WEDDED AND PARTED WEDDED AND PARTED BY THE AUTHOR OF "DORA THORNE" CHICAGO B. CONKEY COMPANY BY THE SAME AUTHOR IN UNIFORM STYLE DORA THORNE FROM GLOOM TO SUNLIGHT HER MARTYRDOM GOLDEN HEAR T HER ONLY SIN LADY DAMER'S SECRET THE SQUIRES DARLING HER MOTHER'S SIN WIFE IN NAME ONLY WEDDED AND PARTED SHADO W OF A SIN CHICAGO W. B. CONKEY COMPANY WEDDED AND PARTED. CHAPTER I. THE Lady lanthe Carre had always been considered one of the proudest girls in England. It was no new title ; it had been given by her nurses in early years by the fair, haughty mother who had not lived to keep her child's pride in check by the old earl her father, who had boasted of it by governesses and masters by friends and companions by every one, in short, with whom she came in contact. It was Christmas Eve, and, if ever Lady lanthe felt tempted to be proud, it was on this evening, when she stood in her magnificent dressing-room with her jewels and rich dress all ready for use. It did not occur to her that a feeling of pride hardly accorded with the season which should be marked by peace, good will, and sweet- est humility when, if ever, lessons of meekness and gentleness were to be learned. Nothing of this occurred to Lady lanthe. Her artistic mind did homage to the beauty of the season. She had stood for an hour or more at the window watching the scene before her and admiring it. But that was all ; the time and season brought her no higher thoughts. It was very lovely, the scene upon which she gazed, (3) 2135141 4 WEDDED AND PARTED. the darkening sky with its gleaming stars contrasting with the white earth. No snow had fallen, although those who were weather-wise said it was piled up behind the clouds ; but there had been for some days a sharp, severe frost a frost that made the earth shine and sparkle like silver network. The bare hedges and leafless trees glistened with it icicles, like great diamonds, hung from the gates, from the eaves of the houses, from the square turrets of the Abbey. The roads were hard and firm a northeast wind was blowing, cold, sharp, and keen. It bent the tall, bare trees, it shook the berries from the holly, it stirred the white flowers of the laurustinus, it tried to tear the mistletoe from the stout old oak, it raised its voice at times and wailed aloud. From far away over the Lea Woods came the distant sound of the Christmas bells from afar off came the distant booming of the waves : while the light of the stars grew brighter as the night wore on. Over all over the distant sea, with its silvery waves and crested foam, over the broad stretch of woodlands, over the pretty town of Leahurst, over the sleeping woods, over the broad pleasure-grounds and the frozen lake over the whole land brooded a deep calm, a. sweet, holy silence. With the eye of an artist and the soul of a poet, Lady lanthe stood looking from the window of her dressing- room. Presently she turned from the darkening sky and the frost-silvered earth to the warm, cosey room, with its cheerful light and gay coloring. She went to the toilet- table, where the maid stood awaiting her where, in fact, she had been standing for the last half- hour, not daring to disturb the reverie of her young mistress. WEDDED AND PARTED. 6 Lady lanthe looked at her small jewelled watch. It was not late. "I will give one look," she said to her maid, "just to see that all is order before I dress." She opened the door of her room and smiled at the warmth, the fragrance, the beauty, that surrounded her. The broad stairs were covered with crimson cloth, which contrasted with the white statues to be seen on every landing, and with great stands of rare flowers that filled the house with their perfume, and Christmas evergreens arranged in rich profusion and with greatest taste. A marble Flora stood in a bower of holly Clytie's beauti- ful head smiled from a background of mistletoe the huge picture-frames had wreaths of shining laurel round them. Lady lanthe went down the broad staircase. The great entrance-hall was brilliantly lighted, and looked like a miniature forest cf evergreens. She opened the door of the state dining-room, and saw at a glance that all was right ; then she went to the drawing-room, and smiled again as a most magnificent scene broke upon her. The noble room, with its gorgeously painted ceiling, lighted by innumerable wax tapers that gleamed from among the evergreens like stars, the exquisite scent of rare exotics, the silvery spray of the tiny scented fount- ains, the rich glow of the Yule-log, the choice pictures and graceful statues all made up a scene that was rarely equalled. Lady lanthe smiled to herself. All was as it should be. The stately old housekeeper, Mrs. Charles, met her in the hall, and with a profound bow advanced to speak to her. 6 WEDDED AND PARTED. "My lady," she said, " may I ask if you have seen his lordship lately ? " "Not since luncheon," replied Lady lanthe. " Because," continued the housekeeper, " I saw Lord Carre an hour since, and I thought he was looking ex- ceedingly ill." " 111? " repeated Lady lanthe. " Then why did you not come to me at once ? ' ' Without waiting for the housekeeper's answer, she hastened up the broad staircase to her father's room. Mrs. Charles looked after her. "She is beautiful and bonny," she said to herself ; " but what they say of her is true she is one of the proudest girls in England." Lady lanthe knocked gently at the door of her fath- er's room. " Come in ! " called a weak, faint voice. She entered quickly, and hastened to the drooping figure seated by the fire an old man, with snow-white hair, a delicate, refined, aristocratic face, and eyes dimmed with years and cares. His trembling white hands were clasped tightly when she entered was it the shining firelight, or were there traces of tears on the worn face ? She knelt by his side, and clasped her arms around him. " Dear father," she said, "they tell me you are look- ing ill. Do you feel so ? " The sweet musical voice soothed and charmed him. He looked at the beautiful, eager face. " 111, my darling ill on Christmas Eve? When you WEDDED AND PARTED. 7 give your grand ball do you think I would pay you so poor a compliment ? " She looked wistfully into his face. It grew calmer and steadier under her gaze. " You do not look ill," she said ; " but there is some- thing in the sound of your voice that I do not like. Are you keeping anything from me any bad news, papa? '* "Bad news on Christmas Eve! You are joking, lanthe. Who has frightened you ? Who has told you that I am ill?" "Mrs. Charles." The earl interrupted her with a laugh. "That is because I sent to the housekeeper's room for a strong cordial/" he said. " You may be quite at ease about me, lanthe ; I am not ill. How do you like Lord Ravenscourt, my darling ? " " I like him very well, though I had not much time to spend with him," she replied, evasively. " 1 shall be well pleased," observed the old earl, " if you approve of him, lanthe ; he is wealthy, and his is one of the "oldest titles in England. I am ambitious for you, but I think that I should be content to see you Lady Ravenscourte" The fair, stately head was raised in disdain. "I am in no hurry to marry, papa ; I shall never love any one in the wide world so well as I love you." The thin hands trembled as they rested on the proud head. "Still, my darling, it would comfort me; I should like to know, when I am called away, that I had left you 8 WEDDED AND PARTED. in safe hands. Try to like Lord Ravenscourt if you can, lanthe. Now it is time for you to dress. You will wear the famous Carre diamonds to-night. It is your eight- eenth birthday, and the Ladies Carre were always con- sidered of age at eighteen." Lady lanthe-smiled a grave, sweet smile that softened her face into startling loveliness. "I came of age long ago, papa," she said; "I can hardly believe that I am but eighteen. I have been mis- tress of Croombe Abbey so long that I have forgotten what it was to be a child. You will be punctual, papa, for the dinner ! No more dreaming over the fire ! Shall I call Morgan?" She bent down and kissed his face. "I wish," she continued, laughingly, "that I could kiss every line and every wrinkle away from your face, papa, and make you quite young and handsome again. Re- member, I am to be the first to wish you a happy Christ- mas. I shall come to show you the Carre diamonds ; you will wait here for me." In another minute she was gone. The old earl met her glance at the door with a smile, and then, when the door had closed, and he was alone, a look of almost ghastly fear came over his face. " How shall I tell her? " he cried, wringing his hands.- "How shall I live through the mockery and deceit? How bear to see her surrounded as she will be this even- ingknow the truth, and yet not tell her ? " His lips trembled, and he bowed his white head, as though the storms and tempests of life had been toe many for him. "Not to-night," he said "she shall not know to- WEDDED AND PARTED. 9 night. She is so young and so happy, so beautiful and so proud, she shall have this one night of perfect happi- ness, and to-morrow I will tell her all." Half consoled, half suspicious, Lady lanthe had gone - back to her dressing-room ; she knew her father so well, she loved him so dearly, with such utter and entire de- votion, that it was hard to deceive her. "He does not look ill," she said; "but there was something strange in his voice something I have never heard before." The wind wailed mournfully round the house moaned fitfully and, despite the warmth of her luxurious room, Lady lanthe shivered. " The Carres have their faults," she said ; " but they are not superstitious. What is this strange fancy that has come over me ? " She forgot the wind and her cold shudder of forebod- ing when she saw the costly diamonds, the family heir- looms, that became hers on that day. She put on the dress of pale rose-colored brocade with rich white lace. She was tall and slim this proud daughter of a proud race with a graceful figure of perfect symmetry, while sloping shoulders, a slender throat, hands and arms of exquisite shape and color ; and her movements were all grace and harmony. She had a queenly bearing a cer- tain sweet and gracious dignity that never deserted her and a face that had in it all the proud, bright beauty of the Carres dark, proud eyes that seemed to look out with serene stateliness on the world, passionate, beauti- ful eyes that could express both love and scorn, straight clear brows a faultless face, oval in contour, with the JjQ WEDDED AND PARTED. most exquisite bloom, surmounted by masses of dark hair, which had a natural ripple. Eighteen years old that day, the sole daughter of one of the noblest and most ancient families in England, beautiful as the fairest dream of artist or poet, accom- plished, gifted, could any fate seem more happy than that awaiting lanthe Carre? On this, her eighteenth birthday Christmas Eve she came of age, and, by her own special wish, the day was to be celebrated by a grand ball. Much to the old earl's delight, he had received a letter from Lord Ravenscourt, saying that he should be in the neighborhood at Christmas, and how much pleasure it would give him to spend a day or two at Croombe Abbey the answer to which was, of course, a cordial invita- tion for the birthday ball. There were several other visitors in the house Lord and Lady Morston, Sir Harry Tredegar who was one of Lady lanthe's most devoted admirers Miss Bel- houghton, the pretty blonde Alice Lowther a pleasant party of guests, assembled to do honor to the beautiful Lady lanthe, and to spend Christmas under the hospit- able roof of Croombe Abbey. Lady lanthe had been busily engaged, for she was sole mistress of that magnificent mansion. She was a perfect and most gracious hostess ladies of twice her age envied her tact and judgment on this Christmas Eve. She had found her powers fully taxed, but she had also found herself equal to the occasion. Still it was late when she had gone to her dressing-room ; yet no one could have told that her toilet had been hurried even her own ex- WEDDED AND PARTED. 11 quisite and fastidious taste was gratified. The pale rose brocade showed the white shoulders and graceful neck ; the white rounded arms were clasped by a diamond bracelet ; a necklace of the same costly jewels adorned the beautiful neck, diamonds shone in the masses of rich hair and in the shell-like ears. Nevertheless, although she was one of the proudest girls in England, she thought more of the old earl's ad- miration when he should see her in her jewels than of her own pleasure in wearing them. She took the jew- elled fan, the lace handkerchief, her bouquet of flowers, and went to his room, one of the brightest pictures of girlish loveliness and womanly grace ever seen. She laughed aloud a low, sweet, musical laugh that seemed to stir the old man's heart as she bowed before him, and then she raised her clear dark eyes to his. " Do you admire me, papa?" "You are the queen of fair women," he said; and, she having taken his arm, they went down the grand staircase together. There was a slight murmur as they entered the draw- ing-room. Lady lanthe had never looked so beautiful. Lord Ravenscourt hastened to meet and greet her. It was easy enough to see then that her words were true of all the world she loved her father the best. No lovers, no admirers, could draw her attention from him. Handsome young faces, admiring eyes sued in vain. Lord Ravenscourt would have given much for a tete-a- tete for a few minutes, in which to whisper his admira- tion ; but he could not draw Lady lanthe from the old earl's side. 12 WEDDED AND PARTED. The great gong sounded, and they all went to the din- ing-room where the grand Christmas banquet was spread while Lady lanthe did the honors. with a winning, stately grace ; and no one knew, while Christmas greet- ings and good wishes went around, how the earl was praying in his heart that the greatness of his anguish might not slay him that he might have strength to en- dure a little longer, for his daughter's sake. No one knew how he looked at her with the calmness of deadly despair in his heart, the anguish of a mighty dread in his soul, asking himself, over and over again how he was to tell her. Presently he raised his white head in wonder. What were they wishing him ? "A merry Christmas and a happy New Year!" He thanked them, in his court- eous, high-bred fashion. How could they know the ter- rible death-wound that Christmas Eve had brought him? " A happy New Year " why, it would be the first year of his long life to dawn in darkness, gloom, and shame ! Then the long and magnificent banquet came to an end, and he went, with Lady lanthe, to receive their fast-arriving guests. Before long the grand old walls of Croombe Abbey seemed to re-echo with mirth and amusement. The old earl saw that Lord Ravenscourt paid his daughter great attention ; but he could not see that his beautiful lanthe was more gracious to him than to others. Once she refused to join in the dance, but came, instead, and stood by his side. He looked at her the light in her jewels was not so bright as the light in her eyes. Her dress of pale rich rose fell round her in graceful folds her fan, made of the rich plumage of WEDDED AND PARTED. 13 some tropical bird, was opened, and held against her white breast her lovely face was flushed with girlish happiness and delight. " lanthe," he .said, quietly, "I think you are very happy." She raised her radiant eyes to his. " Happy, papa ! That is a small word to express what I feel. I am wonderfully happy. I would not change places with any one in the wide world." " I wonder," he said, " if you could tell me what makes you happy ? ' ' She laughed, and the light gleamed in her jewels. "I can give you a faint idea," she replied. "I am happy because I love you and have in t you one of the dearest of fathers my ideal gentleman. I am happy because I belong to a grand old race, on whose name there has never rested a stain, on whose shield there has been no blot, and because I am what all the Carres are, pleasant to see, because I am young, and my life, all full of bright possibilities, lies before me." The least gleam of mischief came into her eyes, and she looked at him with a bright smile. " I am happy too, because I am queen of myself and all that surrounds me also because my heart is light and free. Are those reasons sufficient, papa?" "More than enough," he replied; and then, as she went away, he asked himself how he was to take this sparkling cup of life from her lips how he was to change her innocent gladness into deepest misery. From his lips came the prayer : 14 WEDDED AND PASTED. " Oh, Heaven help me to bear my sorrow, or save me from it!" Once again he looked at his child as she stood where the light of a large chandelier fell full upon her ; and he said to himself it would be easier much easier to place her in her coffin and kiss her dead face than to tell her what he had to tell. Yet it must be told, and the time was drawing very near. The ball was over at last, and the guests wearied with pleasure, had driven home under the light of the Christ- mas moon ; the lights had been extinguished the man- tle of darkness and silence had fallen over Croombe Ab- bey. Lady lanthe slept, dreaming of jewels and flowers and sweet whispered words ; but the earl paced to and fro wringing his hands with bitter sighs that ended in low broken wailing. He wandered with a light in his hand to the great picture gallery, and stood before the portrait of his dead father. He placed the taper on the ground, and looked up at the face so noble and so stern. "What have I done with it," he cried, wringing his hands " this fair inheritance this spotless name what have I done with it ? I am the last of my race, but I have been the first to act dishonorably. It will be said that I was weak and easily tempted that I could not distinguish rogues from honest men. They will brand my name as name has never been branded before. They will say, 'Maurice, the eleventh earl, left his family name ruined left, in fact, less than nothing.' Yet I meant to add so much to the glory of my name. What have I done? Oh, Heaven, what have I done ? " It was pitiful to see the old man fall down before his WEDDED AND PARTED. 15 father*s picture, burying his face in his hands, weeping aloud and praying Heaven to pardon "him. Then he rose. Christmas morning had broken ; the light of the moon and the stars had given place to the early dawn ; the sky was gray, the frost had deepened. He must not be found there by his servants ; they would know soon enough what had happened. Let him save his credit while he could. He went back to his own room, carefully closing the door. The day had dawned the day on which he had to tell her to strike with his own hands all the brightness and light from his daughter's life. If he could but avert the blow ! He knew that the worst of the evil must fall on his beautiful daughter ; and how would she, one of the proudest girls in England, bear the blame ? It was easy to see that he came of a heroic race a race whose sons had high hearts and noble souls, who knew nothing of the craven called fear for, though he had spent the night in aimless wandering, in restless prayers, in bewildered grief and remorse, he was at his place on Christmas morning ready to welcome his vis- itors and wish them the joys of a season that had no joy for him. CHAPTER II. IT was come at last, the hour in which the old earl must tell his daughter all the hour in which he must rob the young life of its brightness and its hopes. 16 WEDDED AND PARTED. He chose the time when all the house was silent- midnight when the visitors had gone to rest, and the servants had all retired. He should have her all to him- self then, and he could soothe her first outbreak of sor- row. He had said to her : " lanthe, when the house is all silent to-night, will you come to the library ? I want to see you I want to talk to you." She had answered him laughingly, not feeling in the least surprised. It was the day after her birthday ; per- haps he had something to say to her regarding the family jewels or the arrangements for her coming of age. Never a doubt crossed her mind. She dismissed her rnaid, saying that she was not ready for her yet, and that she need not wait. Then she removed the jewels from her beautiful hair and her white neck, took off her costly evening dress, and put on a warm white wrapper. There was a smile on her lips as she made these prepa- rations. " Now I can talk at my ease," she said to herself. She went down quietly to the library, wondering why her father had chosen this strange, weird hour of night wondering why it was so urgent that he should shorten his rest and hers. She had never known the sensation of fear, but she shuddered a little as she went down the great staircase. The taper that she carried seemed to throw such strange lights and shades ; the evergreens on the walls seemed to nod as she passed by. " A large house in the silence and gloom of night is not very cheerful," thought Lady lanthe. WEDDED AND PARTED. 17 Then she opened the door, and saw the earl sitting by the fire. She placed the taper on the table and went up to him. She clasped her tender arms round his neck. "This is quite mysterious, papa," she said " this midnight meeting." She started when she saw his white face and trem- bling lips. " What is the matter, papa ? " she cried. " You are ill, or you have bad news to tell me. Your face is changed. What is it?" She knelt down by his side and laid her fair face on his hands. "Tell me, papa I am always your comforter tell me what has gone wrong this bright, happy Christmas- tide." She never forgot the pale, worn face that was bent over hers. " It is to tell you all, lanthe, that I asked you to come here ; and many a criminal has faced his judge, many a traitor his king, many a coward his foe, with far less of fear than I have of facing you, my only child, because of what I have done. ' ' She was all attention now. The smiles had died from her lips, the playfulness from her manner ; her sweet, frank eyes, full of wonder, were looking at him, and he seemed to cower before the clear, bright glance. " What you have done ? " she echoed, slowly. " I do not know what that may be ; but of one thing I am quite sure you have done nothing unworthy of a Carre." " Alas, alas ! " moaned the old Earl, as he bowed his head. 2 18 WEDDED AND PASTED. " You shall not frighten me," she said. "I am sure of it. You may have mistaken a shadow for substance, a dream for reality ; but you have done nothing un- worthy of a Carre. You have the tender, sensitive con- science of a gentleman, and you are making much of a trifle. You have done nothing a gentleman should not do." " Alas," he moaned, " when I began life I had grand, noble dreams I meant to do what no Carre before me had ever done ! How miserably I have failed only Heaven knows." "You may say what you like, papa you will never destroy my faith in you. I could sooner believe that the stars gave no light, that Heaven was unkind, that the sun was dark, than believe that you had done wrong. A Carre do wrong ! Papa, you speak thoughtlessly ! " "Listen to me, lanthe ! " he cried. "If I could give my life to undo what I have done, I would give it cheerfully ; if any pain, any suffering, any torture of mine could avail, I would bear it. Nothing is of any avail , and yet I meant and hoped that it would all be so different." She was growing alarmed now. What evil idea pos- sessed him ? What guileless folly had he magnified into a wrong ? " Papa, will you tell me what it is? Do not tremble so. If you had done all the wrong in the world, it would make no difference to me I should but love you all the more, all the better. If the whole world turned round upon you and accused you, I should uphold you. Remember how I Ipve you." WEDDED AND PARTED. 19 She smoothed the white hair from the careworn brow ; she kissed the deep lines that furrowed the thin face. " My darling," she cried passionately, "if you knew how I love you ! All the love that other girls divide be- tween mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, I have given to you." There was something pathetic in the girl's deep at- tachment to her father. Listening to her, one could have fancied her a mother talking to a child. " Now tell me," she said. " I wish I could know it without, as telling will give you pain ; but that cannot be." A dreary, far-off look came into the old man's eyes ; his thoughts seemed to have wandered. She recalled them by touching his forehead with her lips; he started as though she had roused him from sleep. " I have been trying to think, lanthe," he said, "how far I am guilty, but I cannot tell ; my thoughts are in a tangle. For example, if a man be born with an over- whelming tendency to any one thing, how far is he cul- pable in yielding to it? " "You cannot put such a question," replied lanthe. " There is the limit of right and wrong ; no strong ten- dency can excuse wrong-doing." "I suppose not," said the old Earl, with a sigh. "Some men are born poets they must write poetry; some are born artists they must paint pictures. I was born a speculator therefore I have been compelled to speculate." But Lady lanthe had been raised too far above the or- dinary grooves of life to know how much the term 20 WEDDED AND PASTED. "speculator" may be made to convey. She repeated the word dreamily it had no terrors for her. "A speculator, papa? There is nothing dreadful in that, is there ? " she asked. " Yes," he replied, " if a man is never content, never satisfied." " But you," she said, wonderingly " how could you be that?" " I cannot tell you, child, when 1 was ever anything else. The first thing I did when I came into possession of my estates was to speculate. Sometimes I won largely ; sometimes I lost. Winning or losing, the mad- ness grew on me. Do you understand the kind of spec- ulation I mean, lanthe ? Perhaps I should rather call it gambling it is gambling after all ; and the same fever fires the veins of speculator and gambler. One day through my agent, who turned out afterward to be a most unscrupulous rogue, I would purchase stock, hold it for a few days, and then by selling it realize some thousands of pounds ; afterward I lost even more heavily than I had won. Fifteen years since," continued the old Earl, with a deep sigh, "I lost what was to me a terrible sum. To meet it I was compelled to mortgage Croombe Abbey ; a continuous run of ill luck left me no other resource. Listen, lanthe. That ten thousand pounds for which I mortgaged this fair house and broad domain was lent to me by John Culross, a wealthy man- ufacturer. You remember his son, Herman Culross ? " A smile of unutterable contempt curled the proud lip of Lady lanthe, but she made no reply. " That," he went on, " did not trouble me very much, WEDDED AND PARTED. 21 I might have saved the amount, but that I have always lived up to my income. I thought one good speculation would pay for all. Two years since I was grievously tempted, lanthe. A new company was started. It was to be confined to a few, and great hopes were enter- tained of it. It was for the working of a silver mine in Mexico. My agent came to see me about it. He could think and talk of nothing save the enormous profits to be realized the vast sums to be made. I was greedy ah, lanthe, how my greed has been punished ! They told me that any one who could invest two hundred thousand pounds in that mine would soon be a millionaire. I read all the papers, I studied the figures, I thought long and anxiously about it. Then the love of greed and specu- lation mastered me. I went to London, and met several men of business. They all spoke highly of the mine. So I gathered all the money I could from every source I mortgaged my income for the next three years I raised the two hundred thousand pounds. After waiting impatiently for some return for cheerful news on Christmas-eve the blow fell. Then were realized my worst fears. The mine has proved a complete failure, and I am a ruined man a ruined man," repeated the old Earl, with a terrible gesture of despair. " Maurice, Lord Carre is hopelessly ruined ; he is the first Carre who has brought -even the faintest shadow of disgrace on the name. Oh, lanthe, have you any pity for me? Have you anything save contempt?" " You did it for the best," she murmured. "You have not heard all yet, lanthe. Six months since they wrote to me those men who have ruined me 22 WEDDED AND PARTED. and asked for a further advance of five thousand pounda It was needed, they said, for the further working of the mine ; and after that the enor- mous profits would begin." He stretched out his hands, as though he would avoid some terrible spectre. "Before Heaven, Ian the," he cried, huskily, "I have never seen the full extent of what I have done until now. Men might turn round and call me thief." "No, it cannot be so bad as that, papa," she exclaimed. ' ' Tell me all. ' ' "I am your cousin Wyndham Carre's guardian, and he has a small fortune of five thousand pounds, which he left in my charge. It was invested in banking shares, and brought him in a small but certain income. When he was going to India, he said, laughingly, that he knew I had a good head for business, and that, if ever I saw a chance of turning his five per cent, into ten, I was to do it. When they wrote to me for this last five thousand pounds, thinking I was helping to make his for- tune as well as treble my own, without awaiting his permission, I sent it ; and it is all lost, Ian the. Could any man be so mad, so foolish as I have been?" "You must pay it back, papa," she said, cheer- fully. "You did not intend to lose it." "Pay it back!" he moaned. "I would to Heaven that 1 could ! You do not realize what I mean, when I say that I am a ruined man. It means that I, Maurice Carre, Earl of Croombe, stand before you penniless. The home of my ancestors this old Abbey, where the best and bravest of my race have lived and died has WEDDED AND PARTED. 23 gone from me. My income is mortgaged I have sold the Home Farm I am as utterly ruined and without re- source as a pauper within the work-house gates. Yet I could bear' it all if it were possible to repay Wyndham Carre. I cannot live, lanthe, to hear myself called thief." She had grown very pale as she listened. "No man can say that, dear. You frighten your- self with a shadow. Wyndham told you to do better with his money, if you could." "And I have lost it. lanthe, what answer shall I make to him if he comes to me and says, ' Where is my all, the fortune I left in your hands ? ' ' " Could I not sell my jewels ? And the pictures surely they would be worth more even than five thousand pounds? " " The jewels are not worth one-half the sum, and the pictures do you not understand, lanthe ? the house as it stands, have gone from me. I am destitute, penniless. Was there ever a sorrow like unto mine ? " "And this is Christmas," said the girl, thoughtfully, " when every one is supposed to be so happy? Papa, what shall we do? " " I cannot tell. I dare not think. I am a ruined man. Do you realize all that that means for you, lanthe you, brought up in the midst of luxury, accustomed to car- riages, horses, servants, to dress as you liked, to do as you liked ? What will become of you, my darling ? When we two walk out of here hand in hand, there will be no home for us to go to ; we shall not have one shill- 24 WEDDED AND PARTED. ing in the wide world. Now do you realize what ruin means? " . She grew even whiter, and looked at him with great startled eyes. " Are matters so bad, papa ? " He tore his hands from her grasp, and, with a pas- sionate cry, fell on his knees before her. " Can you ever forgive me, lanthe? I would die to win your pardon. I have ruined your bright young life you, the fairest, the brightest of my race. You will have to work for your daily bread ? Can you ever for- give me ? " She bent over him with sweet, patient tenderness. " Papa do not speak to me in that fashion. You have done all for the best. I should have nothing to forgive, even if you had done the deadliest wrong. I am your child it is not for me to judge you. Let me help you comfort you but do not ask me for pardon. I am willing to suffer with you." "Yesterday," said the old Earl, in his trembling voice, " when the letter came to tell me that the mine was a failure, there came also a letter from John Culross that is, from his executors he himself the man who lent me the money is dead. They are calling in all the moneys due to him ; they have asked for the ten thou- sand pounds. They have given me formal notice for its repayment; if in three months it is not paid, I shall lose Croombe Abbey it will pass from my hands into theirs.'' " Three months," she repeated to her it seemed like a reprieve. " Surely mucn can be done in three months you can borrow the money from someone else, papa?" WEDDED AND PARTED. 25 " Who would lend ten thousand pounds to a ruined man ? Of course I shall send for a lawyer, and do my best ; but I know it will be useless. Croombe Abbey, the home of the Carres, will become the property of a manufacturer. It is enough to make the dead Carres rise from their graves." Her beautiful face flushed hotly her eyes flashed fire. " Papa," she said, " there is one thing we must do at once we must tell the truth to Lord Ravenscourt. You think he is here because he admires me ; he must know that I am no longer a rich heiress. We shall see if that makes any difference to him. Then we must, under some pretext or other, send away our visitors. How sorry I am that we wasted money on that foolish ball ! " " You were happy, my darling so that it was not all waste," said the Earl. " Tell me, lanthe, do you love Lord Ravenscourt?" " No, papa ; I like him in time perhaps I might love him." " It would take half the bitterness away if I could see you married," he remarked ; " it is for you I dread the change, not for myself." "We must tell him to-morrow, papa," said Lady lanthe. " See, it is striking two, and you look so tired, dear. I will not stay to listen to any more ; I know the worst. We will bear it together we shall always be to- gether ; and I am so young, so strong, so brave, I can help you so much. Promise me you will try to sleep." He looked gratefully at her. "There is one thing more lanthe. The letter calling in the mortgage is from the son, Herman Culross, and 26 WEDDED AND PARTED. 4 he speaks of coming over to see me about it. You witt be civil to him for my sake, if he comes, lanthe? " < Civil ? Certainly, papa. I was never guilty of inci- vility to an inferior I consider it ill-breeding." " He is heir to a millionaire now, lanthe hardly an inferior." "If he had the wealth of the whole world, papa," she said, haughtily, "he would still be inferior even to a ruined and penniless Carre." The old Earl looked kindly at her for one minute, as she stood with all the pride of her race expressed in her face. " I will be civil, dear, for your sake ; but I must not forget that he, this manufacturer's son, was presumptuous once. I am afraid that I shall be prouder even in my poverty than I was in prosperity." All the haughtiness died away as she bent down once more to kiss him and say good-night ; and then she went away, leaving him alone. Lady lanthe went back to her room, to think over what she had heard. Ruined, penniless, disgraced she who had been reputed heiress of a grand old house she who had known nothing but luxury and magnificence ! It was all over ; she might bid farewell to the pleasure and gayeties she had enjoyed. There were no more triumphs for her, no more jewels, no marvels of costly dress, no crowds of admiring suitors it was all ended. There was but one thing for her to do ; and that was to go away with her father where they might hide them- selves from the gaze of all whom they had ever known. That was all that remained for her ; and she was one of WEDDED AND PARTED. 27 the fairest girls in England just eighteen. Still she had the courage of the Carres. She shed no idle tears, she made no complaint. She smiled bitterly to herself as she thought of Lord Ravens- court. She understood now her father's desire that she should like him. "I may be thankful that I did not," she thought "that his sweet words and compliments have won no love from me ; for, unless I mistake and mistake greatly when he understands the real state of things, he will say all that is kind by way of condolence, and then ride away." It was her first lesson in the trying realities of life, and, considering how spoiled and indulged she had been, it was a terribly hard one. On the morrow Lord Carre gave some slight intimation of the state of affairs to his noble guest, who was most profuse in his expressions of sym- pathy. The next morning he announced that business would call him away at once. As she watched him drive off, Lady lanthe smiled bitterly to herself. "Let me take that lesson to heart," she said. 4 ' If yesterday a fortune had fallen to my lot instead of the loss of one, Lord Ravenscourt would have persuaded himself, and me, too, perhaps, that he was in love with me. He would have made me an offer of marriage, and it is just possible that I might have become Lady Ravenscourt. Better poverty than that better any fate than marriage with a man who wants nobility of soul!" Did the words eyer come home to her when, years afterward, she knew what a noble soul really was? 28 WEDDED AND PARTED. One by one the guests departed, and Lord Carre was left with his daughter. He received a letter one morning, saying that Mr. Culross would be at the Abbey at night. He gave it silently into his daughter's hands. "You will be civil to him, lanthe, for my sake? My whole future, such as it is, rests in this man's hands." "Certainly, "again promised his daughter. "Why should I not, papa? The young man will surely have the good sense to keep his place this time." "lanthe," said Lord Carre, looking at his daughter, "you speak somewhat contemptuously of Mr. Culross. But, remember, he is a millionaire. I should not think there are many wealthier men in England; and money ah, lanthe, money does much!" "It has never made a gentleman and it never will," she said. "It cannot buy birth, nobility, or talent. I do not see that it is so omnipotent, papa." "What would I not give for it, lanthe?" he sighed. "Money would save one of the oldest names in Eng- land from discredit and shame; it would restore that which I have lost my self-respect, my self-esteem; it would give me courage to raise my head once more amongst my fellow-men; it would take from me the brand of shame. Oh, lanthe, if all the gifts of this fair earth were laid before me now, I should choose money!" "Poor papa!" said the girl, quietly. "You may make yourself easy on one point I will be civil to Mr. Culross. Heaven guide us safely through our troubles!" And so saying, she left him to prepare for the coming guest. WEDDED AND PASTED. CHAPTER in. " TROUBLES never come alone," said Lord Carre. " See, lanthe, here is a letter from Wyndham ; he will be home in six months, and he asks me to have his money ready, as he knows of an excellent investment for it. My dear child, can I write and tell him that it is lost ? I am in despair." He bowed his white head, and she had no words with which to comfort him; this brought their trouble nearer to her, and made it more real than it had ever seemed before. He raised his haggard face to hers. " It will kill me, lanthe," he said. " I shall never live to meet him." She could not comfort him. She had love, devotion, the warmest, truest affection to offer him, but no money ; and money was the only thing that could help him then. She stood by helpless, while the father she loved so dearly humbled himself before her in his shame and dis- grace. Herman Culross was expected that evening, and it had touched her heart with keenest pain to see the old Earl with trembling hands gathering up his papers, and try- ing in vain to give matters a proper business aspect. " He may be a kind-hearted man, after all, lanthe," he observed, " and anxious to spare me." And then he broke into a passion of child-like tears, crying, " I can- not leave Croombe. I cannot see Croombe pass into his 3 30 WEDDED AND PARTED. hands. I would rather burn it down, and die in the ashes." His daughter shared his passion of grief; rather than leave Croombe, rather than see it pass into the hands of this parvenu, she would have set fire to it. But she was young and hopeful. She was only eighteen, and she could not quite believe in this crushing weight of sorrow. Some way out of it would be found. Yet she owned to herself that she did not know of one. She had promised to be civil to the man who held their future in his hands. The lawyer, Mr. Grantley, was coming at the same time, and she had ordered din- ner to be ready at seven, wondering, as she did so, how many more dinners she would order at Croombe won- dering what she would do without servants she whose least wish had ever been obeyed. She dressed herself with exquisite taste, not to at- tract the attention or excite the admiration of Mr. Cul- ross she was incapable of such an idea but to please her father, the Earl ; and never had the proud Lady lanthe looked more lovely. She wore a simple evening dress of white silk trimmed with green leaves, and a suite of opals, the changeful light of which suited well her bright regal beauty. The masses of brown rippling hair formed a coronet to the beautiful face. She was imperially fair. She smiled when she thought of presumptuous Her- man Culross, the plebeian, the millionaire, for in the iays of his early youth he had dared to raise his eyes to -had dared to worship her as some bright, far-off starwhat was worse, had dared to give that worship voice. WEDDED AND PASTED. 31 It had happened in this way. As a boy, while the terms of the mortgage were being negotiated, he had been taken to Croombe Abbey ; and there, walking with her governess in the park, he had seen Lady lanthe seen what he thought was the fairest vision on earth. Boy as he was, he had become almost insane about her. She had glanced at him only once ; she had looked at him with those calm, serene eyes that took so little in- terest in anything looked at him, wondering who he was, and why he was there. " He is a plebeian," she had said to herself, and had passed on scornfully. He was only a boy, but that one glance had set his heart on fire. He asked her name, and had lingered in the park, hoping to see her again, and had failed. He had gone home haunted by her, dreaming of her, mad about her ; and, when he could bear his dreams no longer, he had poured out his boyish, .passionate love in verse verse that would have brought tears to kindly eyes, it was so full of love and longing. After many days he sent it addressed to the Lady lanthe Carre, and signed with his name. She was quite a child at the time, even as he was a fair- faced boy, but her anger was terrible. A manufacturer's son, a boy lowly born, a plebeian, to dare to send love-verses to her ! Lady lanthe simply tore the closely-written pages in two, and returned them. That was years before but Lady lanthe had never forgiven the insult, and Herman Culross had never for- gotten his love. Through the years of his boyhood and his youth he had remembered her ; he had thought of 82 WEDDED AND PASTED. her as the fairest girl in the world as his ideal of per- fect loveliness. He had said to himself over and over again that he would rather a hundred times love her memory than be loved by any living woman. He hoped to have done something worthy of a name when he should meet Lady lanthe Carre again. He was too young at the time to understand anything about business, and when he grew older he spent much time abroad, so that he did not understand his father's affairs. When, at his father's death, the will was read, and he found himself a millionaire, his surprise was great ; it was greater still when he found that his father's chief creditor was the Earl of Carre, who owed him ten thousand pounds. If he could have consulted his own wish, he would have let the money remain, but it was not in his power to do so. By the terms of the will the business was to be sold ; all moneys lent on mortgages or invested in shares were to be called in ; and the whole of the vast capital was to be safely invested according to directions. ( The testator, John Culross, wished his son to become a country gentleman to enter Parliament to found a family; and it was discovered that Herman would in- herit not less than a million of money. The story of his wealth spread until it was known all over England. He had asked if he was compelled to call in the ten thou- sand pounds. His solicitors said " Yes" he was com- pelled to call it in, although he could lend it again the day after if he chose. Would he so choose ? His heart beat, his face flushed WEDDED AND PARTED. 33 hotly he was to see her again, and this time she would not be able to dismiss him with contempt. He knew nothing of the Earl's misfortunes, and he did not anticipate any difficulty in getting his money. It was something of a surprise to him when he received a letter from Lord Carre asking if it would not be pos- sible to make any other arrangements, as he had a diffi- culty in finding the money. Then Herman wrote, offer- ing to go over to Croombe ; but that offer was really dictated by his longing desire to see Lady lanthe, not to arrange about the money he would have given it all for one kind glance from the beautiful eyes that ever haunted him. He had heard much of Lady lanthe during the last two years ; he knew that she had been one of the lead- ing beauties of the London season. He smiled, too, when he heard that she was called one of the proudest girls in England. He could well believe it, remember- ing the fate of the verses in which he had told the love of his warm boyish heart. He heard, too, that she was strangely contemptuous about love and lovers that some of the noblest in the land had sued in vain for a smile from her proud lips but that, while she was proud and haughty to all the world, to her father she was most lov- ing and devoted. He had smiled again, saying to himself that a girl who could love and honor her father as Lady lanthe did must have noble qualities, although perhaps the world did not know them. Was she one of the proudest girls in England while she stood by the drawing-room fire, her dress slightly 3 34 WEDDED AND PARTED. raised, her tiny silk slipper resting on the bright fender? She had strikingly aristocratic grace of figure ; h< every movement, every action, was dignified and har- monious. Her head was thrown back with a proud, graceful gesture peculiar to herself; her white arms were idly crossed, for she was thinking deeply, hands were perfect in shape and color; her face was patrician. There was a splendid light in the beautiful eyes-a proud light that yet could soften into tendernes: unutterable. Was she one of the proudest girls in England ? was clearly expressed in the patrician face, in the bright eyes, and the pose of the whole figure. But there are different kinds of pride. She was not vain ; she would never have dreamed of exalting herself, of glorifying herself, because of her own perfections. She was not vain of her face its marvelous beauty was no sourc pride; and money would never have made her proud. She looked upon wealth as an accident. Her pride lay in the undue importance she ascnb to high birth. To be nobly born was everything. She did not consider nobility an accident ; in her own mm. the aristocracy were a privileged race, set aside for and by a nobility of soul to which no plebeian could ever attain. They were set aside from more common n en, not because of wealth, but because high birth, length o pedigree, nobility of race, entitled them to peculiar honors. The doctrine that all men were equal made Lady lanthe shudder. Perhaps her views might hav( been a little more just if she had been trained by a sible mother; but her mother had died while she was WEDDED AND PARTED. 35 still young, and, although she had had tutors and gov- ernesses, she had been much alone. Was this pride of Lady lanthe's all evil ? If good could come from an evil source, good came from that. She would have scorned the idea of disgracing or stain- ing the noble name she bore. She would not have told a lie have uttered a false word to save her life. She would have declared, with superb pride, that the Carres were always true. She had the fire and chivalry, the true bravery of her race ; she never indulged in vulgar weaknesses, such as gossip and scandal. She invariably defended the absent ; she shielded the weak. She took the part of- the feeble against the strong. She, one of the proudest girls in England, was kind and gentle to the poor ; she was munificently generous to them. She was courteously kind to her inferiors she had never ad- dressed a proud or scornful word to a servant or an in- ferior in her life. And why ? Because truth, chivalry, courtesy, generosity, were to her the marks of high birth because the absence of those virtues denoted a plebeian soul. She lanthe Carre could never, would never, do anything unworthy of her name. She did not deny to the plebeian, the lowly born, the poor, the possession of virtues ; but then, to her mind, they were of a different kind. She understood that a poor man must be patient, a tradesman honest patience and hon- esty, industry and activity, belonged to their order. She could not understand that a poor man might be a hero the idea of a chivalrous tradesman was beyond her. She disliked the idea of mixing the two orders. She could not pardon the marriage of an aristocrat with a 36 WEDDED AND PARTED. plebeian to her the two were far apart ; and it was not exactly a vulgar love of rank that possessed her it was an inborn, sincere conviction that she belonged to a race set apart. Why they should be so set apart she did not know ; it was one of those decrees of Providence better understood than explained. Pride of birth, pride of race, was the girl's besetting sin ; but, in her eyes, it had assumed the guise of virtue. She was brilliantly accomplished, yet of her accomplish- ments she was never vain. Naturally quick and gifted, she had studied hard. She had traveled with Lord Carre. She had read and studied and thought; yet, though she was endowed with keen perception, she had never arrived at the knowledge of her own besetting sin. She was a girl of singular purity of mind her innate sense of refinement served as a virtue. She would never have been guilty of flirtation. She would never have attempted to attract admiration. She never courted the smiles and compliments of men ; nor, as yet, had she thought much of men or lovers. Her whole heart was given to her father. Suddenly she started from her listless attitude. There was a sound of carriage-wheels. She knew that he had arrived this millionaire this plebeian, who held the name and fortunes of the Carres in the hollow of his hands. She did not move away, but the expression of deep thought passed from her face and gave place to one of attention. After some minutes, two gentlemen entered the room one old and gray-haired, whom she recognized as her WEDDED AND PARTED. 37 father's solicitor, Mr. Grantley ; the other, yotmg, tall, with a face full of energy, who was announced as Mr. Culross. She made one step forward, and held out her white jeweled hand in stately greeting to her father's old friend, and then bowed with courtly grace to Her- man Culross. She would just as soon have thought of cutting her hand off as of giving it to him, and he no- ticed the omission. He was very pleasant to see, this son of the people this son of a man who had worked hard for his daily bread. He was tall, with a well-knit, manly figure, broad shoulders and broad chest, strong arms and strong though white hands the kind of man one would like by one's side in a fray the kind of man in whose arms one would place one's best loved child. There was something of dignity too in the tall, erect figure the dignity of independence. The face was in many respects a lovable one not handsome, but more than pleasant to see. The eyes were large, dark, and frank; they were lighted with a pleasant, luminous smile; they were eloquent too full of fire and passion. The mouth was firm in repose: the well-shaped lips closed with a line that was almost stern, yet, when he smiled, the smile was sweet and tender as a woman's. It was an earnest, sensitive face ; it was a face men trusted implicitly, women liked, and children loved. Lady Janthe's calm proud eyes glanced carelessly at it. As his glance met hers, a sudden fire of passion seemed to burn in his face, his lips trembled, the strong earnest man was hardly master of himself. The proud, calm glance had set his heart on fire again. 38 WEDDED AND PARTED. How he loved her this fair, imperial girl, who had coolly set him down as not of her world, and treated him with scant courtesy because he was her inferior! He could have knelt and kissed the hem of her dress he could have cried aloud to her that she was fair, and that he had loved her madly for long years. He had in his own mind rehearsed this little interview many times. He had intended to say, with a very lordly air, that he wished to apologize for Ms boyish impertinence of years ago; but, looking at her, he dared not do it the fair, queenly face had no gleam of recognition in it. Be- sides, his manhood rose in hot rebellion ; he would not apologize he would not call that boyish, earnest, pas- sionate love an impertinence. Did she remember it? He must know : it might pain him to discover that she still resented the love- verses it might pain him to find that she had forgotten them but anything was better than indifference. After a time the Eari came in, and he shook hands warmly with both gentlemen. There was something of trepidation in his manner as he spoke to Herman Cul- ross a shadow of dread which his daughter observed with surprise. The dinner was announced, and they went to the dming-rpom. Lady lanthe adhered most strictly to the letter of her word. She was " civil " to Mr. Cukoss nothing more. If, from any need or obligation, her father had invited one of the neighboring tradesmen to dine, she would have been just as civil. With a courteous smile she acknowledged every Eeiaa^-k Heajman, Gub*o$s addressed to her yet that very smile seemed t widen the distance WEDDED AND PASTED. 39 between them. She never voluntarily addressed him, except when her position as hostess obliged her. She did not neglect one trivial act of courtesy, yet, when they rose from dinner, Herman felt as though a frozen ocean lay between them. He would bridge it over, he said to himself, let it be as deep and cold and hardly frozen as it might. Then, after dinner, the Earl and his solicitor had a game at ecarte. Lord Carre would not broach business that evening. He had asked Mr. Culross if he played at chess, adding that, if he did so, he would find an able op- ponent in Lady lanthe. Herman was only too delighted to draw the little chess-table near the fire ; he placed an easy-chair and footstool for her. She thanked him with courteous gravity, and they sat down together. They had played for an hour, and after that Herman said to himself that he must know whether she remem- bered his boyish love. He looked at her ; the fair, high- bred face was bent over the board, her white hands lightly touched the chessmen, there was no indication of the faintest consciousness of his presence. Suddenly he took courage. "Lady lanthe," he said, " I trust by this time you have forgiven my boyish indiscretion." The proud, serene eyes looked indifferently at him. " It would be ungenerous to remember the faults of the boy against the man," she said, calmly. " I have for- given it." The reply silenced Herman for a time. Then she had considered his love a fault a fault, that impetuous, hon- 40 WEDDED AND PARTED. est worship which he had lavished on her ! It was rather hard. He recovered himself after awhile. " You must have thought me very presumptuous," he said. " I beg your pardon, it is your move, not mine. Pre- sumptuous ? No, I did not think of you at all." Again Herman sank back silenced. She had not even found it worth while to be angry. She had simply ig- nored him. He would not be daunted. " It was a terrible blow to my vanity," he continued, rashly. " I thought my poor verses very fair." " Did you? Your queen is in danger, Mr. Culross." The calm pride of her perfect repose was not to be dis- turbed. " If I were a wise man," thought Herman, " I should say no more ; but 1 am not wise, and I know I shall com- mit myself. If she would but look at me even if angrily I should not care." But he found himself suddenly checkmated, and the game ended ; and then Lady lanthe rose, and said "Good evening." She went to her room, quite pleased with her- self and her own efforts. She had been very civil to her father's guest. WEDDED AND PARTED. 41 CHAPTER IV. LADY IANTHE looked from her window on the morn- ing after the arrival of the two gentlemen. The heavy clouds had parted during the night, and the snow had fallen ; it lay like a white, thick, soft mantle over the earth. The sky above was darkly blue, and the wintry rays of the sun shone like palest gold. Far and wide was the snow. The fields were all covered, the hedges were white, the bare branches of the trees were fringed. The green holly held soft white snow in the hollow of its leaves. The scarlet berries gleamed out like points of flame ; the robin-redbreast hopped on the white snow and the bare twigs. It was a winter scene so full of poetry that Lady lanthe could have watched it for hours ; but she drew back with a sudden start of pain. Not much longer would she watch those grand old trees, the growth of centuries; not much longer would the magnifi- cent old home be hers. Where the Carres had lived and died the plebeian race of Culross would take up their abode. The girl clasped her hands in passionate sorrow as she thought of it. She would have given her life to save her home from such terrible desecration. They would be sure to cut down the old ancestral oaks, just as they would have new gilding in the drawing-room, and modern pictures in place of old family portraits. Then she remembered that she had to go down and be civil to him, the representative of the race that she detested. 42 WEDDED AND PARTED. If Herman had thought Lady lanthe beautiful in her evening dress, he was at a loss what to think of her in plain morning toilet a simple morning dress of dark rich blue; fastened high, and closed round the white throat, showing every line and curve of the graceful figure. The |jair, pure, proud face bloomed with health ; the rich rip- pling brown hair was loosely and gracefully arranged. She bade him "Good-morning, ' ' not offering her hand, and just raising her white eyelids, and then took her seat to pre- side at the breakfast-table. But her presence made para- dise for the man who worshiped her with such passionate love. After breakfast the Earl sent for her. He looked, she fancied, a little more cheerful. "lanthe," he said, "I have sent for you because I want particularly to see you. Last night, after you had left us, we had a long talk about my misfortunes. He was so kind to me this young Herman Culross; he could not have been kinder had he been my own son." " I am very glad," she observed, calmly ; the idea of being "kind" to her father, Lord Carre, hardly pleased her. Kindness implied something of patronage, and be- tween peer and parvenu such a thing was of course ab- surd. "He took so great an interest in what I said," con- tinued Lord Carre, " that I confided in him entirely. I told him everything of the ten thousand pounds owing to him of the five owing to Wyndham and of the two hundred thousand borrowed for that detestable silver mine." WEDDED AND PARTED. 43 " Did you tell him all, papa? You must have trusted him greatly." " I did I do. My heart was drawn to him. He is earnest, frank, sincere. I like him so much, lanthe." " I am very glad," she said, " that you have found a friend in your troubles, papa. Do they these gentle- men see any way out of them ? ' ' 11 No; they both averred that it was black, bitter, ir- retrievable ruin that there was no possible escape from it; but they have promised in every way to do their best. Mr. Grantley is compelled to return to London this evening ; but. I have asked Herman Culross to re- main with us for the next fortnight, at least. He has promised to do so. You will be civil to him, lanthe? " " Civil," she- repeated, impatiently " I am always civil to him, papa." " You will try and amuse him, and make the time pass pleasantly to him ? " " Certainly; I hope, papa, that you are always satisfied with my condnct toward your guests." " Yes," he replied, wistfully ; " but there is a shadow if something in your manner toward Mr. Culross noth- ing tangible a shadow yet I can feel it. It is as though you never for one moment forgot the difference in your positions." " There is a difference, papa," she said " you admit that?" " Certainly, lanthe. He is the son of a manufacturer, a man risen entirely from the ranks of the people ; you are a daughter of one of the oldest families in England." "Then, if a difference exists, papa, it should be ob- 42 WEDDED AND PARTED. If Herman had thought Lady lanthe beautiful in her evening dress, he was at a loss what to think of her in plain morning toilet a simple morning dress of dark rich blue; fastened high, and closed round the white throat, showing every line and curve of the graceful figure. The jair, pure, proud face bloomed with health j the rich rip- pling brown hair was loosely and gracefully arranged. She bade him "Good-morning," not offering her hand,and just raising her white eyelids, and then took her seat to pre- side at the breakfast-table. But her presence made para- dise for the man who worshiped her with such passionate love. After breakfast the Earl sent for her. He looked, she fancied, a little more cheerful. "lanthe," he said, "I have sent for you because I want particularly to see you. Last night, after you had left us, we had a long talk about my misfortunes. He was so kind to me this young Herman Culross; he could not have been kinder had he been my own son." " I am very glad," she observed, calmly ; the idea of being "kind" to her father, Lord Carre, hardly pleased her. Kindness implied something of patronage, and be- tween peer and parvenu such a thing was of course ab- surd. "He took so great an interest in what I said," con- tinued Lord Carre, " that I confided in him entirely. I told him everything of the ten thousand pounds owing to him of the five owing to Wyndham and of the two hundred thousand borrowed for that detestable silver mine." WEDDED AND PASTED. 43 " Did you tell him all, papa? You must have trusted him greatly." " I did I do. My heart was drawn to him. He is earnest, frank, sincere. I like him so much, lanthe." " I am very glad," she said, " that you have found a friend in your troubles, papa. Do they these gentle- men see any way out of them ? ' ' "No; they both averred that it was black, bitter, ir- retrievable ruin that there was no possible escape from it; but they have promised in every way to do their best. Mr. Grantley is compelled to return to London this evening ; but I have asked Herman Culross to re- main with us for the next fortnight, at least. He has promised to do so. You will be civil to him, lanthe? " "Civil," she- repeated, impatiently "I am always civil to him, papa." " You will try and amuse him, and make the time pass pleasantly to him ? *' " Certainly; I hope, papa, that you are always satisfied with my conduct toward your guests." "Yes," he replied, wistfully; "but there is a shadow if something in your manner toward Mr. Culross noth- ing tangible a shadow yet I can feel it. It is as though you never for one moment forgot the difference in your positions." " There is a difference, papa," she said " you admit that?" " Certainly, lanthe. He is the son of a manufacturer, a man risen entirely from the ranks of the people ; you are a daughter of one of the oldest families in England." " Then, if a difference exists, papa, it should be ob- 46 WEDDED AND PARTED. complaint Herman could not even to himself accuse her but he would rather have fought with a dozen re- alities than this intangible shadow. If she had disliked him, he would have fought the dislike inch by inch ; i she had hated him, he would have overcome the hatred. She simply overlooked him and what could he do ? One week of the time had elapsed; and then it occurred to Lady lanthe that he was taking great inter- est in her. His devotion to the Earl knew no bounds. He would sit up until the early hours of morning trying to unravel the tangled web of accounts; he would wait upon the old Earl with a gentleness and tenderness that knew no bounds the tenderness of a woman, the devo- tion of a son. Lord Carre began to lean upon him, to look up to him ; it was touching to see them together- the winning gentleness and deference of the young man, the dependence of the old one. After a time Lady lanthe began to wonder at it s herself was not more devoted to the Earl. And then she noticed how often, in looking up, she found his eyes fixed on her, how he sought every opportunity of being with her, how his face flushed and his hands trembled if by accident she came near him. Almost insensibly, for her father's sake, she began to trust him, to feel con- fidence in him, although she never for one moment for- got the barrier. He said but little to her ; he never ventured on any compliments; he refrained even from little polite speeches that he might easily have made ; and she was grateful to him for the forbearance. There was not so much effort required to keep him in his place he did WEDDED AND PARTED. 47 not seem disposed to take advantage of his position, and insensibly she relaxed from her vigilance. It seemed to her that her father tried to throw them together, that he sought opportunities of bringing her more and more into the society of Mr. Culross. He liked to walk up and down the picture-gallery between them ; and, when Lady Ian the deigned to listen, she found that Herman Culross's conversation was superior to any she had ever heard. He had clear, sound views on most subjects ; he was a keen, clever judge of art, a good critic ; he had a store of anecdotes, a fund of in- formation ; he was a scholar and a student. She was compelled to own that for the son of a manufacturer he was really wonderful. He had his own ideas of chivalry too ; evidently he did not consider it a virtue set apart for the aristocracy. She was even surprised and horrified to find that he dared to discharge little arrows, biting little sarcasms, at the order she loved and believed in. Could it be credited ? More than once she heard him laugh at the idea of hereditary genius ! One evening he was with Lord Carre in the library, and their conversation was so deeply interesting that they had never even heard the dinner bell ring. On that day her father had been looking unusually ill, and she had been dreadfully anxious about him. " What can engross them so entirely? " thought Lady lanthe to herself; and then, when they came hurriedly into the dining-room it struck her that they both avoided looking at her that Lord Carre had a wistful, haggard expression on his face that he was restless and excited. 48 WEDDED AND PARTED. There was something, too, almost apologetic in his man- ner to her ; while Herman Culross looked eagerly ex- pectant. " lanthe," said the Earl, after dinner, " will you join me in a few minutes ? I am going to the library." As she replied, she saw Herman Culross look at her, with a sudden gleam of light in his eyes. When they were alone, he crossed the room, and went over to her side he was strongly agitated. She was serenely proud and calm. " Lady lanthe," he said, in a low voice, " I wish that I dare kneel here at your feet, and pray you to listen favorably to what Lord Carre has to propose." She raised her serene eyes to his earnest, handsome face. " You would be greatly out of place, Mr. Culross, at my feet," she rejoined ; " and pray pardon me it re- quires no prayers from you to induce me to listen favor- ably to anything my dear and honored father may have to say." " But, Lady lanthe, you do not know allow me She moved aside, with dignified ease ; there was the least suspicion of contempt in the smile with which she interrupted him. " Pardon me, Mr. Culross ; I do not allow any inter- ference between my father and myself. I must ask you to excuse me now, while I go to him." Without another word, without even a look, she swept from the room. She had been haughty, contemptuous, scornful of him, but he could have knelt and kissed the hem of her robe as she passed him by, WEDDED AND PASTED. 40 " How does he dare to be so insolent ? " she said to herself. "He to pray that I would listen to my father he, a plebeian, a parvenu I, the daughter of an Eng- lish earl ! " Her eyes flashed unutterable scorn ; her lip curled in a haughty smile ; her beautiful face flushed. She went into the library, and saw her father seated in his favor- ite chair by the fire. " Close the door, lanthe," he said. " I want to talk to you without being disturbed." She saw tears on his face. He stretched out his arms to her. " lanthe, my darling, come here," he said " here, where I can kiss you and plead to you and pray to you ! ' ' She sat down on the little stool at his feet, resting her hands on his knees, looking with tender, loving eyes into his face. Still he seemed in no hurry to begin. " lanthe," he said at last. " Help has come. Oh, my darling, I have seen the first gleam of light since the darkness surrounded me, and I am ill, weak, faint with joy ! lanthe, I have seen the way in which I can be saved." Then his strength seemed to fail him, the courage that upheld him died away ; he bent his face over her and wept like a child. "Only Heaven knows," he sobbed, "what I have suffered, lanthe ! I have seen myself impoverished, im- prisoned my fortune lost my name disgraced my only child working for her daily bread. I have heard myself called thief, impostor, and it has nearly killed 4 60 WEDDED AND PASTED. me. Now ft is all over all over. I could not have faced it, lanthe." " How you have suffered, papa ! " she said, gently. " And you have not told me. I did not know one half." "I could not tell you, my darling. There are sor- rows that cannot be put into words. Mine could not its very magnkude appalled me. It is over, thank Heaven ! I am all unworthy, but I see light at last. I see a stretch of years before me. I see my name held in honor I see grandchildren climbing round my knee, and I thank Heaven." Her face brightened as she listened to him. " I too am glad, dear," she said, gently; " I feel your joy as I did your sorrow. I would have sold my life for you, had I been able." He looked at her, and she saw something of anxious fear in his eyes. He laid his two hands on her shoul- ders, gazing at her long and anxiously. " It all depends on you, lanthe," he said " all on you." " On me, papa ? How can that be ? " " You said you would have sold your life to help me, lanthe. Did you mean it ? " he asked. " I did. I would have freely died to save you and the name of Carre." " You have not to die, my darling ; you have but to lay aside a prejudice. Listen, lanthe. Herman Cul- ross is a most noble minded man. He has offered why, my darling, I can hardly find words in which to tell you of his offer, it is so noble ! In the first place, WEDDED AND PARTED. 5) he will, lend again, on terms you shall hear, the ten thousand pounds, so that Croombe, my beloved home, shall not pass from us ; next he will place to my account the five thousand pounds that I owe to Wyndham Carre, so that I can repay him at once, and my name not be branded ; lastly, of that miserable two hundred thou- sand I have borrowed, he will, from his own moneys, pay one, and the other is to be repaid by installments from the estate so that I shall be free. I can hardly say the words, lanthe I shall be free. I shall still keep up the state befitting Maurice, Earl of Carre I shall die with my name unstained, and the world will never know the ordeal through which I have passed." She kissed the trembling hands that held hers in a fee- ble grasp. "He is the noblest, the kindest, the most generous man in all the world," she said ; "but, papa darling, how does all this depend on me? I do not under- stand." " It depends on you, and you alone, lanthe," he re- plied. "Why do you imagine Herman Culross is ready to do all this for us ? " " Because it is a privilege to help you, papa." " No," said the Earl, " it is because he loves you." " Loves me ! " she repeated haughtily. " Yes, loves you as I do not think any man ever loved a woman before loves you, and wants to make you his wife." "His wife!" she exclaimed, with imperial disdain. " Papa, do you know what you are saying? I lanthe Carre that man's wife ! " 52 WEDDED AND PASTED. " And why not, my darling? Why not?" "You to ask me such a question ! I am a peer's daughter. I have some of the best blood in England in my veins. He is a plebeian, a parvenu. I, lanthe Carre, marry him ! I would die a hundred deaths first." She rose in her superb disdain, with flashing eyes and heaving breast. He rose too, and stood before her, the picture of de- spair. "You refuse, lanthe you, my only child, who pro- fessed your willingness to die for me ? You refuse ? " "What else can I do?" she demanded passionately. "I would have given my life for you; but I cannot marry him a commoner a manufacturer's son a man whose hand even I have never touched. He is generous indeed, with true plebeian generosity, to offer to buy me ! What is the purchase money, papa ! One hundred and fifteen thousand pounds ! At least I am highly rated. Oh, that I should have lived to see this day ! " He sat down again under the passionate torrent of her words ; and the white, haggard despair that came over his face, even in the midst of her angry pride, frightened her. " Very well," he said, meekly, " it cannot be, lanthe. I will not force you, child my only child. I am not worth saving. There is no light only the darkness, growing deeper and deeper." "I cannot sell myself, papa," returned lanthe. " If he is so generous and so kind, let him help without any reference to me that would be generosity." "But, lanthe, he loves you," was the eager rejoinder. WEDDED AND PARTED. 53 " He tells me that he has loved you for many years. He caught a glimpse of you when he came here a boy. He says that he has loved you ever since that he has never even cared to look into another woman's face. There is constancy for you ! Oh, lanthe, does it not touch your heart this long, silent love of years? " " How could he love me? He was only a boy," she said, scornfully. "What is a boy's love? He was an impertinent boy, or he would not have dared to think of such a thing." "He is not a boy now, lanthe," observed the Earl, sadly. "No, but he has the impertinence of one," she re- turned hastily. "I cannot doit, papa. Pride of race is stronger in me than love of life ! I cannot marry this man, who owes his position to trade." She turned away with a quick shudder, and then looked down in fear. Her father was kneeling at her feet, his white head bent in lowly supplication before her. He held out his hands. " See, lanthe, I am praying to you, my dear; for my ake, for Heaven's sake, help me do not leave me to die in despair ! " "You torture me ! " she cried. " Oh, papa, do not kneel there at my feet ! You make me ashamed." " You will grant my prayer, lanthe you will save me? " he moaned. " Give me until to-morrow," she said. " I I cannot answer you at once." And, bending hastily over him, and touching his worn face with her quivering lips, she quitted the room. 54 WEDDED AND PARTED. "Until to-morrow." At least it was a respite of some hours, and would give her time to think. CHAPTER V. IT was well for Herman Culross that Lady lanthe did not meet him as she went to her room he would have fared ill. She was cruelly unjust and unkind to him. She was irritated against him with passionate anger be- cause he had dared to think of her as his wife. That he should have dared, because of the mere vulgar accident of wealth, to ask her to marry him. That he should have been so blind as to overlook the difference between them! That he should have imagined anything could bring her, Lady Carre, to his level! "To talk of loving me!" she cried, haughtily. "To call his boyish impertinence love, and to tell my father! To talk of his constancy to me! Does he think that I am a white slave, to be purchased by so much gold to be bought, because my father needs money?" With clasped hands and angry eyes she walked rapidly to and fro. . "It is so like a commercial transaction," she said bit- terly. "He looks upon it as such. My father is ruined he is in urgent need of so much money. This man comes and says he shall have it; but my father's daugh- ter shall be the price. A nobleman would have given the money lent it without such condition, or would WEDDED AND PARTED. 55 have refrained from offering it. He asks its value. Could anything be more plebeian ! Could anything mark more strongly the difference between the two races. He offers, in fact, to buy me me, lanthe Carre ! I will not marry him. I would rather die ! I would rather suffer poverty, hunger or anything else, than marry him, lowly born, lowly bred." It was quite decided. She would not marry him. She would have the pleasure of showing him how a woman of rank could bear anything better than a marriage like that. She would have the triumph of showing him that she valued nobility of birth far more than the glittering bauble of wealth. She rehearsed over and over again to herself the bitter, cutting, sarcastic words in which she would tell him this the haughty dismissal she would give him this man who had insulted her with his love and his money. He would go then. He would leave Croombe, and, in all probability, they would never see him again. Her father would miss him would miss his kindly services, his constant care ; and she herself would feel perhaps a certain kind of loss. He had been so kind and useful ; but then he had marred all by his unbounded presump- tion. " I should really have begun to like him in a certain kind of way," she said to herself, " if he had not done this ; biit this I shall never pardon." She did not even feel a woman's natural vanity in the idea that such a man loved her and wished to marry her. She could not understand the compliment coming from him it was an insult, 56 WEDDED AND PARTED. She went on with her musings. He would go : he would pass out of their life forever ; and then the thun- derbolt would fall then would come shame, disgrace, ruin. Croombe would pass into his hands ; Wyndham would learn that his money had all been spent ; there would be shame and sorrow unutterable. Thus would end the noble and ancient race whose glory had been so dear to her. Never mind she would have had her triumph ! She would have dismissed the man who had humiliated her. He would be master at Croombe, but he would have found some one who despised his money and his low birth. Suddenly she saw, as in a dream, a white head bent before her her father kneeling to her with outstretched hands, praying her, for Heaven's sake, to help him, to save him. She who professed to love him so dearly had refused to save him. She would enjoy her triumph, but what of him ? Then she remembered his joy childlike in its excess. He did not seem to have doubted her ac- ceptance of the terms, and she had refused them. How he had suffered ! What agony of mind he must have endured ! Now that the only gleam of light had departed, what might not happen? She grew frightened. Sorrow and despair such as his had led to suicide. Of course it was a cowardly action every one knew that. But her father was old and feeble ; trouble had worn away the strength of his mind and his intellect ; he was confused in his ideas. What could she do? Watch over him incessantly? Yes. She had his life in her hands, and she was refus- WEDDED AND PARTED. 57 ing to save it. With one word only one word she might make him happy beyond all measure beyond all words. She might restore him to affluence, to power, to happiness, to peace and self-respect. She might give to him the reality of his dream, length of days and a peace- ful grave. The vision of the old Earl kneeling before her touched the girl's heart with keenest pain. "My poor father, ray dear father, to pray such a prayer to his only child, and to be refused ! " It seemed terribly cruel nay, the more she thought of it the more she shrank from her decision. Could she, his beloved child, plunge him again into the abyss of despair from which he had been almost rescued ? Was there no other alternative ? An idea occurred to her. She would see Herman Culross herself, and ask him if he could suggest iiothing but marriage ; he would not dare too make love to her himself. She felt sure of that he stood too much in awe of her but he would listen, and he would perhaps suggest something else. She would see him early in the morning, and tell him that nothing should induce her to consent to the mar- riage it was simply an absurdity but that, if he could find some means of befriending her father she would be grateful to him all her life. Then she tried to sleep, but her pillow that night seemed a hard one. There was no rest to be found on it ; she could only meditate on the morrow's meeting. She rose early ; she resolved to see him as soon as she could to end the suspense and the misery, to see what could be done. Unconsciously, she lingered long over 58 WEDDED AND PARTED. her toilet ; she wished to look her very best not to at- tract his attention, but that she might impress him the more deeply with her dignity. She remembered then that it would not perhaps be very pleasant to breakfast alone with a man whom she intended to crush with her scorn. She sent an apology to him, and ordered breakfast to be served to him in the dining-room. Herman hardly knew what to argue from that did it bode good or ill fortune ? He was soon to know ; while Lady lanthe summoned all the pride and courage of her race to do battle with the man who was at the same time her greatest friend and her greatest foe. CHAPTER VI. ONE of the prettiest rooms at Croombe Abbey was the morning-room. It was set aside for the use of the ladies of the family, and was furnished with the utmost taste and elegance. It opened into a conservatory that even in wmter was filled with blooming flowers and singing birds-; that opened, in its turn, on to a soft green lawn, where, during the summer, pretty fountains rippled and grand old trees cast a grateful shade. It was an elegant rather than a handsome room. White lace curtains, hangings of pale-rose silk, a few exquisite water-colors, and a white Psyche with a basket of crimson flowers at her foot, made it a charming retreat. WEDDED AND PARTED. 59 It was here that Lady lanthe resolved upon seeing Herman. She sent to say that she awaited him, and through the wide-open door he caught a view of her as she stood expecting him. She was leaning against the white Psyche, her white hands touching the crimson flowers, her elegant morning dress sweeping the ground, her graceful figure slightly bent, deep thought and grave anxiety on the beautiful, pure, high-bred face. The man's whole heart went out to her with deep, passionate love that was almost pain. "She is my queen," he thought "beautiful as she is proud; but I will win her, if she is to be won." She did not hear him at first; and when, at the sound of footsteps, she looked up and saw him, her face burned with a crimson flush. He went hastily forward to greet her; and she could not help seeing the passion in his face, the love in his eyes. He held out his hand hurriedly to her; but she shrank from the impassioned greeting. "Good-morning, Mr. Culross," she said "I wished to see you, if you have a little time to spare." "I have always time to spare for you, Lady lanthe. I ask for nothing better than to give my whole life to you." She held up her hand, drawing back from him with