. Deering, with a puzzled expression on her face, 
 watched him disappear. She turned and strolled down to 
 Norma, who greeted her with a satiric smile. 
 
 " What have you been doing to Jimmie ? " asked Mis. 
 Deering. 
 
 "I have been giving him lessons in worldly wisdom." 
 
 " Poor dear ! They seem to have disagreed with 
 him." 
 
 Norma shrugged her shoulders. " That 's his affair, not 
 mine." 
 
 "You don't mean to say that you and Jimmie have 
 quarrelled ? " laughed Connie. " How delightful ! I 've 
 always wanted to quarrel with Jimmie just for the pleasure 
 of kissing and making friends. But it has been impossible. 
 Is it serious ? " 
 
 " I hope not," Norma answered ; and then after a pause, 
 " Oh, Connie, I 'm afraid I 've been a positive brute."
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Which evidence of a salutary conviction of her own 
 wrongdoing shows that Jimmie's amazing shout of com- 
 mand had not aroused within her any furious indignation. 
 Indeed, after the first moment of breathless astonishment, 
 she had expressed an odd, almost amusing thrill of admi- 
 ration for the man who had dared address her in that fashion. 
 It was only a small feminine satisfaction in the know- 
 ledge that by going away he would punish himself for his 
 temerity that had restrained her from summoning him 
 back. As soon as he was out of call, she reproached 
 herself for misconduct. She could have strangled the 
 wanton devil that had prompted her cynical speech. And 
 yet the same devil had saved an embarrassing situation. 
 Wedded life and little children ! If she had spoken what 
 was trembling on her lips, how could she have looked the 
 man in the face again ? Her sex was revolting against 
 that very prospect, was clamouring wildly for she knew 
 not what. She dared not betray herself. 
 
 She greeted him smilingly in the drawing-room before 
 dinner, as if nothing had occurred, and chatted pleasantly 
 with Morland over his day's fortunes. Jimmie observed 
 her with a sigh of relief. He had passed the last two 
 hours greatly agitated ; he had trembled lest he had re- 
 vealed to her his soul's secret, and also lest his unmannerK- 
 ness had given unpardonable offence. In any case, now 
 he saw himself forgiven, and breathed freely. But he 
 remained unusually silent during dinner, and spent most of 
 the evening in the billiard-room with Mr. Hardacre. 
 
 That gentleman, joining the ladies later, fell into con- 
 versation with his daughter. 
 
 " How long is Padgate going to stay ? " he asked, mop- 
 ping his forehead with his handkerchief. 
 
 140
 
 Danger 
 
 "Till the princess has completed her sittings, I sup- 
 pose," said Norma. 
 
 " I wish she 'd be quick. I don't know what to do 
 with the fellow. Does n't shoot, can't play billiards worth 
 a cent, and does n't seem to know anybody. It 's like 
 talking to a chap that does n't understand your language. 
 I 've just been at it. Happened to say I 'd like to go to 
 Rome again. He fetches a sigh and says so should he. 
 4 Some of the best wild-duck shooting in the world,' I said. 
 He stared at me for a moment as if I were an escaped 
 lunatic. Now, what on earth should a reasonable being 
 go to that beastly place for except to shoot wild-duck on 
 the marshes ? " 
 
 Norma laughed the little mocking laugh that always 
 irritated her father. 
 
 " You need n't be afraid of not entertaining Mr. Padgate. 
 He must have enjoyed the conversation hugely." 
 
 " Damme if the fellow is laughing at me " he 
 began. 
 
 " He would not be the very fine gentleman that he is," 
 said Norma. " Where is he now ? " 
 
 " Morland relieved guard in the billiard-room, when the 
 post came in," growled Mr. Hardacre, who shrank from 
 crossing swords with his daughter, and indeed with any- 
 body. " He is happy enough with Morland." 
 
 At that particular moment, however, there was not over- 
 much happiness in the billiard-room. A letter from Aline 
 had been accompanied by one for u David Rendell, Es- 
 quire" which she had enclosed. Morland read it, and 
 crushed it angrily into the pocket of his dinner-jacket, and 
 began to knock the balls about in an aimless way. Jimmie 
 watched him anxiously and, as he did not speak, unfolded 
 
 141
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 his own letter from Aline. Suddenly he rose from the 
 divan where he had been sitting and approached the 
 table. 
 
 " There is something here that you ought to know, 
 Morland. A man has been enquiring for you at my 
 house." 
 
 u Well, why should n't he ? " asked Morland, making a 
 savage shot. 
 
 " He enquired for David Rendell." 
 
 Morland threw down his cue. 
 
 Well ? " 
 
 " I am afraid Aline, who is a miracle of sagacity as a 
 general ijule, has made a mess of it. You must n't be 
 angry with my poor little girl. Her head is full of sweeter 
 things." 
 
 " What has she done ? " Morland asked impatiently. 
 
 " I '11 read : 1 1 told him that Mr. Rendell was a friend 
 of yours, and gave him your present address. He muttered 
 something about a false name and went away without 
 thanking me.' ' 
 
 " Good God ! " cried Morland, " what damned fools 
 women are ! Did she say what kind of a man he 
 was ? " 
 
 Jimmie looked through the letter, and finding the passage, 
 read : " l An odd-looking creature, like a mad Methodist 
 parson ! ' 
 
 Morland uttered an exclamation of anger and apprehen- 
 sion. His brow grew black, and his florid comely features 
 coarsened into ugliness. 
 
 " I thought so. It could n't have been any one else. He 
 was the only person who knew. She has given me away 
 nicely. The devil only knows what will happen." 
 
 142
 
 Danger 
 
 Jimmie leant up against the table and folded his arms, 
 and looked at Morland moving restlessly to and fro and 
 giving vent to his anger. 
 
 "Who is this man you seem to be so afraid of?" he 
 asked quietly. 
 
 Morland stopped upon the unpleasant word, then 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I am afraid of him. One can't reckon 
 upon anything that he might or might not do. He 's like 
 a mad cat. I 've seen him. So have you." 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Yes that socialist maniac you dragged me to hear 
 one Sunday in Hyde Park." 
 
 " Whew ! " said Jimmie. He remembered the look in the 
 orator's eyes, his crazy, meaningless words, his fierce re- 
 fusal to enter into friendly talk ; also Morland's impatient 
 exclamation and abrupt departure as soon as they had 
 learned the man's name. 
 
 " He 's as mad as a hatter," he said. " If he should take 
 it into his head to come down here and make a row, there 
 will be the deuce to pay," said Morland. 
 
 Jimmie reflected for a moment. The man, with his 
 wild talk of maidens lashed to the chariot-wheels of the 
 rich, must have been tortured by the sense of some per- 
 sonal wrong. 
 
 " How does he come into the story ? " he asked. " You 
 had better tell me." 
 
 " The usual way. Oh, I wish to God I had never got 
 into this mess ! A man of position is an infernal fool to 
 go rotting about after that sort of thing. Oh, don't you 
 see ? He had a crazy passion for her, was engaged to her 
 he was mad then. When I came along, he had to 
 
 '43
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 drop it, and he has been persecuting her ever since 
 divided between the desire to marry her in spite of every- 
 thing, and to murder me. That 's why I had the assumed 
 name and false address. I would n't have let you in for 
 this bother, but I could n't go and run the risk of being 
 blackmailed at a confounded little stationer's shop up a 
 back street. He has been trying to get on my track all 
 the time and now he 's succeeded, thanks to Aline. 
 Why the devil could n't she hold her tongue ? " 
 
 " Because she is an innocent child, who has never 
 dreamed of evil," said Jimmie. 
 
 Morland walked about the room, agitated, for a few 
 moments, then halted. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know, Jimmie. She is n't to blame. Be- 
 sides, the mischief is done, so it 's no use talking." 
 
 " Were you thinking of any such possibility in the sum- 
 mer when you asked me to help you ? " said Jimmie. 
 
 Morland cast a quick, hopeful glance at his friend. 
 
 " Something of the sort. One never knows. You were 
 the only man I could rely on." 
 
 " Does this man know you by sight ? " 
 
 " Not to my knowledge." 
 
 "Then what are you so afraid of? Look here, my dear 
 old boy," he said cheerily, "you are being frighted by false 
 fire. If it is only a question of dealing with the man 
 when he comes here that is, supposing he does come 
 which is very unlikely, I will tackle him as the only person 
 who knows anything about David Rendell. I '11 tell him 
 Darid Rendell is in Scotland or Honolulu." 
 
 " He is on the track of the false name," said Morland, 
 uneasily. " Aline mentions that." 
 
 " He is bound to come to me first," said Jimmie. " I '11 
 
 144
 
 Danger 
 
 fix him. We '11 get on capitally together. There 's a free- 
 masonry between lunatics. Leave it all to me." 
 
 " Really ? " cried Morland, in great eagerness. 
 
 " Of course," said Jimmie. " Let us go upstairs." 
 
 They passed out of the billiard-room in silence. On 
 their way to the drawing-room Morland murmured in a 
 shamefaced way his apologia. He was just at the begin- 
 ning of his electoral campaign. It was his own county. 
 He was hand in glove with the duchess, sovereign lady of 
 these parts, and she never forgave a scandal. " Besides," he 
 added, " to quote your own words, it would break Norma's 
 heart." Also, employing the limited vocabulary of his 
 class and type, he reiterated the old assurance that he had 
 not been a beast. He had done all that a man could to 
 make amends. If Jimmie had not loved him so loyally, 
 he would have seen something very pitiful in these excuses ; 
 but convinced that Morland had atoned as far as lay in his 
 power for his fault, he trembled for the happiness of only 
 those dear to him. 
 
 Norma met them on the drawing-room landing. 
 
 11 1 was coming down to see what had become of you," 
 she said. 
 
 " I have been the culprit. I restore him to you," laughed 
 Jimmie. He entered the room and closed the door. The 
 betrothed pair stood for a moment in an embarrassed 
 silence. She laid a hesitating hand on his sleeve. 
 
 41 Morland "she said diffidently. "I was really 
 wanting to have a little talk with you. Somehow we don't 
 often see one another." 
 
 Morland, surprised at the softness in her voice, led her 
 back to the billiard-room. 
 
 10
 
 Chapter XII 
 NORMA'S ENLIGHTENMENT 
 
 THE development of the germ of goodness in wo- 
 man may be measured by her tendency towards 
 self-sacrifice. Even the most selfish of her sex, 
 provided she has some rudimentary virtues, hugs close to 
 her bosom some pet little thorn which she loves to dig into 
 her shrinking flesh. She enjoys some odd little mortifica- 
 tion, some fantastic humiliation, that is known only to the 
 inner chamber of her soul. Your great-hearted woman 
 practises Suttee daily, greatly to the consternation of an 
 observant yet unperceptive husband. Doubtless this char- 
 acteristic has a sexual basis, psychological perhaps rather 
 than directly physiological, being an instinctive assertion 
 of the fundamental principle of passivity, which in its turn 
 is translated into the need to be held down and subdued. 
 Thus, if the man does not beat her, she will beat herself j 
 if he is a fool, she will often apply caustic to her wisdom, 
 so that she may reverence him ; if he is a knave, she 
 will choke her honesty. Side by side with the assertion of 
 this principle, and indeed often inextricably confused with 
 it, is the maternal impulse, which by manifold divergences 
 from its primary manifestation causes women to find a 
 joy, uncomprehended by men, in pangs of suffering. The 
 higher the type the stronger the impulse towards this sweet 
 self-martyrdom. 
 
 146
 
 Norma's Enlightenment 
 
 Some such theory alone explains the softer tones in 
 Norma's voice when she spoke to Morland. She had 
 passed through two periods of sharp development the 
 half-hour in Scotland and the hours she had spent since 
 her talk with Jimmie that afternoon. She acted blindly, 
 obeying an imperative voice. 
 
 They sat down together on the raised divan. She was 
 dressed in black, with a bunch of yellow roses at her 
 bosom, and her neck and arms gleamed white in the 
 shadow cast by the green shades over the billiard-table. 
 Her face had softened. She was infinitely desirable. 
 
 " I have been thinking over our relations, Morland," she 
 said. " Perhaps I have been wrong." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he asked in some alarm. 
 
 " I told you when you asked me to marry you that it 
 would be wise to put sentiment aside. You agreed, 
 against your will, and have observed the convention very 
 loyally. But I have not treated you well. In putting 
 sentiment aside I was, perhaps, wrong. That is what I 
 wanted to say to you." 
 
 " Let me see that I understand you, Norma," said 
 Morland. " You wish that we should be more like like 
 ordinary lovers ? " 
 
 " We might try," she whispered. 
 
 She waited. Heaven knows what she waited for; but it 
 did not come. The Imp of Mischance again scored his 
 point. The man's mind was filled with the thoughts of 
 another woman in her agony and of a crazy avenger com- 
 ing with murder in his heart. He took her hand mechan- 
 ically and raised it to his lips. Her yielding to the caress 
 told him that he could throw his arms around her and treat 
 her loverwise ; her words told him that he ought to do so. 
 
 147
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Yet he did not. For the moment he was passionless , and 
 to men of his type is not given the power, possessed by 
 men of imaginative temperament, of simulating passion. 
 He forced a laugh. 
 
 " How do you think we might begin ? " 
 
 She went on bravely with her self-imposed task of 
 submission. 
 
 " I have heard that the man generally takes the initiative." 
 
 He kissed her on the cheek. To do less would have 
 been outrageous. 
 
 " I am glad you realise that I am in love with you, at 
 last," he said. 
 
 " Are you sure that you are in love with me ? " she 
 asked, the chill that had fallen upon her after the lack of 
 response to her first whisper growing colder and colder. 
 
 " Of course I am." 
 
 41 That is all I wanted to hear. Good-night," she said 
 in an odd voice. She rose and put out her hand. Morland 
 opened the door for her to pass and closed it behind her. 
 
 Norma went straight to her room, feeling as though she 
 had been tied by the heels to a cart-tail and dragged through 
 the mud. Half undressed., she dismissed her maid summa- 
 rily. Every place on her body that the girl's fingers touched 
 seemed to be a bruise. She went to bed stupefied with 
 herself. 
 
 Meanwhile Morland rang for whisJcy and soda, and 
 cursed all that appertained to him, knowing that he had 
 missed an amazing opportunity. After the way of feeble 
 men, he thought of a hundred things he might have said 
 and done that would have brought her to his feet. Had 
 he not been watching patiently, ever since his engagement, 
 for her to put off" her grand airs, and become a woman like 
 
 148
 
 Norma's Enlightenment 
 
 the rest of them ? He should have said the many things 
 he had often said to others. Or, if words were difficult, 
 why in the world had he not kissed her properly after the 
 manner accepted by women as the infallible argument ? 
 He conjured up the exceeding pleasantness of such an act. 
 He could feel the melting of her lips, the yielding of her 
 bosom ; gradually he worked himself into a red-hot desire. 
 A sudden resolve took him upstairs. There he learned 
 that Norma had retired for the night, and returning to his 
 whisky in the billiard-room, he cursed himself more loudly 
 than before. A hand thrust into the pocket of his dinner- 
 jacket met the poor girl's crumpled letter. Mechanically 
 he took it to the empty grate, and then cursed the fire for 
 not being lit. When Mr. Hardacre came down for a final 
 game of billiards, he found his future son-in-law in an 
 irritable temper, and won an easy game. Rallied upon his 
 lack of form, Morland explained that the damned election 
 was getting on his nerves. 
 
 " Did n't get on them when you were shooting to-day," 
 said Mr. Hardacre. 
 
 " I made believe that the birds were the beastly voters," 
 replied Morland. 
 
 Norma had not yet come down the next morning when 
 he started for Cosford on electioneering business. Nor 
 did he meet her, as he hoped, in the town, carrying on the 
 work of canvassing which she had begun with great suc- 
 cess. A dry barrister having been sent down to contest 
 the division in the Liberal interest, was not making much 
 headway in a constituency devoted to the duchess and 
 other members of the tyrannical classes, and thus the task 
 of Norma and her fellow-canvassers was an easy one. To- 
 day, however, she did not appear. Morland consoled him-
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 with the assurance that he would put things right 
 in the evening. After all, it was easy enough to kiss 
 a woman who had once shown a desire to be made love to. 
 Every man has his own philosophy of woman. This was 
 Morland's. 
 
 Jimmie also started upon his morning's pursuits without 
 seeing Norma. He was somewhat relieved ; for he had 
 spent a restless night, dozing off only to dream grotesque 
 dreams of the mad orator and waking to fight with beasts 
 that gnawed his vitals. He came down unstrung, a hag- 
 gard mockery of himself, and he was glad not to meet her 
 clear eyes. The three-mile walk to Chiltern Towers re- 
 freshed him, his work on the portrait absorbed his faculties, 
 and his neighbours at the ducal luncheon-table, to which 
 the duchess in person had invited him, clear-witted women 
 in the inner world of politics and diplomacy, kept his 
 attention at straining point. It was only when he walked 
 back to Heddon Court, although he made a manful attempt 
 to whistle cheerily, that he felt heavy upon his heart the 
 burden of the night. It was a languorous September 
 afternoon, and the tired hush of dying summer had fallen 
 upon the world. The smell of harvest, the sense of golden 
 fulfilment of life hung on the air. Jimmie swung his 
 stick impatiently, and filled his lungs with a draught of 
 the mellow warmth. 
 
 " The old earth is good. By God, it 's good ! " he cried 
 aloud. 
 
 Brave words of a resolute optimism ; but they did not 
 lighten his burden. 
 
 He reached the house. Beneath an umbrella-tent on 
 the front lawn sat Norma, her hands listlessly holding 
 a closed book on her lap. Jimmie wouM have lifted his
 
 Norma's Enlightenment 
 
 hat and passed her by, but with a brightening face she 
 summoned him. They talked awhile of commonplace 
 things. Then, after a pause, she asked him, half mock- 
 ingly, to account for his behaviour the day before. Why 
 had he rated her in that masterful way ? 
 
 " I can't bear you to speak evilly of yourself," he said. 
 
 " Why, since I deserve it ? " 
 
 " The you that you sometimes take a pleasure in assum- 
 ing to be may deserve it. The real you does n't. And it 
 is the real you that I know that has given me friendship 
 and is going to marry my dearest friend. The other you 
 is a phantom of a hollow world in which circumstances have 
 placed you." 
 
 u I think the phantom is happier than the reality," said 
 Norma, with a laugh. " c The dream is better than the 
 drink.' The hollow world is the safer place, after all." 
 
 "Where imagination doth not corrupt and enthusiasms 
 do not break in and steal," said Jimmie, with unusual bitter- 
 ness. " I have seen very little of it but you have told me 
 things," he continued lamely, "and your being in it and of it 
 seems a profanation. When you wilfully identify yourself 
 with its ideals, you hurt me ; and when I am hurt, I cry out." 
 
 " But why should you care so much about what I am 
 and what I am not ? " she asked in a tone half of genuine 
 enquiry and half of expectancy, wholly kind and soft. 
 
 He dug the point of his stick into the turf and did not 
 raise his eyes. He knew now what a fool's game of peril 
 he was playing, and kept himself in check. Yet his voice 
 trembled as he replied : 
 
 "Morland is very dear to me. You, his future wife, 
 have grown dear to me also. I suppose I have lived rather 
 a simple sort of life and take my emotions seriously."
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " I hope you thank God for it," said Norma. 
 
 The swift rattle of a carriage turning into the drive 
 broke the talk, which had grown too personal to be left 
 voluntarily. Jimmie felt infinitely grateful to the visitors, 
 like a man suddenly saved from a threatening precipice. 
 Leaving Norma with a bow, he fled into the house and 
 selecting a book from the library, went onto the terrace. 
 He needed solitude. Something of which he was unaware 
 was happening. Circumstances were not the same as 
 when he had first arrived. Then he had looked on Norma 
 with brave serenity. He was happy, loving her and receiv- 
 ing frank friendship from her-condescending hands. Now 
 it was growing to be a pain to watch her face, a dread to 
 hear her voice. Sweet intercourse had become a danger. 
 And a few days had brought about the change. Why ? 
 Of the riot in the woman's nature he knew nothing. In 
 his blank ignorance, seeking the cause within himself, he 
 asked, Why ? 
 
 He crossed the tennis lawn, went through the little 
 opening at the end of the hedge, and down to the seclusion 
 of the croquet ground. Half-way along the sloping bank 
 beneath the upper terrace some one had left a rug. He 
 threw himself upon it, and tried like many another poor 
 fool to reason down his hunger. But all the sensitive 
 nerves with which the imaginative man, for his curse or 
 his blessing, is endowed, were vibrating from head to foot. 
 Her words sang in his ears : " Why should you care so 
 much about what I am and what I am not ? " The real 
 answer burst passionately from his heart. 
 
 He had lain there for about half an hour when a gay 
 Mttle laugh aroused him. 
 
 " You idyllic creature ! "
 
 Norma's Enlightenment 
 
 It was Connie Deering, bewitchingly apparelled, a dainty, 
 smiling pale yellow butterfly, holding as usual an absurd 
 parasol over her head. 
 
 " I have been looking for you all over the place," she 
 remarked. " They told me you were somewhere about 
 the grounds. May I sit down ? " 
 
 He made room for her on the rug, and taking the parasol 
 from her hand, closed it. She settled herself gracefully by 
 his side. 
 
 " I repeat I have been looking for you," she said. 
 
 u The overpowering sense of honour done me has de- 
 prived me of speech," replied Jimmie, with an attempted 
 return to his light-hearted manner. 
 
 " Norma is entertaining those dreadful Spencer-Temples," 
 said Mrs. Deering, irrelevantly. 
 
 " I must have had a premonition of their terrors, for I fled 
 from before their path," he said. " After all, poor people, 
 what have they done to be called names ? " he added. 
 
 "They are ugly." 
 
 " So am I, yet people don't run away from me." 
 
 " I saw you run away from them," she said with a sig- 
 nificant nod. " I was at my bedroom window. They 
 spoiled a most interesting little conversation." 
 
 Jimmie was startled. He looked at her keenly, but only 
 met laughing eyes. 
 
 " They interrupted me certainly. But I could n't have 
 inflicted my society on Miss Hardacre all the afternoon." 
 
 " You would have liked to, would n't you ? Jimmie 
 dear," she said with a change of tone, " I want to have a 
 talk with you. I 'm the oldest woman friend you have " 
 
 " And by far the sweetest and kindest and prettiest and 
 fascinatingest." 
 
 '53
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 She tapped his hand with her fingers. " Ssh ! I 'm 
 serious, awfully serious. I 've never been so serious in 
 my life before. I Ve got a duty. I don't often have it, 
 but when I do, it's a terrible matter." 
 
 "You had better go and have it extracted at once, 
 Connie," he laughed, determined to keep the talk in a 
 frivolous channel. But the little lady was determined 
 also. 
 
 "Jimmie dear," she said, holding up her forefinger, "I 
 am afraid you are running into danger. I want to warn 
 you. An old friend can do that, can't she ? " 
 
 " You can say anything you like to me, Connie. But I 
 don't know what you mean." 
 
 He suspected her meaning, however, only too shrewdly, 
 and his heart beat with apprehension. Had he been fool 
 enough to betray his secret ? 
 
 " Are n't you getting just a little too fond of Norma, 
 Jimmie ? " 
 
 " I could n't get too fond of her," he said, " seeing 
 that she is to be Morland's wife." 
 
 " That 's just why you must n't. Come, Jimmie, 
 have n't you fallen a bit in love with her ? " 
 
 " No," he said with some heat. " Certainly not. How 
 dare I ? " 
 
 Kindness and teasing were in her eyes. 
 
 " My poor dear husband used to say I had the brain of a 
 bird, but I may have the sharp eyes of a bird as well. 
 Come not just one little bit in love?" 
 
 She had sought him with the best intentions in the world. 
 She had long suspected ; yesterday and to-day had given 
 her certainty. She would put him on his guard, talk to 
 him like an elder sister, pour forth upon him her vast 
 
 154
 
 Norma's Enlightenment 
 
 wisdom in affairs of the heart, and finally persuade him 
 from his folly to more sensible courses. 
 
 " He sha'n't come to grief over Norma if I can prevent 
 it," she had said to herself. 
 
 And now, in spite of her altruistic resolve, she could not 
 resist the pleasure of teasing him. She had done so all her 
 life. Her method became less elder-sisterly than she 
 had intended. But she was miles from realising that she 
 touched bare nerves, and that the man was less a man than 
 a living pain. 
 
 " I tell you I 'm not in love with her, Connie," he said. 
 " How could I dream of loving her? It would be damna- 
 ble folly." 
 
 " Oh, Jimmie, Jimmie," she said, enjoying his confusion,, 
 " what a miserably poor liar you make and what a pre- 
 cious time you would have in the witness-box if you were 
 a co-respondent ! You can't deceive for nuts. You had 
 better confess and have done with it." Then seeing some- 
 thing of the anguish on his face, she bethought her of the 
 serious aspect of her mission. "I could not bear you to 
 break your heart over Norma, dear," she said quite softly. 
 
 "Don't madden me, Connie you don't know what 
 you are saying," he muttered below his breath. 
 
 Connie Deering had never heard a man speak in agony 
 of spirit. Her lot had fallen among pleasant places, where 
 life was a smooth, shaven lawn and emotions not more 
 violent than the ripples on a piece of ornamental water. 
 His tone gave her a sudden fright. 
 
 " You do love her, then ? " she whispered. 
 
 "Yes," said Jimmie, drawing himself up in a tight, 
 awkward heap on the slope. " My God, yes, I do love 
 her. I love her with every fibre of brain and body."
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 The words were out. More came. He could not 
 restrain them. He gave up the attempt, surrendered him- 
 self to the drunkenness of his passion, poured out a tor- 
 rent of riotous speech. What he said he knew not. 
 Such divine madness comes to a man but few times in a 
 life. The sweet-hearted, frivolous woman, sitting there 
 in the trim little paradise of green, with its velvet turf and 
 trim slopes, and tall mask of trees, all mellow in the shade 
 of the soft September afternoon, listened to him with 
 wondering eyes and pale cheeks. It was no longer Jimmie 
 of the homely face that was talking ; he was transfigured. 
 Hrs very voice had changed its quality. . . . Did he love 
 her ? The word was inept in its inadequacy. He wor- 
 shipped her like a Madonna. He adored her like a queen. 
 He loved her as the man of hot blood loves a woman. 
 Soul and heart and body clamoured for her. Compared 
 with hers, every other woman's beauty was a glow-worm 
 unto lightning. Her voice haunted him like music heard 
 in sleep. Her presence left a fragrance behind that clouded 
 his senses like incense. Her beauty twined itself into 
 every tendril of every woman's hair he painted, stole 
 into the depths of every woman's eyes. It was a divine 
 obsession. 
 
 " You must fight against it," Connie whispered tone- 
 lessly. 
 
 u Why should I ? Who is harmed ? Norma ? Who 
 will tell her ? Not I. If I choose to fill my life with her 
 splendour, what is that to any one ? The desire of the 
 moth for the star ! Who heeds the moth ? " 
 
 He went on reckless of speech until his passion had 
 spent itself. Then he could only repeat in a broken 
 way : 
 
 156
 
 Norma's Enlightenment 
 
 " Love her ? Heaven knows I love her. My soul is a 
 footstool for her to rest her feet upon." 
 
 Connie Deering laid her hand on his. 
 
 "I'm sorry. Oh, I 'm sorry, Jimmie. God bless you, 
 dear." 
 
 He raised the hand to his lips. Neither spoke. He 
 plucked at the grass by his side ; at length he looked up. 
 
 " You won't give me away, will you ? " he said with a 
 smile, using her dialect. 
 
 She went on her knees and clasped both his wrists. She 
 said the first thing that came, as something sacred, into her 
 head. 
 
 " I could no more speak of this to any one than of some 
 of my dead husband's kisses." 
 
 " I know you are a good true woman, Connie," he said. 
 
 In the silence that followed, Norma, who had come 
 to summon Connie to tea (the Spencer-Temples having 
 called on their drive past the gates merely to deliver a 
 message), and hearing the voice behind the hedge had been 
 compelled against her will to listen Norma, deadly white, 
 shaken to the roots of her being, crept across the tennis 
 lawn and fled in swaying darkness to her room.
 
 Chapter XIII 
 
 THE OPTIMIST AT LARGE 
 
 CONNIE DEERING walked back to the house 
 with a silent and still tremulous Jimmie. She 
 had slid her hand through his arm, and now and 
 then gave it an affectionate pat. Within the limitations 
 of her light, gay nature she was a sympathetic and loyal 
 woman, and she had loved Jimmie for many years with 
 the unquestioning fondness that one has for a beloved and 
 satisfying domestic animal. She had recovered from the 
 fright his frantic demonstration had caused her, and her 
 easy temperament had shaken off the little chill of solemnity 
 that had accompanied her vow of secrecy. But she pitied 
 him with all her kind heart, and in herself felt agreeably 
 sentimental. 
 
 They strolled slowly into the hall, and paused for a 
 moment before parting. 
 
 " When you come to think of it seriously, you won't 
 consider I have made too impossible a fool of myself ? " 
 he asked with an apologetic smile. 
 
 " I promise," she said affectionately. Then she laughed. 
 Not only was Jimmie's smile contagious, but Connie 
 Deering could not face the pleasant world for more than 
 an hour without laughter. 
 
 "I have always said you were a dear, Jimmie, and you 
 are. I almost wish I could kiss you." 
 
 158
 
 The Optimist at Large 
 
 Jimmie looked around. They were quite unperceived. 
 
 " I do quite," he said, and kissed her on the cheek. 
 
 u Now we are really brother and sister," she said with a 
 flush. " You are not going to be too unhappy, are you ? " 
 
 " I ? Oh no, not I," he replied heartily. He repeated 
 this asseveration to himself while dressing for dinner. 
 Why indeed should he be unhappy ? Had he not looked 
 a few hours before at God's earth and found that it was 
 good ? Besides, to add to the common stock of the 
 world's unhappiness were a crime. " Yes, a crime," he 
 said aloud, with a vigorous pull at his white tie. Then 
 he perceived that it was hopelessly mangled, and wished 
 for Aline, who usually conducted that part of the ceremony 
 of his toilette. 
 
 " It will have to do," he said cheerfully, as he turned 
 away from the glass. 
 
 Yet, for all his philosophising, he was surprised at the 
 relief that his wild confession to Connie had afforded him. 
 The burden that had seemed too heavy for him to bear 
 had now grown magically light. He attributed the phenom- 
 enon to Connie Deering, to the witchery of her sweet 
 sympathy and the comfort of her sisterly kiss. By the 
 time he had finished dressing the acute pain of the past 
 two days had vanished, and as he went down the stairs he 
 aceounted himself a happy man. In the drawing-room he 
 met Norma, and chatted to her almost light-heartedly. 
 He did not notice the constraint in her manner, her avoid- 
 ance of his glance, the little pucker of troubled brows ; 
 nor was he aware of her sigh of relief when the door opened 
 and the servant announced Mr. Theodore Weever, who 
 with one or two other people were dining at the house. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hardacre followed on the American's heels, 
 
 159
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 and soon the rest of the party had assembled. Jimmie 
 had no opportunity for further talk with Norma, who 
 studiously kept apart from him all the evening, and dur- 
 ing dinner devoted herself to subacid conversation with 
 Morland and to a reckless interchange of cynical banter 
 with Weever. Jimmie, talking with picturesque fancy 
 about his student days in the Rue Bonaparte to his 
 neighbour, a frank fox-hunting and sport-loving young 
 woman, never dreamed of the chaos of thoughts and feelings 
 that whirled behind the proud face on the opposite side of the 
 table ; and Norma, when her mind now and then worked 
 lucidly, wondered at the strength and sweetness of the 
 man who could subdue such passion and laugh with a 
 gaiety so honest and sincere. For herself, Theodore 
 Weever, with his icy humour that crystallised her own 
 irony into almost deadly wit, was her sole salvation during 
 the interminable meal. Once Morland, listening with ad- 
 miration, whispered in her ear : 
 
 " I 've never heard you in such good form." 
 She had to choke down an hysterical impulse of laughter 
 and swallow a mouthful of champagne. Later, when the 
 women guests had gone, she slipped up to her room with- 
 out saying good-night to Morland, and, dismissing her 
 maid, as she had done the night before, sat for a long 
 time, holding her head in her hands, vainly seeking to rid 
 it of words that seemed to have eaten into her brain. 
 And when she thought of Morland, of last night, of her 
 humiliation, she flushed hot from hair to feet. She was 
 only five-and-twenty, and the world had not as yet com- 
 pleted its work of hardening. It was a treacherous and 
 deceitful world ; she had prided herself on being a finished 
 product of petrifaction, and here she lay, scorched and 
 
 1 60
 
 The Optimist at Large 
 
 bewildered, like any soft and foolish girl who had been 
 suddenly brought too near the flame of life. Keenly she 
 felt the piteousness of her defeat. In what it exactly con- 
 sisted she did not know. She was only conscious of 
 broken pride, the shattering of the little hard-faced gods in 
 her temple, the tearing up of the rails upon which she had 
 reckoned to travel to her journey's end. Hers was a con- 
 fused soul state, devoid of immediate purpose. A breach 
 of her engagement with Morland did not occur to her 
 mind, and Jimmie was merely an impersonal utterer of 
 volcanic words. She slept but little. In the morning she 
 found habit by her bedside ; she clothed herself therein 
 and faced the day. 
 
 Much was expected of her. The great garden-party 
 was to take place that afternoon. Her Serene Highness 
 the Princess of Herren-Rothbeck had signified that she 
 would do Mr. and Mrs. Hardacre the honour of being 
 present. Her Grace the Duchess of Wiltshire would ac- 
 company the princess. The ban and arriere-ban of the 
 county had been invited, and the place would be filled with 
 fair women agog to bask in the smiles of royalty, and 
 ill-tempered men dragged away from their partridges by 
 ambitious wives. A firm of London caterers had con- 
 tracted for the refreshments. A military band would play 
 on the terrace. A clever French showman whom Provi- 
 dence had sent to cheer the dying hours of the London 
 season, and had kept during the dead months at a variety 
 theatre, was coming down with an authentic Guignol. He 
 had promised the choicest pieces in his repertoire la vraie 
 grivoiserie fran$aise and men who had got wind of the 
 proposed entertainment winked at one another wickedly. 
 The garden-party was to be an affair of splendour worthy 
 161
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 of the royal lady who had deigned to shed her serenity upon 
 the county families assembled; and Mr. Hardacre had raised 
 a special sum of money to meet the expenses. 
 
 " I shall have to go to the Jews, my dear," he had said to 
 his wife when they were first discussing ways and means. 
 
 " Oh, go to the Jews then," said Mrs. Hardacre, 
 almost betrayed, in her irritation, into an unwifely retort. 
 " What does it matter, what does any sacrifice matter, when 
 once we have royalty at the house ? You are such a fool, 
 Benjamin." 
 
 He had a singular faculty for arousing the waspishness 
 of his wife ; yet, save on rare'occasions, he was the meek- 
 est of men in her presence. 
 
 " Well, you know best, Eliza," he said. 
 
 " I have n't been married to you for six-and-twenty years 
 without being perfectly certain of that," she replied tartly. 
 
 So Mr. Hardacre went to the Jews, and the princess 
 promised to come to Mrs. Hardacre. 
 
 Norma was not the only one that morning who was 
 aroused to a sense of responsibility. The footman entering 
 Jimmie's bedroom brought with him a flat cardboard box 
 neatly addressed in Aline's handwriting. The box contained 
 a new shirt, two new collars, a new silk tie, and a pair of 
 grey suede gloves ; also a letter from Aline instructing him 
 as to the use of these various articles of attire. 
 
 11 Be sure to wear your frock-coat," wrote the director 
 of Jimmie's conduct. "I wish you had one less than six 
 years old ; but I went over it with benzine and ammonia 
 before I packed it up, so perhaps it won't be so bad. And 
 wear your patent-leather evening shoes. They '11 look quite 
 smart if you '11 tie the laces up tight, and stick the ends in 
 between the shoe and the sock. Oh, I wish I could come 
 
 162
 
 The Optimist at Large 
 
 and turn you out decently ! and please^ Jimmie dear, don't 
 cut yourself shaving and go about all day with a ridiculous 
 bit of cotton wool on your dear chin. Tony says you 
 need n't wear the frock-coat, but I know better. What 
 acquaintance has he with princesses and duchesses ? And 
 that reminds me to tell you that Tony " et ctetera, et ctetera, 
 in a manner that brought the kindest smile in the world 
 into Jimmie's eyes. 
 
 He dressed with scrupulous regard to directions, but not 
 in the frock-coat. He had a morning sitting with the 
 princess at Chiltern Towers to get through before airing 
 himself in the splendour of benzine and ammonia. He put 
 on his old tweed jacket and went downstairs. Morland 
 was the only person as yet in the breakfast-room. He held 
 a morning paper tight in his hand, and stared through the 
 window, his back to the door. On Jimmie's entrance he 
 started round, and Jimmie saw by a harassed face that 
 something had happened. 
 
 " My dear fellow " he began in alarm. 
 
 Morland smoothed out the paper with nervous fingers, 
 and threw it somewhat ostentatiously on a chair. Then he 
 walked to the table and poured himself out some tea. The 
 handle of the silver teapot slid in his grasp, and awkwardly 
 trying to save the pouring flood of liquid, he dropped the 
 teapot among the cups and saucers. It was a disaster, but 
 one that could have been adequately greeted by a simpler 
 series of expletives. He cursed vehemently. 
 
 " What 's the matter, man ? " asked Jimmie. 
 
 Morland turned violently upon him. 
 
 " The very devil 's the matter. There never was such 
 a mess since the world began. What an infernal fool I 
 have been ! You do well to steer clear of women."
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " Tell me what 's wrong and I may be able to help you." 
 
 Morland looked at him for a moment in gloomy doubt. 
 Then he shook his head. 
 
 u You can't help me. I thought you could, but you 
 can't. It 's a matter for a lawyer. I must run up to 
 town." 
 
 " And cut the garden-party ? " 
 
 " That 's where I 'm tied," exclaimed Morland, impa- 
 tiently. " I ought to start now, but if I cut the garden-party 
 the duchess would never forgive me and by Jove, I may 
 need the duchess more than ever and I 've got a meeting 
 to attend in Cosford this morning to which a lot of people 
 are coming from a distance." 
 
 44 Can't I interview the lawyer for you ? " 
 
 "No. I must do it myself." 
 
 The butler entered and looked with grave displeasure at 
 the wreckage on the tea-tray. While he was repairing the 
 disaster, Morland went back to the window and Jimmie 
 stood by his side. 
 
 " If you fight it through squarely, it will all come right 
 in the end." 
 
 u You don't mind my not telling you about it ? " said 
 Morland, in a low voice. 
 
 " Why should I ? In everything there is a time for 
 silence and a time for speech." 
 
 " You 're right," said Morland, thrusting his hands into 
 his trousers' pockets ; " but how I am to get through this 
 accursed day in silence I don't know." 
 
 They sat down to breakfast. Morland rejected the offer 
 of tea, and called for a whisky and soda which he nsarly 
 drained at a gulp. Mr. Hardacre came in, and eyed the 
 Jong glass indulgently. 
 
 164
 
 The Optimist at Large 
 
 " Bucking yourself up, eh ? Why did n't you ask for a 
 pint of champagne ? " 
 
 He opened the newspaper and ran through the pages. 
 Morland watched him with swift nervous glances, and 
 uttered a little gasp of relief when he threw it aside and 
 attacked his grilled kidneys. His own meal was soon over. 
 Explaining that he had papers to work at in the library, 
 he hurried out of the room. 
 
 " Can't understand a man being so keen on these con- 
 founded politics," his host remarked to Jimmie across the 
 table. A polite commonplace was all that could be expected 
 in reply. Politics were engrossing. 
 
 " That 's the worst of it," said Mr. Hardacre. " In the 
 good old days a man could take his politics like a gentle- 
 man ; now he has got to go at them like a damned 
 blaspheming agitator on a tub." 
 
 " Cosford was once a pretty little pocket borough, 
 was n't it ? " said Jimmie. u Now Trade's unfeeling train 
 usurp the privileges of His Grace of Wiltshire and threaten 
 to dispossess his nominee. Instead of one simple shepherd 
 recording his pastoral vote we have an educated electorate 
 daring to exercise their discretion." 
 
 Mr. Hardacre looked at Jimmie askance; he always 
 regarded an allusive style with suspicion, as if it necessarily 
 harboured revolutionary theories. 
 
 "I hope you're not one of those " He checked him- 
 self as he was going to say " low radical fellows." Politeness 
 forbade. " I hope you are not a radical, Mr. Padgate ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't quite know," replied Jimmie, 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " Humph ! " said Mr. Hardacre, " I believe you are." 
 
 Jimmie laughed; but Mr. Hardacre felt that he held 
 
 165
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 the key to the eccentric talk of his guest. Jimmie Padgate 
 was a radical ; a fearful wildfowl of unutterable proclivities, 
 to whom all things dreadful were possible. 
 
 " I," he continued, " am proud to be a Tory of the old 
 school." 
 
 The entrance of the ladies put a stop to the distressful 
 conversation. 
 
 Jimmie, whose life during the past few days had been a 
 curious compound of sunshine and shadow, went about 
 his morning's work with only Morland's troubles weighing 
 upon him. Of their specific nature he had no notion; he 
 knew they had to do with the unhappy love affair; but 
 as Morland was going to put matters into the hands of his 
 lawyers, a satisfactory solution was bound to be discovered. 
 Like all simple-minded men, he had illimitable faith in the 
 powers of solicitors and physicians ; it was their business 
 to get people out of difficulties, and if they were capable 
 men they did their business. Deriving much comfort from 
 this fallacy, he thought as little as might be about the 
 matter. In fact he quite enjoyed his morning. He sat 
 before his easel at the end of a high historic gallery, the 
 bright morning light that streamed in through the windows 
 tempered by judiciously arranged white blinds ; and down 
 the vista were great paintings, and rare onyx tables, and 
 priceless chairs and statuary, all harmonising with the 
 stately windows and painted ceiling and polished floor. 
 In front of him, posed in befitting attitude, sat the royal 
 lady, with her most urbane expression upon her features, 
 and, that which pleased him most, the picture was just 
 emerging from the blurred mass of paint, an excellent 
 though somewhat idealised portrait. So he worked un- 
 falteringly with the artist's joy in the consciousness of 
 
 1 66
 
 The Optimist at Large 
 
 successful efforts, and his good-humour infected even his 
 harsh sitter, who now and then showed a wintry gleam 
 of gaiety, and uttered a guttural word of approbation. 
 
 " You shall come to Herren-Rothbeck and baint the 
 bortrait of the brince my brother," she said graciously. 
 " Would that blease you ? " 
 
 " I should just think it would," said Jimmie. 
 
 The princess laughed a creaking, rusty laugh, but 
 thoroughly well intentioned. Jimmie glanced at her 
 enquiringly. 
 
 *' I like you," she responded. "You are so natural 
 what you English call refreshing. A German would have 
 made a ceremonious speech as long as your mahl-stick." 
 
 " I am afraid I must learn ceremony before I come to 
 court, Madam," said Jimmie. 
 
 " If you do, you will have forgotten how to baint bor- 
 traits," said the princess. 
 
 Thus, under the sun of princely favour, was Jimmie 
 proceeding on the highroad to fortune. Never had the 
 future seemed so bright. His bombastic jest about being 
 appointed painter in ordinary to the crowned heads of Europe 
 was actually going to turn out a reality. He lost himself 
 in daydreams of inexhaustible coffers from which he could 
 toss gold in lapfuls to Aline. She should indeed walk in 
 silk attire, and set up housekeeping with Tony in a mansion 
 in Park Lane. 
 
 On the front lawn at Heddon Court he met Connie and 
 waved his hat in the air. She went to him, and, peering 
 into his smiling face, laid her hand on his sleeve. 
 
 " Whatever has happened ? Have vou two stepped into 
 each other's shoes ? ** 
 
 " What on earth do you mean ? 
 167
 
 " You know Norma." 
 
 "My dear Connie " he began. 
 
 41 Well, it seemed natural. Here are you as happy as 
 an emperor ; and there is Morland come back from Cosford 
 with the look of a hunted criminal." 
 
 168
 
 Chapter XIV 
 THE BUBBLE REPUTATION 
 
 THE princess had the affability to inform Mrs. 
 Hardacre that it was a " charming baity," and 
 Mrs. Hardacre felt that she had not lived in vain. 
 Henceforth she would be of the innermost circle of the 
 elect of the county. Exclusive front doors would open 
 respectfully to her. She would be consulted on matters 
 appertaining to social polity. She would be a personage. 
 She would also make her neighbour, Lady FitzHubert, sick 
 with envy. A malignant greenness on that lady's face she 
 noted with a thrill of pure happiness, and she smilingly 
 frustrated all her manoeuvres to get presented to Her 
 Serene Highness. She presented her rival, instead, to 
 Jimmie. 
 
 "My dear Lady FitzHubert, let me introduce Mr. 
 Padgate, who is painting the dear princess's portrait. 
 Mr. Padgate is staying with us." 
 
 Whereby Mrs. Hardacre conveyed the impression that 
 Heddon Court and Chiltern Towers contained just one 
 family party, the members of which ran in and out of either 
 house indiscriminately. It may be mentioned that Jimmie 
 did not get on particularly well with Lady FitzHubert. 
 He even confided afterwards to Connie Deering his sus- 
 picion that now and again members of the aristocracy were 
 lacking in true urbanity. 
 
 169
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 By declaring the garden-party to be charming the prin- 
 cess only did justice to the combined efforts of the Hardacres 
 and Providence. The warm golden weather and the chance 
 of meeting august personages had brought guests from far 
 and near. The lawns were bright with colour and resonant 
 with talk. A red-coated band played on the terrace. 
 Between the items of music, Guignol, housed in the Greek 
 temple, with the portico for a proscenium, performed his 
 rogueries to the delight of hastily assembling audiences. 
 Immediately below, a long white-covered table gleamed 
 with silver tea-urns and china, and all the paraphernalia of 
 refreshments. At the other end of the lawn sat the august 
 personages surrounded by the elect. 
 
 Among these was Morland. But for him neither blue 
 September skies nor amiable duchesses had any charm. 
 To the man of easy living had come the sudden shock of 
 tragedy, and the music and the teacups and the flatteries 
 seemed parts of a ghastly farce. The paragraph he had 
 read in the paper that morning obsessed him. The hours 
 had seemed one long shudder against which he vainly 
 braced his nerves. He had loved the poor girl in his facile 
 way. The news in itself was enough to bring him face to 
 face with elementals. But there was another terror added. 
 The chance word of a laughing woman had put him on the 
 rack of anxiety. Getting out of the train at Cosford, she 
 had seen the queerest figure of a man step on to the plat- 
 form, with the face of Peter the Hermit and the costume of 
 Mr. Stiggins. Morland's first impulse had been to retreat 
 precipitately from Cosford, and take the next train to Lon- 
 don, whither he ought to have gone that morning. The 
 tradition-bred Englishman's distaste for craven flight kept 
 him irresolutely hanging round the duchess. He thought 
 
 170
 
 The Bubble Reputation 
 
 of whispering a private word to Jimmie ; but Jimmie was 
 far away, being introduced here and there, apparently en- 
 joying considerable popularity. Besides, the whisper would 
 involve the tale of the newspaper paragraph, and Morland 
 shrank from confiding such news to Jimmie. No one on 
 earth must know it save his legal adviser, an impersonal 
 instrument of protection. He did what he had done once 
 during five horrible weeks at Oxford, when an Abingdon 
 barmaid threatened him with a breach of promise action. 
 He did nothing and trusted to luck. Happy chance 
 brought to light the fact that she was already married. 
 Happy chance might save him again. 
 
 Beyond the mere commonplaces of civility he had ex- 
 changed no words that day with Norma. Moved by an 
 irritating feeling of shame coupled with a certain repugnance 
 of the flesh, he had deliberately avoided her ; and his pre- 
 occupation had not allowed him to perceive that the 
 avoidance was reciprocated. When they happened to meet 
 in their movements among the guests, they smiled at each 
 other mechanically and went their respective ways. Once, 
 during the afternoon, Mr. Hardacre, red and fussy, took 
 him aside. 
 
 " I have just heard a couple of infernal old cats talking 
 of Norma and that fellow Weever. There they are together 
 now. Will you give Norma a hint, or shall I ? " 
 
 Morland looked up and saw the pair on the terrace, 
 midway between the band and the Guignol audience. 
 
 " I 'm glad she has got somebody to amuse her," he 
 said, turning away. He was almost grateful to Weever for 
 taking Norma off his hands. 
 
 Meanwhile Jimmie was continuing to find life full of 
 agreeable surprises. Lady FitzHubert was not the only 
 
 171
 
 Where Love is 
 
 lady to whom he was presented as the Mr. Padgate who 
 was painting the princess's portrait. Mrs. Hardacre 
 waived the personal grudge, and flourished him tactfully in 
 the face of the county ; and the county accepted him with 
 unquestioning ingenuousness. He was pointed out as a 
 notability, became the well-known portrait-painter, the 
 celebrated artist, the James Padgate, and thus achieved 
 the bubble reputation. A guest who was surreptitiously 
 reporting the garden-party for the local paper took eager 
 notes of the personal appearance of the eminent man-, and 
 being a woman of the world, professed familiarity with his 
 works. For the first time in his life he found himself a 
 person of importance. The fact of his easy inclusion in 
 the charmed circle cast a glamour over the crudities of the 
 gala costume designed and furbished up with so much anxious 
 thought by Aline, and people (who are kindly as a rule when 
 their attention is diverted from the trivial) looked only at his 
 face and were attracted to the man himself. Only Lady 
 Fitz Hubert, who had private reasons for frigidity, treated 
 him in an unbecoming manner. Other fair ladies smiled 
 sweetly upon him, and spread abroad tales of his niceness, 
 and thus helped in the launching of him as a fashionable 
 portrait-painter upon the gay world. 
 
 He had a brief interlude of talk with Norma by the 
 refreshment-table. 
 
 " I hope you are not being too much bored by all this," 
 she said in her society manner. 
 
 " Bored ! " he cried. " It 's delightful." 
 
 "What about the hollow world where imagination doth 
 not corrupt and enthusiasms do not break in and steal ? " 
 
 " It 's a phantom dust-heap for inept epigrams. I don't 
 believe it exists." 
 
 172
 
 The Bubble Reputation 
 
 "You mustn't preach a gospel one day and give it the 
 lie the next," she said, half seriously; "for then I won't 
 know what to believe. You don't seem to realise your 
 responsibilities." 
 
 He echoed the last word ' in some surprise. Norma 
 broke into a little nervous laugh. 
 
 " You don't suppose you can go about without affecting 
 your fellow-creatures ? It is well that you don't know 
 what a disturbing element you are." 
 
 She turned her head away and closed her eyes for a 
 second or two, for the words she had overheard there by 
 the hedge, last evening, rang in her ears. Perhaps it had 
 been well for Jimmie if he had known. Before he had 
 time to reply, she recovered herself, and added quickly : 
 
 " I am glad you are enjoying yourself." 
 
 " How can I help it when every one is so kind to me ? " 
 he said brightly. " I came down here an obscure painter, 
 a veritable pictor ignotus, and all your friends are as charm- 
 ing to me as if I were the President of the Royal Academy." 
 
 Connie Deering came up with a message for Norma and 
 carried her off to the house. 
 
 " How does Jimmie like being lionised ? " she asked on 
 the way. 
 
 Norma repeated his last speech. 
 
 " He has n't any idea of the people's motives." She 
 added somewhat hysterically : 
 
 " The man is half fool, half angel " 
 
 " And altogether a man. Don't you make any mistake 
 about that," said Connie, with a pretty air of finality. 
 "You don't know as much about him as I do." 
 
 " I 'm not so sure about that," said Norma. 
 
 " I am," said Connie. 
 
 173
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Jimmie was wandering away from the refreshment-table 
 when Theodore Weever stopped him. 
 
 " That 's a famous portrait of yours, Mr. Padgate. I 
 saw it to-day after lunch. I offer you my congratulations." 
 
 Jimmie thanked him, said modestly that he hoped it was 
 a good likeness. 
 
 "Too good by a long chalk," laughed the American. 
 " Her Serene Skinflint does n't deserve it. I bet you she 
 beat you down like a market-woman haggling for fish." 
 
 Jimmie stuck his hands on his hips and laughed. 
 
 " You don't deny it. You should n't have let her. She 
 is rolling in money." 
 
 " I am afraid one does n't bother much with the com- 
 mercial side of things," said Jimmie. 
 
 " That 's where you make the mistake. Money is 
 money, and it is better in one's own pockets than in any- 
 body else's. But that's not what I wanted to speak to you 
 about. I wonder if you would let me have the pleasure of 
 calling at your studio some day ? I 'm collecting a few 
 pictures, and I should regard it as a privilege to be allowed 
 to look round yours." 
 
 Jimmie, having no visiting cards, scribbled his address 
 on the back of an envelope. He would be delighted to 
 see Mr. Weever any time he was passing through London. 
 Weever bowed, and turned to greet a passing acquaintance, 
 leaving a happy artist. A miracle had happened ; the star 
 of his fortunes had arisen. A week ago it was below the 
 horizon, shedding a faint, hopeful glimmer in the sky. 
 Now it shone bright overhead. The days of struggle and 
 disappointment were over. He had come into his kingdom 
 of recognition. All had happened to-day : the princess's 
 promise of another and more illustrious royal portrait j the 
 
 174
 
 The Bubble Reputation 
 
 sudden leap into fame ; the patronage of the American 
 financier. One has to be the poor artist, with his youth . 
 one record of desperate endeavour behind him, to know 
 what these things mean. The delicate flattery of strange 
 women, however commonplace or contemptible it may be 
 to the successful, was a new, rare thing to Jimmie and 
 appeased an unknown hunger. The prospect of good 
 work done and delivered to the world, without sordid, 
 heart-breaking bargainings, shimmered before him like a 
 paradise. Old habit made him long for Aline. How 
 pleased the child would be when she heard the glad news ! 
 He saw the joy on her bright face and heard her clap her 
 hands together, and he smiled. He would return to her a 
 conqueror, having won the prizes she had so often wept 
 for name and fame and fortune. The band was playing 
 the " Wedding March " from " Lohengrin." By chance, 
 as he was no musician, he recognised it. 
 
 " Aline shall have a wedding dress from Paris," he said 
 half aloud, and he smiled again. The world had never 
 been so beautiful. 
 
 He embraced all of it that was visible in a happy, sweep- 
 ing glance. Then with the swiftness of lightning the smile 
 on his face changed into consternation. 
 
 For a moment he stood stock still, staring at the sudden 
 figure of a man. It was Stone, the mad orator of Hyde 
 Park. There was no possibility of mistaking him at a 
 distance of fifteen or twenty yards. He wore the same 
 rusty black frock-coat and trousers, the same dirty collar 
 and narrow black tie, the same shapeless clerical hat. His 
 long neck above the collar looked raw and scabious like a 
 vulture's. In his hand he carried a folded newspaper. He 
 had suddenly emerged upon the end of the terrace from the 
 
 I7S
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 front entrance, and was descending the steps that led down 
 to the tennis lawn. If he walked straight on, he would 
 come to the group surrounding the princess and the 
 Duchess of Wiltshire. Two or three people were already 
 eyeing him curiously. 
 
 Morland's strange dread of the man flashed upon 
 Jimmie. He hurried forward to meet him. Of what he 
 was about to do he had no definite idea. Perhaps he could 
 head Stone off, take him away from the grounds on the 
 pretext of listening to his grievances. At any rate, a 
 scandal must be avoided. As he drew near, he observed 
 Morland, who had been bending down in conversation 
 with the duchess, rise and unexpectedly recognise Stone. 
 
 A manservant bearing a small tray with some teacups 
 ran up to the extraordinary intruder, who waved him away 
 impatiently. The servant put down his tray and caught 
 him by the arm. 
 
 " You have no business here." 
 
 Stone shook himself free. 
 
 " I have. Where is Mr. Rendell ? Tell him I have 
 to speak with him." 
 
 "There is no such person here," said the servant. " Be 
 off!" 
 
 Jimmie reached the spot, as a few of the nearer guests 
 were beginning to take a surprised interest in the alterca- 
 tion. Morland came forward from behind the duchess's 
 chair and cast a swift glance at Jimmie. 
 
 " If you don't go, I shall make you," said the ser- 
 vant, preparing to execute his threat. The man looked 
 dangerous. 
 
 " I must see Mr. David Rendell," he cried, beginning 
 to struggle. 
 
 176
 
 The Bubble Reputation 
 
 Jimmie drew the servant away. 
 
 "I know this gentleman," he said quietly. "Mr. Stone, 
 Mr. Rendell is not here, but if you will come with me, I 
 will listen to you, and tell him anything you have to say." 
 
 Mr. Hardacre, who had seen the scuffle from a distance, 
 came up in a fluster. 
 
 " What 's all this ? What 's all this ? Who is this 
 creature ? Please go away." He began to hustle the 
 man. 
 
 " Stop ! He 's an acquaintance of Padgate's," said Mor- 
 land, huskily. 
 
 There was a short pause. Stone stared around at the 
 well-dressed men and women, at the seated figures of the 
 princess and the duchess, at the servant who had picked 
 up the tray, at the band who were still playing the " Wed- 
 ding March " from " Lohengrin," at the red-faced, little, 
 blustering man, at the beautiful cool setting of green, 
 and the look in his eyes was that of one who saw none of 
 these things. Morland edged to Jimmie's side. 
 
 " For God's sake, get him away," he said in a low 
 voice. 
 
 Jimmie nodded and touched the man's arm. 
 
 " Come," said he. 
 
 u Yes, please take him off" ! What the dickens does he 
 "vant ? " said Mr. Hardacre. 
 
 Stone turned his burning eyes upon him. 
 
 " I have come to find an infamous seducer," he replied, 
 with a melodramatic intensity that would have been ludi- 
 crous had his face not been so ghastly. " His name is 
 Rendell." 
 
 There was a shiver of interest in the crowd. 
 
 " Was sagt er? " the princess whispered to her neighbour. 
 12 I77
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Jimmie again tried to lead Stone away, but the distraught 
 creature seemed lost in thought and looked at him fixedly. 
 
 " I have seen you before," he said at last. 
 
 " Of course you have," said Jimmie. " In Hyde Park. 
 Don't you remember ? " 
 
 Suddenly, with a wrench of his hands he tore an un- 
 mounted photograph from the folded newspaper and threw 
 it on the ground. His eyes blazed. 
 
 u I thought I should find him. One of you is David 
 Rendell. It is not your real name. That I know. Which 
 of you is it ? " 
 
 Jimmie had sprung upon- the photograph. Instinct 
 rather than the evidence of sight told him that it was an 
 amateur portrait of himself and Morland taken one idle 
 afternoon in the studio by young Tony Merewether. It 
 had hardly lain the fraction of a second on the ground ; 
 but to Jimmie it seemed as if the two figures had flashed 
 clear upon the sight of all the bystanders. He glanced 
 quickly at Morland, who stood quite still now with stony 
 face and averted eyes. He too had recognised the photo- 
 graph, and he cursed himself for a fool for having given it 
 to the girl. He had had it loose in his pocket ; she had 
 pleaded for it ; she had no likeness of him at all. He was 
 paying now for his imprudent folly. Like Jimmie, he 
 feared lest others should have recognised the photograph. 
 But he trusted again to chance. Jimmie had undertaken 
 the unpleasant business and his wit would possibly save the 
 situation. 
 
 Jimmie did not hesitate. A man is as God made him, 
 heart and brain. To his impulsive imagination the photo- 
 graph would be proof positive for the world that one of 
 the two was the infamous seducer. It did not occur to 
 
 178
 
 The Bubble Reputation 
 
 him to brazen the man out, to send him about his business ; 
 wherein lies the pathos of simple-mindedness. The deci- 
 sive moment had come. To Morland exposure would 
 mean loss of career, and, as he conceived it, loss of Norma ; 
 and to the beloved woman it would mean misery and heart- 
 break. So he committed an heroic folly. 
 
 " Well, I am Rendell," he said in a loud voice. " What 
 then ? " 
 
 Heedless of shocked whisperings and confused voices, 
 among which rose a virtuously indignant " Great heavens ! " 
 from Mrs. Hardacre, he moved away quickly towards the 
 slope, motioning Stone to follow. But Stone remained 
 where he stood, and pointed at Jimmie with lean, out- 
 stretched finger, and lifted up his voice in crazy rhetoric, 
 which was heard above the " Wedding March." No one 
 tried to stop him. It was too odd, too interesting, too 
 dramatic. 
 
 " The world shall know the tale of your lust, and the 
 sun shall not go down upon your iniquity. Under false 
 promises you betrayed the sweetest flower in God's garden. 
 Basely you taunted her in her hour of need. Murder and 
 suicide are on your head. There is the record for all who 
 wish to read it. Read it," he cried, flinging the newspaper 
 at Mrs. Hardacre's feet. " Read how she killed her new- 
 born babe, the child of this devil, and then hanged herself." 
 
 Jimmie came two or three steps forward. 
 
 " Stop this mad foolery," he cried. 
 
 Stone glared at him for a fraction of a second, thrust his 
 hand into the breast-pocket of his frock-coat, drew out a 
 revolver, and shot him. 
 
 Jimmie staggered as a streak of fire passed through him, 
 and swung round. The women shrieked and rushed to- 
 
 179
 
 Where Love is 
 
 gether behind the princess and the duchess, who remained 
 v.almly seated. The men with one impulse sprang forward 
 to seize the madman ; but as he leaped aside and threatened 
 his assailants with his revolver, they hung back. The 
 band stopped short in the middle of a bar. 
 
 Norma and Connie Deering and one or two others who 
 had been in the house, unaware of the commotion of the 
 last few minutes, ran out on the terrace as they heard the 
 shot and the sudden cessation of the band. They saw 
 the crowd of frightened, nervous people below, and the 
 grotesque figure in his rusty black pointing the pistol. 
 And they saw Jimmie march up to him, and in a dead 
 silence they heard him say : 
 
 " Give me that revolver. What is a silly fool like you 
 doing with fire-arms ? You could n't hit a haystack at a 
 yard's distance. Give it to me, I say." 
 
 The man's arm was outstretched, and the pistol was 
 aimed point-blank at Jimmie. Connie Deering gripped 
 Norma's arm, and Norma, feeling faint, grew white to the 
 lips. 
 
 " Give it to me," said Jimmie again. 
 
 The man wavered, his arm drooped slightly ; with the 
 action of one who takes a dangerous thing from a child, 
 Jimmie quietly wrenched the revolver from his grasp. 
 
 Norma gave a gasp of relief and began to laugh foolishly. 
 Connie clapped her hands in excitement. 
 
 " Did n't I tell you he was a man ? By heavens, the 
 only one in the lot ! " 
 
 Jimmie pointed towards the terrace steps. 
 
 " Go ! " he said. 
 
 But there was a rush now to seize the disarmed Stone, 
 the red coats of the bandsmen mingling with the black of 
 
 180
 
 The Bubble Reputation 
 
 the guests. Jimmie, with a curious flame through his shoul- 
 der and a swimming in his head, swerved aside. Morland 
 ran up, with a white face. 
 
 " My God ! He has hit you. I thought he had 
 missed." 
 
 " No," said Jimmie, smiling at the reeling scene. " I 'm 
 all right. Keep the photograph. It was silly to give one's 
 photograph away. I always was a fool." 
 
 Morland pocketed the unmounted print. He tried to 
 utter a word of thanks, but the eyes of the scared and 
 scandalised crowd a few steps away were upon them, and 
 many were listening. For a moment during the mad- 
 man's crazy indictment of Jimmie for the horrible facts 
 were only too true he had had the generous impulse to 
 come forward and at all costs save his friend ; but he had 
 hesitated. The shot had been fired. The dramatic little 
 scene had followed. To proclaim Jimmie's innocence and 
 his own guilt now would be an anticlimax. It was too 
 late. He would take another opportunity of exonerating 
 Jimmie. So he stood helpless before him, and Jimmie, 
 feeling fainter and fainter, protested that he was not 
 hurt. 
 
 They stood a bit apart from the rest. By this time men 
 and women had flocked from all quarters, and practically 
 the whole party had assembled on the tennis lawn. Norma 
 still stood with Connie on the terrace, her hand on her 
 heart. A small group clustered round a man who had 
 picked up the newspaper and was reading aloud the ghastly 
 paragraph marked by Stone in blue pencil. The Hard- 
 acres were wringing their hands before a stony-faced 
 princess and an indignant duchess, who announced their 
 intention of immediate departure. Every one told every 
 
 181
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 one else the facts he or she had managed to gather. 
 Human nature and the morbidly stimulated imagination of 
 naturally unimaginative people invented atrocious details. 
 Jimmie's new-born fame as a painter was quickly merged 
 into hideous notoriety. His star must have been Lucifer, 
 so swift was its fall. 
 
 Mr. Hardacre left his wife's side, and dragged Morland a 
 step or two away, and whispered excitedly : 
 
 " What a scandal ! What a hell of a scandal ! Before 
 royalty, too. It will be the death of us. The damned 
 fellow must go. You must clear him out of the house ! " 
 
 " He 's hit. Look at him^" exclaimed Morland. 
 
 Jimmie heard his host's whisper in a dream. It seemed 
 a hoarse voice very, very far off. He laughed in an idiotic 
 way, waved his hand to the gyrating crowd, and stumbled 
 a few yards towards the slope. The world swam into dark- 
 ness and he fell heavily on his face. 
 
 Then, to the amazement of the county, Norma with a 
 ringing cry rushed down the slope, and threw herself beside 
 Jimmie's body and put his head on her lap. And there 
 she stayed until they dragged her away, uttering the queer 
 whimpering exclamations of a woman suddenly stricken 
 with great terror. She thought Jimmie was dead. 
 
 182
 
 Chapter XV 
 MRS. HARDACRE LAUGHS 
 
 THEY took Jimmie into the house, and Norma, 
 looking neither to right nor left, walked by the 
 side of those carrying him, the front of her em- 
 broidered dress smeared with blood. Every time her hands 
 came in contact with the delicate fabric, they left a fresh 
 smear. Of this she was unconscious. She was uncon- 
 scious too, save in a dull way, of the staring crowd; but 
 she held her head high, and when Morland spoke to her 
 by the drawing-room window through which they passed, 
 she listened to what he had to say, bowed slightly, and 
 went on. 
 
 " It is only a flesh wound. If it had been the lung, he 
 would have spat blood. I don't think it is serious." 
 
 He spoke in a curiously apologetic tone, as if anxious to 
 exculpate himself from complicity in the attempted murder. 
 He was horribly frightened. Two deaths laid in one day 
 at a man's door are enough. The possibility of a third was 
 intolerable. The sense of the unheroic part he had just 
 played was beginning to creep over him like a chilling mist. 
 The consequences of confession, the only means whereby 
 Jimmie could be rehabilitated, loomed in front of him more 
 and more disastrous. It would be presenting himself to the 
 world as a coward as well as a knave. That prospect, too, 
 frightened him. Lastly, there was Norma, white, terror- 
 stricken, metamorphosed in a second into a creature of 
 
 183
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 primitive emotions. Like the other shocks of that unhal- 
 lowed day, her revelation of unsuspected passions brought 
 him face to face with the unfamiliar; and to the average 
 sensual man the unfamiliar brings with it an atmosphere of 
 the uncanny, the influence to be feared. His attitude, 
 therefore, when he addressed her was ludicrously humble. 
 
 She bowed and passed on. By this time she knew that 
 Jimmie was not dead. Morland's words even reassured 
 her. Her breath came hard through her delicate nostrils, 
 and her bosom heaved up and down beneath the open-work 
 bodice with painful quickness. Only a few were allowed 
 to stay in the dining-room, Morland, Mr. Hardacre, Theo- 
 dore Weever on behalf of the duchess, and one or two 
 others, while the Cosford doctor, who had been invited to 
 the garden-party, made his examination. Norma went 
 through into the hall. At the bottom of the stairs she 
 met Connie in piteous distress. 
 
 u Oh, my poor dear, my poor dear, we did n't know ! 
 I have just heard all about it. It is terrible ! " 
 
 Norma put up her hand beseechingly. 
 
 " Don't, Connie dear ; don't talk of it. I can't bear it. 
 I must be alone. Send me up word what the doctor says." 
 
 She went to her room, sat there and waited. Presently 
 her maid entered with the message from Mrs. Deering. 
 The doctor's report was favourable the wound not in any 
 way dangerous, the bullet easily extractable. They had 
 carried the patient to his bedroom, and Mrs. Deering had 
 wired for Miss Marden to come down by the first train. 
 Norma dismissed the maid, and tried, in a miserable won- 
 der, to realise all that had happened. 
 
 A woman accustomed to many emotions can almost 
 always hold herself in check, if she be of strong will. Ex- 
 
 184
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Laughs 
 
 perience has taught her the meaning and the danger of those 
 swift rushes of the blood that lead to unreasoning outburst. 
 She is forewarned, forearmed, and can resist or not as occa- 
 sion demands. But even she is sometimes taken unawares. 
 How much the more likely to give way is the woman who 
 has never felt passionate emotion in her life before. The 
 premonitory symptoms fail to convey the sense of danger to 
 her inexperienced mind. Before the will has time to act 
 she is swept on by a new force, bewildering, irresistible. 
 It becomes an ecstatic madness of joy or grief, and to the 
 otherwise rational being her actions are of no account. 
 This curse of quick responsiveness afflicts men to a less 
 degree. If the first chapters of Genesis could be brought 
 up to date, woman would be endowed, not with an extra 
 rib, but with an extra nerve. 
 
 Now that she knew the shooting of Jimmie to be an 
 affair of no great seriousness, her heart sickened at the 
 thought of her wild exhibition of feeling. She heard the 
 sniggering and ridicule in every carriage-load of home- 
 ward-bound guests. From the wife of the scrubby curate 
 to the Princess of Herren-Rothbeck, her name was rolled 
 like a delicate morsel on the tongue of every woman in the 
 county. And the inference they could not fail to draw 
 from her action was true miserably true. But she had 
 only become poignantly aware of things at the moment 
 when she saw the lean haggard man in rusty black covering 
 Jimmie with the revolver. Then all the unrest of soul 
 which she had striven to allay with her mockery, all the 
 disquieting visions of sweet places to which she had scorn- 
 fully blinded her eyes, all the burning words of passion 
 whose clear echoing had wrapped her body in hateful fever 
 the night before, converged like electric currents into one 
 
 185
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 steady light radian* with significance. Two minutes after- 
 wards, when Jimmie fell, civilisation slipped from her like 
 a loose garment, and primitive woman threw herself by 
 his side. But now, reclothed, she shivered at the memory. 
 
 The door opened suddenly, and Mrs. Hardacre entered. 
 There was battle in every line of the hard face and in 
 every movement of the thin, stiff figure. Norma rose from 
 the window where she had been sitting and faced her 
 mother defiantly. 
 
 " I know what you are going to say to me. Don't you 
 think you might wait a little ? It will keep." 
 
 " It won't. Sit down," said Mrs. Hardacre between her 
 teeth. 
 
 " I prefer to stand for the moment," said Norma. 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre lost her self-control. 
 
 " Are we to send you to a madhouse ? What do you 
 mean by your blazing folly ? Before the whole county 
 before the duchess before the princess ! Do you know 
 what I have had to go through the last half-hour ? Do you 
 know that we may never set foot in Chiltern Towers again ? 
 Do you know we are the scandal and the laughing-stock of 
 the county ? As if one thing was n't sufficient for you to 
 crown it by behaving like a hysterical school -girl ! Do you 
 know what interpretation every scandal-mongering tabby in 
 the place is putting on your insane conduct ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Norma, looking at her mother stonily ; 
 " and for once in their spiteful lives they are quite right." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " gasped Mrs. Hardacre. 
 
 " I think my meaning is obvious." 
 
 "That man that painter man dressed like a second- 
 hand clothes-dealer that that beast ? " 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre could scarcely trust her senses. The 
 
 186
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Laughs 
 
 true solution of her daughter's extraordinary behaviour had 
 never crossed her most desperate imaginings. But then 
 she had not had much time for quiet speculatin. The 
 speeding of her hurriedly departing guests had usurped 
 all the wits of the poor lady. 
 
 " You have indeed given us a dramatic entertainment, 
 dear Mrs. Hardacre," Lady FitzHubert had said with a 
 sympathetic smile. " And poor Norma has supplied the 
 curtain. I hope she won't take it too much to heart." 
 
 And Mrs. Hardacre, livid with rage, had had no weapon 
 wherewith to strike her adversary who thus took triumphant 
 vengeance. It had been a half-hour of grievous humilia- 
 tion. The fount and origin thereof was lying unconscious 
 with a bullet through his shoulder. The subsidiary stream, 
 so to speak, was in her room safe and sound. Human 
 nature, for which she is not deserving of over-blame, had 
 driven Mrs. Hardacre thither. At least she could vent 
 some of her pent-up fury upon her outrageous daughter, 
 who, from Mrs. Hardacre's point of view, indeed owed an 
 explanation of her action and deserved maternal censure. 
 This she was more than prepared to administer. But 
 when she heard Norma calmly say that Lady FitzHubert 
 and the other delighted wreakers of private revenges were 
 entirely in the right, she gasped with amazement. 
 
 "That beast ! " she repeated with a rising intonation. 
 
 Norma gave her habitual shrug of the shoulders. With 
 her proud, erect bearing, it was a gesture not ungraceful. 
 
 " Considering what I have just admitted, mother, per- 
 haps it would be in better taste not to use such language." 
 
 " I don't understand your admitting it. I don't know 
 what on earth you mean," said Mrs. Hardacre. 
 
 There was a short pause, during which she scanned her 
 
 187
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 daughter's face anxiously as if waiting to see a gleam of 
 reason dawn on it. Norma reflected for a moment. 
 Should she speak or not ? She decided to speak. Brutal 
 frankness had ever been her best weapon against her 
 mother. It would probably prevent future wrangling. 
 
 " I am sorry I have n't made my meaning clear," shr 
 said, resuming her seat by the window ; " and I don't know 
 whether I can make it much clearer. Anyhow, I '11 try, 
 mother. I used to think that love was either a school-girl 
 sentimentality, a fiction of the poets, or else the sort of thing 
 that lands married women who don't know how to take 
 care of themselves in the divorce court. I find it is n't. 
 That's all." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre ran up to the window and faced Norma. 
 
 And Morland ? " 
 
 " It won't break his heart." 
 
 " What won't ? " 
 
 " The breaking off of our engagement." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre looked at her daughter in a paralysis of 
 bewilderment. 
 
 u The madhouse is the only place for you." 
 
 "Perhaps it is. Anyway I can't marry a man when 
 I care for his intimate friend and when the intimate 
 friend cares for me. Somehow it 's not quite decent. 
 Even you, mother, can see that." 
 
 " So you and the intimate friend have arranged it all 
 between you ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. He does n't know that I care, and he 
 does n't know that I know that he cares. I '11 say that 
 over again if you like. It is quite accurately expressed. 
 And you know I 'm not in the habit of lying." 
 
 " And you propose to marry " 
 
 188
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Laughs 
 
 " I don't propose to do anything," interrupted Norma, 
 quickly. " I at least can wait till he asks me. And now, 
 mother, I 've had rather a bad time don't you think we 
 might stop ? " 
 
 " It seems to me, my dear Norma, we are only just 
 beginning," said Mrs. Hardacre. 
 
 Norma rose with nervous impatience. 
 
 " O heavens, mother," she said, in the full deep notes 
 of her voice, which were only sounded at rare moments of 
 feeling, " can't you see that I 'm in earnest ? This man 
 is like no one else I have ever met. I have grown to need 
 him. Do you know what that means ? With him I am 
 a changed woman as God made me, I suppose; natural, 
 fresh, real " Mrs. Hardacre sat in Norma's vacated 
 chair by the window and stared at her, as she moved about 
 the room. " I somehow feel that I am a woman, after 
 all. I have got something higher than myself that I can 
 fall at the feet of, and that 's what every woman craves 
 when she 's decent. As for marrying him I 'm not fit 
 to marry him. There is n't any one living who is. That 's 
 an end of it, mother. I can't say anything more." 
 
 " And do you propose to go on seeing this person when 
 he recovers ? " asked Mrs. Hardacre. 
 
 Why not ? " 
 
 " I really can't argue with you," said her mother, mysti- 
 fied. u If you had told me this rubbish yesterday, I should 
 have thought you touched in your wits. To-day it is 
 midsummer madness." 
 
 " Why to-day ? " asked Norma. 
 
 " The man has shown himself to be such a horrible 
 beast. Of course, if you think confessing to having seduced 
 a girl under infamous circumstances and driven her by his
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 brutality to child-murder and suicide, and blazoning the 
 whole thing out at a fashionable garden-party and getting 
 himself shot for his pains, are idyllic virtues, nothing more 
 can be said. It 's a case, as I remarked, for a madhouse." 
 
 Norma came and stood before her mother, her brows 
 knitted in perplexity. 
 
 " Perhaps I am going crazy I really don't understand 
 what you are talking about." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre leant forward in her chair and drew a 
 long breath. A gleam of intelligence came into her eyes 
 as she looked at Norma. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you don't know what the row 
 was about before the man fired the shot ? " 
 
 " No," said Norma, blankly. 
 
 Her mother fell back in her chair and laughed. It was 
 the first moment of enjoyment she had experienced sincr; 
 Stone's black figure had appeared on the terrace. Reac- 
 tion from strain caused the laughter to ring somewhat 
 sharply. Norma regarded her with an anxious frown. 
 
 " Please tell me exactly what you mean." 
 
 " My dear child it 's too funny. I thought you would 
 have been too clever to be taken in by a man like this. 
 I see, you've been imagining him a Galahad a sort of 
 spotless prophet though what use you can have for such 
 persons I can't make out. Well, this is what happened." 
 
 Embellishing the story here and there with little spite- 
 ful adornments, she described with fair accuracy, however, 
 the scene that had occurred. Norma listened stonily. 
 
 " This is true ? " she asked when her mother had 
 finished. 
 
 " Ask any one who was there your father Mor- 
 land." 
 
 190
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Laughs 
 
 " I can't believe it. He is not that sort of man." 
 
 " Is n't he ? I knew he was the first time I set eyes 
 on him. Perhaps another time you '11 allow me to have 
 some sense of course, if it is immaterial to you whether 
 a man is a brute What are you ringing the bell 
 for ? " 
 
 " I am going to ask Morland to come up here." 
 
 The maid appeared, received Norma's message, and re- 
 tired. Norma sat by her little writing-table, with her 
 head turned away from her mother, and there was silence 
 between them till the maid returned. 
 
 " Mr. King has just driven off to catch the train, miss. 
 He left a note for you." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre listened with contracted brow. When 
 the maid retired, she bent forward anxiously. 
 
 " What does he say ? " 
 
 "You can read it, mother," replied Norma, wearily. 
 She held out the note. Mrs. Hardacre came forward and 
 took it from her hand and sat down again. 
 
 It ran : 
 
 " DEAR NORMA, I think it best to run up to town on this 
 afternoon's business. I have only just time to catch the train at 
 Cosford, so you will forgive my not saying good-bye to you more 
 ceremoniously. Take care of poor Jimmie. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " MORLAND." 
 
 " l Poor Jimmie,' indeed ! " said Mrs. Hardacre, some- 
 what relieved at finding the note contained no reference 
 to the part played by Norma. " It 's very good of Mor- 
 land, but I wish he would not mix himself up in this 
 scandal." 
 
 191
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " I can't see what less he could do than look after his 
 friend's interests," said Norma. 
 
 " I wish the man had been shot or hanged before he came 
 down here," said Mrs. Hardacre, vindictively. " That 's 
 the worst of associating with such riff-raff. One never 
 knows what they will do. It will teach you not to pick 
 people out of the gutter and set them in a drawing-room." 
 f Mrs. Hardacre rose. She did not often have the oppor- 
 tunity of triumphing over her daughter. She crossed the 
 room and paused for a moment by Norma, who sat motion- 
 less with her chin in her hand, apparently too dismayed to 
 retort. 
 
 " I am glad to see symptoms of sanity," she remarked. 
 
 Norma brought down her hand hard upon the table and 
 leaped to her feet and faced her mother. 
 
 " I tell you, it 's impossible ! Impossible ! He is not 
 that kind of man. It is some horrible mistake. I will 
 ask him myself. I will get the truth from his own 
 lips." 
 
 " You shall certainly do nothing of the kind," cried her 
 mother ; and in order to have the last word she went out 
 and slammed the door behind her. 
 
 Norma sat by the window again. The red September sun 
 was setting, and bathed downs and trees in warm light, and 
 glinted on the spire of a little village church a mile away. 
 Everything it touched was at peace, save the bowed head 
 of the girl, clasped with white fingers which still retained 
 the dull brown marks of blood. Could she believe the 
 revolting story ? A woman so driven to desperation must 
 have been cruelly handled. Her sex rose up against the 
 destroyer. Her social training had caused her to regard 
 with cynical indifference ordinary breaches of what is 
 
 192
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Laughs 
 
 popularly termed the moral law. In the fast, idle set which 
 she generally frequented it was as ordinary for a man to 
 neigh after his neighbour's wife as to try to win his friend's 
 money ; as unsurprising for him to keep a mistress as a 
 stud of race-horses ; the crime was to marry her. But it 
 was not customary, even in smart society, to drive women 
 to murder their new-born babes and kill themselves. A 
 callous brutality suggested itself, and the contemplation of 
 it touched humanity, sex, essential things. Could she 
 believe the story ? She shuddered. 
 
 The dressing-gong sounded through the house. Her maid 
 entered, drew the curtains, and lit the gas ; then was dis- 
 missed. Norma would not go down to dinner. A little 
 food and drink in her own room would be all that she 
 could swallow. 
 
 Later, Connie Deering, who had changed her dress, 
 tapped at the door and was bidden to enter. A quantity 
 of powder vainly strove to hide the traces of recent tears 
 on her pretty face. She was a swollen-featured, piteous 
 little butterfly. 
 
 " How is he ? " asked Norma. 
 
 " Better, much better. They have taken out the bullet. 
 There is no danger, and he has recovered consciousness. 
 I almost wish he hadn't. Oh, Norma dear " 
 
 She broke down and sat on the bed and sobbed. Norma 
 came up and laid her hand on her shoulder. 
 " Surely you don't believe this ghastly story ? " 
 The fair head nodded above the handkerchief. A voice 
 came from below it. 
 
 u I must it 's horrible Jimmie, of all men ! I 
 thought his life was so sweet and clean almost like a 
 good woman's I can't understand it. If he is as bad as 
 '3 193
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 this, what must other men be like ? I feel as if I shall 
 never be able to look a man in the face again." 
 
 " But why should you take it for granted that he has 
 done this ? " asked Norma, tonelessly. 
 
 Mrs. Deering raised her face and looked at her friend in 
 blue-eyed dismay. 
 
 " I did n't take it for granted. He told me so himself. 
 Otherwise do you think I should have believed it ? " 
 
 " He told you so himself! When ? " 
 
 " A short while ago. I went into his room. I could n't 
 help it I felt as if I should have gone mad if I did n't 
 know the truth. Parsons was there with him. She said 
 I could come in. He smiled at me in his old way, and 
 that smile is enough to make any woman fall in love with 
 him. c You Ve been crying, Connie,' he said. l That 's 
 very foolish of you.' So I began to cry more. You 
 would have cried if you had heard him. I asked him how 
 he was feeling. He said he had never felt so well in his 
 life. Then I blurted it out. I know I was a beast, but 
 it was more than I could stand. ' Tell me that this mad- 
 man's story was all lies.' He looked at me queerly, waited 
 for a second or two, and then moved his head. * It 's all 
 true,' he said, l all true.' c But you must have some ex- 
 planation ! ' I cried. He shut his eyes as if he were 
 tired and said I must take the facts as they were. Then 
 Parsons came up and said I must n't excite him, and sent 
 me out of the room. But I did n't want to hear any more. 
 I had heard enough, had n't I ? " 
 
 Norma, as she listened to the little lady's tale, felt her 
 heart grow cold and heavy. Doubt was no longer possible. 
 The man himself had spoken. He had not even pleaded 
 extenuating circumstances ; had merely admitted the plain, 
 
 194
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Laughs 
 
 brutal facts. He had gone under a feigned name, seduced 
 an honest girl, abandoned her, driven her to tragedy. It 
 was all too simple to need explanation. 
 
 " But what are we to do, dear ? " cried Connie, as 
 Norma made no remark, but stood motionless and silent. 
 
 " I think we had better drop his acquaintance," she 
 replied with bitter irony. 
 
 Connie flinched at the tone, being a tender-natured 
 woman. She retorted with some spirit : 
 
 " I don't believe you have any heart at all, Norma. 
 And I thought you cared for him." 
 
 " You thought I cared for him ? " Norma repeated 
 slowly and cuttingly while her eyes hardened. " What 
 right had you to form such an opinion ? " 
 
 " People can form any opinions they like, my dear," 
 said Connie. " That was mine. And on the terrace this 
 afternoon you know you cared. If ever a woman gave 
 herself away over a man, it was Norma Hardacre." 
 
 " It was n't Norma Hardacre, I assure you. It was 
 a despicable fool whom I will ask you to forget. My 
 mother was for putting it into a madhouse. She was quite 
 right. Anyhow it has ceased to exist and I am the real 
 Norma Hardacre again. Humanity is afflicted, it seems, 
 periodically with a peculiar disease. It turns men into 
 beasts and women into idiots. I have quite recovered, my 
 dear Connie, and if you '11 kindly go down and ask them 
 to keep dinner back for five minutes, I '11 dress and come 
 down." 
 
 She rang the bell for her maid. Connie rose from the 
 bed. She longed to make some appeal to the other's softer 
 nature for her own sake, as she had held Jimmie very dear 
 and felt the need of sympathy in her trouble and disillusion. 
 
 195
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 But knowing that from the rock of that cynical mood no 
 water would gush forth for any one's magic, she recognised 
 the inefficacy of her own guileless arts, and forbore to 
 exercise them. She sighed for answer. By chance her 
 glance fell upon Norma's skirt. Human instinct, not 
 altogether feminine, seized upon the trivial. 
 
 " Why, whatever have you been doing to your dress ? " 
 
 Norma looked down, and for the first time noticed the 
 disfiguring smears of blood. 
 
 " I must have spilt something," she said, turning away 
 quickly, and beginning to unfasten the hooks and eyes of 
 her neckband. 
 
 " I hope it will come out," said Connie. " It 's such a 
 pretty frock." 
 
 As soon as she was alone, Norma looked at the stains 
 with unutterable repulsion. She tore off the dress fever- 
 ishly and threw it into a corner. When her maid entered 
 in response to her summons, she pointed to the shapeless 
 heap of crepe and embroidery. 
 
 " Take that away and burn it," she said. 
 
 196
 
 Chapter XVI 
 IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 NORMA went down to dinner resolved to present 
 a scornful front to public opinion. She found 
 the effort taxed her strength. During the 
 night her courage deserted her. The cold glitter of tri- 
 umph in her mother's eyes had been intolerable. Her 
 father, generally regarded with contemptuous indifference, 
 had goaded her beyond endurance with his futile upbraid- 
 ing. Aline had arrived, white-faced and questioning, and 
 had established herself by Jimmie's bedside. Norma shrank 
 from the ordeal of the daily meeting with her and the ex- 
 planation that would inevitably come. She dreaded the 
 return of Morland, uncertain of her own intentions. As 
 she tossed about on her pillow, she loathed the idea of the 
 marriage. Innermost sex had spoken for one passionate 
 moment, and its message still vibrated. She knew that 
 time might dull the memory ; she knew that her will 
 might one day triumph over such things as sex and senti- 
 ment ; but she must have a breathing space, a period of 
 struggle, of reflection, above all, of disassociation from 
 present surroundings. If she sold herself, it must be in 
 the accustomed cold atmosphere of brain and heart. Not 
 now, when her head burned and flaming swords were 
 piercing her through and through. And last, and chief 
 of all her dreads, was the wounded man now sleeping 
 
 197
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 beneath that roof. Father, mother, Aline, Morland 
 these, torture though it were, she could still steel her 
 nerves to meet ; but him, never. He had done what 
 no other man in the wide world had done. He had awak- 
 ened the sleeping, sacredest inmost of her, and he had dealt 
 it a deadly wound. If she could have consumed him and 
 all the memories surrounding him with fire, as she had 
 consumed the garment stained with his blood, she would 
 have done so in these hours of misery. And fierce among 
 the bewildering conflict of emotions that raged through the 
 long night was one that filled her with overwhelming dis- 
 gust a horrible, almost grotesque jealousy of the dead 
 girl. 
 
 In the morning, exhausted, she resolved on immediate 
 flight. In the little village of Penwyrn on the Cornish 
 coast, her aunt Janet Hardacre led a remote, Quakerish 
 existence. The reply to a telegram before she left her 
 room assured Norma of a welcome. By eleven o'clock 
 she had left Heddon Court and was speeding westwards 
 without a word to Jimmie or Aline. 
 
 Morland returned in the afternoon, and after a whisky 
 and soda to brace his nerves, at once sought Jimmie, who 
 roused himself with an effort to greet his visitor. 
 
 " Getting on famously, I hear," said Morland, with 
 forced airiness. " So glad. We '11 have you on your feet 
 in a day or two." 
 
 " I hope to be able to travel back to London to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Jimmie, with a curious smile. " I fear I 
 have outstayed my welcome." 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said Morland, seating himself at the 
 foot of the bed. " We '11 put all that right. But you will 
 
 198
 
 In the Wilderness 
 
 give on? a little time, won't you? You mustn't think 
 you 've been altogether left. I ran up to town at once to 
 see my solicitors not my usual people, you know, but 
 some others, devilish smart fellows at this sort of thing. 
 They '11 see that nothing gets into the beastly papers." 
 
 " I don't see that it matters much," said Jimmie. 
 
 " Why, of course it does. I 'm not going to let you 
 take the whole blame. I could n't come forward yesterday, 
 it was all so sudden. The scandal would have rotted my 
 election altogether. But you shall be cleared at any 
 rate in the eyes of this household. I came down with the 
 intention of telling Norma, but she has bolted to Corn- 
 wall. Upset, I suppose. However, as soon as she comes 
 back " 
 
 " Let things be as they are," interrupted Jimmie, closing 
 his eyes for a moment wearily, for he had been suffering 
 much bodily pain. " When I said I was David Rendell, 
 I meant it. I can go on acting the part. It 's pretty 
 easy." 
 
 " Impossible, my dear old chap," said Morland, with 
 an air of heartiness. " You went into the affair with 
 your eyes shut. You did n't know it was such a horrible 
 mess." 
 
 " All the more reason for Norma to remain ignorant. 
 It was for her sake as well as yours." 
 
 A peculiar tenderness in Jimmie's tone caused Morland, 
 not usually perceptive, to look at him sharply. 
 
 " You are very keen upon Norma," he remarked. 
 
 Jimmie closed his eyes again, and smiled. He was very 
 weak and tired. The pain of his wound and a certain 
 mental agitation had kept him awake all night, and just 
 6efore Morland entered he had been dropping off to sleep 
 
 159
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 for the first time. An unconquerable drowsiness induced 
 irresponsibility of speech. 
 
 " c The desire of the moth for the star,' " he murmured. 
 
 Morland slid from the bed to his feet, and with his 
 hands in his pockets gazed in astonishment at his friend. 
 An entirely novel state of affairs dawned upon him which 
 required a few moments to bring into focus. The ghastly 
 tragedy for which he was responsible, presenting itself 
 luridly at every instant of the night and day, had hidden 
 from his reminiscent vision Norma's rush down the slope 
 and her scared tending of the unconscious man. Jimmie's 
 words brought back the scene with unpleasant vividness and 
 provided the interpretation. When he saw this clearly, he 
 was the most amazed man in the three kingdoms. That 
 Jimmie should have conceived and nourished a silly, roman- 
 tic passion for Norma, although he had never interested 
 himself sufficiently in Jimmie's private affairs to suspect it, 
 was humorously comprehensible. Ludicrously incompre- 
 hensible, however, was a reciprocation of the sentiment 
 on the part of Norma. In spite of remorse, in spite of 
 anxiety, in spite of the struggle between cowardice and 
 manhood, his uppermost sensation at that moment was 
 one of lacerated vanity. He had been hoodwinked, be- 
 fooled, deceived. His own familiar friend had betrayed 
 him ; the woman he was about to honour with his name 
 had set him at naught. He tingled with anger and sense 
 of wrong. 
 
 The sick man opened his eyes drowsily, and seeing Mor- 
 land's gaze full upon him, started into wakefulness. He 
 motioned him to come nearer. 
 
 " If you marry Norma " he began. 
 
 u If I marry her ! " cried Morland. " Of course I 'm 
 
 200
 
 In the Wilderness 
 
 going to marry her. I '11 see any other man damned 
 before he marries her ! She 's the only woman in the 
 world I 've ever set my mind on, and no matter what hap- 
 pens, I 'm going to marry her. There are no damned if 's 
 about it." 
 
 " Yes, there are," Jimmie retorted weakly. u I was 
 going to preach, but I 'm too tired. You '11 have to be 
 especially good to her to make up." 
 
 " For what ? " 
 
 " For the wrong done to the other." 
 
 Morland was silent. He went up to the window and 
 stared out across the lawns and tugged at his moustache. 
 The reproach stung him, and he felt that Jimmie was un- 
 generous. After all, he had only done what thousands of 
 other men had done with impunity. The consequences 
 had been enough to drive him mad, but they had been the 
 hideous accident of a temperament for which he had not 
 been responsible. 
 
 41 You surely don't believe all that mad fool said yester- 
 day ? " he muttered without turning round. 
 
 " The promise of marriage ? " 
 
 " It 's a crazy invention. There never was any ques- 
 tion of marriage. I told you so months ago. I did every- 
 thing in my power." 
 
 " I 'm glad," said Jimmie. 
 
 Morland made no reply, but continued to stare out of the 
 window and meditate upon the many injuries that fate had 
 done him. He arraigned himself before the bar of his 
 wounded vanity. He had broken the moral law and 
 deserved a certain penalty. The magnanimous verdict 
 received the applause of an admiring self. He was will- 
 ing to undergo an adequate punishment the imposition 
 
 201
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 of a fine and the hard labour of setting devious things 
 straight. But the alternative sentence to which he saw 
 himself condemned on the one hand, the ruin of his 
 political career, his social position, and his marriage with 
 Norma, to all of which he clung with a newly found pas- 
 sion, and on the other, ignoble shelter behind an innocent 
 man who had done him a great wrong] he rebelled against 
 with all his average, sensual Briton's sense of justice. It 
 was grossly unfair. If there had been a spiritual " Times," 
 he would have written to it. 
 
 The opening of the door caused him to turn round with 
 a start. It was Aline, anxi&us and pale from an all-night 
 sitting by Jimmie's bedside, but holding her slim body erect, 
 and wearing the uncompromising air of a mother who has 
 found her child evilly entreated at the hands of strangers. 
 She glanced at the bed and at Morland ; then she put her 
 finger to her lip, and pointed at Jimmie, who lay fast asleep. 
 Morland nodded and went on tiptoe out of the room. 
 Aline looked round, and being a sensitive young person, 
 shivered. She threw open the window wide, as if to rid 
 the place of his influence. Jimmie stirred ^lightly. She 
 bent down and kissed his hair. 
 
 During the dark and troubled time that followed, Mor- 
 land fell away from Jimmie like the bosom friend of a 
 mediaeval artist stricken with the Black Death. At first, 
 common decency impelled him to send the tainted one 
 affectionate messages, invitations to trust him awhile longer, 
 and enlarged, with the crudity of his mental habit, on the 
 noble aspects of Jimmie's sacrifice. But after Jimmie left 
 the Hardacres' house, which happened as soon as he could 
 kear the journey, Morland shrank from meeting him face 
 
 202
 
 In the Wilderness 
 
 to face j and when public exposure came, the messages and 
 the invitations and the protestations ceased, and Jimmie 
 was left in loneliness upon a pinnacle of infamy. Mor- 
 land, in the futile hope of the weak-willed man that he 
 could, by some astonishing chance, sail a middle course, 
 did indeed give himself peculiar pains to keep the story oui 
 of the newspapers, and his ill-success was due to other 
 causes than his own lack of effort. It was a tale too 
 picturesque to be wasted in these days of sensation-hunger. 
 The fact of the denouement of the tragedy having taken 
 place in the presence of royalty lent it a theatrical glamour. 
 A sardonic press filled an Athenian public with what it 
 lusted after. Indeed, who shall say with authority that the 
 actual dramas re-enacted before our courts and reported in 
 our newspapers have not their value in splashing with 
 sudden colour the drab lives of thousands ? May it not be 
 better for the dulled soul to be occasionally arrested by the 
 contemplation of furious passions than to feed contentedly 
 like a pig beside the slaughtered body of its fellow ? 
 
 Be that as it may. The press paid no heed to Morland 
 or the smart fellows of solicitors whom he employed. It 
 published as many details as it could discover or invent. 
 For the tragical business did not end with the scene on the 
 Hardacres' lawn. There was an inquest on the dead girl. 
 There was the trial of Daniel Stone for attempted murder. 
 The full glare of publicity shed itself upon the sordid 
 history. In the one case the jury gave a verdict of suicide 
 during temporary insanity ; in the other the prisoner was 
 found to be insane and was sent to an asylum. These 
 were matters of no great public interest. But letters to 
 the dead girl in a disguised handwriting were discovered, 
 and Stone gave his crazy evidence, and a story of heartless 
 
 203
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 seduction under solemn promise of marriage and of aban- 
 donment with cynical offer of money was established, and 
 the fashionable portrait-painter, who was supposed to be 
 the hero of the tale, awoke one morning and found him- 
 self infamous. The thing, instead of remaining a mere 
 police-court commonplace, became a society scandal. Ex- 
 aggeration was inevitable, not only of facts but of the 
 reprobation a virtuous community pronounces on the 
 specially pilloried wrongdoer. The scapegoat in its 
 essential significance is by no means a thing of legendary 
 history. It exists still, and owes its existence to an in- 
 eradicable instinct in human nature. The reprobation 
 aforesaid is due not entirely to hypocrisy, as the social 
 satirist would have it, but in a great measure to an un- 
 reasoning impulse towards expiation of offences by horrified 
 condemnation of some notorious other. Thus it came to 
 pass that upon Jimmie's head were put all the iniquities of 
 the people and all their transgressions in all their sins, and 
 he was led away into the social wilderness. After that, 
 the world forgot him. He had been obscure enough 
 before he burst for a day into the blaze of royal patronage ; 
 but now blackest darkness swallowed him up. Only Aline 
 remained by his side. 
 
 Morland wrote to Jimmie once after the exposure. As 
 he had been the cause, said he, of the probable ruin of 
 Jimmie's professional prospects, it was only right that he 
 should endeavour to make some compensation. It was, 
 besides, a privilege of their life-long friendship. He 
 enclosed a cheque for two thousand pounds. Jimmie 
 returned it. 
 
 " My dear Morland," he wrote in answer, " loyalty 
 can only be repaid by loyalty, love by love. If I accepted 
 
 204
 
 In the Wilderness 
 
 money, it would dishonour both yourself and me. It is 
 true that I took upon me a greater burden than I was 
 aware of. The world, if it knew the facts, would, as you 
 say, call me a quixotic fool. But if I took your money it 
 would have the right to call me a mercenary knave. I have 
 always suffered fools gladly, myself the greatest. I can go 
 on doing so. Meanwhile you can make full compensation 
 in the only way possible. Devote your life and energies 
 to the happiness of the woman you are about to marry." 
 
 This was a stern letter for Jimmie to write. After he 
 had posted it he reproached himself for not having put in. 
 a kind word. 
 
 90$
 
 Chapter XVII 
 THE INCURABLE MALADY 
 
 " ~*f~ 'LL never let you inside the house again until you 
 go down on your knees and beg Jimmie's pardon," 
 -M- cried Aline. 
 
 She stood, a slim incarnation of outraged womanhood, 
 with her hand on the knob -of the open door. A scared 
 but stubborn youth hesitated on the threshold. Few men, 
 least of all lovers, like being turned out. 
 
 " I don't believe you care a hang for me ! " he said. 
 
 " I don't," she retorted bravely, but with tremulous lip. 
 " Not a hang, as you call it. I dislike you exceedingly and 
 I don't want to see you any more. I '11 never speak to 
 anybody who believes such things of Jimmie." 
 
 " But, my good child," expostulated Tony Merewether, 
 "they are facts ; he never has denied them." 
 
 He could if he liked." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " How do I know ? " Aline repeated scornfully. " That 
 just shows how far we are apart. There 's not the slightest 
 reason for talking any more. You have insulted Jimmie 
 and you are going on insulting him. I can't stand by this 
 door forever. I want you to go." 
 
 u Oh, very well, I '11 go," said the young fellow. " But 
 you 've behaved damnably to me, Aline simply damnably." 
 
 He strode down the passage and slammed the front door 
 behind him. Aline turned back into the prim little drawing- 
 cod
 
 The Incurable Malady 
 
 room where the interview had taken place, and after an 
 attempt to remain composed and dignified, suddenly broke 
 into tears. She could struggle no more against the cruelty 
 of man and the hopelessness of life. It had been a 
 stormy interview. Tony Merewether had come, as her 
 natural protector, to insist upon immediate marriage. A 
 small legacy recently bequeathed to him would enable them 
 to marry with reasonable prudence. Why should they 
 wait ? Aline pleaded for time. How could she leave her 
 beloved Jimmie in his blackest hour ? 
 
 " It 's just because I don't think it quite right for you to 
 live here any longer, that I want you to come away at 
 once," Tony had said. 
 
 "Not right to live here ? What on earth do you mean ? " 
 
 The luckless lover tried to explain. Aline regarded him 
 icily, and in his confusion and discomfiture he lost the 
 careful wrappings which he had prepared for his words. 
 
 "You think that Jimmie is not a fit perspn for me to 
 associate with ? " she had asked in a dangerous tone. 
 
 " Yes, since you choose to put it that way," he had 
 replied, nettled. He believed that women liked a man of 
 spirit and generally yielded to a show of masterfulness. 
 He was very young. Taking up his parable with greater 
 confidence, he showed her the social and moral necessity 
 of immediate recourse to his respectable protection. Natu- 
 rally he admired her loyalty, he signified, with a magnani- 
 mous wave of the hand ; but there were certain things 
 girls did not quite comprehend ; a man's judgment had to 
 be trusted. He invited her to surrender entirely to his 
 wisdom. The end of it all was his ignominious dismissal. 
 She would not see him until he had begged Jimmie's pardon 
 on his knees. 
 
 207
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 But now she buried her face in the sofa-cushions and 
 sobbed. It was her first poignant disillusion. Tony, whom 
 she loved with all her heart, was just like everybody else, 
 incapable of pure faith, ready to believe the worst. He 
 was cruel, uncharitable. She would never speak to him 
 again. And the sweet shy dream of her young life was 
 over. It was very tragical. 
 
 Jimmie's step coming up the studio stairs caused her to 
 spring from the sofa and frantically dry her eyes before the 
 mirror. The steps advanced along the passage, and soon 
 Jimmie's head appeared at the door. 
 
 " Where have you hidden 'the little watercolour box ? " 
 he asked cheerily. 
 
 *' In the cupboard. On the second shelf," she replied, 
 without turning round. 
 
 He caught sight of the reflection of a tear-stained face, 
 and came and stood by her side. 
 
 " Why, you 've been crying ! " 
 
 "I suppose I have," she admitted with affectionate 
 defiance, looking up into his face. " Why should n't I, if 
 I like ? It 's not a crime." 
 
 "It 's worse it 's a blunder," he quoted with a smile. 
 " It can't do any one any good, and it makes your pretty 
 nose red. That will spoil your good looks." 
 
 " I wish it would. My looks will never matter to any- 
 body," she said desperately. 
 
 He put his arm round her shoulders, just as he had done 
 since she could remember. 
 
 "What has happened to distress you more than usual ? " 
 he added. 
 
 She was silent for a moment, and hung her head. 
 
 u I Ve broken ofFwith Tony," she said in a low voice. 
 
 208
 
 The Incurable Malady 
 
 " You '11 mend it up with Tony at once, my dear." 
 
 " I '11 never marry him," declared Aline. 
 
 u You '11 write and tell him that you '11 marry him at 
 the very first opportunity. There are reasons why you 
 should, Aline, grave reasons." 
 
 " You would n't have me marry any one I dislike in- 
 tensely ? " she flashed. 
 
 " Would n't you do it to please me, even though you 
 hated him violently ? I have been going to speak to you 
 about this. It's high time you were married, dear, and 
 I particularly wish it. So make friends with Tony as soon 
 as ever you can." 
 
 "I never want to see Tony again until he has gone 
 on his bended knees to you," said Aline, with a quivering 
 lip. " I don't want to breathe the same air with any one 
 who does n't think of you as I do." 
 
 This was the first allusion that the girl had made to 
 unhappy things, since they had become common knowledge 
 a month ago. She had conveyed to him by increased ten- 
 derness and devotion that she loved him all the more for 
 his suffering, and it had been easy for him to perceive that 
 the main facts of the story were not unknown to her. But 
 hitherto there had been absolute silence on the part of each. 
 He had been greatly puzzled as to the proper course he 
 should take. An interview with Tony Merewether that 
 morning had decided him. It had been short, coldly cour- 
 teous on the young fellow's side, who merely asked and 
 obtained consent to marry Aline forthwith, and wistfully 
 dignified on Jimmie's. 
 
 He sat down on the arm of a chair and took her hand, 
 deeply moved by her passionate faith in him. 
 
 " Listen, dear. I am a dishonoured man and it is n't 
 *4 209
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 right that you should live with me any longer. Tony, dear 
 good fellow, is no more to blame for what he thinks of me. 
 than the crazy wronged man who shot me. But the only 
 way for you to make him think better is to marry him. 
 No, don't interrupt. Stand quietly and let me talk to you. 
 I 've been making plans and I should be tremendously 
 upset if there was any difficulty. I 'm going to give up 
 the house and studio." 
 
 Aline regarded him in frightened amazement, and then 
 looked round as if the familiar walls and furniture were in 
 danger of incontinent disappearance. 
 
 " What ? " she gasped. 
 
 " I shall give it up and wander about painting abroad, 
 so it 's absolutely necessary that you should marry Tony. 
 Otherwise I don't know what on earth I should do with 
 you." 
 
 He swung her hand and looked smilingly into her eyes. 
 
 " You see I really am in a hurry to get rid of you," he added. 
 
 Aline gazed at him for a long time, gradually recovering 
 from her stupefaction. Then she withdrew her hand from 
 his clasp and laughed. 
 
 " You are talking unadulterated rubbish, Jimmie," she 
 said. 
 
 Upon this declaration she took her stand, and no protest 
 or argument could move her. She withstood triumphantly 
 a siege of several days. Jimmie tried to exert his quasi- 
 parental authority. But the submissive little girl, who had 
 always yielded when Jimmie claimed obedience, had given 
 place to a calmly inflexible woman. Jimmie swore that he 
 would not commit the crime of spoiling her life's happiness. 
 She replied, with a toss of her head and a pang of her heart, 
 that her life's happiness had nothing to do with Tony Mere- 
 
 210
 
 The Incurable Malady 
 
 wether, and that if it did, the crime would lie at his door 
 and not at Jimmie's. 
 
 u As for leaving you alone in the wide world, I would 
 just as soon think of deserting a new-born baby in the 
 street," she said. " You are not fit to be by yourself. 
 And whether you like it or not, Jimmie, I must stay and 
 look after you." 
 
 At last, by the underhand methods which women often 
 employ for the greater comfort of men, she cajoled him 
 into an admission. The plan of giving up the house had, 
 as its sole object, the forcing of her hand. Victorious, she 
 allowed herself to shed tears over his goodness. Just for 
 her miserable sake he had proposed to turn himself into a 
 homeless wanderer over the face of Europe. 
 
 " Do tell me, Jimmie," she said, " how it feels to be an 
 angel ! " 
 
 He laughed in his old bright way. 
 
 " Very uncomfortable when a tyrannical young woman 
 cuts your wings off." 
 
 " But I do it for your good, Jimmie," she retorted. 
 " If I did n't, you would be flying about helplessly." 
 
 Thus the clouds that lay around them were lit with ten- 
 der jesting. During this passage through the darkness he 
 never faltered, serene in his faith, having found triumphant 
 vindication thereof in the devotion of Aline. That he had 
 made a sacrifice greater than any human being had a right 
 to demand of another, he knew full well ; he had been 
 driven on to more perilous reefs than he had contemplated ; 
 the man whom he had imagined Morland to be would have 
 thrown all planks of safety to the waves in order to rescue 
 him. He felt acutely the pain of his shipwreck ; but he did 
 not glorify himself as a martyr : he was satisfied that it was 
 
 211
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 for the worshipped woman's happiness, and that in itself 
 was a reward. His catholic sympathy even found extenu- 
 ating circumstances in Morland's conduct. Once when 
 Aline inveighed against his desertion, he said in the grave 
 manner in which he delivered himself of his moral 
 maxims : 
 
 " We ought never to judge a human being's actions 
 until we know his motives." 
 
 Aline thought the actions were quite sufficient for a 
 working philosophy, but she did not say so. Jimmie half 
 guessed the motives and judged leniently. Though he had 
 lost much that made life sweet to him, his heart remained 
 unchanged, his laugh rang true through the house ; and 
 were it not for the loneliness and the dismal blight in her 
 own little soul, Aline would not have realised that any 
 calamitous event had happened. 
 
 One other of Jimmie's friends maintained relations with 
 him. This was Connie Deering. She had gone abroad 
 soon after the disaster, and moved by various feelings for 
 which she rather forbade her impulsive self to account, had 
 written one or two oddly expressed letters. In the first 
 one she had touched lightly upon the difficult subject. She 
 would not have believed a word of it, if she had not heard 
 it from his own lips. If he would write to her and say 
 that it was all a lie, she would accept his word implicitly. 
 He was either a god or a devil a remark that filled 
 Jimmie with considerable alarm. A shrewd brain was 
 inside the pretty butterfly head. In his reply he ignored 
 the question, an example which Connie followed in her 
 second letter. This consisted mainly in a rambling account 
 of the beauty of Stresa and the comforts and excellent 
 cuisine of the hotel by the lake; but a postscript informed 
 
 212
 
 The Incurable Malady 
 
 him that Norma was travelling about with her for an in- 
 definite period, and that she had heard nothing of Morland, 
 who having easily won his election was now probably busy 
 with the beginning of the autumn session. Jimmie, un- 
 versed in the postscriptal ways of women, accepted the 
 information as merely the literal statement of facts. A 
 wiser man would have grasped the delicate implication that 
 the relations between the affianced pair were so strained 
 that an interval of separation had seemed desirable. 
 
 The unshaken faith of the man in the ultimate righteous- 
 ness of things kept him serene ; but the young girl who had 
 no special faith, save in the perfect righteousness of Jimmie 
 and the dastardly unrighteousness of the world in general 
 and of Mr. Anthony Merewether in particular, found it 
 difficult to live in these high altitudes of philosophy. Indeed 
 she was a very miserable little girl when Jimmie was not by, 
 and pined, and cried her heart out, and grew thin and pale 
 and sharp-tempered, and filled her guardian with much con- 
 cern. At last Jimmie took heroic measures. Without 
 Aline's knowledge he summoned Tony Merewether to an 
 interview. The young man came. Jimmie received him 
 in the studio, begged him to take a seat, and rang the bell. 
 The middle-aged housekeeper ran down in some perturbation 
 at the unusual summons, for it was Jimmie's habit to shout 
 up the stairs, generally to Aline, for anything he wanted. 
 She received his instructions. Miss Aline would oblige 
 him by coming down at once. During the interval of 
 waiting he talked to Mr. Merewether of indifferent things, 
 flattering himself on a sudden development of the dipi~. 
 matic faculty. Aline ran into the room, and stopped short 
 at the sight of the young man, uttering a Iktle cry of indig- 
 nant surprise. Jimmie cleared his throat, but the oration 
 
 213
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 that he had prepared was never delivered. Aline marched 
 straight up to the offending lover. 
 
 " I don't see you on your knees," she said. 
 
 Tony, who was entirely unexpectant of this uncom- 
 promising attitude, having taken it for granted that by some 
 means or other the way had been made smooth for him, 
 retorted somewhat sharply : 
 
 " You 're not likely to." 
 
 " Then I wonder," said Aline, " at your audacity in 
 coming to this house." She turned and marched back to 
 the door, her little figure very erect and her dark eyes 
 blazing. Jimmie intercepted her. 
 
 " Tony came at my request, my child." 
 
 For the first and only time in her life she cast a look of 
 anger upon Jimmie. 
 
 " Let me pass, please," she said, like an outraged prin- 
 cess ; and waving Jimmie aside, she made the exit of 
 offended majesty. 
 
 The two men looked stupidly at each other. Their 
 position was ignominious. 
 
 " I did it for the best, my boy," said Jimmie, taking up a 
 pipe which he began to fill mechanically. He was just 
 the kind creature of happier days. The young fellow's 
 heart was touched. After a minute's silence he committed 
 a passionate indiscretion. 
 
 " I wish to God you would tell me there is something 
 hidden beneath this ghastly story, and that it 's quite dif- 
 ferent from what it appears to be ! " 
 
 Jimmie drew himself up and looked the young man 
 between the eyes. 
 
 " That 's a question I discuss with no human being,'* 
 said he. 
 
 214
 
 The Incurable Malady 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Tony Merewether, in sincere 
 apology. u I would not have taken such a liberty if it 
 had n't been a matter of life and death for me. Perhaps 
 you think I ought to do more or less as Aline asks me ; but 
 she is too precious to purchase with an infernal lie. I 'm 
 hanged if I '11 do it, and I don't think you 're the man to 
 misunderstand my frankness." 
 
 Jimmie had lit his pipe during the foregoing speech. He 
 drew two or three meditative puffs. 
 
 " Have as little to do with lies, my boy, as ever you can," 
 said he. " And cheer up, all is sure to come right in the 
 end." 
 
 He was sunk in reflection for a long time after the youn^ 
 man had gone, and again for a long time after Aline had 
 done remorseful penance for her loss of temper. Then he 
 went out for a walk and brought back something in his 
 pocket. At dinner-time he was unusually preoccupied. 
 When the meal was over, he fished up a black bottle from 
 beneath the table, and going to the sideboard, came back 
 with a couple of wineglasses. Aline watched him as 
 though he were performing some rite in black magic. 
 
 "This is rich fruity port," said he, filling the glasses. 
 " Evans, the grocer, told me I should get nothing like it 
 at the price in London. You are to drink it. It will do 
 you good." 
 
 Aline, still penitent, obeyed meekly. 
 
 " How could you be so extravagant, Jimmie ? " she said 
 in mild protest. "It must have cost quite three shillings." 
 
 " And sixpence," said Jimmie, unabashed. He lifted 
 up his glass. " Now here 's to our Wanderjahr, or as 
 much of it as we can run to." 
 
 " Whatever do you mean, Jimmie ? " 
 
 215
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " I mean, .ny dear," said he, " that we are going to take 
 a knapsack, a tambourine and a flute, and appropriate rib- 
 bons for our costumes, and beg our way through southern 
 Europe." 
 
 He explained and developed his plan, the result of his 
 meditations, in his laughing picturesque way. They were 
 doing nothing but eating expensive fog in November 
 London. A diet of sunshine and garlic would be cheaper. 
 They would walk under the olive-trees and drift about on 
 lagoons, and whisper with dead ages in the moonlit gloom 
 of crumbling palaces. They would go over hills on 
 donkeys. They would steep their souls in Perugino, Del 
 Sarto, Giorgione. They would teach the gaunt Italian 
 flea to respect British Keating's powder. They would 
 fraternise with the beautiful maidens of Aries and sit on 
 the top of Giotto's Campanile. They would do all kinds 
 of impossible things. Afford it ? Of course they could. 
 Had he not received his just dues from the princess and 
 sold two pictures a week or two ago? At this point he 
 fell thinking for a couple of dreamy minutes. 
 
 " I meant to give you a carriage, dear," he said at last 
 in mild apology. " I 'm afraid it will have to be a third- 
 class one." 
 
 "A fourth or fifth would be good enough for me," cried 
 Aline. " Or I could walk all the way with you. Don't 
 I know you have planned it out just for my sake? " 
 
 " Rubbish, my dear," said Jimmie, holding the precious 
 wine to the light. "I'm taking you because I don't see 
 how I can leave you behind. You have no idea what an 
 abominable nuisance you '11 be." 
 
 Aline laughed a joyous laugh which did Jimmie good to 
 hear, and came behind his chair and put her arms about his 
 
 216
 
 The Incurable Malady 
 
 neck, behaving foolishly as a young girl penetrated with 
 the sense of the loved one's goodness is privileged to do. 
 What she said is of infinitesimal importance, but it lifted 
 care from Jimmie's heart and made him as happy as a 
 child. Like two children they discussed the project ; and 
 Aline fetching from the top shelf of the bookcase in 
 Jimmie's bedroom a forlorn, dusty, yellow-paged Conti- 
 nental Bradshaw, twenty years old, they looked up phantom 
 trains that had long ceased running, speculated on the 
 merits of dead-and-gone hotels, and plunged into the fairy- 
 land of anachronistic information. 
 
 A few days were enough for Jimmie's simple arrange- 
 ments ; and then began the pilgrimage of these two, each 
 bearing a burden, a heart-ache, a pain from which there 
 was no escaping, but each bearing it with a certain splen- 
 dour of courage that made life beautiful to the other. For 
 the girl suffered keenly, as Jimmie knew. She had given 
 a passionate heart for good and all to the handsome 
 young fellow who had refused to bow the knee to the 
 man whom he had every reason to consider a blackguard. 
 They had come together, youth to youth, as naturally as 
 two young birds in the first mating-season ; but, fortunately 
 or unfortunately for Aline, she was not a bird, but a human 
 being of unalterable affections and indomitable character. 
 She had the glorious faith, quia incredibile^ in Jimmie, and 
 rather than swerve aside from it she would have walked on 
 knife edges all the rest of her days. So she scorned the 
 pain, and scorned herself for feeling it when she saw the 
 serenity with which he bore his cross. Dimly she felt 
 that if the truth were known he would stand forth heroi- 
 cally, not infamously. She had revered him as a child 
 does its father; but in that sweet and pure relationship of 
 
 217
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 theirs, she had also watched him with the minute, jealous 
 solicitude that a mother devotes to an only child who is 
 incapable of looking after itself. Nothing in his character 
 had escaped her. She knew both his strength and his 
 enchanting weaknesses. To her trained eyes, he was all 
 but transparent ; and of late her quickened vision had read 
 in letters of fire across his heart, " The desire of the moth 
 for the star." 
 
 So they travelled through the world, hand in hand, as it 
 were, and drank together of its beauty. They were mem- 
 orable journeyings. Sleeping-cars and palatial hotels and 
 the luxuries of modern travel were not for them. Aline, 
 who knew that Jimmie, as far as he himself was concerned, 
 would have slept upon wood quite as cheerfully as upon 
 feathers, but for her sake would have royally commanded 
 down, held the purse-strings and dictated the expenditure. 
 They had long, wonderful third-class journeys, stopping at 
 every wayside station, at each having some picturesque 
 change of company in the ever-crowded, evil-smelling, 
 wooden-seated compartment. She laughed at Jimmie's 
 fears as to her discomfort ; protested with energetic sincer- 
 ity that this was the only way in the world to travel with 
 enjoyment. It was a never-failing interest to see Jimmie 
 disarm the suspicion of peasants by his sympathetic knowl- 
 edge of their interests, to listen to his arguments with the 
 chance-met cure, perspiring and polite, or the mild young 
 soldier in a brass helmet a size too big for him. In France 
 she understood what they were saying, and maintained a 
 proper protectorate over Jimmie by means of a rough and 
 ready acquaintance with the vernacular. But in Italy she 
 was dumb, could only regard Jimmie in open-mouthed 
 astonishment and admiration. He spoke Italian. She had 
 
 218
 
 The Incurable Malady 
 
 known him all her life and never suspected this accom- 
 plishment. It required some tact to keep him in his proper 
 position as interpreter and restrain him from acting on his 
 own initiative. In the towns they put up at little humble 
 hostelries in by-streets and in country-places at rough inns, 
 eating rude fare and drinking sour wine with great content. 
 The more they economised the longer would the idyllic 
 vagabondage last. 
 
 Through southern France and northern Italy they wan- 
 dered without fixed plans, going from place to place as 
 humour seized them, seeking the sunshine. At last it 
 seemed to be their normal existence. London with its 
 pain and its passion grew remote like the remembered 
 anguish of a dream. Few communications reached them. 
 The local newspaper gave them all the tidings they needed 
 of the great world. It was a life free from vexation. 
 The decaying splendour of the larger cities with their 
 treasure-houses of painting and sculpture and their majestic 
 palaces profoundly stirred the young girl's imagination 
 and widened her conceptions and sympathies. But she 
 loved best to arrive by a crazy, old-world diligence at some 
 little townlet built on a sunny hillside, whose crumbling 
 walls were the haunts of lizards and birds and strange wild- 
 flowers ; and having rested and eaten at the dark little 
 albergo, smelling of wine and garlic and all Italian smells, 
 to saunter out with Jimmie through the narrow, ill-paved y 
 clattering streets alive with brown children and dark-eyed 
 mothers, and men sitting on doorsteps violently gesticulat- 
 ing and screaming over the game of morra, and to explore 
 the impossible place from end to end. A step or two when 
 they desired it would bring them to the sudden peace of the 
 mediaeval church, with its memories of Romanesque tradi- 
 
 219
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 tion and faint stirrings of Gothic curiously reflecting the 
 faith of its builders ; the rough, weather-beaten casket of 
 one flawless gem of art, a Virgin smiling over the child 
 on her lap at many generations of worshippers, superbly 
 eternal and yet quaintly woman. And then they would 
 pass out of the chilly streets and down the declivitous 
 pathways below the town and sit together on the hillside, 
 in a sun-baked spot sheltered from the wind. This Aline, 
 vaguely conscious of the Infinite, called " hanging on the 
 edge of Nowhere." 
 
 One day, on such a hillside Jimmie had [been painting 
 three brown-faced children whom he had cajoled into 
 posing for him, while Aline looked on dreamily. The 
 urchins, dismissed with a few halfpennies, bowed polite 
 thanks, the two boys taking off their caps with the air of 
 ragged princes, and scampered away like rabbits out of sight. 
 
 " There ! " cried Jimmie, throwing down his brush and 
 holding out the little panel at arm's length. " I have never 
 done anything so good in all my life ! Have n't I got it ? 
 Is n't it better than ten cathedralfuls of sermons ? Is n't 
 it the quintessence of happiness, the perfect trust in the 
 sweet earth to yield them its goodness ? Could any one 
 after seeing that dare say the world was only a dank and 
 dismal prison where men do nothing but sit and hear each 
 other groan ? Look at it, Aline. What do you think 
 of it?" 
 
 " It 's just lovely, Jimmie," said Aline. 
 
 " If I painted a pink hippopotamus standing on its head, 
 you would say it was lovely. Why did n't you tell me 
 that arm was out of drawing ? " 
 
 He took up his brush and made the necessary correction. 
 Aline laughed. 
 
 220
 
 The IncurabJe Malady 
 
 " Do you know one of the few things I can remember 
 my father saying was about you ? " 
 
 u God bless my soul," said Jimmie. " I had almost 
 forgotten you ever had a father dear old chap ! What 
 did he say ? " 
 
 " I remember him telling you that one day you would 
 die of incurable optimism. For years I used to think it 
 was some horrible disease, and I used to whisper in my 
 prayers, c O God, please cure Jimmie of optimism,' and 
 sometimes lie awake at nights thinking of it." 
 
 " Well, do you think your prayer has been answered ? " 
 asked Jimmie, amused. 
 
 She shifted herself a little nearer him and put her hand 
 on his knee. 
 
 " Thank goodness, no. You 've got it as bad as ever 
 and I believe I 've caught it." Then, between a sob 
 and a laugh, she added : 
 
 41 Oh, Jimmie dear, your stupid old head could never 
 tell you what you have done for me since we have been 
 abroad. If I had stayed at home I think I should have 
 died of of of malignant pessimism. You will never, 
 never, never understand." 
 
 w And will you ever understand what you have done for 
 me, my child ? " said Jimmie, gravely. " We won't talk 
 about these things. They are best in our hearts." 
 
 221
 
 Chapter XVIII 
 A RUDDERLESS SHIP 
 
 THAT autumn pressed heavily upon Mrs. Hardacre. 
 Norma's engagement, without being broken off, 
 was indefinitely suspended, and Norma, by 
 going abroad with Mrs. Deering immediately on her re- 
 turn from Cornwall, had placed herself beyond reach of 
 maternal influence. It is true that Mrs. Hardacre wrote 
 many letters ; but as Norma's replies mainly consisted of 
 a line or two on a picture post-card, it is to be doubted 
 whether she ever read them. Mrs. Hardacre began to 
 feel helpless. Morland could give her little assistance. 
 He shrugged his shoulders at her appeals. He was per- 
 fectly determined to marry Norma, but trusted to time to 
 restore her common-sense and lead her into the path of 
 reason. Nothing that he could do would be of any avail. 
 Mrs. Hardacre urged him to join the ladies on the Continent 
 and bring matters to a crisis. He replied that an election 
 was crisis enough for one man in a year, and furthermore 
 the autumn session necessitated his attendance in the 
 House. He was quite satisfied, he told her stolidly, with 
 things as they were, and in the meantime was actually 
 finding an interest in his new political life. But Mrs. 
 Hardacre shared neither his satisfaction nor his interest, 
 a mother's point of view being so different from that of a 
 lover. 
 
 222
 
 A Rudderless Ship 
 
 As if the loss of ducal favour and filial obedience were 
 not enough for the distraught lady, her husband one morn- 
 ing threw a business letter upon the table, and with pet- 
 ulant curses on the heads of outside brokers, incoherently 
 explained that he was ruined. They were liars and knaves 
 and thieves, he sputtered. He would drag them all into 
 the police court, he would write to the " Times," he would 
 go and horsewhip the blackguards. Damme if he would n't ! 
 
 " I wish the blackguards could horsewhip you," re- 
 marked his wife, grimly. " Have you sufficient brains to 
 realise what an unutterable fool you have been ? " 
 
 If he did not realise it by the end of the week, it was 
 not Mrs. Hardacre's fault. She reduced the unhappy man 
 to craven submission and surreptitious nipping of old 
 brandy in order to keep up the feeble spirit that remained 
 in him, and took the direction of affairs into her own 
 hands. They were not ruined, but a considerable sum of 
 money had been lost through semi-idiotic speculation, and 
 for a time strict economy was necessary. By Christmas 
 the establishment in the country was broken up, a tenant 
 luckily found for Heddon Court, and a small furnished 
 house taken in Devonshire Place. These arrangements 
 gave Mrs. Hardacre much occupation, but they did not 
 tend to soften her character. When Norma came home, 
 sympathetically inclined and honestly desirous to smooth 
 down asperities for she appreciated the aggravating folly 
 of her father she found her advances coldly repulsed. 
 
 " What is the good of saying you are sorry for me," 
 Mrs. Hardacre asked snappishly, " when you refuse to do 
 the one thing that can mend matters ? " 
 
 Then followed the old, old story which Norma had heard 
 so often in days past, but now barbed with a new moral and 
 
 223
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 adorned with new realism. Norma listened wearily, sur- 
 prised at her own lack of retort. When the familiar 
 homily came to an end, her reply was almost meek : 
 " Give me a little longer time to think over it." 
 " You had better cut it as short as possible," said Mrs. 
 Hardacre, " or you may find yourself too late. As it is, 
 you are going off. What have you been doing to your- 
 self? You look thirty." 
 " I feel fifty," said Norma. 
 
 "You had better go and have your face massaged, or 
 you '11 soon not be fit to be, seen." 
 
 " I think I want a course of soul massage," answered 
 Norma, with a hard little laugh. 
 
 But when she was alone in her own room, she looked 
 anxiously at her face in the glass. Her mother had con- 
 firmed certain dismal imaginings. She had grown thinner, 
 older looking ; tiny lines were just perceptible at the corners 
 of eyes and lips and across the forehead. The fresh bloom 
 of youth was fading from her skin. She was certainly 
 going off. She had not been a happy woman since her 
 precipitate flight to Cornwall. The present discovery 
 added anxiety to depression. 
 
 A day or two afterwards Mrs. Hardacre returned to the 
 unedifying attack. Had Norma written to Morland to 
 inform him of her arrival ? Norma replied that she had no 
 inordinate longing to see Morland. Mrs. Hardacre used 
 language that only hardened and soured women of fashion 
 who are beginning to feel the pinch of poverty dare use nowa- 
 days. It is far more virulent than a fishwife's, for every 
 phrase touches a jangling nerve and every gibe tears a deli- 
 cate fibre, whereas Billingsgate merely shocks and belabours. 
 Norma bore it in silence for some time, and then went 
 
 224
 
 A Rudderless Ship 
 
 away quivering from head to foot. A new and what 
 seemed a horrible gift had been bestowed upon her the 
 power to feel. Once a sarcastic smile, a scornful glance, a 
 withering retort would have carried her in triumph from her 
 mother's presence. Secure in her own callous serenity, she 
 would have given scarcely a further thought to the quarrel. 
 Now things had inexplicably changed. Her mother's stabs 
 hurt. Some curious living growth within her was wrung 
 with pain. She could only grope humbled and broken to 
 her room and stare at nothing, wishing she could cry like 
 other women. 
 
 No wonder she looked old, when the spirit had left her 
 and taken with it the cold, proud setting of the features 
 that had given her beauty its peculiar stamp. Dimly she 
 realised the disintegration. When a nature which has taken 
 a colossal vanity for strength and has relied thereon un- 
 questioningly for protection against a perilous world, once 
 loses grip of that sublime mainstay, it is impossible for it to 
 take firm hold again. It must content itself with lesser 
 planks or flounder helplessly, fearful of imminent ship- 
 wreck. Norma, during those autumn months, had found 
 her strength vanity. The fact in rude, symbolic form was 
 brought home to her a short time after her return. 
 
 It was a bright Sunday afternoon, when, on her way to 
 pay a call in Kensington, she had dismissed her cab at 
 Lancaster Gate and was walking through Kensington 
 Gardens. Half-way a familiar figure met her eye. It was 
 her own maid sitting on a bench with a man by her side. 
 The girl was wearing a cheap long jacket over an elaborate 
 dress, absurdly light for the time of year. It caught 
 Norma's attention, and then suddenly it flashed upon her 
 that it was the dress she had given to be burned months 
 l & 225
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 ago. She walked on, aching with a sense of the futility 
 of grandiose determinations. She had consigned the gar- 
 ment stained with Jimmie's blood contemptuously to the 
 flames. It was incongruously whole in Kensington Gar- 
 dens. She had cast her love for Jimmie out of her heart 
 in the same spirit of comedic tragedy. Forlorn and be- 
 draggled it was still there, mockingly refusing to be reduced 
 to its proper dust and ashes. Her strength had not availed 
 her to cast it out. Her strength was a vain thing. Yet 
 being forlorn and bedraggled the love was as hateful as the 
 unconsumed garment. It ha\inted her like an unpurged 
 offence. The newspaper details had made it reek disgust- 
 fully. At times Connie Deering's half faith filled her with 
 an extravagant hope that these sordid horrors which had 
 sullied the one pure and beautiful thing that had come into 
 her life were nothing but a ghastly mistake ; that it was, as 
 Connie suggested, a dark mystery from which if Jimmie 
 chose he could emerge clean. But then her judgment, 
 trained from childhood to look below the surface of even 
 smiling things and find them foul, rebelled. The man had 
 proclaimed himself, written himself down a villain. It was 
 in black and white. And not only a villain that might be 
 excusable but a hypocritical canting villain, which was the 
 unforgivable sin. Every woman has a Holy Ghost of sorts 
 within her. 
 
 Norma did not write to Morland. She dreaded renewal 
 of relations, and yet she had not the courage to cut him 
 finally adrift. The thought of withered spinsterhood be- 
 neath her father's roof was a dismaying vision. Mar- 
 riage was as essential as ever to the scheme of her future. 
 Why not with Morland ? Her mother's words, though 
 spoken as with the tongues of asps, were those of wisdom. 
 
 226
 
 A Rudderless Ship 
 
 All that she could bring to a husband was her beauty, her 
 superb presence, her air of royalty, These gone, her 
 chances were as illusory as those of the pinched and faded 
 gentlewomen who tittle-tattled at Cosford tea-parties. 
 Another year, and at the present rate of decay her beauty 
 would have vanished into the limbo of last year's snows. 
 She exaggerated ; but what young woman of six-and-twenty 
 placed as she has not looked tremulously in her mirror and 
 seen feet of crows and heaven knows what imaginary 
 fowls that prey upon female charms ? At six-and-thirty 
 she smiles with wistful, longing regret at the remembered 
 image. Yet youth, happily, is not cognisant of youth's 
 absurdities. It takes itself tragically. Thus did Norma. 
 Her dowry of beauty was dwindling. She must marry 
 within the year. Sometimes she wished that Theodore 
 Weever, who had not yet discovered his decorative wife 
 and had managed to find himself at various places which 
 she had visited abroad, would come like a Paladin and de- 
 liver her from her distress and carry her off to his castle in 
 Fifth Avenue. He would at least interest her as a human 
 being, which Morland, with all his solid British qualities, 
 had never succeeded in doing. But Theodore Weever had 
 not spoken. He retained the imperturbability of the bald 
 marble bust of himself that he had taken her to see in a 
 Parisian sculptor's studio. There only remained Morland. 
 But for some reason, for which she could not account, he 
 seemed the last man on earth she desired to marry. When 
 she had written to him, soon after her flight to Cornwall, to 
 beg for a postponement of the wedding, giving him the- 
 very vaguest reasons for her request, he had assented with 
 * cheerfulness ill befitting an impatient lover. It would be 
 impertinence, he wrote, for him to enquire further into her 
 
 227
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 reasons. She was too much a woman of the world to act 
 without due consideration, and provided that he could look 
 forward to the very great happiness of one day calling her 
 his wife, he was perfectly satisfied with whatever she chose 
 to arrange. The absence of becoming fervour, in spite of 
 her desire to postpone the dreaded day, produced a feeling 
 of irritated disappointment. None of us, least of all wo- 
 men, invariably like to be taken at our word. If Morland 
 lay so little value upon her as that, he might just as well 
 give her up altogether. She replied impulsively, suggesting 
 a rupture of the engagement. ' Morland, longing for time to 
 raise him from the abasement in which he grovelled, had 
 welcomed the proposal to defer the marriage ; but as he 
 smarted at the same time under a sense of wrong had he 
 not been betrayed by his own familiar friend and the wo- 
 man he loved ? he now unequivocally refused to accept 
 her suggestion. He had made up his mind to marry her. 
 He had made all his arrangements for marrying her. The 
 check he had experienced had stimulated a desire which 
 only through unhappy circumstances had languished for a 
 brief season. He persuaded himself that he was more in 
 love with her than ever. At all costs, in his stupid, dogged 
 way, he determined to marry her. He told her so bluntly. 
 He merely awaited her good pleasure. Norma accepted the 
 situation and thought, by going abroad, to leave it at home 
 to take care of itself. It might die of inanition. Some- 
 thing miraculous might happen to transform it entirely. 
 She returned and found it alive and quite undeveloped. It 
 grinned at her with a leer which she loathed from the 
 depths of her soul ; and the more Mrs. Hardacre pointed 
 at it the more it leered, and the greater became the 
 loathing. 
 
 228
 
 A Rudderless Ship 
 
 At last Mrs. Hardacre took matters into her own hands 
 and summoned Morland to London. " Norma is in a 
 green, depressed state," she wrote, " and I think your 
 proper place is by her side. I imagine she regrets her 
 foolishness in postponing the. marriage and is ashamed to 
 confess it. A few words with you face to face would 
 bring her back to her old self. Women have these idiotic 
 ways, my dear Morland, and men being so much stronger 
 and saner must make generous allowances. I confidently 
 expect you." 
 
 Morland's vanity, spurred by this letter, brought him 
 in a couple of days to London. 
 
 " My dear Morland, this is a surprise," cried Mrs. 
 Hardacre dissemblingly, as he entered the drawing-room, 
 "we were only just talking of you. I'll ring for another 
 cup." 
 
 She moved to the bell by the side of the fireplace, and 
 Norma and Morland shook hands with the conventional 
 words of greeting. 
 
 " I hope you 've had a good time abroad ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. The usual thing, the usual places, the 
 usual people, the usual food. In fact, a highly successful 
 pursuit of the usual. I 've invented a verb l to usualise.' 
 I suppose you 've been usualising too ? " 
 
 The sudden sight of him had braced her, and instinc- 
 tively she had adopted her old, cool manner as defensive 
 armour. Her reply pleased him. There was something 
 pungent in her speech, irreconcilable in her attitude, which 
 other women did not possess. He was not physiognomist 
 or even perceptive enough to notice the subtle change in 
 her expression. He noted, as he remarked to her later, 
 that she was u a bit off colour," but he attributed it to 
 
 229
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 the muggy weather, and never dreamed of regarding her 
 otherwise than as radically the same woman who had en- 
 gaged herself to marry him in the summer. To him she 
 was still the beautiful shrew whose taming appealed to 
 masculine instincts. The brown hair sweeping up in a 
 wave from the forehead, the finely chiselled sensitive fea- 
 tures, the clear brown eyes, the mocking lips, the superb 
 poise of the head, the stately figure perfectly set off in the 
 dark blue tailor-made dress, all combined to impress him 
 with a realisation of the queenliness of the presence that 
 had grown somewhat shadowy of late to his unimaginative 
 mental vision. 
 
 " And how do you like Parliament ? " she asked casually, 
 when the teacup had been brought and handed to him filled. 
 
 " I find it remarkably interesting," he replied senten- 
 tiously. " It is dull at times, of course, but no man can 
 sit on those green benches and not feel he is helping to 
 shape the destinies of a colossal Empire." 
 
 " Is that what you really feel or is it what you say 
 when you are responding for the House of Commons at a 
 public dinner ? " asked Norma. 
 
 Morland hesitated for a moment between huffiness and 
 indulgence. In spite of his former gibes at the stale un- 
 profitableness of parliamentary life, he had always had the 
 stolid Briton's reverence for our Institutions, and now that 
 he was actually a legislator, his traditions led him to take 
 himself seriously. 
 
 " I have become a very keen politician, I assure you," 
 he answered. "If you saw the amount of work that falls 
 on me, you would be astonished. If it were n't for Manisty 
 that 's my secretary, you know I don't see how I 
 could get through it." 
 
 230
 
 A Rudderless Ship 
 
 " I always wonder," said Mrs. Hardacre, " how members 
 manage to find time for anything. They work like galley- 
 slaves for nothing at all. I regard them as simply sacri- 
 ficing themselves for the public good." 
 
 " A member of Parliament is the noblest work of God. 
 Don't, mother. Please leave us our illusions." 
 
 " What are they ? " asked Morland. 
 
 " One is that there are a few decently selfish people left 
 in an age of altruists," said Norma. 
 
 She talked for the sake of talking, careless of the stupid 
 poverty of her epigram. Morland, as the healthy country 
 gentleman alternating with the commonplace man about 
 town, was a passable type enough, though failing to excite 
 exuberant admiration. But Morland, with his narrow 
 range of sympathies and pathetic ignorance of the thought 
 of the day, posing solemnly as a trustee of the British 
 Empire, aroused a scorn which she dare not express in 
 words. 
 
 " I don't know that we are all altruists," replied Morland, 
 good-tempered ly. " If we are good little members of Par- 
 liament, we may be rewarded with baronetcies and things. 
 But one has to play the game thoroughly. It 's worth it, 
 is n't it, even from your point of view, Norma ? " 
 
 " You 're just the class of man the government does best 
 in rewarding," remarked Mrs. Hardacre, with her wintry 
 smile that was meant to be conciliatory. " A man of birth 
 and position upholds the dignity of a title and is a credit to 
 his party." 
 
 Morland laughingly observed that it was early in the day 
 to be thinking of parliamentary honours. He had not even 
 made his maiden speech. As Norma remained silent, the 
 conversation languished. Presently Mrs. Hardacre rose. 
 
 231
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 tl I have no doubt you two want to have a talk together. 
 Won't you stay and dine with us, Morland ? " 
 
 He glanced at Norma, but failing to read an endorse- 
 ment of the invitation in her face, made an excuse for 
 declining. 
 
 " Then I will say good-bye and leave you. I would n't 
 stand any nonsense if I were you," she added in a whisper 
 through the door which he held open for her. 
 
 He sauntered up to the fireplace and stood on the 
 hearth-rug, his hands in his pockets. Norma, looking at 
 him from her easy-chair, wondered at a certain ignobility 
 that she detected for the first time beneath his bluff, pros- 
 perous air. In spite of birth and breeding he looked 
 common. 
 
 " Well ? " he said. " We had better have it out at once. 
 What is it to be ? I must have an answer sooner or later." 
 
 " Can't it be later ? " 
 
 u If you insist upon it. I 'm not going to hold a pistol 
 to your head, my dear girl. Only you must admit that 
 I 've treated you with every consideration. I have n't 
 worried you. You took it into your head to put off our 
 marriage. I felt you had your reasons and I raised no ob- 
 jection. But we can't go on like this forever, you know." 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Norma. 
 
 " Human nature. I am in love with you, and want to 
 marry you." 
 
 " But supposing I am not in love with you, Morland. 
 I 've never pretended to be, have I ? " 
 
 " We need n't go over old ground. I accepted all that 
 at the beginning. The present state of affairs is that we 
 are engaged ; when are we going to be married ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said Norma, desperately. " I 
 
 232
 
 A Rudderless Ship 
 
 have n't thought of it seriously. I know I have behaved 
 like a beast to you you must forgive me. At times it has 
 seemed as though I was not the right sort to marry and 
 bring children into the world. I should loathe it ! " 
 
 " Oh, I don't think so," said Morland, in a tone he meant 
 to be soothing. " Besides " 
 
 " I know what you are going to say or at any rate 
 what you would like to say. It 's scarcely decent to talk of 
 such things. But I have n't been brought up in a nunnery. 
 I wish to God I had been. At all events, I am frank. I 
 would loathe it all that side of it. Could n't we suppress 
 that side? Oh, yes, I am going to speak of it it has 
 been on my mind for months," she burst out, as Morland 
 made a quick step towards her. 
 
 He did not allow her to continue. With his hand on 
 the arm of her chair, he bent down over her. 
 
 " You are talking wild nonsense," he said ; and she 
 flushed red and did not meet his eyes. "When a man 
 marries, he marries in the proper sense of the term, unless 
 he is an outrageous imbecile. There is to be no question of 
 that sort of thing. I thought you knew your world better. 
 I want you you yourself. Don't you understand that ? " 
 
 Norma put out her hand to push him away. He seized 
 it in his. She snatched it from him. 
 
 "Let me get up," she said, waving him off. She 
 brushed past him, as she rose. 
 
 " We can't go on talking. What I 've said has made it 
 impossible. Let us change the subject. How long are 
 you going to stay in town ? " 
 
 " I 'm not going to change the subject," said Morland, 
 rather brutally. " I 'm far too much interested in it. 
 Hang it all, Norma, you do owe me something." 
 
 233
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " What do I owe you ? What ? " she asked with a 
 sudden flash in her eyes. 
 
 "You are a woman of common-sense. I leave you to 
 guess. You admit you have n't treated me properly. 
 You have nothing to complain of as far as I am concerned. 
 Now, have you ? " 
 
 " How do I know ? No. I suppose not, as things go. 
 Once I did try to to feel more like other women and 
 to make some amends. I told you that perhaps we were 
 making a mistake in excluding sentiment. If you had 
 chosen, you could have I, don't know made me care 
 for you, perhaps. But you did n't choose. You treated 
 me as if I were a fool. Very likely I was." 
 
 "When was that ?" asked Morland, with a touch of 
 sarcasm. " I certainly don't remember." 
 
 " It was the last night we had any talk together in the 
 billiard-room. The night before before the garden-party." 
 
 He turned away with an involuntary exclamation of 
 anger. He remembered now, tragic events having put the 
 incident out of his mind. He was caught in a trap. 
 
 " I did n't think you meant it," he said, hurrying to the 
 base excuse. " Women sometimes consider it their duty 
 to say such things to act a little comedy, out of kind- 
 ness. Some fellows expect it. I thought it would be 
 more decent to let you see that I did n't." 
 
 There was a short silence. Norma stood in the centre 
 of the room, biting her lip, her head moving slightly from 
 side to side; she was seeking to formulate her thoughts 
 in conventional terms. Her che >k grew a shade paler. 
 
 " Listen," she said at length. " I am anything bad you 
 like to call me. But I 'm not a woman who cajoles men. 
 And I 'm not a liar. I 'm far too cynical to lie. Truth is 
 
 234
 
 A Rudderless Ship 
 
 much more deadly. I hate lying. That 's the main rea- 
 son why I broke with a man I cared for more than for any 
 other man I have ever met because he lied. You know 
 whom I mean." 
 
 He faced her with a conscious effort. Even at this 
 moment of strain and anger, Nortna was struck again with 
 the lurking air of ignobility on his face; but she only 
 remembered it afterwards. He brazened it out. 
 
 "Jimmie Padgate, I suppose." 
 
 " I can't forgive him for lying." 
 
 " I don't see how he lied. He faced the music, at any 
 rate, like a man," said Morland, compelled by a remnant 
 of common decency to defend Jimmie. 
 
 "All his pose beforehand was a lie unless the dis- 
 closures afterwards were lies " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Morland, sharply. 
 
 " Oh, never mind. We have not met to discuss the 
 matter. I don't know why I referred to it." 
 
 She paused for a moment. She had begun her tirade at 
 a white heat. Suddenly she had cooled down, and felt 
 lassitude in mind and limbs. An effort brought her to a 
 lame conclusion. 
 
 " You accused me of acting a comedy. I was n't acting. 
 I was perfectly sincere. I have been absolutely frank with 
 you from the hour you proposed to me." 
 
 " Well, I 'm sorry for having misunderstood you. I beg 
 your pardon," said Morland. They took up the conversa- 
 tion from the starting-point, but listlessly, dispiritedly. The 
 reference to Jimmie had awakened the ever-living remorse 
 in Morland's not entirely callous soul. The man did 
 suffer, at times acutely. And now to act the conscious 
 comedy in the face of Norma's expressed abhorrence was a 
 
 235
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 difficult and tiring task. Unwittingly he grew gentler; and 
 Norma, her anger spent, weakly yielded to the change 
 of tone. 
 
 " We have settled nothing, after all our talk," he said at 
 last, looking at his watch. " Don't you think we had 
 better fix it up now ? Society expects us to get married. 
 What will people say ? Come what about Easter ? " 
 
 Norma passed her hand wearily over her eyes. 
 
 " I ought n't to marry you at all. I should loathe it, 
 as I said. I should never get to care for you in that way. 
 You see I am honest. Let us break off the engagement." 
 
 "Well, look here," said Morland, not unkindly, "let us 
 compromise. I '11 come back in three days' time. You '11 
 either say it 's off altogether or we '11 be married at Easter. 
 Will that do ? " 
 
 " Very well," said Norma. 
 
 When Mrs. Hardacre came for news of the interview, 
 Norma told her of the arrangement. 
 
 " Which is it going to be ? " she asked. 
 
 Norma set her teeth. " I can't marry him," she said. 
 
 But the proud spirit of Norma Hardacre was broken. 
 The three days' Inferno that Mrs. Hardacre created in the 
 house drove the girl to desperation. Her father came to 
 her one day with the tears running down his puffy cheeks. 
 Unknown to her mother he had borrowed money from 
 Morland, which he had lost on the Stock Exchange. 
 Norma looked in her mirror, and found herself old, ugly, 
 hag-ridden. Anything was preferable to the torture and 
 degradation of her home. The next time that Morland 
 called he stayed to dinner, and the wedding was definitely 
 fixed for Easter. 
 
 236
 
 Chapter XIX 
 ABANA AND PHARPAR 
 
 " " "^ O you know, Miss Hardacre, that I once had a 
 
 I wife ? " said Theodore Weever, suddenly. 
 - ^ It was after dinner at the Wolff-Salamons', 
 
 who, it may be remembered, had lent their house to the 
 Hardacres in the summer. 
 
 " I was not aware of it," said Norma, wondering at the 
 irrelevance of the remark, for they had just been discussing 
 the great painter's merciless portrait of their hostess, which 
 simpered vulgarly at them from the wall. They were 
 sitting on a sofa in a corner of the room. 
 
 41 Yes," said Weever. " She died young. She came 
 from a New England village, and played old-fashioned 
 tunes on the piano, and believed in God." 
 
 Not a flicker passed over his smooth waxen face or 
 a gleam of sentiment appeared in his pale steady eyes. 
 Norma glanced round at the little assembly, mainly com- 
 posed of fleshy company promoters, who, as far as decency 
 allowed, continued among themselves the conversation that 
 had circulated over the wine downstairs, and their women- 
 kind, who adopted the slangy manners of smart society and 
 talked " bridge " to such men as would listen to them. 
 Then she glanced back at Weever. 
 
 " I don't want any more wives of that sort," he went 
 on. u I 've outgrown them. I have no use for them. 
 
 237
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 They would wilt like a snow anemone in this kind of 
 atmosphere." 
 
 " Is it your favourite atmosphere, then ? " Norma asked, 
 by way of saying something. 
 
 " More or less. Perhaps I like it not quite so mephitic 
 You are racking your brains to know why I 'm telling you 
 about my wife. I '11 explain. In a little churchyard in 
 Connecticut is a coffin, and in that coffin is what a man 
 who is going to ask a woman to marry him ought to 
 give her. I could never give a quiet-eyed New England 
 girl anything again. At my age she would bore me to 
 death. But I could give the woman who is accustomed 
 to hot-houses a perfectly regulated temperature." 
 
 Norma looked at the imperturbable face, half touched 
 by his unsuspected humanity, half angered by his assurance. 
 
 " Are you by any chance making me a formal demand 
 in marriage ? " she asked. 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " And at last you have found some one who would meet 
 your requirements for the decorative wife? " 
 
 " 1 found her last summer in Scotland," replied Weever, 
 with a little bow. " My countrymen have a habit of find- 
 ing quickly what they want. They generally get it. I 
 could n't in this particular instance, as you were engaged to 
 another man." 
 
 " I am still engaged," said Norma. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I heard the engagement was 
 broken off." 
 
 "Not at all. In fact only yesterday was it settled that 
 we should be married at Easter." 
 
 " Having gone so far on a false assumption," remarked 
 Weever, placidly, " may I go without rudeness a step 
 
 238
 
 Abana and Pharpar 
 
 farther? I do not dream of asking jou to throw over 
 King if my heart were not in Connecticut, I might 
 but I '11 say this, if you will allow me, Miss Hardacre : 
 I don't believe you will ever marry Morland King. I 
 have a presentiment that you're going to marry me 
 chiefly because I 've planned it, and my plans mostly come 
 out straight. Anyway you are the only woman in the 
 world I should ever marry, and if at any time there should 
 be a chance for me, a word, a hint, a message through the 
 telephone to buy you a pug dog or anything would 
 bring me devotedly to your feet. Don't forget it." 
 
 It was impossible to be angry with a bloodless thing that 
 spoke like a machine. It was also unnecessary to use the 
 conventional terms of regretful gratitude in which maidens 
 in their mercy wrap refusals. 
 
 " I '11 remember it with pleasure, if you like," she said 
 with a half-smile. " But tell me why you don't think I 
 shall marry Mr. King. I don't believe in your presenti- 
 ments." 
 
 She caught his eye, and they remained for some seconds 
 looking hard at each other. She saw that he had his well- 
 defined reasons. 
 
 " You can tell me exactly what is in your mind," she 
 said slowly; "you and I seem to understand each other." 
 
 " If you understand me, what is the use of compromising 
 speech, my dear lady ? " 
 
 " You don't believe in Morland ? " 
 
 " As a statesman I can't say that I do," replied Weever, 
 with the puckering of the faint lines round his eyes that 
 passed for a smile. " That is what astonishes me in your 
 English political life the little one need talk and the 
 little one need do. In America the politician is the orator. 
 
 239
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 He must move in an atmosphere of words half a mile 
 thick. Wherever he goes he must scream himself hoarse. 
 But here " 
 
 Norma touched his arm with her fan. 
 
 "We were not discussing American and English institu- 
 tions," she interrupted, " but matters which interest me 
 a little more. You don't believe in Morland as a man ? 
 I want to know, as they are supposed to say in your 
 country. I disregard your hint, as you may perceive. I 
 am also indelicate in pressing you to speak unfavourably 
 of the man I 'm engaged t6. Of course, having made 
 me an offer, you would regard it as caddish to say any- 
 thing against him. But supposing I absolve you from 
 anything of the kind by putting you on a peculiar plane 
 of friendship ? " 
 
 " Then I should say I was honoured above all mortals," 
 replied Weever, inscrutably, " and ask you to tell me as 
 a friend what has become of the artist the man who got 
 shot Padgate." 
 
 The unexpected allusion was a shock. It brought back 
 a hateful scene. It awoke a multitude of feelings. Its 
 relevance was a startling puzzle. She strove by hardening 
 her eyes not to betray herself. 
 
 " I 've quite lost sight of him," she answered in a matter 
 of-fact tone. " His little adventure was n't a pleasant 
 one." 
 
 " I don't believe he had any little adventure at all," 
 said Weever, coolly. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Norma started, and the colour 
 came into her face. 
 
 u That of all the idiots let loose in a cynical, unimagina- 
 tive world, Padgate is the greatest I have yet struck. If I 
 
 240
 
 Abana and Pharpar 
 
 were a hundredth part such an idiot, I should be a better 
 and a happier man. It 's getting late. I 'm afraid I must 
 be moving." 
 
 He rose, and Norma rose with him. 
 
 " I wish you would n't speak in riddles. Can't you tell 
 me plainly what you mean ? " 
 
 " No, I can't," he said abruptly. " I have said quite 
 enough. Good-night. And remember," he added, shak- 
 ing hands with her, " remember what I told you about 
 myself." 
 
 Only after he had gone did it flash upon her that she 
 had not put to him the vital question what had Padgate 
 to do with his disbelief in Morland ? As is the way with 
 people pondering over conundrums, the ridiculously simple 
 solution did not occur to her. She spent many days in 
 profitless speculation. Weever prophesied that the marriage 
 would not take place. When pressed for a reason, he 
 brought in the name of Jimmie Padgate. Obviously the 
 latter was to stand between Morland and herself. But 
 in what capacity ? As a lover ? Had Weever rightly in- 
 terpreted her insane act on the day of the garden-party, 
 and assumed that she was still in love with the detested 
 creature ? The thought made her grow hot and cold from 
 head to foot. Why was he an idiot ? Because he did 
 not take advantage of her public confession ? or was i 
 because he stood in Weever's eyes as a wronged and 
 heroic man ? This in the depths of her heart she had been 
 yearning for months to believe. Connie Deering almost 
 believed it. About the facts once so brutally plain, so vul- 
 garly devoid of mystery, a mysterious cloud had gathered 
 and was thickening with time. Reflection brought assur- 
 ance that Theodore Weever regarded Jimmie as innocent ; 
 16 241
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 and if ever a man viewed human affairs in the dry, relentless 
 light of reason, it was the inscrutable, bloodless American. 
 
 His offer of marriage she put aside from her thoughts. 
 Morland was the irrevocably accepted. It was February. 
 Easter falling early, the wedding would take place in a 
 little over a month. In a cold, dispassionate way, she 
 interested herself in the usual preparations. Peace reigned 
 in Devonshire Place. And yet Norma despised herself, 
 feeling the degradation of the woman who sells her 
 body. 
 
 During the session she saw little of Morland. For this 
 she thanked God, the duchess, and the electors of Cosford. 
 The sense of freedom caused her to repent of her con- 
 temptuous attitude towards his political aspirations. To 
 encourage and foster them would be to her very great 
 advantage. She adopted this policy, much to the edifica- 
 tion of Morland, who felt the strengthening of a common 
 bond of interest. He regularly balloted for seats in the 
 Ladies' Gallery, and condemned her to sit for hours behind 
 the grating and listen to uninspiring debates. He came to 
 her with the gossip of the lobbies. He made plans for 
 their future life together. They would make politics a 
 feature of their house. It would be a rallying-place for the 
 new Tory wing, in which Morland after a dinner at the 
 Carlton Club when his health was proposed in flattering 
 terms, had found himself enlisted. Norma was to bring 
 back the glories of the salon. 
 
 " When it gets too thick," he said once laughingly, 
 ashamed of these wanderings into the ideal, " we can go off 
 into the country and shoot and have some decent people 
 down and amuse ourselves rationally." 
 
 Yet, in spite of absorbing political toys, his complete sub- 
 
 242
 
 Abana and Pharpar 
 
 jugation of Norma, and the smiling aspect of life, a sense 
 of utter wretchedness weighed upon the soul of this half- 
 developed man. He could not shake it off. It haunted 
 him as he sat stolid and stupefied in his place below the 
 gangway. It dulled all sensation of pleasure when he 
 kissed the lips which Norma, resigned now to everything, 
 surrendered to him at his pleasure. It took the sparkle out 
 of his champagne, the joy out of his life. Now that he 
 had asserted himself as the victorious male who had won 
 the female that he coveted, the sense of wrong inflicted on 
 him grew less and the consciousness of his own shame 
 grew greater. In his shallow way he had loved Jimmie 
 dearly. He also had the well-bred Englishman's conven- 
 tional sense of honour. Accusing conscience wrote him 
 down an unutterable knave. 
 
 One day in March, as he was proceeding citywards to 
 see his solicitors on some question relating to marriage set- 
 tlements, his carriage was blocked for some minutes in 
 Oxford Street. Looking idly out of the near side window, 
 he saw a familiar figure emerge from a doorway in a narrow 
 passage, come down to the pavement, and stand for a few 
 moments in anxious thought, jostled by the passers-by. 
 He looked thin and ill and worried. The lines by the sides 
 of his drooping moustache had deepened. Jimmie, never 
 spruce in his attire, now seemed outrageously shabby. 
 Certain men who dress well are quick, like women, to 
 notice these things. Morland's keen glance took in the dis- 
 coloured brown boots and the frayed hem of trousers, the 
 weather stains on the old tweed suit, the greasiness of the 
 red tie, the irregular mark of perspiration on the band of 
 the old Homburg hat. An impulse to spring out of the 
 carriage and greet him was struggling with sheer shame, 
 
 243
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 when Jimmie suddenly threw up his head an old trick of 
 his whose familiarity brought a pang to the man watching 
 him and crossed the road, disappearing among the traffic 
 behind the brougham. Morland gazed meditatively at the 
 little passage. Suddenly he was aware of the three brass 
 balls and the name of Attenborough. In a moment he was 
 on the pavement and, after a hurried word to his coach- 
 man, in pursuit of Jimmie. But the traffic had swallowed 
 Jimmie up. It was impossible to track him. Morland 
 returned to his brougham and drove on. 
 
 There was only one explanation of what he had seen. 
 Jimmie was reduced to poverty, to pawning his belongings 
 in order to live. The scandal had killed the sale of his 
 pictures. No more ladies would sit to him for their por- 
 traits. No more dealers would purchase works on the 
 strength of his name. Jimmie was ill, poor, down at heel, 
 and it was all his, Morland's, fault, his very grievous fault. 
 In a dim, futile way he wished he were a Roman Catholic, 
 so that he could go to a priest, confess, and receive absolu- 
 tion. The idea of confession obsessed him in this chas- 
 tened mood. By lunch-time he had resolved to tell Norma 
 everything and abide by her verdict. At any rate, if he 
 married her, he would not do so under false pretences. He 
 would feel happier with the load of lies off his mind. At 
 half-past four he left the House of Commons to transact its 
 business without him as best it could, and drove to Devon- 
 shire Place. As he neared the door, his courage began to 
 fail. He remembered Norma's passionate outburst against 
 lying, and shrank from the withering words that she might 
 speak. The situation, however, had to be faced. 
 
 The maid who opened the front door informed him that 
 Norma was out, but that Mrs. Hard^cre was at home. He 
 
 244
 
 Abana and Pharpar 
 
 was shown upstairs into the empty drawing-room, and 
 while he waited there, a solution of his difficulty occurred to 
 him. He caught at it eagerly, as he had caught at com- 
 promises and palliatives all his life. For he was a man of 
 half-sins, half-virtues, half-loves, and half-repentances. His 
 spiritual attitude was that of Naaman. 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre greeted him with smiles of welcome, and 
 regrets at Norma's absence. If only he had sent a message, 
 Norma would have given up her unimportant engagement. 
 She would be greatly disappointed. The House took up 
 so much of his time, and Norma prized the brief snatches 
 she could obtain of his company. All of which, though 
 obviously insincere, none the less flattered Morland's 
 vanity. 
 
 " Perhaps it is as well that Norma is away," said he, 
 " for I want to have a little talk with you. Can you give 
 me five minutes ? " 
 
 " Fifty, my dear Morland," replied Mrs. Hardacre, gra- 
 ciously. " Will you have some tea ? " 
 
 He declined. It was too serious a matter for the accom- 
 paniment of clattering teaspoons. Mrs. Hardacre sat in 
 an armchair with her back to the light the curtains had 
 not yet been drawn and Morland sat near her, looking 
 at the fire. 
 
 " I have something on my mind," he began. " You, as 
 Norma's mother, ought to know. It 's about my friend 
 Jimmie Padgate." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre put out a lean hand. 
 
 " I would rather not hear it. I 'm not uncharitable, but 
 I wish none of us had ever set eyes on the man. He came 
 near ruining us all." 
 
 " He seems to have ruined himself. He 's ill, poor, in 
 
 245
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 dreadful low water. I caught a sight of him this morning. 
 The poor old chap was almost in rags." 
 
 " It 's very unpleasant for Mr. Padgate, but it fails to 
 strike me as pathetic. He has only got his deserts." 
 
 " That 's where the point lies," said Morland. " He 
 does n't deserve it. I do. I am the only person to blame 
 in the whole infernal business." 
 
 " You ? " cried Mrs. Hardacre, her grey eyes glittering 
 with sudden interest. " What had you to do with it ? " 
 
 " Well, everything. Jimmie never set eyes on the girl 
 in his life. He took all the' blame to shield me. If he 
 had n't done so, there would have been the devil to pay. 
 That 's how it stands." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre gave a little gasp. 
 
 " My dear Morland, you amaze me. You positively 
 shock me. Really, don't you think in mentioning the 
 matter to me there is some indelicacy ? " 
 
 " You are a woman of the world," said Morland, bluntly, 
 " and you know that men don't lead the lives of monks 
 just because they happen to be unmarried." 
 
 " Of course I know it," said Mrs. Hardacre, composing 
 herself to sweetness. " One knows many things of which 
 it is hardly necessary or desirable to talk. Of course I 
 think it shocking and disreputable of you. But it 's all 
 over and done with. If that was on your mind, wipe it 
 off and let us say no more about it." 
 
 " I 'm afraid you don't understand," said Morland, rising 
 and leaning against the mantel-piece. " What is done is 
 done. Meanwhile another man is suffering for it, while I 
 go about prospering." 
 
 " But surely that is a matter between Mr. Padgate and 
 yourself. How can it possibly concern us ? " 
 
 246
 
 Abana and Pharpar 
 
 As Morland had not looked at the case from that point 
 of view, he silently inspected it with a puzzled brow. 
 
 " I can't help feeling a bit of a brute, you know," he 
 said at length. " I meant at first to let him off to make 
 a clean breast of it but it was n't feasible. You know 
 how difficult these things are when they get put off. Then, 
 of course, I thought I could make it up to Jimmie in other 
 ways." 
 
 " Why, so you can," said Mrs. Hardacre, with the elabo- 
 rate pretence of a little yawn, as if the subject had ceased 
 to interest her. "You could afford it." 
 
 " Money is no good. He won't touch a penny. I have 
 offered." 
 
 " Then, my dear Morland, you have done your best. If 
 a man is idiot enough to saddle himself with other people's 
 responsibilities and refuses to be helped when he breaks 
 down under them, you must let him go his own way. 
 Really I have n't got any sympathy for him." 
 
 Morland, having warmed himself sufficiently and feeling 
 curiously comforted by Mrs. Hardacre's wise words, sat down 
 again near her and leant forward with his arms on his knees. 
 
 " Do you think Norma would take the same view ? " he 
 asked. After all, in spite of certain eccentricities insepa- 
 rable from an unbalanced sex, she had as much fundamental 
 common-sense as her mother. The latter looked at him 
 sharply. 
 
 " What has Norma got to do with it ? " 
 
 " I was wondering whether I ought to tell her," said he. 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre started bolt upright in her chair. This 
 time her interest was genuine. Nothing but her long train- 
 ing in a world of petty strife kept the sudden fright out of 
 her eyes and voice. 
 
 247
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Tell Norma ? Whatever for ? " 
 
 u I thought it would be more decent," said Morland, 
 rather feebly. 
 
 " It would be sheer lunacy ! " cried the lady, appalled at 
 the certain catastrophe that such a proceeding would cause. 
 Did not the demented creature see that the whole affair 
 was in unstable equilibrium ? A touch, let alone a shock 
 like this, would bring it toppling down, never to be set up 
 again by any prayers, remonstrances, ravings, curses, thumb- 
 screws, or racks the ingenuity of an outraged mother could 
 devise. 
 
 " It would be utter imbecility," she continued. " My 
 dear man, don't you think one mad Don Quixote in a 
 romance is enough ? What on earth would you, Norma, 
 or any one else gain by telling her ? She is as happy as 
 possible now, buying her trousseau and making all the 
 wedding arrangements. Why spoil her happiness ? I 
 think it exceedingly inconsiderate of you not to say 
 selfish I do really." 
 
 " Hardly that. It was an idea of doing penance," said 
 Morland. 
 
 " If that is all," said Mrs. Hardacre, relaxing into a 
 bantering tone, as she joyfully noted the lack of conviction 
 in his manner, " I '11 make you a hair shirt, and I '11 promise 
 it shall be scratchy untanned pigskin with the bristles on, 
 if you like. Be as uncomfortable, my dear Morland, as ever 
 you choose wear a frock-coat with a bowler hat or dine 
 t$te-a-tete with Mr. Hardacre, but do leave other folks to 
 pass their lives in peace and quiet." 
 
 Morland threw himself back and laughed, and Mrs. 
 Hardacre knew she had won what she paradoxically called 
 a moral victory. They discussed the question for a 
 
 248
 
 Abana and Pharpat 
 
 few moments longer, and then Morland rose to take his 
 leave. 
 
 " It 's awfully good of you to look at things in this broad- 
 minded way," he said, with the air of a man whom an in- 
 dulgent lady has pardoned for a small peccadillo. " Awfully 
 good of you." 
 
 u There is no other sane way of looking at them," re- 
 plied Mrs. Hardacre. " Won't you wait and see Norma ? " 
 
 " I must get back to the House," replied Morland, con- 
 sulting his watch. " There may be a division before the 
 dinner-hour." 
 
 He smoked a great cigar on his way to Westminster, and 
 enjoyed it thoroughly. Mrs. Hardacre was quite right. He 
 had done his best. If Jimmie was too high and mighty to 
 accept the only compensation possible, he was not to blame. 
 The matter was over and done with. It would be idiotic 
 to tell Norma. 
 
 Meanwhile, having made confession and received absolu- 
 tion, he felt spiritually refreshed.
 
 Chapter XX 
 
 ALINE PREPARES FOR BATTLE 
 
 THE look of illness that Morland had noticed upon 
 Jimmie's face was due to the fact that he had 
 been ill. Italian, townlets nestling on hillsides are 
 picturesque, but they are not always healthy. A touch of 
 fever had laid him on his back for a week, and caused the 
 local doctor to order him to England. He had arrived in a 
 limp condition, much to the anxiety of Aline, who had ex- 
 pected to see the roses return to his cheek as soon as their 
 slender baggage had passed the custom-house. He was 
 shabbily dressed because he had fallen on evil times, and 
 had no money to waste on personal vanities. The four 
 guineas which Aline had put aside out of their limited re- 
 sources to buy him a new suit he had meanly abstracted 
 from the housekeeping drawer, and had devoted, with the 
 surreptitious help of the servant, to purchasing necessary 
 articles of attire for Aline. He was looking worried be- 
 cause he had forgotten in which of the cheap Oxford Street 
 restaurants he had promised to meet that young lady. 
 When he remembered, the cloud passed from his face 
 and he darted across the road behind Morland's brougham. 
 He found Aline seated primly at a little marble table on 
 which were a glass of milk and a lump of amorphous pastry 
 for herself, and a plate of cold beef and a small bottle of 
 Bass for Jimmie. J> was too early for the regular crowd
 
 Aline Prepares for Battle 
 
 of lunchers only half-past twelve and the slim, erect 
 little figure looked oddly alone in the almost empty 
 restaurant. 
 
 Jimmie nodded in a general, kindly way at the idle wait- 
 resses about the buffet, and marched down the room with 
 a quick step, his eyes beaming. He sat down with some 
 clatter opposite Aline, and took two cheques, a bank-note 
 and a handful of gold and silver from his pocket, and dumped 
 them noisily on the table. 
 
 " There, my child. Seven pounds ten. Twenty-five 
 guineas. Five pounds. And eight pounds three-and-six- 
 pence. Exit wolf at the door, howling, with his tail 
 between his legs." 
 
 Aline looked at the wealth with knitted brow. 
 
 " Can I take this ? " she asked, lifting up the five-pound 
 note. 
 
 Jimmie pushed the pile towards her. " Take it all, my 
 dear. What on earth should I do with it ? Besides, it 's 
 all your doing." 
 
 " Because I made you go and dun those horrid dealers ? 
 And even now Hyam has only given you half. It was 
 fifty guineas Oh, Jimmie ! Do you mean to say you 
 forgot ? Now, what did you tell him ? Did you produce 
 the agreement ? " 
 
 Jimmie looked at her ruefully. 
 
 " I 'm afraid I forgot the wretched agreement. I went 
 in and twirled my moustache fiercely, and said l Mr. Hyam, 
 I want my money.'" 
 
 Aline laughed. " And you took him by the throat. I 
 know. Oh, you foolish person ! " 
 
 u Well, he asked me if twenty-five would be enough 
 and it's a lot of money, you know, dear and I thought if 
 
 251
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 I did n't say 'yes,' he would n't give me anything. In busi- 
 ness affairs one has to be diplomatic." 
 
 " I '11 have to take Hyam in hand myself," said Aline, 
 decisively. "Well, he'll have to pay up some day. Then 
 there 's Blathwayt dff Co., and Tilney that 's quite 
 right but where did you get all that gold fr m, Jimmie? " 
 
 " Oh, that was somebody else," he said vaguely. Then 
 turning to the waitress, who had sauntered up to open the 
 bottle of Bass, he pointed at Aline's lunch. 
 
 " Do you mind taking away that eccentric pie-thing 
 and bringing the most nutritious dish you have in the 
 establishment ? " 
 
 " But, Jimmie, this is a Bath bun. It 's delicious," pro- 
 tested Aline. 
 
 " My dear child, growing girls cannot be fed like bears 
 on buns. Ah, here," he said to the waitress who showed 
 him the little wooden-handled frame containing the tariff, 
 " bring this young lady some galantine of chicken." 
 
 Aline, who in her secret heart loved the " eccentric 
 pie-thing " beyond all other dainties, and trembled at the 
 stupendous charge, possibly ninepence or a shilling, that 
 would be made for the galantine, yielded, after the manner 
 of women, because she knew it would please Jimmie. But 
 accustomed to his diplomatic methods, she felt that a 
 red herring or a galantine had been drawn across 
 the track. 
 
 "Who was the somebody else ? " she asked. 
 
 He nodded and drank a draught of beer and wiped the 
 froth from his moustache. Something unusual in his per- 
 sonal appearance suddenly caught her attention. His 
 watch-chain was dangling loose from the buttonhole of 
 his waistcoat. 
 
 252
 
 Aline Prepares for Battle 
 
 " Your watch ! " she gasped. 
 
 Dissimulation being vain, Jimmie confessed. 
 
 "You told me this morning, my dear, that if we didn't 
 get fifty pounds to-day we were ruined. You spoke alarm- 
 ingly of the workhouse. My debt collecting amounted to 
 thirty-eight pounds fifteen. I tried hard to work the 
 obdurate bosom up to eleven pounds five, but he would 
 only give me eight." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you have sold your beautiful 
 gold watch for eight pounds ? " cried the girl, turning as 
 pale as the milk in front of her. 
 
 It had been a present from a wealthy stockbroker who 
 had been delighted with his portrait painted by Jimmie a 
 couple of years ago, and it was thick and heavy and the 
 pride of Aline's existence. It invested Jimmie with an air 
 of solidity, worldly substantiality; and it was the only time- 
 keeper they had ever had in the house which properly 
 executed its functions. Now he had sold it ! Was there 
 ever so exasperating a man ? He was worse than Moses 
 with his green spectacles. But Jimmie reassured her. He 
 had only pawned the watch at Attenborough's over the 
 way. 
 
 " Then give me the ticket, do, or you '11 lose it, 
 Jimmie." 
 
 He meekly obeyed. Aline began her galantine with a 
 sigh of relief, and condescended to laugh at Jimmie's 
 account of his exploits. But when the meal was ended, 
 she insisted on redeeming the precious watch, and much 
 happier in knowing it safe in his pocket, she carried him 
 off to a ready-made tailor's, where she ordered him a beau- 
 tiful thin overcoat for thirty shillings, a neat blue serge 
 suit for three pounds ten, handing over in payment the 
 
 2 53
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 five-pound note she had abstracted from his gleanings, and 
 a new hat, for which she paid from a mysterious private 
 store of her own. These matters having been arranged to 
 her satisfaction, she made up for her hectoring ways by 
 nestling against him on top of the homeward-bound omni- 
 bus and telling him what a delightful, lovely morning they 
 had spent. 
 
 Thus it will be seen that Jimmie, aided by Aline's stout 
 little heart, was battling more than usual against adversity. 
 Aline had many schemes. Why should she not obtain 
 some lucrative employment ? Jimmie made a wry face at 
 the phrase and protested vehemently against the suggestion. 
 A hulking varlet like him to let her wear her fingers to the 
 bone by addressing envelopes at twopence a million ? He 
 would sooner return to the five-shillings-a-dozen oil paint- 
 ings ; he would go round the streets at dawn and play 
 " ghost " to pavement artists ; he would take in washing ! 
 The idea of the street-pictures caught his fancy. He ex- 
 patiated upon its advantages. Five pitches, say at two 
 shillings a pitch, that would be ten shillings a day three 
 pounds a week. A most business-like plan, to say nothing 
 of the education in art it would be to the public ! He had 
 his own fantastical way of dealing with the petty cares of 
 life. As for Aline working, he would not hear of it. 
 Though they lived now from hand to mouth, they were 
 always fed. He had faith in the ravens. 
 
 But all the fantasy and the faith could not subdue 
 Aline's passionate rebellion against Jimmie's ostracism. 
 She was very young, very feminine ; she had not his wide 
 outlook, his generous sympathies, his disdain of trivial, 
 ignoble things, his independence of soul. The world 
 was arrayed against Jimmie. Society was persecuting him 
 
 254
 
 Aline Prepares for Battle 
 
 with monstrous injustice. She hated his oppressors, longed 
 fiercely for an opportunity of vindicating his honour. Jf. 
 was sometimes more than she could bear to think of his 
 straitened means, the absence of sitters, the lowered prices 
 he obtained, the hours of unremitting toil he spent at his 
 easel and drawing-table. During their travels she had not 
 realised what the scandal would mean to him profession- 
 ally. Now her heart rose in hot revolt and thirsted for 
 battle in Jimmie's cause. 
 
 Her heart had never been hotter than one morning 
 when, the gem of his finished Italian studies having been 
 rejected by the committee of a minor exhibition, she went 
 down to the studio to give vent to her indignation. At 
 breakfast Jimmie had laughed and kissed her and told her 
 not to drop tears into his coffee. He would send the 
 picture to the Academy, where it would be hung on the 
 line and make him famous. He refused to be down- 
 hearted and talked buoyantly of other things. But Aline 
 felt that it was only for her sake that he hid his bitter dis- 
 appointment, and an hour later she could bear the strain of 
 silence no longer. 
 
 The door of the studio was open. The girl's footstep 
 was soft, and, not hearing it, he did not turn as she entered. 
 For a few seconds she stood watching him ; feeling shy, 
 embarrassed, an intruder upon unexpected sacred things. 
 Jimmie's mind was far away from minor exhibitions. He 
 was sitting on his painting-stool, chin in hand, looking at a 
 picture on the easel. On his face was unutterable pain, in 
 his eyes an agony of longing. Aline caught her breath, 
 frightened at the revelation. The eyes of the painted 
 Norma smiled steadfastly into his. The horrible irony of 
 k smote the girl. Another catch at the breath became a 
 
 2 5S
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 choking sob. Jimmie started, and as if a magic hand had 
 passed across his features, the pain vanished, and Aline saw 
 , *Jie homely face again with its look of wistful kindness. 
 Overwrought, she broke into a passion of weeping. 
 Jimmie put his arms about her and soothed her. What 
 did the rejection of a picture matter ? It was part of the 
 game of painting. She must be his own brave little girl 
 and smile at the rubs of fortune. But Aline shook the 
 head buried on his shoulder, and stretched out a hand 
 blindly towards the portrait. 
 v " It 's that. I can't bear it." 
 
 An impossible thought shot through him. He drew 
 away from her and caught her wrists somewhat roughly, 
 and tried to look at her ; but she bowed her head. 
 
 " What do you mean, my child ? " he asked curtly, with 
 bent brows. 
 
 Women are lightning-witted in their interpretation of 
 such questions. The blood flooded her face, and her tears 
 dried suddenly and she met his glance straight. 
 
 " Do you think I 'm jealous ? Do you suppose I 
 have n't known ? I can't bear you to suffer. I can't bear 
 her not to believe in you. I can't bear her not to love 
 you." 
 
 Jimmie let go her wrists and stood before her full of 
 grateful tenderness, quite at a loss for words. He looked 
 whimsically at the flushed, defiant little face ; he shook her 
 by the shoulder and turned away. 
 
 u My valiant tin soldier," he said. 
 
 It was an old name for her, dating from nursery days, 
 when they thought and talked according to the gospel of 
 Hans Christian Andersen. 
 
 No more passed between them. But thenceforward 
 
 256
 
 Aline Prepares for Battle 
 
 Jiir.mie put the finishing touches to the portrait openly, 
 Instead of painting at it when he knew he should be undis- 
 turbed. The wedding was drawing near. The date had 
 been announced in the papers, and Jimmie had put a cross 
 against it in his diary. If only Norma would accept the 
 portrait as a wedding-present, he would feel happier. But 
 how to approach her he did not know. In her pure eyes, 
 he was well aware, he must appear the basest of men, and 
 things proceeding from him would bear a taint of the un- 
 speakable. Yet he hungered for her acceptance. It was 
 the most perfect picture he had painted or could ever paint. 
 The divinest part of him had gone to the making of it. It 
 held in its passionate simplicity the man's soul, as the 
 Monna Lisa in its mysterious complexity holds Leonardo's. 
 Of material symbols of things spiritual he could not give 
 her more. But how to give ? 
 
 Connie Deering settled the question by coming to the 
 studio one morning, a bewildering vision of millinery and 
 smiles and kindness. 
 
 11 You have persistently refused, you wicked bear, to 
 come and see me since my return to London, so I have no 
 choice but to walk into your den. If it had n't been for 
 Aline, beyond an occasional 'Dear Connie, I am very well. 
 The weather is unusually warm for the time of year. 
 Yours sincerely, J. P.', I should n't know whether you were 
 alive or dead. I hope you're ashamed of yourself." 
 
 This was the little lady's exordium, to which she tact- 
 fully gave Jimmie no time to reply. She stayed for an 
 hour. The disastrous topic was avoided. But Jimmie 
 felt that she forbore to judge him for his supposed offence, 
 and learned to his great happiness that Norma had asked 
 after his welfare, and would without doubt deign in her 
 17 257
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 divine graciousness to accept the portrait. She looked 
 thoughtfully at the picture for some time, and then laid a 
 light touch on his arm. 
 
 " How you must love her, Jimmie ! " she said in a low 
 voice. " I have n't forgotten." 
 
 " I wish you would," he answered gravely. " I oughtn't 
 to have said what I did. I don't remember what I did say. 
 I lost my head and raved. Every man has his hour of mad- 
 ness, and that was mine all through your witchery. And 
 yet somehow it seemed as if I were pouring it all out to 
 her." 
 
 Connie Deering perceptibly winced. Plucking up 
 courage, she began : 
 
 " I wish a man would " 
 
 u My dear Connie," Jimmie interrupted kindly, " there 
 are hundreds of men in London who are sighing themselves 
 hoarse for you. But you are such a hard-hearted butter- 
 fly." 
 
 Her lips twitched. " Not so hard-hearted as you think, 
 my good Jimmie," she retorted. 
 
 A moment later she was all inconsequence and jest. 
 On parting he took both her white-gloved little hands. 
 
 " You can't realise the joy it has been to me to see you, 
 Connie," he said. " It has been like a ray of sunlight 
 through prison bars." 
 
 After a private talk with Aline she drove straight to 
 Devonshire Place, and on the way dabbed her eyes with 
 the inconsiderable bit of chiffon called a handkerchief 
 which she carried in her gold chain purse. She saw Norma 
 alone for a moment before lunch, and told her of her 
 visit. 
 
 " I don't care what he has done," she declared des- 
 
 258
 
 Aline Prepares for Battle 
 
 perately. "I am not going to let it make a difference any 
 longer. He 's the same dear creature I have known all 
 my life, and I don't believe he has done anything at all. 
 If there 's a sinner in that horrible business, it is n't 
 Jimmie ! " 
 
 Norma looked out of the window at the bleak March day. 
 
 "That is what Theodore Weever said," she answered 
 tonelessly. 
 
 "Then why don't you give Jimmie the benefit of the 
 doubt ? " 
 
 " It is better that I should n't." 
 
 Why, dear ? " 
 
 " You are a sweet little soul, Connie," said Norma, her 
 eyes still fixed on the grey sky. " But you may do more 
 harm than good. I am better as I am. I have benumbed 
 myself into a decent state of insensibility and I don't want 
 to feel anything ever again as long as I live." 
 
 The door opened, and Mrs. Hardacre appeared on the 
 threshold. Connie bent forward and whispered quickly 
 into Norma's ear : 
 
 " One would think you were afraid to believe in 
 Jimmie." 
 
 She swung round, flushed, femininely excited at having 
 seized the unfair moment for dealing a stab. 
 
 " I hope I have made her feel," she thought, as she 
 fluttered forward to greet Mrs. Hardacre. 
 
 She succeeded perhaps beyond her hope. A sharp glance 
 showed her Norma still staring out of window, but staring 
 now with an odd look of fear and pain. Her kind heart 
 repented. 
 
 " Forgive me if I hurt you," she said on their way down- 
 stairs to lunch. 
 
 259
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " What does it matter ? " Norma answered by way of 
 pardon. 
 
 But the shrewd thrust mattered exceedingly. After 
 Connie had gone, the wound ached, and Norma found that 
 her boast of having benumbed herself was a vain word. 
 In the night she lay awake, frightened at the reaction that 
 was taking place. Theodore Weever had shaken her more 
 than she had realised. Connie Deering proclaimed the 
 same faith. She felt that she too would have to accept 
 it against argument, against reason, against fact. She 
 would have to accept it wholly, implicitly ; and she dreaded 
 the act of faith. Her marriage with Morland was fixed 
 for that day week, and she was agonisingly aware that she 
 loved another man with all her heart. 
 
 The next day she received a hurried note from Connie 
 Deering : 
 
 " Do come in for half an hour for tea on Sunday. I have a 
 beautiful wedding-present to show you which I hope you '11 like, 
 as great pains have been spent over it. And I want to have a 
 last little chat with you." 
 
 She promised unreflectingly, seeing no snare. But as 
 she walked to Bryanston Square on Sunday afternoon, more 
 of a presentiment, a foreboding of evil, than a suspicion 
 fixed itself upon her mind, and she wished she had not 
 agreed to come. She was shown into the drawing-room, 
 and there, beside a gilt-framed picture over which a cloth 
 was thrown, with her great brown eyes meeting her defi- 
 antly, stood Aline. 
 
 260
 
 Chapter XXI 
 THE MOTH MEETS THE STAR 
 
 THUS had Aline, her heart hot for battle in 
 Jimmie's cause, contrived with Connie Deering 
 as subsidiary conspirator. She had lain awake 
 most of the night, thinking of the approaching interview, 
 composing speeches, elaborating arguments, defining her 
 attitude. Her plan of campaign was based on the assump- 
 tion of immediate hostilities. She had pictured a scornful 
 lady moved to sudden anger at seeing herself trapped, and 
 haughtily refusing to discuss overtures of peace. It was to 
 be war from the first, until she had brought her adversary 
 low; and when the door-handle rattled and the door 
 opened to admit Norma, every nerve in her young body 
 grew tense, and her heart beat like the clapper of a bell. 
 
 Norma entered, looked for a moment in smiling surprise 
 at Aline, came quickly forward, and moved by a sudden 
 impulse, a yearning for love, sweetness, freshness, peace 
 she knew not what she put her arms round the girl and 
 kissed her. 
 
 " My dear Aline, how sweet it is to see you again ! " 
 
 The poor little girl stood helpless. The bottom was 
 knocked out of her half-childish plan of campaign. There 
 was no scornful lady, no haughty words, no hostilities. 
 She fell to crying. What else could she do ? 
 
 " There, there ! Don't cry, dear," said Norma sooth- 
 ingly, almost as helpless. Seating herself on a low chair 
 
 261
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 *nd drawing Aline to her side, she looked up at the piteous 
 face. 
 
 " Why should you cry, dear ? " 
 
 " I did n't know you would be so good to me," answered 
 Aline, wiping her eyes. 
 
 " Why should n't I be good to you ? What reason 
 could I have for not being glad to see you ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said the girl, with a touch of bitterness. 
 " Things are so different now." 
 
 Norma sighed for answer and thought of her premo- 
 nition. She was aware that Connie had deliberately planned 
 this interview, but could find no resentment in her heart. 
 The reproach implied in Aline's words she accepted humbly. 
 She was at once too spiritless for anger, and too much ex- 
 cited by the girl's presence for regret at having come. Her 
 eye fell upon the picture leaning against the chair-back, and 
 a conjecture swiftly passed through her mind. 
 
 " Mrs. Deering asked me to come and look at a wed- 
 ding-present," she said with a smile. 
 
 u Did she tell you from whom ? " asked Aline, thrust- 
 ing her handkerchief into her pocket. She had found her 
 nerve again. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " It 's from Jimmie." 
 
 " Is it that over there ? " 
 
 Aline caught and misinterpreted an unsteadiness of voice. 
 She threw herself on her knees by Norma's side. 
 
 "You won't refuse it, Miss Hardacre. Oh, say you 
 won't refuse it. Jimmie began it ever so long ago. He 
 put everything into it. It would break his heart if you 
 refused it the heart of the best and beautifullest and ten- 
 deiest and most wonderful man God ever made." 
 
 262
 
 The Moth Meets the Star 
 
 Norma touched with her gloved fingers a wisp of hair 
 straying over the girl's forehead. 
 
 " How do you know he is all that ? " 
 
 w How do I know ? How do I know the sun shines 
 and the rain falls ? It 's just so." 
 
 " You have faith, my child," said Norma, oddly. 
 
 " It is n't faith. It 's knowledge. You all believe 
 Jimmie has done something horrible. He has n't. I know 
 he has n't. He could n't. He could n't harm a living 
 creature by word or deed. I know he never did it. If I 
 had thought so for one moment, I should have loathed 
 myself so that I would have gone out and killed myself. 
 I know very little about it. I did n't read the newspapers 
 it 's hideous it 's horrible Jimmie would as soon 
 think of torturing a child. It 's not in his nature. He 
 is all love and sweetness and chivalry. If you say he has 
 taken the blame on himself for some great generous pur- 
 pose yes. That 's Jimmie. That 's Jimmie all over. 
 It 's cruel it 's monstrous for any one who knows him to 
 think otherwise." 
 
 She had risen from her knees half-way through her pas- 
 sionate speech, and moved about in front of Norma, wring- 
 ing her hands. She ended in a sob and turned away. 
 Norma lay back in her chair, pale and agitated. The 
 cynical worldling with his piercing vision into men and the 
 pure, ignorant child had arrived at the same conclusion, not 
 after months of thought, but instantly, intuitively. She 
 could make the girl no answer. Aline began again. 
 
 " He could n't. You know he could n't. It 's something 
 glorious and beautiful he has done and not anything 
 shameful." 
 
 She went on, with little pauses, hurling her short, breath- 
 
 263
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 less sentences across the space that separated her from 
 Norma, forgetful of everything save the wrong done to 
 Jimmie. At last Norma rose and went to her. 
 
 "Hush, dear!" she said. "There are some things I 
 must n't talk about. I dare n't. You are too young to 
 understand. Mr. Padgate has sent me a wedding-present. 
 Tell him how gladly I accept it and how I shall value it. 
 Let me see the picture." 
 
 Aline, her slight bosom still heaving with the after-storm 
 of emotion, said nothing, but drew the cloth from the can- 
 vas. Norma started back in -surprise. She had not antici- 
 pated seeing her own portrait. 
 
 " Oh, but it is beautiful ! " she cried invohintarily. 
 
 "Yes more than beautiful," said Aline, and mechani- 
 cally she moved the chair into the full light of the window. 
 
 Norma looked at the picture for a long time, stepped 
 back and looked at herself in the mirror of the overmantel, 
 and returned to the picture. And as she looked the soul 
 behind the picture spoke to her. The message delivered, 
 she glanced at Aline. 
 
 " It is not I, that woman. I wish to God it were." 
 She put her hands up to her face, and took a step or two 
 across the room, and repeated a little wildly, " I wish to 
 God it were ! " 
 
 " It is very, very like you," said Aline softly, recovering 
 her girl's worship of the other's stately beauty. 
 
 Norma caught her by the arm and pointed at the portrait. 
 
 " Can't you see the difference ? " 
 
 But the soul behind the picture had not spoken to Aline. 
 There was love hovering around the pictured woman's 
 lips ; happy tenderness and trust and promise mingled in 
 her eyes ; in so far as the shadow of a flower-like woman's 
 
 264
 
 The Moth Meets the Star 
 
 passion could strain her features, so were her features 
 strained. Yet she looked out of the canvas a proud, 
 queenly woman, capable of heroisms and lofty sacrifice. 
 She was one who loved deeply and demanded love in 
 return. She was warm of the flesh, infinitely pure of the 
 spirit. The face was the face of Norma, but the soul was 
 that of the dream-woman who had come and sat in the 
 sitter's chair and communed with Jimmie as he painted her. 
 And Norma heard her voice. It was an indictment of her 
 life, a judgment and a sentence. 
 
 " I am glad you can't, dear," she said to Aline, regain- 
 ing her balance. " Tell him I shall prize it above all my 
 wedding-gifts." 
 
 They talked quietly for a while about Jimmie's affairs, 
 the pilgrimage through southern France and northern Italy, 
 his illness, his work. His poverty Aline was too proud to 
 mention. 
 
 " And you, my dear ? " asked Norma, kindly. 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " What about yourself? You are not looking as happy 
 as you were. My dear child," she said, bending forward 
 earnestly, " do you know that no one has ever come to me 
 with their troubles in all my life not once. I 'm begin- 
 ning to feel I should be happier if some one did. You 
 have had yours I have heard just a little. You see we 
 all have them and we might help each other." 
 
 " You have no troubles, Miss Hardacre," said Aline ? 
 touched. "You are going to be married in a week's time." 
 
 And you ? " 
 
 " Never," said Aline. " Never." 
 
 Suddenly she poured her disastrous little love-story into 
 Norma's ears. It was a wonderful new comfort to the 
 
 265
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 child, this tender magic of the womanly sympathy. Oh ! 
 she loved him, of course she loved him, and he loved her ; 
 that was the piteous part of it. If Miss Hardacre only 
 knew what it was to have the heart-ache ! It was dread- 
 ful. And there was no hope. 
 
 " And is that all ? " asked Norma, when she had lowered 
 the curtain on her tragedy. " You are eating out your 
 heart for him and won't see him just because he won't be- 
 lieve in Jimmie ? Listen. I feel sure that he will soon 
 believe in Jimmie. He must. And then you '11 be 
 entirely happy." 
 
 When the girl's grateful arms suddenly flung themselves 
 about her, Norma was further on the road to happiness 
 than she had ever travelled before. She yielded herself to 
 the moment's exquisite charm. Behind her whirled a 
 tumult of longing, shame, struggling faith, nameless sus- 
 picion. Before her loomed a shivering dread. The actual 
 moment was an isle of enchanted peace. 
 
 The clock on a table at the far end of the room chiming 
 six brought her back to the workaday world. She must 
 go home. Morland was coming to dinner ; also one or 
 two Cosford people, who had already arrived in town in 
 view of the wedding. She would have to dress with some 
 elaborateness. Her heart grew heavy and cold at the pros- 
 pect of the dreary party. She rose, looked again at the 
 picture in the fading light. Moved by the irresistible, she 
 turned to Aline. 
 
 "I should like to see him to thank him before 
 before Wednesday. Do you think he would come ? " 
 
 Aline blushed guiltily. "Jimmie is in the house now," 
 she said. 
 
 u Downstairs ? " 
 
 266
 
 The Moth Meets the Star 
 
 Yes." 
 
 For a moment irresolute, she looked vacantly into the 
 girl's pleading eyes. An odd darkness encompassed her 
 and she saw nothing. The announcement was a shock 
 of crisis. Dimly she knew that she trod the brink of 
 folly and peril. But she had been caught unawares, and 
 she longed stupidly, achingly, for the sight of his face. 
 The words of Aline, eager in defence of her beloved, 
 seemed far away. 
 
 " Of course he does n't know you are here. He was to 
 call for me at a quarter to six, and I heard the front door 
 open a little while ago. I brought the picture in a cab, 
 and he is under the impression that Mrs. Deering will ask 
 you to will do what I have done. Jimmie is perfectly 
 innocent, Miss Hardacre. He had not the remotest idea 
 I was to meet you not the remotest." 
 
 Norma recovered herself sufficiently to say with a faint 
 smile : 
 
 " So this has been a conspiracy between you and Connie 
 Deering ? " 
 
 Aline caught consent in the tone, and ignored the 
 question. 
 
 " Shall I send him up to you ? " she asked breathlessly. 
 
 " Yes," said Norma. 
 
 There was a girl's glad cry, a girl's impulsive kiss, and 
 Norma was left alone in the room. She had yielded. In 
 a few moments he would be with her the man who had 
 said, " Her voice haunts me like music heard in sleep . . . 
 I worship her like a Madonna ... I love her as the man 
 of hot blood loves a woman . . . My soul is a footstool 
 for her to rest her feet upon," and other flaming words 
 of unforgettable passion ; the man for whom one instant of 
 
 267
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 her life had been elemental sex ; the man whose love had 
 transfigured her on canvas into the wonder among women 
 that she might have been ; the man standing in a slough of 
 infamy, whose rising vapours wreathed themselves into a 
 halo about his head. She clenched her hands and set her 
 teeth, wrestling with herself. 
 
 " My God ! What kind of a fool am I becoming ? " 
 she breathed. 
 
 Training, the habit of the mask, came to her aid. Jim- 
 mie, entering, saw only the royal lady who had looked 
 kindly upon him in the golden September days. She came 
 to meet him frankly, as one meets an old friend. A new 
 vision revealed to her the heart that leapt into his eyes, as 
 they rested upon her. Mistress of herself, she hardened 
 her own, but smiled and spoke softly. 
 
 " It is great good fortune you have come, so that I can 
 thank you," she said. " But how can I ever thank you 
 for that ? " 
 
 " It is a small gift enough," said Jimmie. " Your ac- 
 ceptance is more than thanks." 
 
 u I shall prize it dearly. It is like nothing that can be 
 bought. It is something out of yourself you are giving 
 me." 
 
 " If you look at it in that light," said he, " I am happy 
 indeed." 
 
 With a common instinct they went up to the portrait 
 and regarded it side by side. Conventional words passed. 
 He enquired after Morland. 
 
 "You have n't seen him fora long time?" she asked 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 " Not for a long time." 
 
 "You must have been very lonely." 
 
 268
 
 The Moth Meets the Star 
 
 " I have had Aline and Connie Deering and my 
 work." 
 
 " Are they sufficient for you ? " 
 
 " Any human love a man gets he can make fill his life. 
 It 's like the grain of mustard-seed." 
 
 Norma felt a thrill of admiration. Not a tone in his 
 voice betrayed complaint, reproach, or bitterness. Instead, 
 he sounded the note of thanksgiving for the love bestowed 
 upon him, of faith in the perfect ordering of the world. 
 She glanced at him, and felt that she had wronged him. 
 No matter what was the solution of the mystery, she knew 
 him to be a sweet-souled man, wonderfully steadfast. 
 
 " Your old way," she replied with a smile, sitting down 
 and motioning him to a chair beside her. " Do you re- 
 member that we first met in this very room ? You have not 
 changed. Have I ? " 
 
 " No," he said gravely, " you were always beautiful, 
 without and within. I told you that then, if you remem- 
 ber. Perhaps, now, you are a little truer to yourself." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " she asked, somewhat bitterly. 
 
 " Perhaps it is the approach of your great happiness," 
 blundered Jimmie, in perfect conviction. She was silent. 
 " It has been more to me than I can say," he went on, 
 " to see you once again as you are, before your marriage. 
 I wish you many blessings all that love can bring 
 you." 
 
 " Do you think love is necessary for married happiness ? " 
 
 u Without it marriage must be a horror," said Jimmie. 
 
 For a moment she was on the brink of harsh laughter. 
 Did he sincerely believe she was in love with Morland ? 
 She could have hurled the question at him. Will checked 
 the rising hysteria and turned it into other channels. 
 
 269
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " Why have you never married ? You must have loved 
 somebody once." 
 
 It was a relief to hurt him. The dusk was gathering 
 in the room, and she could scarcely see his face. A 
 Sunday stillness filled the quiet square outside. The hour 
 had its dangers. 
 
 " My having loved a woman does not necessarily imply 
 that I could have married her," said Jimmie. 
 
 The evasion irritated her mood, awoke a longing to 
 make him speak. She drew her chair nearer, bent forward, 
 so that the brim of her great hat almost brushed his fore- 
 head and the fragrance of her overspread him. 
 
 " Do you remember a picture you would n't show me in 
 your studio ? You called it a mad painter's dream. You 
 said it was the Ideal Woman." 
 
 " You said so," replied Jimmie. 
 
 " I should like to see it." 
 
 " It is mine no longer to show you," said Jimmie. 
 
 " I think you must have loved that woman very deeply." 
 
 She was tempting him as she had tempted no man 
 before, feeling a cruel, senseless joy in it. His voice 
 vibrated. 
 
 " Yes. I loved her infinitely." 
 
 " What was she like ? " 
 
 "Like all the splendid flowers of the earth melted into 
 one rose," said Jimmie. 
 
 " I wish some one had ever said that about me," she 
 whispered. 
 
 u Many must have thought it." 
 
 " She must be a happy woman to be loved by you." 
 
 " By me ? Who am I that I could bring happiness to a 
 woman ? I have never told her." 
 
 270
 
 The Moth Meets the Star 
 
 " Why not ? " she whispered. " Do you suppose you 
 can love a woman without her knowing it ? " 
 
 " In what way can the star be cognisant of the moth's 
 desire ? " said Jimmie, going back to the refrain of his 
 love. 
 
 " You a moth and she a star ! You are a man and 
 she is but a trumpery bit of female flesh that on a word 
 would throw herself into your arms." 
 
 " No," said Jimmie, hoarsely. " No, you don't know 
 what you are saying." 
 
 The temptation to goad him was irresistible. 
 
 " We are all of us alike, all of us. Tell her." 
 
 " I dare n't." 
 
 " Tell me who she is." 
 
 She looked at him full, with meaning in her eyes, which 
 glowed like deep moons in the dusk. He brought all his 
 courage into his glance. He was the master. She turned 
 away her head in confusion, reading his love, his strength, 
 his loyalty. A lesser man loving her would have thrown 
 honour to the winds. A curious reverence of him filled 
 her. She felt a small thing beside him. All doubts 
 vanished forever. Her faith in him was as crystal clear 
 as Aline's. 
 
 " I have no right to mention her name," he said after a 
 pause. 
 
 Norma leaned back in her chair and passed her handker- 
 chief across her lips. 
 
 " Would you do anything in the world she asked you ? " 
 she murmured. 
 
 " I would go through hell for her," said Jimmie. 
 
 There was another span of silence, tense and painful. 
 Jimmie broke it by saying : 
 
 271
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " Why should you concern yourself about my fantastic 
 affairs ? They merely belong to dreamland to the twilight 
 and the stillness. They have no existence in the living 
 world." 
 
 " If I thought so, should I be sitting in the twilight 
 and the stillness listening to you ? " she asked. " Or even 
 if I did, may I not enter into dreamland too for a few little 
 minutes before the gates are closed to me forever ? Why 
 should you want to shut me out of it ? Do you think 
 much loye has come my way ? Yours are the only lips 
 I have ever heard speak of It." 
 
 " Morland loves you," said Jimmie, tremulously. 
 
 The door opened. The electric light was switched on, 
 showing two pale, passion-drawn faces, and Connie Deering 
 brought her sweet gaiety into the room. 
 
 " If I had known you two were sitting in the dark like 
 this, I should have come up earlier. Is n't it nice, Norma, 
 to have Jimmie back again ? " 
 
 The spell was broken. Norma gave an anxious look 
 at the clock and fled, after hurried farewells. 
 
 The mistress of the house arched her pretty eyebrows 
 as she returned to Jimmie. 
 
 Eh bien ? " 
 
 " Connie He cleared his throat. " You have kept 
 my secret ? " 
 
 " Loyally," she said. " Have you ? " 
 
 " I have done my best. God knows I have done my 
 best." 
 
 He sat down, took up a book and began to turn the 
 leaves idly. Connie knelt down before the fire and put on 
 a fresh log. This done, she came to his side. He took 
 her hand and looked up into her face. 
 
 272
 
 The Moth Meets the Star 
 
 " I have n't thanked you, Connie. I do with all my 
 heart." 
 
 She smiled at him with an odd wistfulness. 
 
 "You once thanked me in a very pretty manner," she 
 said. " I think I deserve it again."
 
 Chapter XXII 
 CATASTROPHE 
 
 CONNIE DEERING was dining that Sunday even- 
 ing with some friends at the Carlton, an engage- 
 ment which had caused her to decline an invitation 
 to the Hardacres'. The prospect, however, for once did not 
 appeal to her pleasure-loving soul. She sighed as she 
 stepped into her brougham, and wished as she drove along 
 that she were sitting at home in the tea-gown and tran- 
 quillity harmonious with a subdued frame of mind. Problems 
 worried her. What had passed between Norma and 
 Jimmie ? Ordinary delicacy had forbidden her questioning, 
 and Jimmie had admitted her no further into his confidence. 
 In that she was disappointed. When a sentimental woman 
 asks for a kiss, she expects something more. She was also 
 half ashamed of herself for asking him to kiss her. A 
 waspish little voice within proclaimed that it was not 
 so much for Jimmie's sake as for her own ; that her life- 
 long fondness for Jimmie had unconsciously slid on to the 
 rails that lead to absurdity. She drew her satin cloak 
 tightly around her as if to suffocate the imp, and returned 
 to her speculation. Something had happened of that 
 there was no doubt something serious, agitating. It could 
 be read on both their faces. Had she, who alone knew 
 the hearts of each, done right in bringing them together ? 
 What had been her object I Even if a marriage between 
 
 274
 
 Catastrophe 
 
 them had not been too ludicrous for contemplation, it 
 would not have been fair towards her cousin Morland 
 to encourage this intrigue. She vowed she had been a 
 little fool to meddle with such gunpowdery matters. And 
 yet she had acted in all innocence for Jimmie's sake. It 
 was right for Norma to be friends with him again. It was 
 monstrous he should suffer. If he could not marry the 
 woman he loved, at least he could have the happiness of 
 knowing himself no longer a blackened wretch in her eyes. 
 But then, Norma had taken it into her head to love him 
 too. Had she done right ? Her thoughts flew round in 
 a vicious circle of irritatingly small circumference, occa- 
 sionally flying off on the tangent of the solicited kiss. 
 
 The first person she met in the vestibule of the Carlton 
 was Theodore Weever. They exchanged greetings, dis- 
 covered they belonged to the same party. She had come 
 across him frequently of late in the houses that Norma and 
 herself had as common ground. In a general way she liked 
 him ; since Norma had told her of his view of the scandal, 
 he had risen high in her estimation ; but to-night he seemed 
 to be a link in the drama that perplexed her, and she 
 shrank from him, as from something uncanny. He sat 
 next her at table. His first words were of Jimmie. 
 
 " I was buying pictures yesterday from a friend of 
 yours Padgate." 
 
 In her pleasure Connie forgot her nervousness. 
 
 " Why, he never told me." 
 
 " He could scarcely have had time unless he telephoned 
 or telegraphed." 
 
 " He was at my house this afternoon," she explained. 
 
 He carefully peppered his oysters, then turned his impels 
 turbable face towards her. 
 
 275
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " So was Miss Hardacre." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " she cried, startled. 
 
 " I was calling in Devonshire Place. Her mother told 
 me. I am not necromantic." 
 
 His swift uniting of the two names perturbed her. She 
 swallowed her oysters unreflectingly, thus missing one of 
 her little pleasures in life, for she adored oysters. 
 
 " Which pictures did you buy ? " she asked. 
 
 " The one I coveted was not for sale. It was a portrait 
 of Miss Hardacre. I don't think he meant me to see 
 it, but I came upon him unawares. Have you seen it ? " 
 
 They discussed the portrait for awhile. Connie repeated 
 her former question. Weever replied that he had bought 
 the picture of the faun looking at the vision of things to 
 come, and the rejected Italian study. Connie expressed her 
 gladness. They contained Jimmie's best work. 
 
 " Very fine," Weever admitted, " but just failing in finish. 
 Nothing like the portrait." 
 
 There was an interval. Connie exchanged remarks 
 with old Colonel Pawley, her right-hand neighbour, who 
 expatiated on the impossibility of consuming Bortsch soup 
 with satisfaction outside Russia. The soup removed, 
 Weever resumed the conversation. 
 
 44 Have you -read your Lamartine thoroughly ? I have. 
 I was sentimental once. He says somewhere, Aimer pour 
 etre aim'e, c'est de fhomme; mats aimer pour aimer^ c'est 
 presque de tange. I remember where it comes from. It 
 was said of Cecco in 4 Graziella.' Our friend Padgate 
 reminds me of Cecco. Do you care much about your 
 cousin Morland King, Mrs. Deering?" 
 
 Connie, entirely disconcerted by his manner, looked at 
 him beseechingly. 
 
 276
 
 Catastrophe 
 
 " Why do you ask me that ? " 
 
 " Because he is one of the dramatis persona in a 
 pretty little comedy on which the curtain is not yet rung 
 down." 
 
 She greatly dared. " Are you too in the caste ? " 
 
 Theodore Weever deliberately helped himself to fish 
 before replying. Then with equal deliberation he -stared 
 into her flushed and puzzled face. 
 
 " I hope so. A leading part, perhaps, if you are the 
 clever and conscientious woman I take you to be." 
 
 " What part has my cousin Morland played ? " she asked. 
 
 " I must leave you the very simple task of guessing," said 
 Weever 5 and he took advantage of her consternation to 
 converse with his left-hand neighbour. 
 
 " I have painted a peculiarly successful fan, dear Mrs. 
 Deering," said Colonel Pawley, in his purring voice. " A 
 wedding-present for our dear Miss Hardacre. I have 
 never been so much pleased with anything before. I should 
 like you to see it. When may I come and show it you ? " 
 
 " The wedding is fixed for two o'clock on Wednesday," 
 said Connie, answering like a woman in a dream. The 
 bright room, the crowd of diners, the music, the voice of 
 the old man by her side, all faded from her senses, eclipsed 
 by the ghastly light that dawned upon her. Only one 
 meaning could be attached to Weever's insinuations. A 
 touch on the arm brought her back to her surroundings with 
 a start. It was Colonel Pawley. 
 
 u I hope there is nothing " he began, in a tone of 
 great concern. 
 
 u No, nothing. Really nothing. Do forgive me," she 
 interrupted in confusion. "You were telling me some- 
 thing. Oh, I 'm dreadfully sorry." 
 
 277
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " It was about the fan," said Colonel Pawley, sadly. 
 
 A fan ? " 
 
 " Yes, for dear Miss Hardacre a wedding-present." 
 
 She listened to a repetition of the previous remarks and 
 to a description of the painting, and this time replied cohe- 
 rently. She would be delighted to see both the fan and 
 himself to-morrow morning. The kind old man launched 
 into a prothalamion. The happy couple were a splendidly 
 matched pair Norma the perfect type of aristocratic 
 English beauty; Morland a representative specimen of 
 the British gentleman, the safeguard of the empire, a 
 man, a thorough good fellow, incapable of dishonour, a 
 landed proprietor. He had sketched out a little wedding- 
 song which he would like to present with the fan. Might 
 he show that, too, to Mrs. Deering ? 
 
 It was a dreadful dinner. On each side the distressing 
 topic hemmed her in. In vain she tried to make her old 
 friend talk of travel or gastronomy or the comforts of his 
 club ; perverse fate brought him always back to Norma's 
 wedding. She was forced to listen, for to Weever she 
 dared not address a remark. She longed for escape, for 
 solitude wherein to envisage her dismay. No suspicion of 
 Morland's complicity in the scandal had crossed her mind. 
 Even now it seemed preposterous for a man of honour to 
 have so acted towards his dearest and most loyal friend, to 
 say nothing of the unhappy things that had gone before. 
 Suddenly, towards the end of dinner, she revolted. She 
 turned to Weever. 
 
 " I don't believe a word of it." 
 
 "Of what, dear lady ? " 
 
 " Of what you have told me about Morland and Jimmic 
 Padgate." 
 
 278
 
 Catastrophe 
 
 " I have told you nothing absolutely nothing," he re- 
 plied in his expressionless way. " Please remember that. 
 I don't go about libelling my acquaintances." 
 
 " I shall go and ask Morland straight," she said with 
 spirit. 
 
 " Au succes" said Weever. 
 
 Dinner over, the little party went into the lounge.- The 
 screened light fell pleasantly on palms and pretty dresses, 
 and made the place reposeful after the glare of the dining- 
 room, whose red and white and gold still gleamed through 
 the door above the steps. The red-coated band played a 
 seductive, almost digestive air. A circle of comfortable 
 chairs reserved by the host, invited the contented diner to 
 languorous ease and restful gossip. It was the part of a 
 Carlton dinner that Connie usually enjoyed the most. She 
 still took her pleasures whole-heartedly, wherein lay much 
 of her charm. The world, as Jimmie once told her, had 
 not rubbed the dust off her wings. But to-night the sweet 
 after-dinner hour was filled with fears and agitations, and 
 while the party was settling down, she begged release from 
 her host on the score of headache, and made her escape. 
 
 She would carry out her threat to Weever. She would 
 see Morland before she slept, and ask him to free her from 
 this intolerable suspicion. She was a loyal, simple woman, 
 for all her inconsequent ways and close experience of the 
 insincerities of life ; devoted to her friends, a champion of 
 their causes ; loving to believe the best, disturbed beyond 
 due measure at being forced to believe the worst. Jimmie 
 had most of her heart, more of it than she dared confess. 
 But there were places in it both for Norma and for Mor- 
 land. The latter was her cousin. She had known him 
 all her life. To believe him to have played this sorry part 
 
 279
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 in what it pleased Theodore Weever to call a pretty 
 comedy was very real pain to the little lady. Her head- 
 ache was no pretence. No spirit of curiosity or interfer- 
 ence drove her to the Hardacres', where she knew she 
 would find Morland ; rather a desire to rid herself of a 
 nightmare. Granted the possibility of baseness on Mor- 
 land's part, all the dark places in the lamentable busi- 
 ness became light. That was the maddening part of 
 Weever's solution. And would it apply to the puzzle of 
 the afternoon ? Had Norma known ? Had Jimmie told 
 her? The pair had been 'agitated enough for anything 
 to have happened. Theodore Weever, too, had calmly 
 avowed himself an actor in the comedy. What part was 
 he playing ? She shivered at the conjecture. He looked 
 like a pale mummy, she thought confusedly, holding in his 
 dull eyes the inscrutable wisdom of the Sphinx. Mean- 
 while the horses were proceeding at a funereal pace. She 
 pulled the checkstring and bade the coachman drive faster. 
 The scene that met her eyes when the servant showed 
 her into the Hardacres' drawing-room was unexpected. 
 Instead of the ordinary after-dinner gathering, only Mr. 
 and Mrs. Hardacre and Morland were in the room. 
 The master of the house, very red, very puffy, sat in an 
 armchair before the fire, tugging at his mean little red 
 moustache. Mrs. Hardacre, her face haggard with anxiety, 
 stood apart with Morland, whose heavy features wore an 
 expression of worry, apology, and indignation curiously 
 blended. On a clear space of carpet a couple of yards 
 from the door lay some strings of large pearls. Connie 
 looked from one to the other of the three people who 
 had evidently been interrupted in the midst of an anxious 
 discussion. Here, again, something had happened. 
 
 280
 
 Catastrophe 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre shook hands with her mechanically. Mr. 
 Hardacre apologised for not rising. That infernal gout 
 again, he explained, pointing to the slashed slipper of a foot 
 resting on a hassock. Norma had made it worse. He had 
 been infernally upset. 
 
 " Norma ? " Connie turned and looked inquiringly at 
 the other two. 
 
 " Oh, an awful scene," said Morland, gloomily. " I 
 wish to heaven you had been here. You might have done 
 something." 
 
 " Perhaps you might bring her to her senses now, though 
 I doubt it. I think she has gone crazy," said Mrs. 
 Hardacre. 
 
 " But what has occurred ? " 
 
 " She declares she won't marry me, that 's all. There 's 
 my wedding-present on the floor. Tore it from her neck 
 as she made her exit. I don't know what 's going to 
 happen ! " 
 
 " Where is she now ? " 
 
 " Up in her room smashing the rest of her wedding- 
 presents, I suppose," said Mrs. Hardacre. 
 
 " Eh, what ? Can't do that. All locked up downstairs in 
 the library," came from the chair by the fire. 
 
 " Oh, don't make idiotic remarks, Benjamin," snapped 
 his wife, viciously. 
 
 The air was electric with irritation. Connie, a peace- 
 maker at heart, forgot her mission in the face of the new 
 development of affairs, and spoke soothingly. Norma 
 could not break off the engagement three days before the 
 wedding. Such things were not done. She would come 
 round. It was merely an attack of nerves. They refused 
 to be comforted. 
 
 281
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " God knows what it is," said Morland. " I thought 
 things were perfectly square between us. She was n't 
 cordial before dinner, I '11 admit ; but she let me put those 
 beads round her neck. I asked her to wear them all the 
 evening, as there were only the four of us." 
 
 " The Spencer-Temples sent an excuse this afternoon," 
 Mrs. Hardacre explained. 
 
 " She agreed," Morland continued. " She wore them 
 through dinner. Then everything any one of us said 
 seemed to get on her nerves. I talked about the House. 
 She withered me up with sarcasm. We talked about the 
 wedding. She begged us, for God's sake, to talk of some- 
 thing else. We tried, so as to pacify her. But of 
 course it was hardly possible. I said I had met Lord 
 Monzie yesterday told me he and his wife were coming 
 on Wednesday. She asked whether Ascherberg and the 
 rest of Monzie's crew of money-lenders, harlots, and fools 
 were coming too. I defended Monzie. He 's a friend of 
 mine and a very decent sort. She shrugged her shoulders. 
 You know her way. Mrs. Hardacre changed the subject. 
 After dinner I saw her alone for a bit in the drawing-room. 
 She asked me to take back the pearls. Said they were 
 throttling her. Had n't we better reconsider the whole 
 matter ? There was still time. That was the beginning 
 of it. Mr. and Mrs. Hardacre came up. We did all we 
 knew. Used every argument. People invited. Bishop 
 to perform ceremony. Duchess actually coming. Society 
 expected us. The scandal. Her infernally bad treatment 
 of myself. No good. Whatever we said only made her 
 worse. Ended up with a diatribe against society. She 
 was sick of its lies and its rottenness. She was going to 
 have no more of it. She would breathe fresh pure air. 
 
 282
 
 Catastrophe 
 
 The Lord knows what she did n't say. All of us came in 
 for it. Said shocking things about her mother. Said I 
 did n't love her, had never loved her. A loveless marriage 
 was horrible. Of course I am in love with her. You all 
 know that. I said so. She would n't listen. Went on 
 with her harangue. We could n't stop her. She would n't 
 marry me for all the bishops and duchesses in the world. 
 At last I lost my temper and said it was my intention to 
 marry her, and marry me she should. Don't you think I 
 was quite right ? She lost hers, I suppose, tore off the 
 pearls, made a sort of peroration, declaring she would sooner 
 die than commit the infamy of marrying me and that 's 
 the end of it." 
 
 He threw out his hands in desperation and turned away. 
 His account of events from his point of view was accurate. 
 To him, as to Norma's parents, her final revolt appeared 
 the arbitrary act of unreason. They still smarted resent- 
 fully under her lashes, incapable of realising the sins for 
 which they were flagellated. 
 
 If she had remained at home that afternoon and con- 
 tinued to practise insensibility, she would probably have 
 followed the line of least resistance during the evening. 
 Or, on the other hand, if she could have been alone, a 
 night's fevered sleeplessness would have caused dull reaction 
 in the morning. The cold contempt for things outside her, 
 which had served for strength, was now gone, leaving a 
 helpless woman to be swayed by passion or led spiritless by 
 convention. The heroic in her needed the double spur. 
 Passion shook her ; miserable bondage, claiming her, drove 
 her to rebellion. She rose to sublime heights, undreamed 
 of in her earth-bound philosophy. 
 
 She had gone into the street after her interview withjim- 
 
 283
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 mie, white, palpitating, torn. Though the man had spoken 
 tremulous words, it was the unspoken, the wave of longing 
 and all unspeakable things in whose heaving bosom they had 
 been caught, that mattered. The Garden of Enchantment 
 had thrown wide its gates ; she had been admitted within 
 its infinitely reaching vistas, and flowers of the spirit had 
 bared their hearts before her eyes. Dressing, she strove to 
 kill the memory, to deafen her ears to the haunting music, 
 to clear her brain of the intoxication. A thing hardly a 
 woman, hardly a coherent entity, but half marble, half- 
 consuming fire, stood before Morland, as he clasped the 
 pearl necklace around her throat. The touch of it against 
 her skin caused a shudder. Up to then sensation had 
 blotted out thought. But now the brain worked with 
 startling lucidity. There was yet time to escape from the 
 thraldom. The Idea gathered strength from every word 
 and incident during the meal. The commonness, sordidness, 
 emptiness of the life behind and around and before her were 
 revealed in the unpitying searchlight of an awakened soul. 
 
 She pleaded with Morland for release. The necklace 
 choked her. She unclasped it. He refused to take it 
 back. She was his. He loved her. Her conduct was an 
 outrage on his affections. She dared him to an expression 
 of passionate feeling. He failed miserably, and her anger 
 grew. Unhappily he spoke of an outrage upon Society. 
 She fastened on the phrase. His affection and Society ! 
 One was worth the other. Society the Mumbo Jumbo 
 the grotesque false god to which women were offered up in 
 senseless sacrifice ! Her mother instanced the bishop and 
 the duchess as avatars of the divinity. Norma poured 
 scorn on the hierarchy. Mrs. Hardacre implored her 
 daughter by her love for her not to humiliate her thus in 
 
 284
 
 Catastrophe 
 
 the world's eyes. She struck the falsest of notes. 
 Norma turned on her, superb, dramatic, holding the three 
 in speechless dismay. Love ! what love had been given 
 her that she should return ? She had grown honest. 
 The gods of that house were no longer her gods. They 
 were paltry and dishonoured, shams and hypocrisies. Once 
 she worshipped them. To that she had been trained from 
 her cradle. Her nurses dangled the shams before her eyes. 
 The women who taught her bent fawning knees before the 
 shrines of the false gods. A mother's love ? what had she 
 learned from her mother ? To simper and harden her 
 heart. That the envy of other simpering hardened women 
 was the ultimate good. That the dazzling end of a young 
 girl's career was to capture some man of rank and fortune 
 that when she was married her lofty duty was to wear 
 smarter clothes, give smarter parties, and to inveigle to her 
 house by any base and despicable means smarter people 
 than her friends. What had she learned from her mother ? 
 To let men of infamous lives leer at her because they had 
 title or fortune. To pay court to shameless women in the 
 hope of getting to know still more shameless men who 
 might dishonour her with their name. She had never 
 been young never, never, with a young girl's freshness of 
 heart. She spoke venom and was praised for wit. She 
 was the finished product of a vapid world. Her whole 
 existence had been an intricate elaboration of shams mis- 
 erable, empty, despicable futilities. How dared her mother 
 stand before her and talk of love ? 
 
 Then a quick angry scene, a crisp thud of the pearls on 
 the floor, a stormy exit and that, as Morland said, was 
 the end of it. The three were left staring at each other in 
 angry bewilderment. 
 
 285
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 In the face of this disaster Connie could not fir\d ft in 
 her heart to reproach Morland, still less to hint at Theodore 
 Weever's insinuation. Rather did she reproach herself for 
 being the cause of the catastrophe, and she was smitten 
 with a sense of guilt when Mrs. Hardacre turned upon her 
 accusingly. 
 
 u She had tea with you, did n't she ? Did you notice 
 anything wrong ? " 
 
 "She didn't seem quite herself was nervous and 
 strange," said Connie, diplomatically. " I think I had 
 better go up and talk to her," she added after an anxious 
 pause. 
 
 "Yes, do, for God's sake, Connie," said Morland. 
 
 She nodded, smiled the ghost of her bright smile, and, 
 glad of escape, went upstairs. The three sat in gloomy 
 silence, broken only by Mr. Hardacre's maledictions on his 
 gout. It was a bitter hour for them. 
 
 In a few moments Connie burst into the room, with 
 a letter in her hand. She looked scared. 
 
 " We can't find her. She 's not in the house." 
 
 " Not in the house ! " shrieked Mrs. Hafdacre. 
 
 Morland brought his hand down heavily on the piano. 
 
 " I heard the front door slam half an hour ago ! " 
 
 "This is addressed to you, Mrs. Hardacre. It was 
 stuck in her looking-glass." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre opened the note with shaky fingers. 
 It ran : 
 
 " I mean what I say. I had better leave you all, at least till 
 after Wednesday. My stopping here would be more than you or 
 I could stand." 
 
 Mr. Hardacre staggered with a gasp of pain to his feet, 
 and his weak eyes glared savagely out of his puffy red faoe. 
 
 286
 
 Catastrophe 
 
 " Damme, she must come back ! If she does n't sleep 
 here to-night, I '11 cut her off. I won't have anything 
 more to do with her. She has got to come back." 
 
 " All right. Go and tell her, then," retorted his wife. 
 " Where do you suppose you are going to find her ? " 
 
 " Oh, she is sure to have gone to my house," said Connie. 
 
 " But suppose she has n't," said Morland, anxiously. 
 " She was in such a state that anything is possible." 
 
 " Come with me if you like. The brougham is here." 
 
 " And you go too, Eliza, and bring her home with you, 
 d'ye hear?" cried Mr. Hardacre. "If you don't, she'll 
 never set foot in my house again. I 'm damned if she 
 shall ! " 
 
 His wife looked at him queerly for a moment ; then she 
 meekly answered : 
 
 " Very well, Benjamin." 
 
 Once only during their long married life had she flouted 
 him when he had spoken to her like that. Then in un- 
 governable fury he had thrown a boot at her head. 
 
 Mr. Hardacre glared at Morland and Connie, and 
 scrambled cursing into his chair.
 
 Chapter XXIII 
 NORMA'S HOUR 
 
 SOMETHING had happened something mysteri- 
 ous, quickening; a pulsation of the inmost har- 
 monies of life. Its tremendous significance Jimmie 
 dared not conjecture. It was to be interpreted by the 
 wisdom of the simplest, yet that interpretation he put aside. 
 It staggered reason. It was enough for them to have met 
 together in an unimagined intimacy of emotion, to have 
 shared the throb of this spiritual happening. 
 
 She was to be married in three days. He set the fact as 
 a block to further investigation of the mystery. On this 
 side his loyalty suffered no taint ; their relations had but 
 received, in some sense, sanctification. Beyond the barrier 
 lay shame and dishonour. The two were to be married; 
 therefore they loved. He disciplined a disordered mind 
 with a logic of his own invention. It was a logic that 
 entirely begged the question. Remembered words of 
 Norma, " Do you think much love has come my way ? 
 Yours are the only lips I have ever heard speak of it," fell 
 outside his premises. They clamoured for explanation. 
 So did the rich tremor of her voice. So did the lament- 
 able lack of conviction in his reply. To these things he 
 closed his intelligence. They belonged to the interpretation 
 that staggered reason, that threatened to turn his funda- 
 mental conceptions into chaos. And past incidents came
 
 Norma's Hour 
 
 before him. During those last days in Wiltshire he had 
 seen that her life lacked completion. That memory, too, 
 disturbed his discipline. Fanatically he practised it, prov- 
 ing to himself that ice was hot and that the sun shone at 
 midnight. She was happy in her love for Morland. She 
 was happy in Morland's love for her. She had not 
 identified with herself the imaginary woman of his adora- 
 tion. She had not drunk in the outpouring of his passion. 
 Her breath had not fallen warm upon his cheek. And the 
 quickening of a wonderful birth had no reference to emo- 
 tions and cravings quite different, intangible, inexpressible, 
 existent in a far-away spirit land. 
 
 He was strangely silent during their homeward journey 
 in the omnibus and the simple evening meal, and Aline, 
 sensitive to his mood, choked down the eager questions 
 that rose to her lips. It was only after supper in the 
 studio, when she lit the spill for Jimmie's pipe her eco- 
 nomical soul deprecating waste in matches that she 
 ventured to say softly : 
 
 " I am afraid you '11 miss the picture, Jimmie dear." 
 
 He waited until the pipe was alight, and breathed out a 
 puff of smoke with a sigh. 
 
 " Our happiness is made up of the things we miss," he 
 said. 
 
 " That 's a paradox, and I don't believe it," said Aline. 
 
 " Everything in life is a paradox," he remarked, thinking 
 of his logic. He relapsed into his perplexed silence. 
 Aline settled herself in her usual chair with her workbasket 
 and her eternal sewing. This evening she was recuffing 
 his shirts. Presently she held up a cuff. 
 
 " See. I 'm determined to make you smart and fashion- 
 able. I don't care what you say. These are square." 
 19 289
 
 Where Love la 
 
 " Are n't you putting a. round man into a square cuff, my 
 dear ? " he asked. 
 
 She laughed. " Why should you be round ? You are 
 smart and rectangular. When you 're tidied up don't you 
 know you are exceedingly good-looking, almost military ? " 
 
 She was delighted to get him back to foolish talk. His 
 preoccupation had disturbed her. Like Connie Deering, 
 she was femininely conscious that something out of the 
 ordinary had passed between Norma and Jimmie, and 
 apprehension as to her dear one's peace of mind had filled 
 her with many imaginings. He returned a smiling answer. 
 She bestirred herself to amuse. Had he remarked the 
 man in the omnibus ? His nose cut it into two compart- 
 ments. What would he do if he had such a nose ? 
 Jimmie felt that he had been selfish and fell into the child's 
 humour. He said that he would blow it. They dis- 
 cussed the subject of noses. He quoted Tristram Shandy. 
 Did she remember him reading to her " Slawkenbergius's 
 Tale " ? 
 
 " The silliest story I ever heard in my life ! " cried 
 Aline. " It had neither head nor tail." 
 
 "That is the beauty of it," said Jimmie. "It is all 
 nose." 
 
 " No. The only story about a nose that is worth any- 
 thing," Aline declared with conviction of her age and sex, 
 " is t Cyrano de Bergerac.' ' She paused as a thought 
 passed swiftly through her mind. " Do you know, if you 
 had a nose like that, you would remind me of Cyrano? " 
 
 " Why, I don't go about blustering and carving my 
 fellow-citizens into mincemeat." 
 
 " No. But you " She began unreflectingly, then she 
 stopped short in confusion. Cyrano, Roxana, Christian j 
 
 290
 
 Norma's Hour 
 
 Jimmie, Norma, Morland the parallel was of an em- 
 barrassing nicety. She lost her head, reddened, saw that 
 Jimmie had filled the gap. 
 
 " I don't care," she cried. " You are like him. It 's 
 splendid, but it 's senseless. You are worth a million of 
 the other man, and she knows it as well as I do." 
 
 She vindictively stitched at the cuff. Jimmie made no 
 reply, but lay back smoking his pipe. Aline recovered and 
 grew remorseful. She had destroyed with an idiotic word 
 the little atmosphere of gaiety she had succeeded in creat- 
 ing. She pricked her finger several times At last she 
 rose and knelt by his side. 
 
 " I 'm sorry, Jimmie. Don't be vexed with me." 
 
 He looked at her, wrinkling his forehead half humorously, 
 half sadly, and patted her cheek. 
 
 " No, dear, " he said. " But I think Slawkenbergius's 
 the better tale. Shall I read it you again ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, Jimmie," cried the girl, half crying, half laugh- 
 ing. " Please don't, for heaven's sake. I 've not been as 
 naughty as that ! " 
 
 She resumed her sewing. They talked of daily things. 
 Theodore Weever's purchases. The faun he was sorry 
 to lose it after its companionship for all these years. He 
 would paint a replica but it would not be the same thing. 
 Other times, other feelings. Gradually the conversation 
 grew spasmodic, dwindled. Jimmie brooded over his 
 mystery, and Aline stitched in silence. 
 
 The whirr of the front door-bell aroused them. Aline 
 put down her work. 
 
 " It 's Renshaw," said Jimmie. 
 
 Renshaw, a broken-down, out-at-heels, drunken black- 
 and-white artist, once of amazing talent, was almost the 
 
 291
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 only member of a large Bohemian coterie who continued to 
 regard Jimmie as at home to his friends on Sunday even- 
 ings. Jimmie bore with the decayed man, and helped him 
 on his way, and was pained when Aline insisted upon open- 
 ing the windows after his departure. Renshaw had been a 
 subject of contention between them for years. 
 
 " He has only come to drink whisky and borrow 
 money. Luckily we haven't any whisky in the house," 
 said Aline. 
 
 " We can give him beer, my child. And if the man is 
 in need of half a crown, God forbid we should deny it 
 him. Has Hannah come home yet ? " 
 
 " I don't think so. It is n't ten o'clock." 
 
 " Then let him in, dear," said Jimmie, finally. 
 
 Aline went upstairs with some unwillingness. She dis- 
 approved entirely of Renshaw. She devoutly hoped the 
 man was sober. As she opened the front door, the sharp 
 sound of a turning cab met her ears, and the cloaked tall 
 figure of a woman met her astonished eyes. 
 
 " Miss Hardacre ! " 
 
 " Yes, dear. Won't you let me in ? " 
 
 The girl drew aside quickly, and Norma passed into the 
 hall. 
 
 " You ? " cried Aline. " I don't understand." 
 
 " Never mind. Is Mr. is Jimmie at home ? " 
 
 "Jimmie ! " The girl's heart leaped at the name. She 
 stared wide-eyed at Norma, whose features she could 
 scarcely discern by the pin-point of gas in the hall-lamp. 
 " Yes. He is in the studio." 
 
 " Can I see him ? Alone ? Do you mind ? " 
 
 In dumb astonishment Aline took the visitor to the 
 head of the stairs, half lit by the streak of light from 
 
 292
 
 Nor ma's Hour 
 
 the open studio door. Norma paused, beat forward, and 
 kissed her on the cheek. 
 
 " I know my way," she whispered. 
 
 Jimmie heard the rustle of skirts that were not Aline's, 
 and springing to his feet, hurried towards the door. But 
 before he could reach it Norma entered and stood before 
 him. Her long dark silk evening cloak was open at the 
 throat, showing glimpses of white bare neck. Its high 
 standing collar set off the stately poise of her head. She 
 wore the diamond star in her hair. To the wondering 
 man who gazed at her she was a vision of radiant beauty. 
 They held each other's eyes for a second or two ; and the 
 first dazzling glory in which she seemed to stand having 
 faded, Jimmie read in her face that desperate things had come 
 to pass. He caught her hands as she came swiftly forward. 
 
 " Why are you here ? My God, why are you here ? " 
 
 " I could stand it no longer," she said breathlessly. " I 
 am not going to marry Mprland. I have cut myself adrift. 
 They all know it. I told them so this evening. The 
 horror of it was unbearable. I have done with it forever 
 and ever." 
 
 " The horror of it ? " echoed Jimmie. 
 
 " Don't you think it a horror for two people to marry 
 who have never even pretended to love each other ? You 
 said so this afternoon." 
 
 He released her hands and turned aside. Even the deep 
 exulting sense of what her presence there must mean 
 could not mitigate a terrible dismay. The interpretation 
 that staggered reason was the true and only one. He had 
 been living in a dream, among shadow-shapes which he 
 himself had cast upon the wall. Even now he could not 
 grasp completely the extent of his heroical self-deception. 
 
 293
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 "There has never been any love between you and 
 Morland ? It has been a cold-blooded question of a 
 marriage of convenience ? I thought so differently." 
 
 " Since when ? " she asked. " Since this afternoon ? " 
 
 "No not since this afternoon." 
 
 " If it had n't been for you, I should have married him. 
 You made it impossible. You taught me things. You 
 made me hate myself and my mean ambitions. That was 
 why I hesitated put it off till Easter. If I had n't 
 seen you this afternoon I should have gone through with it 
 on Wednesday. When I got home I could n't face it. 
 He put some pearls a wedding-present round mjr 
 neck. They seemed like dead fingers choking out my 
 soul. At last it grew horrible. I said things I don't 
 remember now. I could n't stay in the house. It suffo- 
 cated me. It would have sent me mad. I think a cab 
 whirled me through the streets. I don't know. I have 
 burnt my ships." 
 
 She stopped, panting, with her hands on her bosom. 
 His exultation grew, and fear with it. He was like a child 
 trembling before a joy too great to be realised, frightened 
 lest it should vanish. He said without looking at her: 
 
 " Why have you come here ? " 
 
 "Where else should I go ? Unless " She halted on 
 the word. 
 
 " Unless what ? " 
 
 She broke into an impatient cry. 
 
 " Oh, can't you speak ? Do you want me to say every- 
 thing ? There is no need for you to be silent any longer." 
 She faced him. " Who was the woman the picture 
 woman we spoke of this afternoon ? " 
 
 "You," he said. "You. Who else ?" There was 
 
 294
 
 Norma's Hour 
 
 a quiver of silence. Then he caught her to him. He spoke 
 foolish words. Their lips met, and passion held them. 
 
 " Had I anywhere else to go ? " she whispered ; and 
 he said, " No." 
 
 She released herself, somewhat pale and shaken. Jimmie, 
 scarcely knowing what he did, took off her cloak and threw 
 it on the long deal table. The sudden fresh chill on arms 
 and neck made her realise that they were bare. It was 
 his doing. She blushed. A delicious sense of shyness 
 crept over her. It soon passed. But evanescent though 
 it was, it remained long in her memory. 
 
 Jimmie took her in his arms again. He said : 
 
 "You madden me. I have loved you so long. I am 
 like a parched soul by a pool of Paradise." 
 
 He took her by the hand, led her to his chair near 
 the stove, and knelt by her side. She looked at him, the 
 edges of her white teeth together, her lips parted. She was 
 living the moment that counts for years in a woman's life. 
 She can only live it once. Great joy or endless shame 
 may come afterwards, but this moment shall ever be to 
 her comfort or her despair. 
 
 He asked her how she had known. 
 
 "You told me so." 
 
 " When ? " 
 
 "At Heddon. Do you think I shall ever forget your 
 words ? " She laughed divinely at the puzzledom on his 
 face. " No. You were too loyal to tell me but you 
 told Connie Deering. Hush ! Don't start. Connie did 
 not betray you. She is the staunchest soul breathing. You 
 and she were on the slope by the croquet lawn do you 
 remember ? There was a hedge of clipped yew above " 
 
 " And you overheard ? " 
 
 295
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 She laughed again, happily, at his look of distress. 
 
 41 1 should be rather pleased now if I were you," 
 she said in the softer and deeper tones of her voice. 
 
 A few moments later he said, u You must give me back 
 the portrait. I shall burn it." 
 
 Why ? " 
 
 " You are a million times more beautiful, more adorable." 
 
 He asked her when she had begun to think of him 
 the eternal, childlike question. She met his lover's gaze 
 steadily. Frankness was her great virtue. 
 
 " It seems now that I have cared for you since the first 
 day. You soon came into my life, but I did n't know 
 how much you represented. Then I heard you speaking 
 to Connie. That mattered a great deal. When that man 
 shot you, I knew that I loved you. I thought you were 
 dead. I rushed down the slope and propped you up against 
 my knees and I thought I should go mad with agony." 
 
 " I never heard of that," said Jimmie in a low voice. 
 
 He became suddenly thoughtful, rose to his feet and 
 regarded her with a changed expression, like that of a man 
 awakened from a dream. 
 
 " What is going to be the end of this ? " he asked. 
 
 Norma, for once unperceptive and replying to a small 
 preoccupation of her own, flushed to her hair. 
 
 "I know Connie well enough to look her up and ask 
 her for hospitality." 
 
 " I was n't thinking of that," said Jimmie. " We have 
 been like children and had our hour of joy, without think- 
 ing of anything else. Now we must be grown-up people. 
 After what has passed between us, I could only ask you to 
 be my wife." 
 
 " I came here for you to ask me," she said. 
 
 296
 
 Nbrma's Hour 
 
 " I have no right to do so, dear. I bear a dishonoured name. 
 The wonder and wild desire of you made me forget." 
 
 She looked at him strangely, her lips working in the 
 shadow of her old smile of mockery. 
 
 " That proves to me that it is your name and not your- 
 self that is dishonoured. If it had been yourself, you would 
 not have forgotten." 
 
 Jimmie drew himself up, and there was a touch of 
 haughtiness in his manner that Norma in her woman's 
 way noted swiftly. In spite of his homeliness there was 
 the undefinable spirit of the great gentleman in Jimmie. 
 
 " I am dishonoured. The matter was public property. 
 I discuss it with no one, least of all with you." 
 
 "Very well," she said. "Let it never be mentioned 
 again between us. I range myself with Aline. I shall 
 believe what I like. You can't prevent my doing that, 
 can you ? I choose to believe you are the one thing God 
 made in which I can find happiness. That 's enough for 
 me, and it ought to be enough for you." 
 
 Jimmie put his hand on her shoulder, deeply moved. 
 
 " My dearest, you must n't say things like that." He 
 repeated the words, " You must n't say things like that." 
 Then he was conscious of the warm softness on which 
 his hand rested. She raised her arm and touched his fingers. 
 It was a moment of deep temptation. He resisted, drew 
 his hand away gently. 
 
 " There is another reason why it cannot be," he said. 
 " You belong to a world of wealth and luxury, I have been in 
 poverty all my life. God forbid I should complain. I have 
 never done so. But it is a life of struggle for daily bread. 
 Aline and I are used to it. We laugh. We often dine 
 with Duke Humphrey. We make believe like the mar- 
 
 297
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 chioness. What the discipline of life and a sort of gipsy 
 faith in Providence have made us regard as a jest, would 
 be to you a sordid shift, an intolerable ugliness stripping 
 life of its beauty " 
 
 " Oh, hush ! " she pleaded. 
 
 " No, I must talk and you must listen," he said with a 
 certain masterful dignity. " Look at you now, in the 
 exquisite loveliness of your dress, with that diamond star 
 in your hair, with that queenly presence of yours. Do 
 you fit in with all this ? Your place is in great houses, 
 among historic pictures, rare carpets, furniture that is in- 
 vested with the charm of an artist's touch. The chair you 
 are sitting in the leather is split and the springs are 
 broken." He was walking now backwards and forwards 
 across the studio, fulfilling his task bravely, scarcely trust- 
 ing himself to look at her. " Your place," he continued, 
 * l is among the great ones of the earth princes, ambassa- 
 dors, men of genius. Here are but the little folk : even 
 should they come, as they used to do : homely men with 
 rough ways and their wives sweet simple women with a 
 baby and a frock a year, God help them ! I can't ask you 
 to share this life with me, my dear. I should be a scoundrel 
 if I did. As it is, I have fallen below myself in letting 
 you know that I love you. You must forgive me. A 
 man is, after all, a man, whether he be beggar or prince. 
 You must go back into your world and forget it all. The 
 passion-flower cannot thrive in the hedge with the dog- 
 rose, my dearest. It will pine and fade. We must end 
 it all. Don't you see ? You don't know what poverty 
 means, Even decent poverty like ours. Look the men 
 you know have valets to dress them when you came 
 Aline was sewing new cuffs on my shirts. I don't suppose 
 
 298
 
 Norma's Hour 
 
 you ever knew that such things were done. Mere exist- 
 ence is a matter of ever anxious detail. I am a careless 
 fellow, I am a selfish brute, like most men, and give over 
 to the women folk around me the thousand harassing con- 
 siderations of ways and means for every day in every 
 year. But I see more than they think. Aline can tell you. 
 I dare n't, my dear, ask you to share this life with me. I 
 dare n't, I dare n't." 
 
 He came to a stop in front of her ; saw her leaning over 
 the arm of the chair away from him, her face covered by 
 her hands. Her white shoulders twitched in little con- 
 vulsive movements. 
 
 " Why, my dear my dear " he said in a bewilder- 
 ment of distress; and kneeling by her, he took her wrists 
 and drew them to him. The palms of her hands and her 
 cheeks were wet with miserable tears. 
 
 " What must you think of me ? What futile, feeble 
 creature must you think me ? Heaven knows I 'm degraded 
 enough but not to that level. Do you suppose I ever 
 thought you a rich man ? Oh, you have hurt me flayed 
 me alive. I did n't deserve it ! I would follow you in rags 
 barefoot through the world. What does it matter so long 
 as it is you that I follow ? " 
 
 What could mortal man do but take the wounded woman 
 of his idolatry into his arms ? The single-hearted creature, 
 aghast at the havoc he had wrought, bitterly reproached 
 himself for want of faith in the perfect being. He had 
 committed a horrible crime, plunged daggers, stab after 
 stab, into that radiant bosom. She sobbed in his embrace 
 a little longer than was strictly necessary. Tears and 
 sobs were a wonder to her, who since early childhood had 
 never known the woman's relief of weeping. It came 
 
 299
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 upon her first as a wondrous new-found emotion ; when 
 his strong arms were about her, as an unutterably sweet 
 solace. And the man's voice in her ears was all that has 
 nearly been said but never been quite said in music. 
 
 Presently she drew herself away from him. 
 
 " Do you think I am such a fool that I can't sew ? " 
 
 He sank back on his heels. She rose, helping herself to 
 rise by a hand on his arm, an action wonderfully sweet in 
 its intimacy, and crossed over to Aline's cane-bottomed, 
 armless easy-chair. She plucked the shirt from the basket 
 on the top of which Aline had thrust it, groped among the 
 wilderness of spools, tape, bits of ribbon, scissors, needle- 
 cases, patterns and year-old draper's bills for a thimble, 
 found the needle sticking in the work, and began to sew 
 with a little air of defiance. Jimmie looked on, ravished. 
 He drew nearer. 
 
 " God bless my soul," he said. " Do you mean to say 
 you can do that ? " 
 
 There was nothing she could not do in this hour of 
 exaltation. She had found herself simple woman with 
 simple man. It was her hour. Her feet trod the roots 
 of life ; her head touched the stars. 
 
 "Sit in your chair and smoke, and let us see what it will 
 be like," she commanded. 
 
 He obeyed. But whether it was tobacco or gunpowder 
 in his old briarwood pipe he could not have told. The 
 poor wretch was mazed with happiness. 
 
 " Poor little Aline is all by herself upstairs," said Norma, 
 after a while. 
 
 "Heaven forgive me," cried Jimmie, starting up. "I 
 had n't thought about her ! " 
 
 300
 
 Chapter XXIV 
 MRS. HARbACRE FORGETS 
 
 WHILE this tragical comedy of the domestic 
 felicities was being enacted, Connie Deering's 
 brougham containing three agitated, silent, 
 human beings was rapidly approaching the scene. 
 
 They had made certain of finding Norma at Bryanston 
 Square. The news that she had not arrived disquieted 
 them. Morland anxiously suggested the police. They 
 had a hurried colloquy, Morland and Connie standing on 
 the pavement, Mrs. Hardacre inside the carriage, thrusting 
 her head through the window. Connie falteringly confessed 
 to the meeting of Jimmie and Norma in the afternoon. 
 Something serious had evidently passed between them. 
 
 Morland broke into an oath. " By God ! That 's where 
 she 's gone. Damn him ! " 
 
 " We must get her away at all costs," said Mrs. Hard- 
 acre, tensely. 
 
 " I am afraid it is my fault," said Connie. 
 
 " Of course it is," Mrs. Hardacre replied brutally. 
 " The best you can do is to help us to rescue her." 
 
 They started. The brougham was small, the air heavy, 
 their quest distasteful, its result doubtful. The sense of 
 fretfulness became acute. Mrs. Hardacre gave vent to her 
 maternal feelings. When she touched on the vile seducer 
 of her daughter's affections, Connie turned upon her almost 
 shrewishly. 
 
 301
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " This is my carriage, and I am not going to hear my 
 dearest friend abused in it." 
 
 Morland sat silent and worried. When they stopped at 
 the house, he said : 
 
 " I think I shall stay outside." 
 
 Connie, angry with him for having damned Jimmie, bent 
 forward. 
 
 " Are you afraid of facing Jimmie ? " she said with a 
 little note of contempt. 
 
 " Certainly not," he replied viciously. 
 
 A few moments later Aline ran into the studio with a 
 scared face. 
 
 "Jimmie!" 
 
 He went up to her, and she whispered into his ear ; then 
 he turned to Norma. 
 
 " Your mother and Connie and Morland are upstairs. 
 I don't suppose you are anxious to see them. May I tell 
 them what has happened ? " 
 
 Norma rose and joined him in the centre of the studio. 
 
 " I would sooner tell them myself. Can they come 
 down here ? " 
 
 " If you wish it." 
 
 He gave the order to Aline. Before going, she took 
 him by the arm and swiftly glancing at Norma, asked 
 eagerly : 
 
 " What has happened ? " 
 
 " The wonder of wonders, dear," said Jimmie. 
 
 With a glad cry she ran upstairs and brought down the 
 visitors, who were waiting in the hall. 
 
 Jimmie stood by the open door to receive them. Norma 
 retired to the far end of the studio. She held her head high, 
 and felt astonishingly cool and self-possessed. Mrs. Hard- 
 
 302
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Forgets 
 
 acre entered first, and without condescending to look at 
 Jimmie marched straight up to her daughter. Then came 
 Connie and Aline, the girl excited, her arm round her 
 friend's waist. Morland, on entering, drew Jimmie aside. 
 
 u So you Ve bested me," he said in an angry whisper. 
 " You held the cards, I know. I did n't think you would 
 use them. I wish you joy." 
 
 A sudden flash of pain and indignation lit Jimmie's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Good God, man ! Have you sunk so low as to accuse 
 me of that ? Me?" 
 
 He turned away. Morland caught him by the sleeve. 
 
 " I say " he began. 
 
 But Jimmie shook him off and went to the side of Nor- 
 ma, who was listening to her mother's opening attack. It 
 was shrill and bitter. When she paused, Norma said 
 stonily : 
 
 " I am not going nome with you to-night, mother. I 
 sleep at Connie's. She will not refuse me a bed." 
 
 "Your father means what he says." 
 
 "So do I, mother. I can manage pretty well without 
 your protection till I am married. Then I sha'n't need it." 
 
 " Pray whom are you going to marry ? " asked Mrs. 
 Hardacre, acidly. 
 
 " I should think it was obvious," said Norma. " Mr. 
 Padgate has done me the very great honour to ask me to 
 be his wife. I have agreed. I am over age and a free 
 agent, so there 's nothing more to be said, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre refused to take the announcement seri- 
 ously. Her thin lips worked into a smile. 
 
 " This is sheer folly, my dear Norma. Over age or not 
 wre can't allow you to disgrace yourself and us " 
 
 303
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " We have never had such honour conferred on us in all 
 our lives," said Norma. 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre shrugged her shoulders pityingly. 
 
 " Among sane folks it would be a disgrace and a scandal. 
 Even Mr. Padgate would scarcely take advantage of a fit 
 of hysterical folly." She turned to Jimmie. " I assure 
 you she is hardly responsible for her actions. You are 
 aware what you would be guilty of in bringing her into 
 this this ?" She paused for a word and waved her 
 hand around. 
 
 " Hovel ? " suggested Jirhmie, grimly. " Yes. I am 
 aware of it. Miss Hardacre must not consider herself 
 bound by anything she has said to-night." 
 
 Connie Deering, who had come up waiting for a chance 
 to speak, her forget-me-not eyes curiously hard and danger- 
 ous, broke in quickly : 
 
 " Why did you say even Mr. Padgate, Mrs. Hardacre ? " 
 
 " Mr. Padgate has a reputation " said Mrs. Hardacre, 
 with an expressive gesture. 
 
 "Jimmie " 
 
 He checked his advocate. " Please, no more." 
 
 " I should think not, indeed ! Are you coming, Norma ? " 
 
 "You had better go," said Jimmie, softly. "Why 
 quarrel with your parents ? To-morrow, a week, a month 
 hence you can tell me your wishes. I set you quite free." 
 
 Norma made a movement of impatience. 
 
 " Don't make me say things I should regret I am not 
 going to change my mind. No, mother, I am not coming." 
 
 Morland had not said a word, but stood in the back- 
 ground, hating himself. Only Connie's taunt had caused 
 him to enter this maddeningly false position. He knevir 
 that his accusation, though he believed it true at the time, 
 
 34
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Forgets 
 
 was false and base. Jimmie was true gold. He had not 
 betrayed him. Connie, when Jimmie had checked her, 
 went across to Morland. 
 
 "Do you believe that Jimmie deserves his reputation? " 
 she said for his ears alone. 
 
 " I don't know," he answered moodily, kicking at a 
 hassock. 
 
 " I do know," she said, " and it 's damnable." 
 
 A quick glance exchanged completed her assurance. He 
 saw that she knew, and despised him. For a few moments 
 he lost consciousness of exteunals in alarmed contemplation 
 of this new thing a self openly despised by one of his 
 equals. Mrs. Hardacre's voice aroused him. She was 
 saying her final words to Norma. 
 
 " I leave you. When you are in the gutter with this 
 person, don't come to ask me for help. You can encanailler 
 yourself as much as you like, for all I care. This adven- 
 turer " 
 
 Jimmie interposed in his grand manner. 
 
 u Pray remember, Mrs. Hardacre, that for the moment 
 you are my guest." 
 
 "Your guest ! " For the second time that evening she 
 had been rebuked. Her eyes glittered with spite and fury. 
 She lost control. " Your guest ! If I went to rescue my 
 daughter from a house of ill fame, should I regard myself as 
 a guest of the keeper ? How dare you ? How do I know 
 what does n't go on in this house ? That girl over 
 there " 
 
 Norma sprang forward and gripped her by the arm. 
 
 Mother ! " 
 
 She shook herself free. " How do I know ? How <k? 
 you know ? The man's name stinks over England. No 
 20 305
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 decent woman has anything to do with him. Have you 
 forgotten last autumn ? That beastly affair ? If you 
 choose to succeed the other woman " 
 
 " Oh, damn it ! " burst out Morland, suddenly. " This 
 is more than I can stand. Have you forgotten what I 
 told you a week ago ? " 
 
 The venomous woman was brought to a full stop. She 
 stared helplessly at Morland, drawing quick panting breaths. 
 
 She had forgotten that he was in the room. 
 
 The cynicism was too gross even for him. There are 
 limits to every man's baseness and cowardice. Moreover, 
 his secret was known. To proclaim it himself was a more 
 heroic escape than to let it be revealed with killing con- 
 tempt by another. The two forces converged suddenly, 
 and found their resultant in his outburst. It was charac- 
 teristic of him that there should be two motives, though 
 which one was the stronger it were hard to say most likely 
 revolt at the cynicism, for he was not a depraved man. 
 
 Norma looked swiftly from one to the other. 
 
 " What did you tell my mother a week ago ? " 
 
 Jimmie picked up Morland's crush-hat that lay on the 
 table and thrust it into his hand. 
 
 " Oh, that 's enough, my dear good fellow. Don't talk 
 about those horrible things. Mrs. Hardacre would like to 
 be going. You had better see her home. Good-night." 
 
 He pushed him, as he spoke, gently towards Mrs. 
 Hardacre, who was already moving towards the door. But 
 Norma came up. 
 
 41 1 insist upon knowing," she said. 
 
 " No, no," said Jimmie, in an agitated voice. " Let the 
 dead past bury its dead. Don't rake up old horrors." 
 
 Morland cleared himself away from Jimmie. 
 
 306
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Forgets 
 
 " My God ! You are a good man. I Ve been an 
 infernal blackguard. Everybody had better know. If 
 Jimmie had n't taken it upon himself, that madman would 
 have shot me. He would have hit the right man. I wish 
 to heaven he had." 
 
 Norma grew white. 
 
 " And this is what you told my mother ? " 
 
 " I thought I ought to," said Morland, looking away 
 from the anxious faces around him. 
 
 " You should n't have done it," said Jimmie, in a low 
 voice. He was bent like a guilty person. 
 
 Norma went to the door and opened it. 
 
 " Kindly see my mother into a cab." 
 
 " Please take the brougham," said Connie. " Norma and 
 I will take a cab later." 
 
 Morland made a movement as if to speak to Jimmie. 
 Norma intercepted him, waved her hand towards her 
 mother, who stood motionless. 
 
 " Go. Please go," she said in a constrained voice. 
 " Take the brougham. She will catch cold while you are 
 whistling for a cab and you will be the sooner gone." 
 
 Mrs. Hardacre, stunned by the utter disaster that she had 
 brought about, mechanically obeyed Morland's gesture and 
 passed through the open door, without looking at her 
 daughter. As Morland passed her, he plucked up a little 
 courage. 
 
 " We both lied for your sake," he said ; which might 
 have been an apology or a tribute. Norma gave no sign 
 that she had heard him. 
 
 Jimmie followed them upstairs and opened the front 
 door. He put out his hand to Morland, who took it and 
 said "Good-night" in a shamefaced way. Mrs. Hard- 
 
 307
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 acre stepped into the brougham like a somnambulist. Mor- 
 Jand did not accompany her. He had seen enough of Mrs. 
 Hardacre for the rest of his life. 
 
 When Jimmie went down to the studio, he saw Norma 
 and Connie bending over a chair in the far corner. Aline 
 had fainted. 
 
 They administered what restoratives were to hand 
 water and Connie's smelling-salts and took the girl up to 
 her bedroom, where she was left in charge of Mrs. Deering. 
 Jimmie and Norma returned to the studio. The preoccu- 
 pation of tending Aline, whose joy in the utter vindication 
 of her splendid faith had been too sudden a strain upon an 
 overwrought nervous system, had been welcomed almost as 
 a relief to the emotional tenseness. They had not spoken 
 of the things that were uppermost. 
 
 They sat down in their former places, without exchang- 
 ing a remark. Jimmie took up his pipe from the table by 
 his side, and knocked the ashes into the ash-tray and blew 
 through it to clear it. Then he began to fill it from his 
 old tobacco-pouch, clumsy as all covered pouches are and 
 rough with faded clumps of moss-roses and forget-me-nots 
 'worked by Aline years before. 
 
 " Why don't you go on with the sewing ? " he said. 
 
 She waited a second or two before answering, and when 
 she spoke did not trust herself to look at him. 
 
 " I ought to say something, I know," she said in a low 
 voice. " But there are things one can't talk of, only feel." 
 
 " We never need talk of them," said Jimmie. " They 
 are over and done with. Old, forgotten, far-off things 
 now." 
 
 41 Are they ? You don't understand. They will always 
 remain. They make up your life. You are too big for 
 
 308
 
 Mrs. Hardacre Forgets 
 
 such as me altogether. By rights I should be on my knees 
 before you. Thank God, I did n't wait until I learned all 
 this, but came to you in faith. I feel poor enough to hug 
 that to myself as a virtue." 
 
 " I am very glad you believed in me," said Jimmie, lay- 
 ing down the unlit pipe which he had been fondling. " I 
 would n't be human if I did n't but you must n't exag- 
 gerate. Exposure would have ruined Morland's career, and 
 I thought it would go near breaking your heart. To me, 
 an insignificant devil, what did it matter ? " 
 
 " Did n't my love for you matter ? Did n't all that you 
 have suffered matter? Oh, don't minimise what you 
 have done. I am afraid of you. Your thoughts are not 
 my thoughts, and your ways not my ways. You will al- 
 ways be among the stars while I am crawling about the 
 earth." 
 
 Jimmie rose hurriedly and fell at her feet, and took both 
 her hands and placed them against his cheeks. 
 
 " My dear," he said, moved to his depths. " My dear. 
 My wonderful, worshipped, God-sent dear. You are 
 wrong utterly wrong. I am only a poor fool of a man, 
 as you will soon find out, whose one merit is to love you. 
 I would sell my body and my soul for you. If I made a 
 little sacrifice for the love of you, what have you done to- 
 night for me the sacrifice of all the splendour and grace 
 of life ? " 
 
 " The lies and the rottenness," said Norma, with a 
 shiver. " Did you comprehend my mother ? " 
 
 He took her hands from his face and kissed her fingers. 
 
 " Dear, those are the unhappy, far-off things. Let 
 us forget them. They never happened. Only one thing 
 in the world has ever happened. You have come to me, 
 
 309
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Norma," he said softly, speaking her name for the first 
 tremulous time, " Norma ! " 
 
 Their eyes met, and then their lips. The world stood 
 still for a space. She sighed and looked at him. 
 
 "You will have to teach me many things," she said. 
 " You will have to begin at the very beginning." 
 
 310
 
 Chapter XXV 
 THE LAND OF ENCHANTMENT 
 
 EVERY one knew that the marriage arranged be- 
 tween Morland King and Norma Hardacre would 
 not take place. It was announced in the " Times " 
 and " Morning Post " on the Tuesday morning ; those 
 bidden to the wedding received hurried messages, and a 
 day or two later the wedding-gifts were returned to the 
 senders, who stored them up for some happier pair. But 
 the new engagement upon which Norma had entered 
 remained a secret. Norma herself did not desire to com- 
 plete the banquet of gossip she had afforded society, and 
 Mrs. Hardacre was not anxious to fill to overflowing the 
 cup of her own humiliation. The stricken lady maintained 
 a discreet reserve. The lovers had quarrelled, Norma had 
 broken off the match and would not be going out for some 
 time. She even defied the duchess, who commanded an 
 explicit statement of reasons. Her grace retorted severely 
 that she ought to have brought her daughter up better, and 
 signified that this was the second time Norma had behaved 
 with scandalous want of consideration for her august con- 
 venience. " She shall not have the opportunity of doing it 
 again. I dislike being mixed up in scandals," said the 
 duchess ; and Mrs. Hardacre saw the gates of Wiltshire 
 House and Chiltern Towers closed to her forever. But 
 of the impossible painter wretch she spoke not a word, 
 
 3"
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 hoping desperately that in some mysterious fashion the 
 God of her fathers would avert this crowning disgrace from 
 them and would lead Norma forth again into the paths of 
 decency and virtue. As for her husband, he storm ily 
 refused to speak or hear the outcast's name. He had done 
 with her. She should never sleep again beneath the roof 
 she had dishonoured. He would not allow her a penny. 
 He would cut her out of his will. She had dragged him 
 in the mud, and by heaven ! she could go to the devil ! It 
 took much to rouse the passions of the feeble, mean-faced 
 little man ; but once they w'ere roused, he had the snarling 
 tenacity of the fox. Mrs. Hardacre did not tell him of 
 Morland's confession and the rehabilitation of his rival. 
 The memory of her stunning humiliation brought on a 
 feeling akin to physical nausea. She strove to bury it deep 
 down in her sub-oonsciousness, beneath all the other un- 
 hallowed memories. There were none quite so rank. On 
 the other hand, her husband's vilification of the detested 
 creature was a source of consolation which she had no 
 desire to choke. Why should she deny herself this com- 
 fort " The supreme joy of vitriol throwing was not 
 countenanced in her social sphere. At odd times she 
 regretted that she was a lady. 
 
 While the black fog of depression darkened Devonshire 
 Place, in neighbouring parts of London the days were 
 radiant. A thousand suns glorified the heavens and the 
 breaths of a thousand springs perfumed the air. It was a 
 period of exaggeration, unreality, a page out of a fairy tale 
 lived and relived. Norma abandoned herself to the intoxi- 
 cation, heedless of the fog in Devonshire Place, and the 
 decent grey of the world elsewhere. She refused to think 
 or speculate. Rose veils shrouded the future j the present 
 
 3 12
 
 The Land of Enchantment 
 
 was a fantasy of delight. For material things, food, shelter, 
 raimen-t, she had no concern. Connie fed and housed her, 
 making her the thrice welcome guest, the beloved sister. 
 From society she withdrew altogether. Visitors paid calls, 
 odd people were entertained at meals, the routine of a 
 wealthy woman's establishment proceeded in its ordinary 
 course, and Norma's presence in the house remained 
 unknown and unsuspected. She was there in hiding. 
 The world was given to understand that she was in Corn- 
 wall. Even common life had thus its air of romance and 
 mystery. Being as it were a fugitive, she had no engage- 
 ments. There was a glorious incongruity in the position. 
 She regarded the beginnings of the London season with the 
 amused detachment of a disembodied spirit revisiting the 
 scenes of which it once made a part. Morning, afternoon, 
 and evening she was free an exhilarating novelty. No- 
 body wanted to see her save Jimmie ; save him she wanted 
 to see nobody. 
 
 They met every day sometimes in the sitting-room on 
 the ground floor which Connie had set apart for her guest's 
 exclusive use, and sometimes in Jimmie's studio. Now 
 and then, when the weather was fine, they walked together 
 in sweet places unfrequented by the fashionable world, 
 Regent's Park and Hampstead Heath, fresh woods and 
 pastures new to Norma, who had heard of the heath vaguely 
 as an undesirable common where the lower orders wore 
 each other's hats and shied at cocoanuts. Its smiling lone- 
 liness and April beauty, seen perhaps through the artist's 
 eyes, enchanted her. Jimmie pointed out its undulations ; 
 like a bosom, said he, swelling with the first breaths of 
 pure air on its release from London. 
 
 Most of all she loved to drive up to St. John's Wood 
 313
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 after dinner and burst upon him unexpectedly. The new 
 Bohemian freedom of it all was a part of the queer delicious 
 life. She laughed in anticipation at his cry of delighted 
 welcome. When she heard it, her eyes grew soft. To 
 lift her veil and hang back her head to receive his kiss on 
 her lips was an ever-new sensation. The intimacy had a 
 bewildering sweetness. To complete it she threw aside 
 gloves and jacket and unpinned her hat, a battered gilt 
 Empire mirror over the long table serving her to guide the 
 necessary touches to her hair. Although she did not repeat 
 the little comedy of the shirt which had been inspired by 
 the exaltation of a rare moment, yet she sat in Aline's chair, 
 now called her own, and knitted at a silk tie she was 
 making for him. She had learned the art from her aunt 
 in Cornwall, and she brought the materials in a little black 
 silk bag slung to her wrist. The housewifely avocation 
 fitted in with the fairy tale. Jimmie smoked and talked, 
 the most responsive and least tiring of companions. His 
 allusive speech, that of the imaginative and cultured man, 
 in itself brought her into a world different from the one she 
 had left. His simplicity, his ignorance of the ways of 
 women, his delight at the little discoveries she allowed him 
 to make, gave it a touch of Arcadia. In passionate mo- 
 ments there was the unfamiliar, poetic, rhapsodic in his 
 utterance which turned the world into a corner of heaven. 
 And so the magic hours passed. 
 
 " I do believe I have found a soul," she remarked on 
 one of these evenings, " and that 's why I must be so 
 immoderately happy. I 'm like a child with a new toy." 
 
 She was unconscious of the instinctive, pitiless analysis 
 of herself; and Jimmie, drunk with the wonder of her, did 
 not heed the warning.
 
 The Land of Enchantment 
 
 Of their future life together they only spoke as happy 
 lovers in the rosy mist shed about them by the veil. They 
 dwelt in the glamour of the fairy tale, where the princess 
 who marries the shepherd lives not only happy ever after- 
 wards, but also delicately dressed and daintily environed, 
 her chief occupation being to tie silk bows round the 
 lambs' necks, and to serve to her husband the whitest of 
 bread and the whitest of cheese with the whitest of hands. 
 Their forecast of the future might have been an Idyll of 
 Theocritus. 
 
 "You will be the inspiration of all my pictures, dear," 
 said Jimmie. 
 
 " I will sit for you as a model, if I am good enough." 
 
 " Good enough ! " Language crumbled into meaning- 
 less vocables before her mhnite perfection. " I have had 
 a little talent. You will give me genius." 
 
 " I will also give you your dinn -jr." She laughed ador- 
 ably. " Do you know Connie told me I must learn to 
 cook. I had my first lesson this morning in her kitchen 
 a most poetic way of doing sweetbreads. Do you like 
 sweetbreads ? " 
 
 " Now I come to think of it, I do. Enormously. I 
 wonder why Aline never has them." 
 
 "We'll have some our first lunch at home." 
 
 " And you will cook them ? " cried the enraptured man. 
 
 She nodded. " In a most becoming white apron. You '11 
 see." 
 
 " You '11 be like a goddeas taking her turn preparing the 
 daily ambrosia for Olympuf ! " said Jimmie. 
 
 On another occasion they spoke of summer holidays. 
 They would take a little cottage in the country. It would 
 have honeysuckle over the porch, and beds of mignonette
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 under the windows, and an old-fashioned garden full of 
 stocks and hollyhocks and sunflowers. There would be 
 doves and bees. They would go out early and come 
 home with the dew on their feet. They would drink 
 warm milk from the cow. They would go a hay-making. 
 Norma's idea of the pastoral pathetically resembled that of 
 the Petit Trianon. 
 
 The magic of the present with its sincerity of passion- 
 ate worship on the part of the man, and its satisfaction 
 of a soul's hunger on the part of the woman, was in itself 
 enough to blind their eyes to the possible prose of the 
 future. Another interest, one of the sweetest of outside 
 interests that can bind two lovers together, helped to fix 
 their serious thoughts to the immediate hour. Side by side 
 with their romance grew up another, vitally interwoven 
 with it for a spell and now springing clear into independent 
 life. The two children Aline and Tony Merewether had 
 found each other again, and the fresh beauty of their young 
 loves lit the deeper passion of the older pair with the light 
 of spring sunrise. In precious little moments of confi- 
 dence Aline opened to Norma her heart's dewy happiness, 
 and what Norma in delicate honour could divulge she told 
 to Jimmie, who in his turn had his little tale to bear. More 
 ind more was existence like the last page of a fairy book. 
 
 The reconciliation of the younger folk had been a very 
 simple matter. It was the doing of Connie Deering. 
 The morning after Morland's confession she summoned 
 Tony Merewether to an interview. He arrived wonder- 
 ing. She asked him point blank : 
 
 "Are you still in love with Aline Marden or have you 
 forgotten all about her ? " * 
 
 The young fellow declared his undying affection. 
 
 316
 
 The Land of Enchantment 
 
 " Are you aware that you have treated her shamefully ? " 
 she said severely. 
 
 " I am the most miserable dog unhung," exclaimed the 
 youth. He certainly looked miserable, thin, and worried. 
 He gave his view of the position. Connie's heart went 
 out to him. 
 
 " Suppose I told you that everything was cleared up and 
 you could go to Aline with a light conscience ? " 
 
 " I should go crazy with happiness ! " he cried, springing 
 to his feet. 
 
 " Aline deserves a sane husband. She is one in a 
 thousand." 
 
 " She is one in twenty thousand million ! " 
 
 "There she goes, hand in hand with Jimmie Padgate. 
 It 's to tell you that I 've asked you to come. I hope you '11 
 let them both know you 're aware of it." 
 
 Satisfied that he was worthy of her confidence, she told 
 him briefly what had occurred. 
 
 " And now what are you going to do ? " she asked, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Do ? I '11 go on my knees. I '11 grovel at his feet. 
 I '11 ask him to make me a door-mat. I '11 do any mortal 
 thing Aline tells me." 
 
 u Well, go now and do your penance and be happy," 
 Connie said, holding out her hand. 
 
 " I don't know how I can thank you, Mrs. Deering," 
 he cried. " You are the most gracious woman that ever 
 lived ! " 
 
 A few moments later an impassioned youth was speeding 
 in a hansom cab to Friary Grove. But Connie, with the 
 memory of his clear-cut, radiant young face haunting her, 
 sighed. Chance decreed that the very moment should
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 bring her a letter from Jimmie, written that morning, full 
 of his wonder and gratitude. She sighed again, patheti- 
 cally, foolishly, unreasonably feeling left out in the cold. 
 
 " I wonder whether it would do me good to cry," she 
 said, half aloud. But the footman entering with the an- 
 nouncement that the carriage which was to take her to her 
 dressmaker was at the door, settled the question. She had 
 to content herself with sighs. 
 
 Tony Merewether did not go on his knees, as Aline had 
 ordained ; but he made his apology in so frank and manly a 
 way that Jimmie forgave him at once. Besides, said he, 
 what had he to forgive ? 
 
 " I feel like Didymus," said Tony. 
 
 Jimmie laughed as he clapped him on the shoulder and 
 pushed him out of the studio. 
 
 "You had better cultivate the feeling. He became a 
 saint eventually. Aline will help to make you one." 
 
 If plain indication of another's infirmities can tend to 
 qualify him for canonisation, Aline certainly justified 
 Jimmie's statement. She did not confer her pardon so 
 readily on the doubting disciple. His offence had been too 
 rank. It was not merely a question of his saying a credo 
 and then taking her into his arms. She exacted much 
 penance before she permitted this blissful consummation. 
 He had to woo and protest and humble himself exceed- 
 ingly. But when she had reduced him to a proper state of 
 penitence, she gave him plenary absolution and yielded to 
 his kiss, as she had been yearning to do since the beginning 
 of the interview. After that she settled down to her infinite 
 delight. Nothing was lacking in the new rapturous scheme 
 of existence. The glory of Jimmie was vindicated. Tony 
 had come back to her. The bars to their marriage had
 
 The Land of Enchantment 
 
 vanished. Not only was Tony a man of substance with 
 the legacy of eight thousand pounds that had been left him, 
 and therefore able to support as many wives as the Grand 
 Turk, but Jimmie no longer had to be provided for. The 
 wonder of wonders had happened ; she could surrender her 
 precious charge with a free conscience and a heart bursting 
 with gratitude. 
 
 Thus the happiness of each pair of lovers caught a re- 
 flection from that of the other, and its colour was rendered 
 ever so little fictitious, unreal. The light of spring sunrise, 
 exquisite though it is, invests things with a glamour which 
 the light of noon dispels. The spectacle of the young 
 romance unfolding itself before the eyes of Jimmie and 
 Norma completed their delicious sense of the idyllic ; but 
 the illusive atmosphere thus created caused them to view 
 their own romance in slightly false perspective. Essentially 
 it was a drama of conflict themselves against the petti- 
 nesses and uglinesses of the world; apparently it was a 
 pastoral among spring flowers. 
 
 Another cause that contributed to Norma's unconcern 
 for the future was her exaggerated sense of the man's 
 loftiness of soul. Instead of viewing him as a lovable 
 creature capable of the chivalrous and the heroic and 
 afforded by a happy fate an opportunity of displaying these 
 qualities for the opportunity makes the hero as much 
 as it does the thief she grovelled whole-sexedly before 
 an impossible idol imbued with impossible divinity. While 
 knitting silk ties and devising with him the preparation of 
 foodstuffs (which she did not realise he would not be able 
 to afford) she was conscious of a grace in the trifling, all 
 the more precious because of these little earthly things 
 midway between the empyrean and the abvss which they 
 
 319
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 respectively inhabited. In the deeply human love of each 
 was a touch of the fantastic. To Jimmie she was the 
 Princess of Wonderland, the rare Lady of Dreams; to 
 Norma he appeared little less than a god. 
 fr She was talking one evening with Connie Deering in a 
 somewhat exalted strain of her own unworthiness and 
 Jimmie's condescension, when the little lady broke into an 
 unwonted expression of impatience. 
 
 " My dear child, every foolish woman is a valet to her 
 hero. You would like to clean his boots, would n't you ? " 
 P " My dear Connie," cried Norma, alarmed, " whatever is 
 the matter ? " 
 
 " I think you two had .better get married as quickly as 
 possible. It is getting on one's nerves." 
 
 Norma stiffened. " I am sorry " she began. 
 
 Connie interrupted her. " Don't be silly. There 's 
 nothing for you to be sorry about." She brightened and 
 laughed, realising the construction Norma had put upon her 
 words. " I am only advising you for your good. I had 
 half an hour's solitary imprisonment with Theodore Weever 
 this afternoon. He always takes it out of me. It 's like 
 having a bath with an electric eel. He called this after- 
 noon to get news of you." 
 
 " Of me ? " asked Norma serenely, settling herself in 
 the depths of her chair. 
 
 " He is like an eel," Connie exclaimed with a shiver. 
 " He 's the coldest-blooded thing I Ve ever come across. 
 I told you about the dinner at the Carlton, did n't I ? It 
 appears that he reckoned on my doing just what I rushed 
 off to do. It makes me so angry ! " she cried with femi- 
 nine emphasis on the last word. " Of course he did n't 
 tell me so brutally he has a horrid snake-like method o^ 
 
 320
 
 The Land of Enchantment 
 
 insinuation. He had counted on my getting at the truth 
 which he had guessed and so stopping the marriage. c I 'm 
 a true prophet,' he said. 1 1 knew that marriage would 
 never come off.' ' 
 
 " So he told me," said Norma. u Do you know, there 
 must be some goodness in him to have perceived the good- 
 ness in Jimmie." 
 
 <l I believe he 's a disembodied spirit without either 
 goodness or badness a sort of non-moral monster." 
 Connie was given to hyperbole in her likes and dislikes. 
 She continued her tale. He had come to ask her advice. 
 Now that Miss Hardacre was free, did Mrs. Deering think 
 he might press his suit with advantage ? His stay in 
 Europe was drawing to a close. He would like to take 
 back with him to New York either Miss Hardacre or a 
 definite refusal. 
 
 " l You certainly cannot take back Miss Hardacre,' I 
 said, c because she is going to marry Jimmie Padgate.' I 
 thought this would annihilate him. But do you think he 
 moved a muscle ? Not he." 
 
 " What did he say ? " asked Norma, lazily amused. 
 
 " ' This is getting somewhat monotonous,' " replied 
 Connie. 
 
 Norma laughed. " Nothing else ? " 
 
 " He began to talk about theatres. He has the most 
 disconcerting way of changing the conversation. But on 
 leaving he sent his congratulations to you, and said that 
 you were always to remember that you were the wife 
 specially designed for him by Providence." 
 
 " You dear thing," said Norma, " and did that get on 
 your nerves ? " 
 
 " Would n't it get on yours ? " 
 21 2I
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 Norma shook her head. " I have n't any nerves for 
 things to get on. People don't have nerves when they 're 
 happy." 
 
 " And are you happy, really, really happy ? " 
 
 " I am deliciously happy," said Norma. 
 
 She went to bed laughing at the discomfiture of Weever 
 and the remoteness of him and of the days last summer 
 when she first met him among the Monzies' disreputable 
 crowd. He belonged to a former state of existence. Jim- 
 mie's portrait, which had been put for two or three reasons 
 in her bedroom, caught her attention. She looked at it 
 with a dreamy smile for a long time, and then turned to 
 the glass. Made curiously happy by what she saw there, 
 she kissed her fingers to the portrait. 
 
 " He is the better prophet," she said. 
 
 But Connie's advice as to the desirability of a speedy 
 marriage remained in her mind. Jimmie with character- 
 istic diffidence had not yet suggested definite arrangements. 
 She was gifted with so much insight as to apprehend the 
 reasons for his lack of initiative. His very worship of 
 her, his overwhelming sense of goddess-conferred boon in 
 her every smile and condescension, precluded the asking of 
 favours. So far it was she who had arranged their daily 
 life. It was she who had established the custom of the 
 studio visits, and she had taken off her hat and had inau- 
 gurated the comedy of the domestic felicities of her own 
 accord. She treasured this worship in her heart as a price- 
 less thing, all the more exquisite because it lay by the side 
 of the knowledge of her own un worthiness. The sacrifice 
 of maidenly modesty in proposing instead of coyly yielding 
 was at once a delicious penance for hypocritical assumption 
 of superiority, and a salve to her pride as a beautiful and 
 
 322
 
 The Land of Enchantment 
 
 desirable woman. It was with a glorious sureness of rela- 
 tion, therefore, that she asked him the next day if he had 
 thought of a date for their marriage. 
 
 " There is no reason for a long engagement that I can 
 see," she added, with a blush which she felt, and was 
 tremulously happy at feeling. 
 
 " I was waiting for you to say, dear," he replied, his arm 
 around her. " I dared not ask." 
 
 She laughed the deep laugh of a woman's happiness. 
 
 " I knew you would say that," she murmured. " Let 
 it be some time next month."
 
 Chapter XXVI 
 
 EARTH AGAIN 
 
 ONE day Norma received a polite intimation from 
 her bankers that her account was overdrawn. 
 This had happened before; but on previous 
 occasions she had obtained from her father an advance on 
 her allowance and the unpleasant void at the bank had been 
 filled. Now she realised with dismay that the allowance 
 had been cut off, and that no money could come into her 
 possession until the payment of the half-yearly dividend 
 from the concern in which her small private fortune was 
 invested. She looked in her purse and found five shillings. 
 On this she would have to live for three weeks. Her 
 money was in the hands of trustees, wisely tied up by the 
 worldly aunt from whom she had inherited it, so that she 
 could not touch the capital. While she was contemplating 
 the absurdity of the position, the maid brought up a parcel 
 from a draper's on which there was three and eleven pence 
 halfpenny to pay. She surrendered four of her shillings, 
 and disconsolately regarded the miserable one that remained. 
 The position had grown even more preposterous. She 
 actually needed money. She had not even the amount of 
 a cab-fare to Friary Grove. She would not have it for 
 three weeks. 
 
 Preposterous or not, the fact was plain, and demanded 
 serious consideration. She would have to borrow. The
 
 Earth Again 
 
 repayment of the loan and the overdraft would reduce the 
 half-yearly dividend. A goodly part of the remainder 
 would be required to meet an outstanding milliners' bill, 
 not included in the bridal trousseau for which her father was 
 to pay. The sum in simple arithmetic frightened her. 
 
 " I am poverty-stricken," she said to Connie, to whom 
 she confided her difficulties. 
 
 Connie blotted the cheque that was to provide for imme- 
 diate wants, and laughed sympathetically. 
 
 " You '11 have to learn to be economical, dear. I be- 
 lieve it 's quite easy." 
 
 " You mean I must go in omnibuses and things ? " said 
 Norma, vaguely. 
 
 " And not order so many hats and gowns." 
 
 u I see," said Norma, folding up the cheque. 
 
 With money again in her pocket, she felt lighter of 
 heart, but she knew that she had stepped for a moment out 
 of fairyland into the grey world of reality. The first ex- 
 perience was unpleasant. It left a haunting dread which 
 made her cling closer to Jimmie in the embrace of their 
 next meeting. It was a relief to get back into the Garden 
 of Enchantment and leave sordid things outside. Wilfully 
 she kept the conversation from serious discussion of their 
 marriage. 
 
 When next she had occasion to go to the studio, she re- 
 membered the necessity of economy, and took the St. John's 
 Wood omnibus. As a general rule the travellers between 
 Baker Street station and the Swiss Cottage are of a superior 
 class, being mostly the well-to-do residents in the neigh- 
 bourhood and their visitors ; but, by an unlucky chance, this 
 particular omnibus was crowded, and Norma found herself 
 wedged between a labouring man redolent of stale beer 
 
 325
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 and bad tobacco, and a fat Jewish lady highly flavoured 
 with musk. A youth getting out awkwardly knocked her 
 hat awry with his elbow. It began to rain a smart 
 April shower. The wet umbrella of a new arrival dripped 
 on her dress while he stood waiting for a place to be made 
 for him opposite. The omnibus stopped at a shelterless 
 corner, the nearest point to Friary Grove. She descended 
 to pitiless rain and streaming pavements and a five minutes' 
 walk, for all of which her umbrella and shoes were inade- 
 quate. She vowed miserably a life-long detestation of 
 omnibuses. She would never enter one again. Cabs were 
 the only possible conveyances for people who could not 
 afford to keep their carriage. She fought down the dread 
 that she might not be able to afford cabs. The Almighty, 
 who had obviously intended her to drive in cabs, would 
 certainly see that His intentions were carried out. 
 
 She arrived at the studio, wet, bedraggled, and angry ; but 
 Jimmie's exaggerated concern disarmed her. It could not 
 have been less had she wandered for miles and been 
 drenched to the skin and chilled to the bone. He sent 
 Aline to fetch her daintiest slippers to replace the damp 
 shoes, established the storm-driven sufferer in the big leath- 
 ern armchair with cushions at her back and hassocks at her 
 feet, made a roaring lire and insisted on her swallowing 
 cherry brandy, a bottle of which he kept in the house in 
 case of illness. In the unwonted luxury of being loved 
 and petted and foolishly fussed over, Norma again forgot 
 her troubles. Jimmie consoled the specific grievance by 
 saying magniloquently that omnibuses were the engines of 
 the devil and vehicles of the wrath to come. With a 
 drugged economic conscience she went home in a cab. 
 But the conscience awoke later, somewhat suffering, and 
 
 326
 
 Earth Again 
 
 she recognised that her exasperated vow had been vain. 
 Jimmie was a poor man. She recalled to mind his words 
 on the night of their engagement, and apprehended their 
 significance. The trivial incident of the omnibus was a 
 key. The abandonment of cabs and carriages meant the 
 surrender of countless luxuries that went therewith. Her 
 own two hundred a year would not greatly raise the scale of 
 living. She was to be a poor man's wife ; would have to 
 wear cheap dresses, eat plain food, keep household books in 
 which pennies were accounted for ; hers would be the hum- 
 drum existence of the less prosperous middle class. The 
 first pang of doubt frightened her for a while and left her 
 ashamed. Noble revolt followed. Had she not renounced 
 the pomps and vanities of a world which she scorned ? 
 Had not this wonderful baptism of love brought New 
 Birth ? She had been reborn, a braver, purer woman ; she 
 had been initiated into life's deeper mysteries ; her soul had 
 been filled with joy. Of what count were externals ? 
 
 The next evening Connie Deering gave a small dinner- 
 party in honour of the two engagements. Old Colonel 
 Pawley, charged under pain of her perpetual displeasure not 
 to reveal the secret of Norma's whereabouts, was invited to 
 balance the sexes. He was delighted to hear of Norma's 
 romantic marriage. 
 
 " I can still present the fan," he said, rubbing his soft 
 palms together; "but I'm afraid I shall have to write a 
 fresh set of verses." 
 
 *' You had better give Norma a cookery-book," laughed 
 Connie. 
 
 " I have a beautiful one of my own in manuscript which 
 no publisher will take up," sighed Colonel Pawley. 
 
 Norma, who had been wont to speak with drastic con- 
 327
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 tempt of the amiable old warrior, welcomed him so cordially 
 that he was confused. He was not accustomed to ex- 
 uberant demonstrations of friendship from the beautiful 
 Miss Hardacre. At dinner, sitting next her, he enjoyed 
 himself enormously. Instead of freezing his geniality with 
 sarcastic remarks, she lured him on to the gossip in which 
 his heart delighted. When Connie rallied her, later, on 
 her flirtation with the old man, she laughed. 
 
 " Remember I 've been a prisoner here. He 's one of 
 the familiar faces from outside." 
 
 Although jestingly, she had spoken with her usual frank- 
 ness, and her confession was more deeply significant than 
 she was aware at the time. She had welcomed Colonel 
 Pawley not for what he was, but for what he represented. 
 As soon as she was alone she realised the moral lapse, and 
 rebuked herself severely. She was sentimental enough to 
 hang by a ribbon around her neck the simple engagement 
 ring which Jimmie had given her, and to sleep with it as a 
 talisman against evil thoughts. 
 
 She spent the following evening at the studio, heroically 
 enduring the discomforts of the detested omnibus. When 
 she descended she drew a breath of relief, but felt the glow 
 that comes from virtuous achievement. Jimmie was in- 
 formed of this practice in the art of economy. He regarded 
 her wistfully. There were times when he too fought with 
 doubts, not of her loyalty, but of his own honesty in 
 bringing her down into his humble sphere. Even now, 
 accustomed as he was to the adored sight of her there, he 
 could not but note the contrast between herself and her 
 surroundings. She brought with her in every detail of her 
 person, in every detail of her dress, in every detail of 
 lier manner, an atmosphere of a dainty, luxurious life 
 
 328
 
 Earth Again 
 
 pathetically incongruous with the shabby little house. He 
 had not even the wherewithal to call in decorators and 
 upholsterers and make the little house less shabby. So 
 when she spoke of practising economy, he looked at her 
 wistfully. 
 
 " Your eyes are open, dear, are n't they ? " he said. 
 " You really do realise what a sacrifice you are making in 
 marrying me ? " 
 
 " By not marrying you," she replied, " I should have 
 gained the world and lost my own soul. Now I am doing 
 the reverse." 
 
 He kissed her finger-tips lover-wise. " I am afraid I 
 must be the devil's advocate, and say that the loss and 
 gain need not be so absolutely differentiated. I want you 
 to be happy. My God ! I want you to be happy," he 
 burst out with sudden passion, " and if you found that 
 things were infinitely worse than what you had expected, 
 that you had married me in awful ignorance " 
 
 She covered his lips with the palm of her hand. 
 
 " Don't go on. You pain me. You make me despise 
 myself. I have counted the cost, such as it is. Did I 
 not tell you from the first that I would go with you in 
 rags and barefoot through the world ? Could woman say 
 more ? Don't you believe me ? " 
 
 " Yes, I believe you," he replied, bowing his head. 
 " You are a great-hearted woman." 
 
 She unfastened her hat, skewered it through with the 
 pins, and gave it him to put down. 
 
 " I remember my Solomon," she said, trying to laugh 
 lightly, for there had been a faint but disconcerting sense 
 of effort in her protestation. " c Better is a dinner of 
 herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred there- 
 
 J2Q
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 with." Besides, you forget another important matter. I 
 am now a homeless, penniless outcast. I am not sacri- 
 ficing anything. It is very kind of you to offer to take 
 me in and shelter me." 
 
 " These are sophistries," said Jimmie, with a laugh, 
 " You gave 'up all on my account." 
 
 " But I am really penniless," she said, ignoring his 
 argument. " AncW to son pittore. I too have felt the 
 pinch of poverty." 
 
 You ? " 
 
 She revealed her financial position the overdraft at the 
 bank, the shilling between herself and starvation. Were 
 it not for Connie, she would have to sing in the streets. 
 She alluded thoughtlessly, with her class's notions as to 
 the value of money, to her " miserable two hundred a year." 
 
 " Two hundred a year ! " cried Jimmie. " Why, that 's 
 a fortune ! " 
 
 His tone struck a sudden chill through her. He gen- 
 uinely regarded the paltry sum as untold riches. She 
 struggled desperately down to his point of view. 
 
 " Perhaps it may come in useful for us," she said lamely. 
 
 " I should think it will ! Why did n't you tell me 
 before ? " 
 
 " Have you never thought I might have a little of my 
 own ? " she asked with a touch of her old hardness. 
 
 " No," said Jimmie. " Of course not." 
 
 " I don't see any 4 of course ' in the matter. The 
 ordinary man would have speculated it would have been 
 natural almost common-sense." 
 
 Jimmie threw up his hands deprecatingly. 
 
 41 1 have been too much dazzled by the glorious gift of 
 yourself to think of anything else you might bring. I ana 
 
 33
 
 Earth Again 
 
 an impossible creature, as you will find out. I ought to 
 have considered the practical side." 
 
 " Oh ! I am very glad you did n't ! " she exclaimed. 
 " Heaven forbid you should have the mercenary ideas of 
 the average man. It is beautiful to have thought of me 
 only." I 
 
 " I am afraid I was thinking of myself, my dear," said 
 he. " I must get out of the way of it, and think of the 
 two of us. Now let us be severely business-like. You 
 have taken a load off my mind. There are a thousand 
 things you can surround yourself with that I imagined you 
 would lack." He took her two hands and swung them 
 backwards and forwards. " Now I shan't regard myself 
 as such a criminal in asking you to marry me." 
 
 " Do you think two hundred a year a fortune, Jimmie ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 "To the Rothschilds and Vanderbilts perhaps not but 
 everything is relative." 
 
 " Everything ? " 
 
 Her heart spoke suddenly, demanding relief. Their 
 eyes met. 
 
 " No, dear," he said. " One thing at least is absolute." 
 
 An interlude of conviction succeeded doubt. She felt 
 that she had never loved him so much as at that moment. 
 It was more with the quickly lit passion of the awakened 
 woman than with the ardour of a girl that she clasped 
 her hands round his head and drew it down to their kiss. 
 She had an awful need of the assurance of the absolute. 
 
 It nerved her to face a discussion on ways and means 
 with Aline, whom Jimmie at her request summoned from 
 demure sewing in her little drawing-room. 
 
 " You are right," she had said, referring to his former
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 remark. "We ought to be severely business-like. I must 
 begin to learn things. You don't know how hopelessly 
 Ignorant I am." 
 
 Aline came down to give the first lesson in elementary 
 housekeeping. She brought with her a pile of little black 
 books which she spread out at the end of the long table. 
 The two girls sat side by side. Jimmie hovered about 
 them for a while, but was soon dismissed by Aline to a 
 distant part of the studio, where, having nothing where- 
 with to occupy himself, he proceeded to make a charcoal 
 sketch of the two intent faces. 
 
 Aline, proud at being able to display her housewifely 
 knowledge before appreciative eyes, opened her books, and 
 expounded them with a charming business air. These 
 were the receipts for the last twelve months ; these the 
 general disbursements. They were balanced to a half- 
 penny. 
 
 " Of course anything I can't account for, I put down to 
 the item c Jimmie,' " she said naively. " He will go to 
 the money-drawer and help himself without letting me 
 know. Is n't it tiresome of him ? " 
 
 Norma smiled absently, wrinkling her brows over the 
 unfamiliar figures. She had no grasp of the relation the 
 amounts of the various items bore to one another, but 
 they all seemed exceedingly small. 
 
 " I suppose it 's necessary to make up this annual 
 balance ? " she asked. 
 
 " Of course. Otherwise you would n't know how 
 much you could apportion to each item. Jimmie says 
 it 's nonsense to keep books ; but if you listen to Jimmie, 
 you '11 have the brokers in in a month." 
 
 Brokers ? " 
 
 332
 
 Earth Again 
 
 Aline laughed at her perplexed look. " Yes, to seize 
 the furniture in payment of debt." 
 
 The main financial facts having been stated, Aline came 
 to detail. These were the weekly books from the various 
 tradesmen. She showed a typical week's expenditure. 
 
 " What about the fishmonger ? " asked Norma, noting 
 an obvious omission. 
 
 " Fish is too expensive to have regularly," Aline ex- 
 plained, " and so I don't have an account. When I buy 
 any, I pay for it at once, in the shop." 
 
 " When you buy it ? " 
 
 "Why, yes. You'll find it much better to go and 
 choose things for yourself than let them call for orders. 
 Then you can get exactly what you want, instead of what 
 suits the tradesman's convenience. You see, I go to the 
 butcher and look round, and say ' I want a piece of that 
 joint,' and of course he does as he's told. It seems horrid 
 to any one not accustomed to it to go into a butcher's 
 shop, I know; but really it's not unpleasant, and it's 
 quite amusing." 
 
 " But why should n't your housekeeper do the mar- 
 keting ? " 
 
 " Oh, she does sometimes," Aline admitted ; "but Hannah 
 is n't a good buyer. She can't judge meat and things, you 
 know, and she is apt to be wasteful over vegetables." 
 
 " You don't bring the the meat and things home 
 with you in a basket, do you ? " asked Norma, with a 
 nervous laugh. 
 
 Jimmie, interested in his sketch, had not listened to the 
 conversation, which had been carried on in a low tone. 
 The last words, however, pitched higher, caught his ear. 
 He jumped to his feet. 
 
 333
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " Norma carry home meat in a basket ! Good God ! 
 What on earth has the child been telling you ? " 
 
 "I never said anything of the kind, Jimmie," cried 
 Aline, indignantly. "You needn't bring home anything 
 unless you like; our tradesmen are most obliging." 
 
 Norma pushed back her chair from the table and rose 
 and again laughed nervously. 
 
 " I am afraid I can't learn all the science of domestic 
 economy in one lesson. I must do it by degrees." She 
 passed her hand across her forehead. " I 'm not used to 
 figures, you see." 
 
 Jimmie looked reproachfully at Aline. " Those horrid 
 little black books ! " he exclaimed. " They are enough to 
 give any one a headache. For heaven's sake, have nothing 
 to do with them, dear." 
 
 " But the brokers will come in," said Norma, with an 
 uncertain catch in her voice. 
 
 "They are Aline's pet hobgoblins," laughed Jimmie. 
 " My dear child," pointing to the books, " please take those 
 depressing records of wasted hours away." 
 
 When they were alone, he said to Norma very tenderly, 
 " I am afraid my little girl has frightened you." 
 
 She started at the keenness of his perception and 
 flushed. 
 
 "No not frightened." 
 
 " She is so proud of the way she runs her little kingdom 
 here," he said ; " so proud to show you how it is done. 
 You must forgive her. She is only a child, my dearest, 
 and forgets that these household delights of hers may come as 
 shocks to you. I shall not allow you to have these worries 
 that she loves to concern her head about." 
 
 " Then who will have them ? " she asked, with her hand 
 
 334
 
 Earth Again 
 
 on the lappel of his jacket. " You ? That would be 
 absurd. If I am your wife, I must keep your house." 
 
 "My dear," said Jimmie, kissing her, "if we love each 
 other, there will be no possibility of worries. I believe in 
 God in a sort of way, and He has not given you to me to 
 curse and wither your life." 
 
 "You could only bless and sanctify it," she murmured. 
 
 " Not I, dear ; but our love." 
 
 Soothed, she raised a smiling face. 
 
 " But still, I '11 have to keep house. Do you think I 
 would let you go to the butcher's ? What would Aline 
 say if you made such a proposal ? " 
 
 " She would peremptorily forbid him to take my orders," 
 he replied, laughing. 
 
 " I am sure I should," she said. 
 
 It was growing late. She glanced at the wheezy tilted 
 old Dutch clock in the corner, and spoke of departure. 
 She reflected for a moment on the means of home-getting. 
 To her lowered spirits the omnibus loomed like a lumber- 
 ing torture-chamber. The consolation of a cab seemed 
 cowardice. An inspiration occurred to her. She would 
 walk ; perhaps he would accompany her to Bryanston 
 Square. He was enraptured at the suggestion. But could 
 she manage the distance ? 
 
 "I should like to try. I am a good walker and when 
 we are outside," she added softly, "we can talk a little of 
 other matters." 
 
 It was a mild spring night, and the quiet stars shone be- 
 nignantly upon them as they walked arm in arm, and talked 
 of " other matters." As she had needed a little while be- 
 fore the assurance of the absolute, so now she craved the 
 spirituality of the man himself, the inner light of faith in 
 
 335
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 the world's beauty, the sweetness, the courage all that 
 indefinable something in him which raised him, and could 
 alone raise her, above the terrifying things of earth. She 
 clung to his arm in a pathos of yearning for him to lead 
 her upward and teach her the things of the spirit. Only 
 thus lay her salvation. 
 
 He, clean, simple soul, lost in the splendour of their 
 love, expounding, as it chanced, his guileless philosophy of 
 life and his somewhat childishly pagan religious convic- 
 tions, was far from suspecting the battle into which he was 
 being called to champion the side of righteousness. He 
 went to sleep that night the most blissfully happy of men. 
 Norma lay awake, a miserable woman. 
 
 336
 
 Chapter XXVII 
 A DINNER OF HERBS 
 
 SHE loved him. Of that there was no doubt. To 
 her he was the man of men. The half angel, half 
 fool of her original conception had melted into an 
 heroic figure capable of infinite tendernesses. The linger- 
 ing barbaric woman in her thrilled at the memory of him 
 contemptuously facing death before the madman's revolver. 
 Her higher nature was awed at the perfect heroism of his 
 sacrifice. She knelt at his feet, recognising the loftier soul. 
 Sex was stirred to the depths when his arms were about 
 her and his kiss was on her lips. In lighter relations he 
 was the perfect companion. For all her vacillation, let 
 that be remembered : she loved him. All of her that was 
 worth the giving he had in its plenitude. 
 
 The days which followed her initiation into domestic 
 economy were days of alternating fear and shame and 
 scornful resolution. She lost grip of herself. The proud 
 beauty curving a contumelious lip at the puppet show of 
 life was a creature of the past. Set the proudest and most 
 self-sufficing of women naked in what assembly you please, 
 and she will crouch, helpless, paralysed, in the furthest 
 corner. Some such denudation of the moral woman had 
 occurred in the case of Norma Hardacre. The old gar- 
 ments were stripped from her. She was bewildered, terrified, 
 no longer endowed with personality. 
 22 337
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 
 
 Sometimes despising herself and resolved to perform her 
 manifest duty, she sought other lessons from Aline. They 
 ended invariably in dismay. Once she learned that Jimmie 
 had never had a banking account. The money was kept 
 in a drawer of which Jimmie and Aline had each a key. 
 On occasions the drawer had been empty. Another lesson 
 taught her that certain shops in the neighbourhood were to 
 be avoided as being too expensive ; that cream was regarded 
 as a luxury, and asparagus as an impossible extravagance. 
 Every new fact in the economy of a poor household caused 
 her to shiver with apprehension. All was so trivial, so 
 contemptibly unimportant, and yet it grew to be a sordid 
 barrier baffling her love. She loathed the base weakness 
 of her nature. It was degrading to feel such repulsion. 
 
 One evening Connie Deering was going to a Foreign 
 Office reception, and came down an enchanting vision in 
 a new gown from Paquin and exhibited herself to Norma. 
 
 u I think it 's rather a success. Don't you ? " 
 
 Norma assented somewhat listlessly, but to please her 
 friend inspected the creation and listened to her chatter. 
 She was feeling lonely and dispirited. At Aline's entreaty 
 she had persuaded Jimmie to go with Tony Merewether 
 to the Langham Sketch Club, thus showing himself, for 
 the first time since the scandal, among his old associates. 
 For her altruism she paid the penalty of a dull evening. 
 Their visits to each other were her sole occupation now, 
 all that was left in life to interest her. In moments of 
 solitude she began to feel the appalling narrowness of the 
 circle in which she was caged. Reading tired instead of 
 refreshing her. She had been accustomed to men and 
 women rather than to books, to the sight of many faces, 
 to the constant change of scene. When she speculated
 
 A Dinner of Herbs 
 
 on employment for future solitary hours, she thought rue" 
 fully of recuffing shirts. 
 
 Connie apologised for leaving her, hoped she would 
 manage to amuse herself. Norma, who had made strenu- 
 ous efforts to hide the traces of tumult, returned a smiling 
 answer. Connie, quite deceived, put an arm round her 
 waist and said suddenly in her bright, teasing way : 
 
 " Now don't you wish you were coming too ? " 
 
 Norma, staggered at the point-blank question, was 
 mistress enough of herself to observe the decencies of reply, 
 but when Connie had gone, she sat down on the sofa and 
 stared in front of her. She did wish she were going with 
 Connie. She had been wishing vaguely, half-consciously 
 all the evening. Now the wish was the pain of craving. 
 It came upon her like the craving of the alcoholic subject 
 for drink this sudden longing for the glitter, the excite- 
 ment, the whirl of the life she had renounced. Her in- 
 dictment of it seemed unreal, the confused memory of a 
 brain-sick mood. It was her world. She had not cut 
 herself free. All the fibres of her body seemed to be rooted 
 in it, and she was being drawn thither by irresistible 
 desire. The many, many people, the diamonds, the bril- 
 liance, the flattery, the envy, the very atmosphere heavy 
 with many perfumes she saw and felt it all ; panted for 
 it, yearned for it. That never, never again would she take 
 up her birthright was impossible. That she should stand 
 forevermore in the humble street outside the gates of that 
 dazzling, wonderful, kaleidoscopic world was unthinkable. 
 
 She remembered her talk with Morland at the Duchess 
 of Wiltshire's reception at the end of the last season, her 
 shiver at the idea of a life of poverty ; was it a premoni- 
 tion ? She remembered the blessed sense of security when 
 
 339
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 she had looked round the splendid scene and felt that she 
 and it were indissoluble parts of the same scheme of things. 
 A crust and heel of cheese as Jimmie's wife had crossed 
 her mind then as a grotesque fantasy ; the air of that bril- 
 liant gathering was the breath of her being. 
 
 But now the grotesque fancy was to be the reality ; the 
 other was to become the shadow of a dream. No yearn- 
 ing or panting could restore it. The impossible was the 
 inevitable. The unthinkable was the commonplace. She 
 had made her choice deliberately, irrevocably. She had 
 lost the whole world to gain her own soul. In the despair 
 of her mood she questioned the worth of the sacrifice. The 
 finality of the choice oppressed her. If at this eleventh 
 hour she could still have the opportunity of the heroic 
 if still the gates of the world were open to her, she would 
 have had a stimulus to continued nobility. The world and 
 the passionate love for the perfect man which would she 
 choose ? Her exaltation would still have swept her to the 
 greater choice. Of this she was desperately aware. But 
 the gates were shut. She had already chosen. The heroic 
 moment had gone. The acceptance of conditions was now 
 mere uninspired duty. She gave way to unreason. 
 
 "O God! Why cannot I have both my own love 
 and my own life ? " 
 
 The tears she shed calmed her. 
 
 The next day she felt ill from the strain, paying the 
 highly bred woman's penalty of nervous break-down. 
 Connie Deering noted the circles beneath her eyes and 
 the pinched nostrils. Norma casually mentioned a night's 
 neuralgia. It would pass off during the day. She refused 
 to be doctored. She would pay a visit to Jimmie before 
 lunch. The fresh air would do her good. 
 
 340
 
 A Dinner of Herbs 
 
 u The fresh air and Jimmie," laughed her friend. " You 
 are the most beautifully in love young woman I have ever 
 met." 
 
 Norma started on her visit, v/alking fast. At Baker 
 Street station it began to rain. She took the penitential 
 omnibus ; but her thoughts were too anxious to concern 
 themselves with its discomforts. Besides, it was almost 
 empty. The night had brought counsel. She would go 
 to Jimmie and be her true self, frank and unsparing. With 
 a touch of her old scorn she had resolved to confess unre- 
 servedly all the meanness and cowardice of which she had of 
 late been guilty. She would bare to him the soon spotted 
 soul and crave his cleansing. He would understand, 
 pardon, and purify. Perhaps, when he knew all, he would 
 be able to devise some new scheme of existence. At any 
 rate, she would no longer receive his kisses with a lie in 
 her heart. She loved him too ardently. He should know 
 what she was, what were her needs, her limitations. The 
 meeting would be a crisis in their lives. Out of it would 
 come reconstruction on some unshakable basis. Up to a 
 certain point she reasoned ; beyond it, the pathetic un- 
 reason of a woman drifted rudderless. 
 
 It had stopped raining when she left the omnibus and 
 started on the short walk from the corner to Friary Grove. 
 At the familiar gate her heart already seemed lighter; she 
 opened it, mounted the front steps, and rang. The middle- 
 aged servant, minus cap and with thin untidy hair, in a 
 soiled print dress, her sleeves rolled up to the elbow ex- 
 posing red coarse arms, was the first shock to Norma 
 when the door opened. 
 
 " Both the Master and Miss Aline are out, Miss," 
 said Hannah, with a good-natured smile. " He has gone
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 into town on business, and Miss Aline went out 2. little 
 while ago with her young man. But they '11 be back for 
 lunch. Won't you come in and wait, Miss ? " 
 
 Norma, vaguely resenting the familiar address of the ser- 
 vant and her slatternly appearance, hesitated for a moment 
 before deciding to enter. Hannah showed her into the 
 drawing-room and retired. It was a small dark room 
 looking on to the back. Part of it had been cut off when 
 the house had been altered, so as to construct the studio 
 staircase, which contained one of the original windows. 
 Norma felt strangely ill at ease in the room. The prim, 
 cheap furniture, the threadbare carpet, the flimsy girlish 
 contrivances at decoration, gave the place an air of shabby 
 gentility. The gilt mirror was starred with spots and had 
 a crack across the corner. Some of Jimmie's socks and 
 underwear lay on the table for mending. They were much 
 darned, and fresh holes could not fail to meet the eye that 
 rested but momentarily on the pile. To mend these 
 would in the future be her duty. She took up an under- 
 vest shrinkingly and shook it out; then folded it again and 
 closed her eyes. . . . She could not wait there : the gloom 
 depressed her. The studio would be brighter and more 
 familiar. She went downstairs. Nothing in the room she 
 knew so well was changed, yet it seemed to wear a dif- 
 ferent aspect. The homely charm had vanished. Here, 
 too, shabbiness and poverty stared at her. The morning 
 light streaming through the great high window showed piti- 
 lessly the cracks and stains and missing buttons of the old 
 leathern suite, and the ragged holes in the squares of old car- 
 pet laid upon the boards. It was a mere bleak workshop, 
 not a room for human habitation. The pictures on the 
 walls and easels ceased to possess decorative or even inti- 
 
 34*
 
 A Dinner of Herbs 
 
 mate value. The large picture of the faun that had exer- 
 cised so great an influence upon her had been despatched 
 to its purchaser, and in its place was a hopeless gap. 
 
 She sat down in her accustomed chair, and once more 
 strove to realise the future. There would be children 
 who would need her care. On herself would all the 
 sordid burdens faH. She saw herself a soured woman, 
 worn with the struggle to make ends meet, working with 
 her hands at menial tasks. The joy of Life ! She laughed 
 mirthlessly. 
 
 She rose, walked restlessly about the studio, longing for 
 Jimmie to come and exorcise the devils that possessed her. 
 A little sharp cry of distress escaped her lips. The place 
 echoed like a vault, and she felt awfully alone. In her 
 nervous tension she could bear it no longer. She went up 
 the stairs again into the bare hall. On the pegs hung two 
 or three discoloured hats and an old coat. Scarce knowing 
 whither she went, she entered the dining-room. Luncheon 
 had been laid. A freak of destiny had reproduced the 
 meal of which Morland had spoken at Wiltshire House and 
 of which last night had revived the memory : a scrag end 
 of cold boiled mutton, blackened and shapeless, with the 
 hard suet round about it ; a dried-up heel of yellow Ameri- 
 can cheese ; the half of a cottage loaf. The table-cloth 
 it was Friday was stained with a week's meals. It was 
 coarse in texture, old and thin and darned. The enamel on 
 the plates was cracked, the hundred tiny fissures showing up 
 dark brown. The plate on the forks had worn off in 
 places, disclosing the yellowish metal beneath. The tum- 
 blers were thick and common, of glass scarcely transparent. 
 She stared helplessly at the table. Never in her life had 
 she seen such preparations for a meal. To the woman 
 
 343
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 always daintily fed, daintily environed, it seemed squalor 
 unspeakable. 
 
 She shrank back into the hall, pressed her hands to her 
 eyes, looked round, as if to search for some refuge. The 
 stairs met her eye. She had never seen what lay above 
 the ground floor except once, on the memorable evening 
 when Aline had fainted. Suddenly madness seized her 
 an insane craving to spy out the whole nakedness of 
 the house. The worn stair-carpet ended at the first land- 
 ing. Then bare boards. ,The door of the bathroom was 
 wide open. She peeked in. The ceiling was blackened 
 with gas j the bath cracked and stained ; the appointments as 
 bare as those in a workhouse. Her glance fell upon a 
 battered tin dish holding an uncompromising cube of 
 yellow soap with hard sharp edges. She withdrew her 
 head and shut the doof hurriedly. Another door stood 
 ajar. She pushed it open and entered. It was the front 
 bedroom inhabited by Jimmie. The thought that it 
 would be her own, which a fortnight before might have 
 clothed her in delicious confusion, chilled her to the bone. 
 Bare boards again ; a strip of oil-cloth by the narrow cheap 
 iron bedstead ; a painted deal table with a little mirror and 
 the humblest of toilette equipments laid upon it ; a painted 
 deal chest of drawers with white handles ; a painted deal 
 wash-stand ; a great triangular bit broken out of the mouth 
 of the ewer. 
 
 It was poverty grinding, sordid, squalid poverty. From 
 the one dishevelled, slatternly, middle-aged servant to the 
 cheap paper peeling off the wall in the bedrooms, all she 
 had seen was poverty. The gathering terror of it burst like 
 a thunderstorm above her head. Her courage failed her 
 utterly. Like a creature distracted, she rushed downstairs 
 
 344
 
 A Dinner of Herbs 
 
 and fled from the house. She walked homewards with an 
 instinctive sense of direction. Afterwards she had little 
 memory of the portion of the road she traversed on foot. 
 She moved in a shuddering nightmare. All the love in the 
 world could not shed a glamour over the nakedness of the 
 existence that had now been revealed to her in its entire 
 crudity. She could not face it. Other women of gentle 
 birth had forsaken all and followed the men they loved ; 
 they had loved peasants and had led great-heartedly the 
 peasant's life. They had qualities of soul that she lacked. 
 Hideously base, despicably cowardly she knew herself to 
 be. It was her nature. She could not alter. The world 
 of graceful living was her world. In the other she would 
 die. He had warned her. The gipsy faith in Providence 
 had made him regard as a jest what would be to her a 
 sordid shift, an intolerable ugliness, stripping life of its 
 beauty. The passion-flower could not thrive in the hedge 
 with the dog-rose. It was true mercilessly true. The 
 craving of last night awoke afresh, imperiously insistent. 
 She walked blindly, tripped, and nearly fell. A subcon- 
 scious self hailed a passing hansom and gave the address. 
 What would become of her she knew not. She thought 
 wildly of suicide as the only possible escape. From her 
 own world she was outcast. Its gates were barred with 
 gold and opened but to golden keys. She was penniless. 
 In this other world she would die. Love could not pre- 
 vent her starving on its diet of herbs. She clung to life, 
 to the stalled ox, and recked little of the hatred ; but at the 
 banquet she no longer had a seat. She had said she would 
 follow him in rags and barefoot over the earth. She had 
 not fingered the rags when she had made the senseless vow ; 
 she had not tried her tender feet on the stones. She could 
 
 345
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 have shrieked with terror at the prospect. There was no 
 way out but death. 
 
 The Garden of Enchantment faded from her mind like 
 a forgotten dream. The sweet Arcadian make-believe 
 alone rose up in ironical mockery, a scathing memory 
 which seemed to flay the living heart of her. She sat 
 huddled together in a corner of the cab, tortured and 
 desperate. On either hand hung the doom of death. 
 In the one case it would be lingering : the soul would 
 die first; the man she loved would be tied to a living 
 corpse ; she would be a devastating curse to him instead 
 of a blessing. In the other she could leave him in the 
 fulness of their unsullied love. The years that the locust 
 hath eaten would not stretch an impassable waste between 
 them. In his sorrow there would be the imperishable sense 
 of beauty. And for herself the quick end were better. 
 
 She was aroused to consciousness of external things by 
 a husky voice addressing her from somewhere above her 
 head. The cab had stopped at Connie's house in Bryanston 
 Square. She descended, handed to the man the first coin in 
 her purse that her fingers happened to grasp. He looked 
 at it, said that he was sorry he had not change for a 
 sovereign. She waved her hand vaguely, deaf to his words. 
 The cabman, with a clear conscience, whipped up his horse 
 smartly and drove off. 
 
 A figure on the doorstep raised his hat. 
 
 " How delightful of you to arrive at the very moment, 
 Miss Hardacre ! I am summoned back to America. I sail 
 to-morrow. I was calling on the chance of being able to 
 bid you good-bye." 
 
 Norma collected her scattered wits and recognised 
 Theodore Weever. She looked at him full in the eyes. 
 
 346
 
 A Dinner of Herbs 
 
 Her lips were parted; her breath came fast. He stretched 
 out his hand to press the electric button, so as to gain 
 admittance to the house. She touched his arm, restraining 
 his action, and still stared at him. 
 
 " Wait," she said at last. " I have something to say 
 to you." 
 
 " I am honoured," he replied in his imperturbable way. 
 
 " Have you found your decorative wife, Mr. Weever ? " 
 
 A sudden light shone lambently in his pale, expression- 
 less blue eyes. 
 
 " Am I to understand that I can find her on Mrs. Deer- 
 ing's doorstep ? " 
 
 " If you look hard enough," said Norma. 
 
 He took her hand and shook it with the air of a man 
 concluding a bargain. 
 
 " I felt sure of it," he said. " I intended from the first 
 to marry you. I shall ever be your most devoted servant." 
 
 " I make one condition," she said. 
 
 " Name it." 
 
 "You don't enter this house, and I sail with you 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " What tram shall I catch and from what station shall I 
 start ? " 
 
 " The ten o'clock from Waterloo." 
 
 She rang the bell. 
 
 " May I trouble you to book my passage ? " 
 
 " It will be my happiness." 
 
 " Au revoir," she said, holding out her hand. 
 
 He raised his hat and walked away briskly. The doo 
 opened, and Norma entered the house. 
 
 347
 
 Chapter XXVIII 
 
 THE WORD OF ALINE 
 
 WHAT she wrote to him is no great matter. 
 Her letter, which he opened on coming down 
 to breakfast the next morning, filled many 
 pages. It was a rhapsody of passionate love and self- 
 abasement, with frantic appeals for forgiveness. In its 
 cowardice there was something horribly piteous. Jimmie 
 read it beneath the high north window of the studio, his 
 back turned towards Aline, who was seated at the breakfast- 
 table at the other end. For a long, long while he stood 
 there, quite still, holding the letter in his hand. Aline, in 
 wonder, stole up quietly and touched his arm. When he 
 turned, she saw that his face was ashen-grey, like a dead 
 man's. 
 
 The shock left its mark upon him. Physically it accom- 
 plished the work of ten years, wiping the youth from his 
 face and setting in its stead the seal of middle age. It is 
 common enough for grief or illness to lay its hand on the 
 face of a woman no longer young and shrivel up her 
 beauty like a leaf and set her free, old and withered. But 
 with a man, who has no such beauty to be marred, the 
 case is rare. 
 
 For a week he remained silent. The two women who 
 loved him waited in patience until the time should come 
 for their comforting to be of use. From the very first 
 morning he let no change appear in his habits, but set his 
 
 348
 
 The Word of Aline 
 
 palette as usual and went on with the new picture that 
 was nearing completion. In the afternoon he went for 
 a walk. Aline, going down to the studio, happened to look 
 at his morning's work. For a moment she was puzzled by 
 what she saw, for she was familiar with his methods. 
 Gradually the solution dawned upon her. He had been 
 painting meaninglessly, incoherently, putting in splotches 
 of colour that had no relation to the tone of the picture, 
 crudely accentuating outlines, daubing here, there, and any- 
 where with an aimless brush. It was the work of a child 
 or a drunken man. Aline cast herself on the model-plat- 
 form and cried till she could cry no more. When he came 
 back, he took a turpentine rag and obliterated the whole 
 picture. For days he worked incessantly, trying in vain 
 to repaint. Nothing would come right. The elementary 
 technique of his art seemed to have left him. Aline strove 
 to get him away. He resisted. He had to do his day's 
 work, he said. 
 
 " But you 're not well, dear," she urged. " You will 
 kill yourself if you go on like this." 
 
 " I 've never heard of work killing a man," he answered. 
 Then after a pause, " No. It 's not work that kills." 
 
 At last the sleep that had failed him returned, and he 
 awoke one morning free from the daze in the brain against 
 which he had been obstinately struggling. He rose and 
 faced the world again with clear eyes. When Aline 
 entered the studio to summon him to lunch, she found him 
 painting at the unhappy picture with his accustomed sure- 
 ness of touch. He leaned back and surveyed his handi- 
 work. 
 
 " It 's going to be magnificent, is n't it ? What a bless- 
 ing I wiped out the first attempt ! " 
 
 349
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 "Yes, this is ever so much better, Jimmie," the girl 
 replied, with tears very near her eyes. But her heart 
 swelled with happy relief. The aching strain of the past 
 week was over. She had dreaded break-down, illness, and 
 permanent paralysis of his faculties. The man she knew 
 and loved had seemed to be dead and his place taken by a 
 vacant-eyed simulacrum. Now he had come to life again, 
 and his first words sounded the eternal chord of hope and 
 faith. 
 
 From that day onwards he gave no sign of pain or pre- 
 occupation. Only the stamp of middle age upon his face 
 betrayed the suffering through which he had passed. He 
 concerned himself about Aline's marriage. Arrangements 
 had been made for it to take place on the same day as that 
 of their elders a day, however, that Norma had never 
 fixed. The recent catastrophe had caused its indefinite 
 postponement. Aline declared herself to be in the same 
 position as before, the responsibility of the beloved's welfare 
 being again thrust upon her shoulders. She pleaded with 
 her lover for delay, and young Merewether, disappointed 
 though he was, acquiesced with good grace. At last 
 Jimmie called them before him, and waving his old briar- 
 root pipe, as he spoke, delivered his ultimatum. 
 
 " My dear children," said he, standing up before them, 
 as they sat together on the rusty sofa, "you have the 
 two greatest and most glorious things in a great and 
 glorious world, youth and love. Don't despise the one 
 and waste the other. Get all the beauty you can out of 
 life and you '11 shed it on other people. You '11 shed it on 
 me. That 's why I want you to marry as soon as ever 
 you are ready. You '11 let me come and look at you some- 
 times, and if you are happy together, as God grant you will 
 
 35
 
 The Word of Aline 
 
 be, that will be my great happiness the greatest I think 
 that earth has in store for me. I have stood between you 
 long enough all that is over. I shall miss my little 
 girl, Tony. I should be an inhuman monster if I did n't. 
 But I should be a monster never before imagined by a dis- 
 ordered brain if I found any pleasure in having her here to 
 look after me when she ought to be living her life in ful- 
 ness. And that 's the very end of the matter. I speak 
 selfishly. I can't help it. I have a great longing for joy 
 around me once more. Go upstairs and settle everything 
 finally between you." 
 
 When they had gone, he sighed. " Yes," he said to 
 himself, "a great longing for joy and the sound of the 
 steps of little children." Then he laughed, calling himself 
 a fool, and went on with his painting. 
 
 A day or two afterwards Connie Deering, who had been 
 a frequent visitor since Norma's flight, walked into the 
 studio while Jimmie was working. 
 
 " Don't let me disturb you. Please go on," she cried 
 in her bright, airy way. " If you don't, I '11 disappear. 
 I 've only come for a gossip." 
 
 Jimmie drew a chair near the easel and resumed his 
 brush. She congratulated him on the picture. It was 
 shaping beautifully. She had been talking about it last 
 night to Lord Hyston, who had promised to call at the 
 studio to inspect it. Lord Hyston was a well-known buyer 
 of modern work. 
 
 " He is stocking a castle in Wales, which he never goes- 
 near, with acres of paint," she said encouragingly. " So I 
 don't see why you should n't have a look in." 
 
 " Is there a family ghost in the castle ? " 
 
 " I believe there are two ! "
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " That 's a blessing," said Jimmie. " Some one, at any 
 rate, will look at the pictures." 
 
 She watched him in silence for a minute or two. Then 
 she came to the important topic. 
 
 44 So the two children have made up their minds at last." 
 
 44 Yes, they are to be married on the twenty-eighth of 
 May." 
 
 44 Poor young things," said Connie. 
 
 44 Why poor ? " 
 
 44 1 don't know," she said -with a sigh. 44 The subject 
 of marriage always makes me sad nowadays. I am grow- 
 ing old and pessimistic." 
 
 "You are bewilderingly youthful," replied Jimmie. 
 
 44 Do you know how old I am ? " 
 
 44 1 have forgotten how to do subtraction," he said, 
 thinking of his own age. 
 
 "Yes. Of course you know. It 's awful. And Aline 
 is what seventeen ? " 
 
 44 Eighteen." 
 
 44 You '11 be dreadfully lonely without her." 
 
 44 Lonely ? Oh, no. I have my thoughts and my 
 memories." 
 
 She looked at him fleetingly. 
 
 44 1 should have thought you would wish to escape from 
 memories, Jimmie." 
 
 44 Why should I ? " 
 
 44 4 The sorrow's crown of sorrows.' " 
 
 44 I don't believe in it," he said, turning towards her. 
 44 What has been has been. A joy that once has been is 
 imperishable. Remembering happier things is a sorrow's 
 crown of consolation. Thank God ! I have had them to 
 remember." 
 
 3S 2
 
 The Word of Aline 
 
 "Do you think she is finding consolation in memories?" 
 
 She spoke with sudden heat, for Norma's conduct had 
 filled her heart with blazing indignation. 
 
 " I hope so," said Jimmie dreamily, after a pause. " But 
 she has not so many as I. She loved me deeply. She had 
 her hour but I had my day." 
 
 " If I were you, I should want never to think of her 
 again." 
 
 " Not if you were I, my dear Connie," he said gently. 
 " If either of us was in the wrong, it was not she." 
 
 " Rubbish," said Mrs. Deering. 
 
 " No. It is the truth. She was made for kings' palaces 
 and not for this sort of thing. I knew it was impossible 
 from the first but the joy and wonder of it all blinded my 
 eyes. She gave me the immortal part of herself. It is 
 mine for all eternity. I wrote to her a day or two ago 
 I was not able at first. I could not sleep, you know ; 
 something seemed to have gone wrong with my head." 
 
 " You wrote to her ? " 
 
 " To tell her not to be unhappy for my sake." 
 
 " And you have forgiven her entirely ? " 
 
 " Since our love is unchanged, how could I do other- 
 wise ? " 
 
 " But she has gone and thrown herself into the arms of 
 another man and such a man ! " said Connie, brusquely. 
 
 A quiver of pain passed over his face. 
 
 " Those are things of the flesh that the discipline of life 
 teaches a man to subdue. I think I am man enough fo; 
 that. The others are things of the spirit. If ever woman 
 loved a man, she loved me. I thank God," he added in a 
 low voice, " that she realised the impossibility before we 
 were married." 
 
 2 3 353
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 " So do I ; devoutly," said Connie. 
 
 " It would have made all the difference." 
 
 " Precisely," said Connie. 
 
 " She would have been chained hand and foot to an 
 intolerable existence. She would have fretted and pined. 
 Her life would have been an infinite burden. Heaven's 
 mercy saved her." 
 
 u I was n't looking at it from her point of view at all," 
 exclaimed Connie. 
 
 " Hers is the only one from which one can look at it," 
 he answered gravely. 
 
 When she bade him good-bye some ten minutes later, 
 she did not withdraw the hand which he held. Her forget- 
 me-not eyes grew pleading, and her voice trembled a 
 little. 
 
 "I wish I could comfort you, Jimmie not only now, 
 but in the lonely years to come. But remember, dear, there 
 is nothing on earth I would n't give you or do for you 
 nothing on earth." 
 
 It was not till long afterwards that he fully comprehended 
 the meaning of her words ; and then she herself prettily 
 vouchsafed the interpretation. For immediate answer he 
 kissed her on the cheek in the brotherly fashion in which he 
 had kissed her twice before. 
 
 " What greater comfort," said he, tl can I have than to 
 hear you say that ? I am a truly enviable man, Connie. 
 Love and affection are showered upon me in full measure. 
 Life is very, very sweet." 
 
 The next two or three weeks brought pleasant surprises 
 which strengthened his conviction. One by one old friends 
 sought him out, and, some heartily, others shamefacedly, 
 extended to him the hand of brotherhood. His evening at 
 
 354
 
 The Word of Aline 
 
 the Langham Sketch Club had inaugurated the new order 
 of things. The Frewen-Smiths, whose New Year party 
 had marked the epoch between child and woman in Aline's 
 life, invited the two outcasts to dinner, and pointedly signified 
 that they were the honoured guests. Brother artists looked 
 in casually on Sunday evenings. Their wives called upon 
 Aline, offering congratulations and wedding-gifts. A lady 
 whose portrait he had painted, and at whose house he had 
 visited, commissioned him to paint the portraits of her two 
 children. The ostracism had been removed. How this 
 had been effected Jimmie could not conjecture ; and Tony 
 Merewether and Connie Deering, who were the persons 
 primarily and independently responsible, did not enlighten 
 him. By Aline's wedding-day all the old circle had 
 gathered round him, and a whisper of the true story had 
 been heard in Wiltshire House. 
 
 Thus the world began to smile upon him, as if to make 
 amends for the anguish it could not remedy. He took the 
 smile as a proof of the world's essential goodness. The 
 great glory that for a day had made his life a blaze of 
 splendour had faded ; the sun in his heaven had been 
 eternally eclipsed. But the lesser glory of the moon and 
 stars remained undimmed ; the tenderness of twilight lost 
 no tone of its beauty. He stood unshaken in his faith, 
 unchanged in himself the strong, wise man looking upon 
 the earth and the fulness thereof with the unclouded eyes 
 of a child. 
 
 The man whom he had most loved, the woman he had 
 most worshipped, had each failed him, had each brought 
 upon him bitter and abiding sorrow. They had passed 
 like dead folks out of his daily life. Yet each retained in 
 his heart the once inhabited chambers. They were dear 
 
 355
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 ghosts. His incurable optimism in this wise brought about 
 its consolation. For optimism involves courage of a serene 
 quality. Aline, with her swift perception of him, had 
 the opportunity of flashing this into an epigram. There 
 was a little gathering in the studio, and the talk ran on 
 personal bravery. Some one started the question : What 
 would the perfectly brave man do if attacked unarmed by a 
 man-eating tiger ? 
 
 " I know what Jimmie would do," she cried. " He 
 would try to pat the beast on the head." 
 
 There was laughter over the girl's unchallenged cham- 
 pionship, but those who had ears to hear found the saying 
 true. 
 
 The night before the wedding the two sat up very late, 
 spending their last hours together, and Aline sat like a child 
 on Jimmie's knee and sobbed on his breast. The lover 
 seemed a far-away abstraction, a malevolent force rather than 
 a personality, that was tearing her away from the soil in 
 which her life was rooted. Jimmie stroked her hair and 
 spoke brave words. But he had not realised till then the 
 wrench of parting. Till then, perhaps, neither had real- 
 ised the strength of the bond between them. They were 
 both fervent natures, who felt intensely, and their mutual 
 affection had been a vital part of their lives. If bright 
 and gallant youth had not flashed across the girl's path 
 and, after the human way, had not caught her wonder- 
 ing maidenhood in strong young arms ; if deeper and 
 more tragic passion had not swept away the mature man, 
 it is probable that this rare, pure love of theirs might have 
 insensibly changed into the greater need one of the other, 
 and the morrow's bells might have rung for these two. 
 But as it was, no such impulse stirred their exquisite re- 
 
 356
 
 The Word of Aline 
 
 lationship. They were father and daughter without the 
 barrier of paternity ; brother and sister without the ties of 
 consanguinity ; lovers without the lovers' throb ; intimate, 
 passionate friends with the sweet and subtle magic of the 
 sex's difference. 
 
 " I can't bear leaving you," she moaned. " I can't bear 
 leaving the dear beautiful life. I '11 think of you every 
 second of every minute of every hour sitting here all alone, 
 alone. I don't want to go. If you say the word now, I '11 
 remain and it shall be as it has been for ever and ever." 
 
 " I shall miss you terribly, my dear," said he. " But 
 I '11 be the gainer in the end. You '11 give me Tony as a 
 sort of younger brother. I am getting to be an old man, 
 darling and soon I shall find the need of ks jeunes in my 
 painting life. You can't understand that yet. Tony will 
 bring around me the younger generation with new enthusi- 
 asms and fresh impulses. It is to my very great good, dear. 
 And if God gives you children, I '11 be the only grandfather 
 they '11 ever have, poor things, and I 'd like to have a child 
 about me again. I have experience. I have washed your 
 chubby face and hands, moi qui vous parle, and undressed you 
 and put you to bed, my young lady who is about to be 
 married." 
 
 " Oh, Jimmie, I remember it and I had to tell you 
 how to do everything." 
 
 " It seems the day before yesterday," said Jimmie. 
 " Eheufugaces ! " 
 
 The next day when she in her wedding-dress (a present 
 from Connie Deering) walked down the aisle on her 
 husband's arm and stole a shy glance at him, radiant, 
 full of the promise and the pride of manhood, and met the 
 glad love in his eyes, she forgot all else in the throbbing 
 
 357
 
 Where Love Is 
 
 joy of her young life's completion. It was only afterwards 
 when she was changing her dress, with Connie Deering's 
 assistance, in her own little room, that she became again 
 conscience-str'cken. 
 
 " You will look after Jimmie while I am away, won't 
 you ? " she asked tragically they were going to the Isle 
 of Wight for their honeymoon. 
 
 " I would look after him altogether if he would let me," 
 said Connie, in an abrupt, emotional little outburst. 
 Aline drew a quick breath. 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 Connie threw the simple travelling-hat, whose feathers 
 she was daintily touching, upon the bed. 
 
 " What do you think I mean ? " she laughed nervously. 
 " I 'm not an old woman. I 'm as lonely as Jimmie will 
 be and " 
 " What ? " 
 
 u Oh ! only I 've found out that I love Jimmie as 
 much as a silly woman can love anybody, if it 's any 
 satisfaction to you to know it and you may be quite sure 
 I '11 see that no harm comes to him during your honey- 
 moon, dear." 
 
 The ensuing conversation nearly caused the bride to miss 
 her train. But no bride ever left her girlhood's room more 
 luminously happy. On the threshold she turned and threw 
 her arms round Connie Deering's neck. 
 
 " I '11 arrange it all when I come back," she whispered. 
 And Aline kept her word. 
 
 THE F.ND 
 
 358
 
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