THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 Professor Henry J. Quayle 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Mrs Fannie Q. Paul 
 
 Mrs Annie Q. Hadley 
 
 Mrs Elizabeth Q. Flowers
 
 AN ORDEAL OF 
 " HONOR 
 
 BY 
 
 ANTHONY PRYDE 
 
 Author of 
 
 "MARQUERAY'S DUEL," "JENNY 
 ESSENDEN," AND "NIGHTFALL" 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 ROBERT M. McBRIDE & COMPANY 
 1922
 
 T R 6 4-5 
 /. 4 3 P"'7 
 
 Printed in the 
 
 United States of America 
 
 Second Printing, February, 1922 
 
 Third Printing, March, 1922 
 
 Published J922.
 
 AN OEDEAL OF HONOE
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 IT was nine o'clock of a June evening, and the chalky 
 road that leads from Amesbury to Stanton Mere was 
 well-nigh deserted. The red sun had gone down into a 
 bank of vapor; a brown twilight was creeping on even 
 over the uplands, while in the folds and dimples of the 
 Plain it was already dark. From some way off came the 
 bleating of folded sheep, grey as a handful of pebbles on 
 the shadowed hillside. After the heat of the day there was 
 a chill in the air, the chill of dew showering down its cold 
 drops over the parched, sunburned turf. Lying off the 
 road, grey and dim and vast, the ageless altars of Stone- 
 henge stood bare to the evening wind. 
 
 On a bank by the side of the way, under the shelter of a 
 grove of beech trees, stood a young girl, nineteen or twenty 
 years of age, holding up a bicycle whose wrenched handle 
 bars and twisted pedals told a tale which was confirmed by 
 the streaks of chalk on her clothes. She wore a Norfolk 
 blouse and short skirt of dark blue serge, and a linen collar 
 and knotted tie. In person she was small, very slight, and 
 pale ; not pretty at a first glance, but attractive, on a second 
 consideration, for the way she carried herself, and for her 
 vividly blue eyes. Young as she was, the latent drollery in 
 those eyes, together with a certain finished trimness which 
 marked her dress and movements, saved her from looking 
 immature. She wheeled the bicycle three steps forward 
 and three back: it moved stiffly, and with a groaning of
 
 8 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 wounded machinery. Your true philosopher, however, 
 looks for a silver lining to every cloud. 
 
 "Ten miles to walk, and it will be dark in half an hour!" 
 she said aloud. "Here's a unique opportunity for a 
 Romantic Occurrence: why doesn't some one young and 
 charming appear and pick me up?" 
 
 As if fate had overheard the challenge, there came at that 
 moment, from behind a bend of the hills, the hoot of an 
 approaching car. The young girl looked back, but with a 
 doubtful aspect. "Motoring people aren't nice except to 
 other motorists," she reflected ; "they always might tow you 
 up a hill, and they never do. Besides," with a disparaging 
 glance at the road, which was little better than a cart track, 
 ' ' the man at this wheel must be mad. ' ' 
 
 As she said it, the motor swung round a corner and came 
 into sight : a big open car in green and silver, the glare of 
 its great lamps flaming out like searchlights. Empty except 
 for the man who drove, it came racing up the hill at top 
 speed, with the ease of power held in restraint, till it was 
 abreast of the bicycle : there it halted. 
 
 "I see you've had a spill. Have you far to go?" 
 
 ' ' Nearly ten miles. ' ' 
 
 "Where to, if I may ask?" 
 
 "Stanton Mere." 
 
 "I'm going there myself. Of course you'll let me take 
 you on." 
 
 He stopped the car and jumped out. She did not answer 
 at once, but stood with her hands on her handlebars, 
 frankly trying to read his features. Divining her thought, 
 he stepped forward into the lamplight and faced her, bare 
 headed and smiling. He was a very tall man, and had a 
 thick crop of chestnut hair, cut close to his head : his eyes 
 and skin were brown as well the latter a kind of light 
 coffee color and he carried himself like a soldier. 
 
 "My name is Charles Auburn, and I assure you I'm 
 respectable. I dined with a bishop one day last week."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 9 
 
 "Thank you. But what about my bicycle?" 
 
 "It will go in the tonneau." 
 
 He took it out of her hands and lifted it over the side of 
 the car. "H'm!" she thought, "Monsieur likes hia own 
 way." Monsieur was evidently sure of getting it, for his 
 next act was to adjust the wind-screen. "You aren't 
 dressed for motoring, are you?" he said, with a glance at 
 her light coat, "but you won't get much wind here in front. 
 Jump in and let me tuck you up." 
 
 "Mad a little mad but thoroughly business-like," re 
 flected the philosopher, getting in. She was made to sit 
 down while he wrapped the rug over her, tucking it under 
 her chin and behind her back : it was of leather, lined with 
 thick, soft fur, and comfortably warm. Her companion 
 wore only a holland coat, very dirty, over his light grey 
 summer clothes. When the tucking-up was accomplished, 
 he had to wrestle with a loose nut, and she with an inclina 
 tion to laugh. The Romantic Occurrence was actually tak 
 ing place in the very form she had designed for it, but the 
 romance seemed, as so often happens, to have evaporated. 
 A little jeering smile came to her lips: he raised his head, 
 caught her in the act, and smiled gaily back. "^What's the 
 joke ?" he asked. 
 
 "Entirely against myself," she replied. 
 
 He nodded, pulling on his driving gauntlets, and took 
 his seat by her side. "By the by, you aren't nervous, are 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh no, not at all." 
 
 She soon found that it was as well, for he was 1 not a 
 cautious driver. Over ruts, over stones, they topped the 
 hill and fled along the level as if the Prince of the Powers 
 of the Air were at their heels. For some minutes the 
 strong rush of the car and the shriek of the cloven wind 
 fascinated her. into silence, but when she realized that they 
 were not doomed to instant perdition, she began to think 
 of explanations.
 
 10 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "This is very good of you. I thought I should have to 
 spend the night on the Plain. I hope my bicycle won't 
 make your cushions muddy." 
 
 "Why? I shan't have to clean them. They will provide 
 Piers with an hour's innocent recreation. He valets me 
 and the car, and he gets very sick because I don't give him 
 enough to do." 
 
 "Oh, you have a valet, do you? H'm. You won't stay 
 in Stanton Mere." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 She laughed, but declined to explain. "He certainly is 
 unconventional," she reflected, "but I mustn't play up to 
 him." Aloud she said, "I've had a chapter of accidents. 
 I ought to have been home by eight, but my tire burst just 
 as I rode out of Amesbury, and I had to go back and get 
 it mended. They hadn 't one to fit, so they put on a rubber 
 bandage, and bound me over not to use the front brake. 
 But as I rode down the hill I became so absorbed in the 
 Ancient Britons " 
 
 "You don't live at Stanton Mere, then?" 
 
 "As a matter of fact, I was meditating about summei 
 clothes." 
 
 "Ah! don't edit yourself, I beg," said Auburn, laugh 
 ing. "I'm sure you can afford to be frank." 
 
 He turned to look down at her, "as if I were an indi 
 vidual and not a genus," she reflected with satisfaction. 
 "Come, we're getting on!" By which she meant that he 
 was beginning to take an impression of her small, keen, 
 vivid individuality an individuality which had for some 
 years reigned unchallenged over a houseful of elder 
 brothers. "You weren't hurt?" said Auburn. 
 
 "No, I came off on the grass: but the bicycle was very 
 sorry for itself. I should certainly have had to lead it 
 home." 
 
 "I'm glad I found you." 
 
 "So am I," said she. "It's bad enough as it is, for we've
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 11 
 
 some one coming to supper, and there won't be any supper 
 till I'm there to cook it. I soon shall be, though, at this 
 rate. How fast are we going?" 
 
 "Oh, scarcely twenty-five," said Auburn carelessly; 
 "it's such a bad road. Fine country, though, isn't it?" 
 
 It was fine country: growing wilder and wilder with 
 every mile as they raced along between the flying shadows. 
 It was by now almost as dark as a June night can be, and 
 they could see nothing in detail of the hills beyond their 
 giant contours, standing out from each other and from the 
 dimness of the sky in nameless shades of gloom. Bathed in 
 the white light of the great lamps, the chalky road stretched 
 away ahead of them, bordered by the close black sward of 
 the moor: but near at hand the turf was still pale with a 
 multitude of early flowers, out of which the swarthy squat 
 trees of juniper started up, like lean dwarfs dancing. "Yes, 
 it is fine country," Auburn repeated. "I like this place." 
 
 "And so do I." 
 
 "Do you know it well?" 
 
 "I was born in Stanton Mere." 
 
 "And you've lived there all your life?" 
 
 "I've been away on visits." 
 
 Auburn looked at her for a long moment, making who 
 knows what comparisons between her life and his own? 
 "Ah well," he said, "you're lucky." 
 
 "Do you think so?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "I should hang myself in 
 six months, but then I'm used to knocking about. I've 
 never had an abiding city since I went down from Cam 
 bridge. But your sort of life is the right thing for a 
 woman, isn't it?" 
 
 "Oh certainly, for a nice woman," assented his com 
 panion : and she went on fluently and with a curious sing 
 song intonation: "Because of course home is the woman's 
 sphere, and it is only by devoting herself to her domestic
 
 12 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 duties and the simple everyday requirements of family life 
 that she can hope to attain real and lasting happiness." 
 
 "Here endeth the first lesson. It's all very well for you 
 to scoff, young lady, but I'm beginning to feel desperately 
 inclined to go back to town unless you 're able to reassure 
 me. If the Carminow family is half as Puritanical as the 
 Carminow landscape, what the dickens shall I do in that 
 galley?" 
 
 "The who?" 
 
 "Mr. Carminow and his sons. Your vicar." 
 
 "Do you know the Carminows?" 
 
 * ' I have that pleasure. Why not ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh no, why," she answered, though the flatness- of her 
 voice betrayed her extreme surprise, "it's only the small- 
 ness of the world. Of course I know all the boys, and have 
 done for ever so long. But why do you want reassuring ? ' ' 
 
 "Merely because I had meant to ask them to put me up 
 for a night on my way down into Hampshire, and I 'm be 
 ginning to wonder what sort of reception I shall get. If 
 I'd known what this place was like I'd have sent a wire 
 no, a letter to say I was coming. Will they be civil to me, 
 do you think?" 
 
 * ' Did did anybody ask you ? ' ' 
 
 Auburn smiled: the smile widened irresistibly into a 
 laugh. "Unsophisticated as I may appear, I should hardly 
 plant myself upon strangers without some sort of invita 
 tion. I met Caron and Eoden Carminow in Paris, and they 
 told me I might look in upon them next time I was down 
 their way. So I took them at their word." 
 
 "You met them in Paris? You you were the Mr. 
 Auburn they met in Paris? Of course, that accounts for 
 it ! I thought your name sounded familiar. Oh, I 've heard 
 them speak of you! Why, you were at Moussin's, weren't 
 you? You've been half over the world?" 
 
 "And back again," said Auburn, still laughing, "and 
 I've come to the conclusion that one half is very like the
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 13 
 
 other. Apparently you don't agree with me, but may I 
 ask what on earth there is to be so keen about ? ' ' 
 
 " Everything on earth," she retorted with spirit, "that's 
 the point of it: but I suppose one can't expect a man to 
 admit he isn't bored. Oh, what wouldn't I give what 
 wouldn't I give to go where you've been?" 
 
 "You will some day," said Auburn idly. Her face was 
 lit and transfigured with excitement, and her eyes were as 
 blue as steel: and her companion, who concealed beneath 
 his languid airs a remarkable taste and talent for getting 
 into mischief, felt himself drawn towards her incredible 
 though it seemed as a kindred spirit. Auburn at thirty- 
 five preserved towards most women the attitude of the 
 typical schoolboy, detached, incurious, tinged with 
 suspicion: his relations with them had been of the gayest 
 and most transitory type. He believed it to be a fact that 
 no man can ever hope to understand a woman, and that 
 friendship between man and woman is an impossibility, 
 and that no woman likes to hear another woman praised. 
 He disliked the veiled language, the restraint of manners 
 imposed upon him by their presence. As only son and a 
 wanderer born, he had never been thrown into close rela 
 tions with women of his own class, and although he had had, 
 as he phrased it, to play the game of social life from time to 
 time in most of the capitals of Europe, he much preferred 
 to get away from salon to smoking-room, where he could do 
 as he liked and say what he liked, and indulge a native 
 genius for running up intimacies without fear of an emo 
 tional outbreak. Here, however, was a spirit that appealed 
 to him as a counterpart of his own, an adventurous, gay, 
 open-air temperament, keen in action, indifferent to ques 
 tions of sex. He liked her for her keenness, and liked her 
 no less when a moment later she was laughing at herself. 
 
 "Dear, dear, how artless of me! I'm so sorry, but you 
 shouldn't talk travel to any one of us we're all rather 
 mad on that point, and, though you mayn't think it, gen-
 
 14. AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 erally I'm the sanest. I was brought up on proverbs about 
 cutting your cloth and saving your breath, and it isn't often 
 that my feelings run away with me. So you're going to 
 the Carminows? That's very amusing. Suppose they 
 haven't a room?" 
 
 "Then I shall have to fall back on the coal-cellar." 
 
 "Then Bernard will suspect you of wishing to steal the 
 coals. ' ' 
 
 "Then he can have the coal-cellar, and I'll have his 
 room." 
 
 "Excellent! I should admire to see Bernard's face 
 when you explain your intentions. But don't you think 
 you'll be bored?" 
 
 "Shall I? Very likely. But I'm willing to immolate 
 myself on the altar of friendship. I'm rather fond of 
 Roden," Auburn added, as the car wheeled round a sharp 
 turn at a perilous angle. "He's too good for this wicked 
 world." 
 
 "Too good for this wicked world? Roden?" 
 
 "Don't you think so?" 
 
 She paused before replying, and the management of her 
 voice suggested that she could not easily find words at all. 
 "I can't say it ever struck me in that light, but I dare say 
 he is, if you say so. Indeed, I've often noticed that it's 
 always he who goes to the wall. It's so hard to look after 
 the unobtrusively unselfish. Besides, he would be so an 
 noyed if you did. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, he's a saint of the first water," said Auburn seri 
 ously, "not milk and water, either, which is rare in saints. 
 I was with him once in the thick of a row a Latin Quarter 
 row, all long-haired students and anti-clerical ouvriers 
 and from the scientific way he hit out at them you 'd never 
 have dreamed he was in the British army. All the same, 
 I've seen him er change the conversation at Moussin's. 
 "What are the other Carminows like'" It had evidently
 
 15 
 
 occurred to the speaker that he would do well to change the 
 conversation himself. 
 
 "Caron you know. He generally gets on better with 
 women than he does with men, because they don't resent 
 his personalities. Bernard I don't expect you'll like. No 
 body ever does. He's reliable, but unpleasant." 
 
 " Delightful combination! I hate reliable people." 
 
 "Dickie is a dear donkey. Mr. Carminow is very nice- 
 looking and has charming manners the best manners of 
 the family: I dare say you'll call the others provincial, 
 but not him. He's keen on art, and never talks shop." 
 
 "Keally? I thought he was rather a bad lot." 
 
 "You thought whatl" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, I forgot he was probably a friend of 
 yours," Auburn apologized humbly. "But when I was in 
 Abyssinia last autumn I met a man who said he'd been at 
 Oxford with an Alwyn Carminow who was a trifle gay, and 
 this chap ranged himself afterwards and turned into a 
 model parson. Probably it wasn't the same man." 
 
 "He might have been wild at Oxford. He isn't now." 
 
 Her wrath was still visibly hot within her, and Auburn 
 decided to change the conversation again. "And the child 
 what's she like?" 
 
 "The who?" 
 
 "The child the little girl. Eoden said there was a little 
 girl. He described her as plain but intelligent," Auburn 
 continued, blind for his sins to the startled expression of 
 his companion, and her unquenchable desire to laugh. 
 "But that may have been fraternal partiality. You might 
 tell me what she's like, and whether I shall be expected to 
 kiss her: I always want to have a carte du pays before 
 going into a strange house." 
 
 "I would if I were you, another time." 
 
 Auburn awoke too late, as usual to his own immeas 
 urable indiscretion. "For heaven's sake tell me what you 
 mean!"
 
 16 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 There came a glint of pure wickedness into his com 
 panion's great infantile blue eyes as she raised them to 
 his horrified face. "I am afraid she is rather plain," she 
 said with tolerable steadiness : then giving way altogether 
 "but nobody will expect you ha ha! Oh, I am so sorry 1 
 It was your fault, you know!"
 
 II. 
 
 STANTON MERE was a considerable village lying 
 under the knees of the hills an hour's drive west of 
 Salisbury. The tall, spired church occupied a triangular 
 patch of greensward in the middle of the High Street, and 
 the Vicarage, conveniently near at hand, lay back behind 
 a grove of chestnuts, the smoke of its red chimneys going 
 up under the grassy cliffs that wall the crannies of the 
 Plain. It was a large, rambling house, full of open win 
 dows and shabby furniture: "so Bohemian," as Mabel 
 Blandford remarked: "no proper drawing-room, and the 
 most indelicate undraped statues wherever you turn your 
 eyes." These were clay models from Caron's versatile 
 hand. 
 
 On the night of Auburn's arrival the family were gath 
 ered in the studio, a large, light room facing west and north, 
 and used by Caron for painting and by the others for read 
 ing, smoking, and strumming on the piano. It was strewn 
 with books, music, unfinished canvasses, plaster casts, and 
 all the paraphernalia of the arts: in one corner stood an 
 articulated skeleton clad in a Turkish fez and green muslin 
 breeches: the lid of the grand piano supported a work- 
 basket full of socks, a hunting-crop, and The King's Mirror, 
 open face downwards. The walls were distempered white 
 and decorated with bold designs in charcoal : on one a frieze 
 representing Mr. Carminow in clerical dress dancing with 
 the Nymphs and Graces, on another a collection of profile 
 heads of the family and all their friends at varying ages. 
 Through the tall western windows, open down to the 
 ground, came in the soft gloom of the night, the smell of 
 
 17
 
 18 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 moorland turf and of lemon-thyme and heliotrope in the 
 garden. 
 
 Mr. Carminow stood by the window : a tall, slender man, 
 with an oval face, a brilliant skin, and the same striking 
 blue eyes that shone through Dodo's curling lashes. 
 Younger son of a younger son, and sent to Oxford en route 
 for a family living, he fell into a fast set, forsook Divinity 
 for Art, ran heavily into debt, and was distinguished as one 
 of the most charming, witty, idle and dangerous men of his 
 year, till one day he looked into a woman's dark eyes, and 
 (in his usual headlong fashion) remembered heaven. It 
 was no less than a conversion. Working day and night, he 
 took his degree, renounced the family living in favor of its 
 beloved and hard-working curate, and retired to Canning 
 Town, where he was shortly joined by his wife. Agnes 
 Wray was a saint, a mystic, a dreamer of dreams, had no 
 sense of humor, and was devoid of practical intelligence. 
 For six months after his marriage Mr. Carminow dined 
 alternately on leg of mutton and sirloin of beef. She could 
 carry forests on her back wrestle with the devil for a 
 dying soul but she could not crack the nut of daily house 
 keeping. Mr. Carminow had to do that, and satisfy his 
 Oxford tradesmen out of the kernel. 
 
 After three years his health gave way, and they left 
 Canning Town for Stanton Mere, with a stipend of 250. 
 Rates, bills, and babies kept them struggling in deep pov 
 erty, and shortly after Dodo's birth, when the last claim 
 was paid off, Agnes Carminow was translated to the world 
 in which she had always held a spiritual citizenship. Her 
 husband and children had adored her and laughed at her : 
 she had returned their adoration and smiled in a puzzled 
 way at their laughter, and her loss blackened their sun in 
 heaven, and reduced the weekly bills by a third. Mr. Car 
 minow recovered of his wound but slowly : still time did not 
 fail to work its blessed miracle, so that after nineteen years 
 he could bear to hear her name spoken without an intoler-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 19 
 
 able pang. But her influence had been incalculable. Of 
 that early wildness, notorious enough to become a tradition, 
 no trace remained, unless it were in an increase of wisdom 
 and strong gentleness when Alywn Carminow had to deal 
 with sin. She could not make him a saint he was proud, 
 hot-tempered, and incurably Bohemian : but for all that he 
 was a model parish priest. 
 
 Near him, on a wide sofa, lounged Caron, artist and 
 cripple, the dark beauty of his features marred by their 
 look of reckless discontent. He had rooms in town, but 
 ran down pretty often from Saturday till Monday. He 
 was on the staff of the Cartoon, and his black-and-white 
 work was familiar in the illustrated papers over the signa 
 ture of "Quasimodo." Bernard, the eldest, sat by the 
 hearth reading a work on agriculture: a tall, powerfully 
 built man, with dark eyes and a cold manner. He farmed 
 the glebe, was agent to Lady Richarda Harewood, and 
 annoyed his family by living at home. Dickie, the third 
 son, was at the piano, trying to pick out a tune from the 
 Duke and the Damsel with one finger high in the treble. 
 Dickie was in a Line regiment, where he had learned little 
 except to square his broad shoulders and take his long limbs 
 out of other people's way. He was so fortunate as to be 
 quartered on Salisbury Plain, within riding distance of his 
 home, in one of the iron shanties provided by a paternal 
 War Office for the use of unmarried officers. He never lost 
 his temper and never ran into debt, and Roden said of him 
 that he had more legs and less brains than all the rest of the 
 family put together. The only lady present was Miss Grace 
 Trevor, daughter of Sir George Trevor, J.P., M.P., and 
 Dodo's chief ally: a well-drilled, boyish-looking girl with 
 brown hair and keen grey eyes, who wore white serge and a 
 Panama hat, and carried a tennis racquet across her knees. 
 
 "Look here, you people," she was saying, "I believe 
 you've beguiled me in here under false pretenses. It's 
 getting awfully late ! I shall go home."
 
 *0 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Tighten your waist-belt," suggested Caron; "it relieves 
 the pangs of hunger if you can, that is." 
 
 "Shall I go and forage?" Dickie inquired. "I know 
 where the beer is, anyhow." 
 
 "I wish," said Mr. Carminow mournfully, "these domes 
 tic contretemps were not arranged by Providence always to 
 coincide with Aline 's evening out." Aline was the maid-of- 
 all-work, Brought home from a summer holiday in the 
 Ardennes. "My dear children, listen! It's striking nine 
 by the church clock. ' ' 
 
 Bernard raised his head. "That means ten past by sta 
 tion time. I expect she has met with an accident. The 
 roads over the Plain are in bad condition, and she prides 
 herself on riding down every hill." 
 
 Bernard's contribution to the discussion was received, as 
 not infrequently happened, in a blank silence. It was 
 Grace who first gathered spirit to retort. 
 
 ' ' What rot, Bernard ! She rides better than you do, any 
 how." Bernard shrugged his shoulders and retired into 
 his book. "I expect she's had a puncture and is wheeling 
 her bike." With their usual happy-go-lucky optimism, 
 everybody looked relieved. "Now if I go home, one of you 
 might see me back, and trot on to meet her. ' ' 
 
 This proposal was received without enthusiasm. "Oh, 
 she'll turn up all right," said Caron comfortably. "My 
 dear girl, you were asked to supper and to supper you'll 
 stay." 
 
 "How can I stay to supper when there isn't any supper 
 to stay to?" Grace demanded, not unreasonably. "You see 
 we dine at seven, and I really am hungry. I 've been to the 
 Blandfords' to tea, and you know the sort of sandwiches 
 you get there. ' ' 
 
 "Too, too well," Mr. Carminow assured her. "But you 
 might take two at a time. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I do, ' ' said Grace, ' ' but I should like to take forty-two. 
 I know the Blandfords think it's unladylike to be hungry.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 21 
 
 Lucky for me the governor's a J.P., and other frills," she 
 added ; "if he weren't, Mabel Blandford wouldn't know me. 
 I do my little best to shock her." She leaned forward 
 and tapped Bernard on the shoulder with her racquet. 
 "Bernie ! d'you know you're sitting on a basket of cherries? 
 Thank you. Have some, anybody ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Tell about the great Mabel, ' ' said Caron from his sofa. 
 "Is she going strong? Last time I saw her she was wal 
 lowing in the ditch with her bicycle, and Val Attwood with 
 his new Panhard was climbing up the bank in his anxiety 
 to reassure her." 
 
 ' ' She always gets off for a motor, ' ' said Miss Trevor. ' ' I 
 don't, but then I wear I don't wear long flounced petti 
 coats, like she does. What have you been telling her about 
 Paris, Car? She said she was afraid you were a very dis 
 sipated young fellow. ' ' 
 
 Caron grinned. "I only told her about the supper in 
 Auburn's rooms, after the first night of Une Nuit, when the 
 Daguesseau came in her stage robes, and Remain crowned 
 her with olive leaves. It was good fun, that supper," he 
 added, clasping his hands behind his head, while he buried 
 his crooked shoulders between two cushions. "I must say 
 I liked Charles Auburn. He was rather mad, but quite 
 nice. I wish he'd come down here, as he talked of doing." 
 
 "Perhaps he will." 
 
 Caron shook his head. "Not he! It was only a way 
 side episode to him. He knows half Paris. Hullo, here 
 comes Roden! Your hat's crooked, Miss Trevor." 
 
 Grace set it straight mechanically, then looked annoyed, 
 as the last member of the family stepped in through the tall 
 window : a slim, fair, tired-looking young man, dressed in a 
 rough coat and riding-breeches, and carrying his cap. He 
 smiled at Grace, into whose cheeks the color had sprung, and 
 sank with an air of fatigue into the nearest chair. "Hullo, 
 Gracey, eating still ?" 
 
 Lieutenant Roden Canninow, R.E., had returned in the
 
 22 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 previous March, from two years' service in India, and was 
 at present enjoying six months' leave. He had brought 
 home with him a touch of fever, a medal obtained in Tibet 
 and kept in his collar drawer, and an unlimited capacity 
 for doing nothing, which led him now to suggest that Dickie 
 had better go and look after his horse. Dickie departed un 
 murmuring; Bernard also, after one angry, quiet glance 
 from Miss Trevor to his brother, shut his book and went out, 
 and Roden's grey eyes roved round the room inquiringly. 
 "Where's the Babe?" 
 
 No one spoke for a moment. At length Mr. Carminow, 
 beginning to look uncomfortable again, gave the necessary 
 explanation, to which Roden listened in silence, pulling at 
 his fair moustache. Finally, he dragged himself to his feet. 
 "Why, where are you off to now?" said Mr. Carminow. 
 
 "Ill stroll up the road to meet her." 
 
 "But, my boy, you'll be so tired." 
 
 Roden glanced at the watch on his wrist. "It's five-and- 
 twenty past nine. I '11 see you home, Grace, shall I ? I 'm 
 very sorry there's nothing to eat." Miss Trevor's face was 
 eloquent of approval : there were times when the Carminow 
 insouciance irritated her, as she divined that it was now irri 
 tating Roden. She jumped up. 
 
 "All right, let's go " 
 
 "By Jove," said Caron, starting to his feet, "there's a 
 car coming up the avenue!" 
 
 "Oh, dear me," exclaimed Mr. Carminow, "I hope 
 there's nothing wrong!" 
 
 Caron hurried out through the window, and Mr. Car 
 minow followed, dropping his hand on his son's shoulder, a 
 characteristic action : for he could never face trouble alone. 
 Roden and Grace went into the hall. A moment later they 
 heard a car draw up, and then, to their great relief, Dodo's 
 voice in cheerful conversation. As Roden opened the door 
 she ran up the steps, while behind her they saw the dark 
 outline of the car, and the glow of its burning eyes. A smile
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 23 
 
 lingered round her lips, as if she were turning over a good 
 joke in her own mind : at sight of Roden this gave way to a 
 subdued apologetic air. 
 
 ' ' Hullo, Dodo, there you are ! What on earth have you 
 been up to ? Are you hurt ? ' ' 
 
 "No. I'm awfully sorry. I've only fallen off my 
 bicycle." 
 
 "I wish to heaven you wouldn't fall off your bicycle! 
 Do you know it's nearly half -past nine! I thought you 
 were killed ! ' ' 
 
 * ' I 'm awfully sorry, Roddy ! I will be next time on my 
 honor, I will!" 
 
 "Idiot!" said Roden with brotherly simplicity. "Come 
 along in now and get the supper. We're all famishing. 
 
 "Are you famishing, Gracie? I really couldn't help it. 
 It 11 be ready in five minutes. There's pea soup, and jelly, 
 and cold beef, and fruit, and I'm going to make an ome 
 lette," Dodo declared, throwing down her coat and hat and 
 rolling up her sleeves. "Cut and lay the table, Roddy, 
 there 's a darling ! Oh, and we'll have clean table napkins. " 
 
 Roden raised his eyebrows. "These preparations!" 
 
 "Who brought you home?" asked Grace. "Eric Bland- 
 ford?" 
 
 Dodo shook her head with a smile of irrepressible glee. 
 "Somebody a good deal more interesting than the fair- 
 haired Eric." 
 
 "The field is still rather wide," remarked Roden. 
 
 "A friend of yours, Roddy, and Caron's. I've never 
 seen him before." 
 
 "I guess," said Grace. 
 
 Dodo gazed at her, startled. "Nonsense, you couldn't 
 possibly! It's Mr. Auburn, Roddy, that you met in Paris. 
 He's going down to stay with an old friend in Hampshire; 
 and he wants us to put him up for the night." 
 
 "And are you going to?" 
 
 There was something quick and distrustful in Grace
 
 24 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Trevor's tone, which made both brother and sister look up 
 in surprise. 
 
 "Going to? I should think so!" cried Roden. "Where 
 is he out in the car?" 
 
 "It's all right father and Caron are with him. He's 
 going to stable it in the coach-house. What's wrong, 
 Grade?" 
 
 "Nothing. Is he related to Sir Charles Auburn?" 
 
 ' ' His son, I believe, ' ' said Roden. * ' Why ? ' ' 
 
 "Did you ever hear anything about Sir Charles?" 
 
 "Against him, do you mean? Not that I remember. 
 What's he done?" 
 
 "I was only wondering," Grace said, drawing her fingers 
 slowly to and fro across the strings of her racquet. ' ' Father 
 used to know Sir Charles when he was a young man. I 
 wondered whether your Charles was any relation." 
 
 "Why, though?" asked Roden with lively curiosity. 
 "Did he murder anybody?" 
 
 "I think not that exactly." 
 
 "Do you mean that he is a very bad lot?" 
 
 Grace nodded slowly, once or twice. "But of course 
 that's no reason why your Mr. Auburn should take after 
 him." 
 
 "Let me congratulate you, Gracie darling," said Dodo 
 with strong though restrained asperity, "upon the first sen 
 sible remark you've made for some time." 
 
 Grace gave her a sidelong, meditative glance. "H'm, 
 . . . you like him, I perceive," said she.
 
 III. 
 
 ON'T you think we might just step in and have a 
 cup of tea with the Carminows, dear? I haven't 
 been there since I don't know when, and it does seem so 
 unneighborly, " pleaded Mrs. Blandford, halting on the 
 pavement with her mauve voile skirts clutched up at both 
 sides and trailing on the ground behind her. Miss Bland- 
 ford, a tall, fair, imposing young woman in pink cloth and 
 silver braid, paused also, and glanced irresolutely from the 
 glare of the sunny High Street into the cool shade of the 
 Vicarage gateway. "You see I told James we should be 
 out, so I'm afraid we shan't get any tea at all if we go 
 straight home." 
 
 " Mother, don't be so soft! You could ring him in, 
 couldn't you? But we'll go here if you like it'll save 
 Writing a note if we're going to ask some of them to Eric's 
 ball." 
 
 "I don't think it would be kind to leave them out: and 
 after all, Mab darling, Mr. Carminow is our vicar, and very 
 hardworking, and a gentleman, too, I'm sure." 
 
 "Oh, I suppose we've got to have them though I'm sure 
 I don't know what dress Dodo's going to come in, unless she 
 hires one," said Miss Blandford ill-naturedly. "Nasty 
 little stuck-up oh, there they all are!" 
 
 The Vicarage stood with its back to the hills, whose lower 
 slopes had been planted as an orchard. It was an old- 
 fashioned red-brick house, with a porch at one side, and a 
 long rectangular garden running down to the road and 
 framed in trees. The studio windows looked out on a ter 
 race of turf, bordered with flowers, their gay heads deli- 
 
 25
 
 26 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 cately bright against a stone balustrade. A flight of steps 
 led down to the lawn, which was walled off from Mr. Car- 
 minow's rhubarb and gooseberry beds by masses of white 
 and purple rhododendrons. Rhododendrons, lilac, and 
 syringa also served to screen the kitchen garden from the 
 avenue: but from the lawn it was separated only by a 
 gradual rise of grassy bank. The Blandfords therefore 
 soon obtained a full view of the Carminow family, who had 
 been playing tennis, but were now star-scattered on the 
 grass, or on the steps that led up to the terrace. 
 
 "There's Caron and Dodo," said Mabel, lowering her 
 voice as she stepped upon the lawn, though the Carminows 
 were still happily unconscious of the honor impending: 
 "and that on the grass must be Roden goodness, I'm glad 
 Eric doesn't wear his hats till the brim comes away from 
 the crown! and that's Dick with the disgusting pipe in his 
 mouth, and another man that I don't know, and who's 
 that girl in the Panama ? Oh, Grace Trevor ! Well, I can r t 
 think why she should want to take up with the Carminows, 
 after all her seasons in town ; but Grace isn't a bit refined in 
 her tastes, and she's so plain I shouldn't wonder if she was 
 setting her cap at Dick not that a Line subaltern would be 
 much catch for a baronet's daughter " 
 
 Here Dodo caught sight of them, and telegraphed the 
 news to her family. "It's the Blandfords, and they've 
 come to tea! Get up, Dick ! Roddy, ne sois pas un betel 
 Oh, make them get up, Mr. Auburn, do!" 
 
 They all did get up, though less rapidly than Dodo, who 
 ran to Mrs. Blandford with a face all smiles. "Dear Mrs. 
 Blandford, do come and sit down! Dickie's getting you a 
 chair. How good of you to walk all this way on such a hot 
 day!" 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Blandford, who had a tendency to 
 be honest in and out of season, "we didn't exactly come 
 all over on purpose, because Mabel wanted to call on the 
 Montgomery-Smiths, but they were out, so we thought we'd
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 27 
 
 drop in here for a cup of tea. I do seem to miss my tea so 
 if I don't get it, specially after I've been walking, and 
 Mabel likes me to walk because of my getting so stout if I 
 only take carriage exercise." 
 
 "Who the devil are these people?" inquired Auburn of 
 Grace Trevor, who had gone with him to fetch chairs while 
 Dickie ordered tea. 
 
 "Rich snobs, who patronize the Canninows," was the 
 laconic reply. 
 
 "Why do they stand it?" 
 
 Grace raised her eyebrows over such stupidity. ' ' Because 
 old Blandy would cut his parish subscriptions, of course!" 
 
 "Confound the parish!" said Auburn. 
 
 "Amen!" said Grace: and, having thus laid in mutual 
 sympathy the foundations of a lasting friendship, they 
 returned to the tea-table, where Auburn, introduced by 
 Dodo to the visitors, wrapped himself up like the spoiled 
 child that he was in distant and impenetrable gloom. 
 
 ' ' There 's always tea going in this establishment, ' " Roden 
 said, returning with the teapot. "Dodo keeps it on the hob 
 all day, stewing like cooks do. Of course, Dodo is a cook, ' ' 
 he added unaffectedly. 
 
 "Oh, but I don't know that I should like it if it had 
 stood so long as all that," said Mrs. Blandford, alarmed. 
 "I've got such a very weak digestion, I shouldn't sleep a 
 wink all night!" 
 
 "Ah! but the doctors all say nowadays that strong tea is 
 the very thing for a weak digestion, don't they, Miss 
 Trevor? There's nothing so strengthening as tannin; it 
 tans the " 
 
 "Did you find it very hot walking, Mrs. Blandford?" 
 Miss Trevor asked, taking a neighboring chair, and point 
 edly turning her back on Roden. Meanwhile Dodo, seated 
 at the tea-table, was giving her attention to the more im 
 portant guest. "And how are you, dear Mabel?" she 
 inquired sympathetically; "pretty well, I hope?"
 
 28 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Mabel never slurred over this question as light-minded 
 people do, but replied to it conscientiously and fully, as one 
 alive to its importance. "Well, pretty well, thank you, con 
 sidering the weather. I held out till the thermometer went 
 up to eighty, and then I succumbed. Yesterday I was pros 
 trate absolutely prostrate with one of my racking head 
 aches, but to-day I think I really do feel a little better. Oh, 
 thank you so much," to Roden, who silently handed her a 
 cup of tea; "no, no sugar, thank you, and please don't give 
 my mother any, it's so bad for her, and she will take it, 
 when she gets a chance." 
 
 "It must be very harassing," Dodo remarked, surrepti 
 tiously dropping two lumps into Mrs. Blandford's cup, "to 
 be always having to look after one's mother. Buns, 
 Roden." 
 
 "Have you been cycling much lately, Miss Blandford?" 
 asked Roden. There were times when Roden 's expression 
 verged on the inane : it did so now. 
 
 "Do you know which of these cakes have currants in 
 them ? Oh, thank you so much. No, I really haven 't, we've 
 been so occupied with preparing for my brother 's coming of 
 age. My father insists on making quite a grand affair of it. 
 We're going to give a dinner to the tenantry " 
 
 "The who?" 
 
 "My father's laborers and and tenants, you know." 
 
 "H'm:yes, I see." 
 
 "And then at ten o'clock the lower orders retire, and 
 we're going to have a little dance quite a small affair 
 just a few of the county people, and some of Erie's friends 
 from London. We do so hope you'll be able to come." 
 Roden murmured polite but vague acknowledgments. 
 "And will your friend be here on the twenty-eighth?" pur 
 sued Mabel, who was rather impressed by Auburn's Byronic 
 airs. 
 
 "I hope not," said Roden. "He came for one night and 
 lie's stayed a week already."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 29 
 
 "Yes, I shall," said Auburn, waking up. "Do say I 
 may come too, Miss Blandford I adore dancing." 
 
 "We shall be so pleased," said Mabel. "Gentlemen are 
 always useful on these occasions. Of course we shall expect 
 dear Dodo as well, though. Dorothy ! ' ' 
 
 Dodo had been wickedly plying Mrs. Blandford with 
 cucumber sandwiches and sugar cakes, things in which her 
 soul delighted, though she was not often allowed to have 
 any. Leaving her to Grace, Dodo came back to Miss Bland- 
 ford. "What is it, Mab? Oh, the dance! Yes, Mrs. 
 Blandford was just telling me about it, and about the 
 supper you are going to give to the mill-hands," she said 
 in all innocence: then caught her brother's eye, and hur 
 ried on, like a skater who finds himself unawares on thin ice. 
 "Thank you, I should like to come immensely, and I'm 
 
 sure " again she caught Roden's eye and a frown, and 
 
 glided with no perceptible break into "Dickie would, 
 
 too." 
 
 "My father has engaged the military band from Countis- 
 ford," Mabel said, benignly smiling, "so I hope the music 
 will be good. We want everybody to be quite easy and in 
 formal, you know, and not be very stiff, or bother about 
 their frocks. I daresay some of the girls will hardly be 
 dressed at all." 
 
 " 'Shouldn't wonder," said Roden, with an intensely 
 grave face. 
 
 "It's so kind of you to say so," murmured Dodo in a 
 voice of honey. "I was just wishing I could afford a new 
 frock, but now I shan't mind." 
 
 "You'll wear the one you came out in, I suppose? It'll 
 do quite nicely," said Miss Blandford. "I shouldn't think 
 of getting a new one. ' ' 
 
 "I shan't," said Dodo. 
 
 "You might just get it freshened up a little, you know. 
 Did you hear Mrs. Jackson has just taken to dressmaking ? 
 A few yards of ribbon OT lace imitation would do "
 
 so 
 
 "What are you going to wear?" interrupted Dodo 
 abruptly. 
 
 "Me?" 
 
 "Yes, you. I should say have a pink satin. Pink is such 
 a becoming color to fair people, and I'll lend you my pink 
 topaz necklace to go with it. I think I see you, ' ' Dodo went 
 on, partially closing her eyes and gazing at Miss Blandf ord 
 through her eyelashes, "in a pink satin gown with a long, 
 long Watteau train yards long standing at the top of the 
 grand staircase and dispensing hospitality to all the county. 
 You've no idea what a vision you would look! Oh, must 
 you go ? I 'm so sorry ! But do, do take my advice and have 
 the pink satin and the topaz necklace!" 
 
 When the Blandfords were gone, the others returned to 
 tennis. Except Auburn, who was erratic in the extreme, 
 they were all keen players : Grace a thorough sportswoman, 
 Koden clever, cool, and steady, Dodo with unerring eye and 
 wrist of steel, distinguished for her fast overhand services 
 and screwy backhanders. But the harmony of the set was 
 broken : Auburn was abstracted, and Dodo vicious : and the 
 light falling dim, and Auburn having served a double fault 
 over the guard-nets into the rhododendrons, the quartet 
 broke up. Grace said she must go home, and Dodo and 
 Dickie volunteered to escort her. Boden put on his jacket 
 and sat down by Caron on the steps: Auburn, still clad only 
 in his white shirt and trousers, threw himself down on the 
 grasa 
 
 "Lord, Lord!" he said, "what a queer place this world 
 is, ain't it?" 
 
 "It will be if you catch rheumatic fever," said Eoden. 
 "Put your coat on, old man, the grass is drenching wet." 
 
 "Let him alone," said Caron. "He won't catch rheu 
 matic fever. He's the sort that never have a day's illness till 
 they die generally in lingering torments. Lie still and I '11 
 draw you, just to take the taste of Mabel Blandford out of 
 my mouth."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 31 
 
 "I liked the way Dodo sorted that young woman,*' 
 Roden said. ''She hadn't a notion what the Babe was driv 
 ing at, and I 'm not clear myself, but she dimly felt it was 
 something unpleasant." 
 
 "Why do you forgive me if I am indiscreet stand the 
 Blandfords? They seem rather oppressive." 
 
 "They are good-natured people." 
 
 "So is my tailor." 
 
 "They subscribe." 
 
 "Does that carry with it the right to be impertinent to 
 your sister?" 
 
 "Well, there's more in it than that," said Roden. He 
 was lighting his pipe, but he paused and glanced down at 
 Auburn, as if surprised by his manner. "You can't be 
 rude to a man who planks down twenty guineas at the 
 Easter offering." 
 
 "He'd go on doing it." 
 
 "Ah, you've intelligence," said Caron. "And there's 
 more in it than that, though Roddy's sensitive delicacy pre 
 vents him from saying so. When my trouble began, old 
 Blandy was awfully kind; he insisted on taking me up to 
 all the biggest bugs in Harley Street. I nearly died of the 
 process, and the family of the sense of obligation. It's 
 against etiquette for a parson to refuse a favor." 
 
 ' ' I own I dislike being under an obligation to people like 
 the Blandfords, ' ' said Roden. ' ' Still, one must be civil. ' ' 
 
 Auburn looked from one to the other: from the dark, 
 scornful face of the artist to Roden 's careless eyes. Which 
 of those three Roden, Caron, Dodo was the most sensi 
 tively proud? 
 
 ' ' I adhere to my original statement : the world is a queer 
 place." 
 
 "A commonplace, don't you mean?" said Caron. "Oh, 
 you you plutocrat! You're only good to borrow money 
 from. Auburn, on your honor, have you ever known what 
 it is to be short of a fiver?"
 
 32 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Auburn grinned. "In Paris once, at the ripe age of 
 twenty. I was in mischief: Sir Charles heard of it, and 
 ordered me to decamp. I was interested, and stayed on: 
 so, when quarter day came, v f Id cinq sous, Fanfan la 
 Tulipe! I thought of singing in the streets, but was dis 
 suaded by my friends. Providence not having blest me 
 with a melting tenor. Ultimately I decamped." 
 
 "You might have pawned your rings," Roden suggested, 
 eyeing with unveiled disfavor the magnificent emerald 
 which flashed his one vanity on Auburn 's brown hand. 
 
 "Or this," suggested Caron. He leaned forward and 
 with the tips of his fingers seized and drew out a gold cross, 
 which Auburn wore round his neck on a fine chain, the soft 
 collar revealing it. A momentary anger darkened Au 
 burn's face: he sat up, throwing off Caron 's hand. 
 
 "Caron!" said Roden quickly, "don't be an ass!" 
 
 Auburn dropped back on the grass in the old attitude. 
 "Caron, you have the curiosity of a woman," he said 
 quietly. "That was given me by a man I used to know 
 in Cuba, an American, a Roman Catholic: he was shot 
 through the stomach and died in my arms. ' ' 
 
 "Sentimentalist!" said Caron unabashed. "I thought it 
 was a lady. By the by, what had you been playing at in 
 Paris to induce your father to stop the supplies? Sir 
 Charles in the character of censor morum is new to me. ' ' 
 
 "I believe there was a woman in that. Oh, Platonic 
 enough!" Auburn added, with an ironical glance at Roden, 
 whose face was devoid of expression. "Give a poor devil 
 his due, Roddy : you virtuous persons are so fond of jump 
 ing to Pharisaical conclusions. You're like Roland Carew 
 he reads the Lessons in church, and because I don't he 
 believes me capable of breaking all the Decalogue : and the 
 quaint thing is that I never saw a woman yet I'd like to 
 spend a week with. ' ' 
 
 "In that case I don't see why Sir Charles interfered." 
 
 "Because it came to his ears that I was going in for
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 33 
 
 matrimony in earnest. He wants me to marry, but stipu 
 lates for a woman of good family, with plenty of money 
 the sort that would cut a figure in the county. He wrote 
 and ordered me to leave Paris unless I could assure him 
 that my intentions were not honorable. Does that strike 
 you as unedifying? Ah! you don't know Sir Charles." 
 
 "While under the benign influence of the twilight hour, 
 will you go a step further, and tell me why you invariably 
 refer to the author of your existence as Sir Charles ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, go to the deuce!" Auburn rose suddenly to his 
 feet, picked up his racquet and coat, stepped past the in 
 quisitive Caron, and ran up the steps. On the terrace he 
 stood for a moment smiling down at them. 
 
 "I never discuss Sir Charles," he said lightly. "It's 
 against etiquette." 
 
 "Queer!" said Caron in a philosophic tone. Roden 
 grunted. ' ' Don 't you think it 's queer ? ' ' 
 
 "Think what's queer?" 
 
 " The deliberate way he spoke." 
 
 "He had something to say, and he said it. I dare say 
 that strikes you as queer." 
 
 "Witty, i' faith! But you like the fellow, don't you?" 
 
 "Oh yes, I like him. I shouldn't like my sister to marry 
 him." ' 
 
 "No fear!" said Caron vulgarly. "He isn't a marrying 
 man. ' ' 
 
 "No, he made that plain." 
 
 "Oh, that's what you think he made plain, is it? Con 
 found his impudence, then! Why, Dodo's only a child!" 
 
 "Therefore a man in Auburn's position might think it 
 wise to make his position clear. ' ' 
 
 After a pause Caron said slowly, "And you wouldn't 
 desire him to marry Dodo in any case?" 
 
 "The son of old Auburn? No." 
 
 "No," agreed Caron, knocking the ash from his cigar- 
 ette. , . "Poor devil!"
 
 IV. 
 
 < i T WISH I looked nice, Oracle, but it's no good 
 L pretending that I do. " 
 
 It was six o'clock on the evening of the Blandfords' 
 dance, but Dodo was ready betimes, having been invited to 
 dine and sleep with the Trevors and go on with Grace in 
 their brougham. Dodo and Grace were together in Dodo's 
 room, a garret under the roof, beloved by her for its wide 
 window-seat, where many a time she had sat alone with 
 her own thoughts, while the stars hung like sparkling gar 
 lands in the sky, or the sunrise bloomed and withered over 
 the valley-head and the hills' long curve: alone with the 
 hills and the quiet sky, and absorbing from them a faith in 
 that Eternal whose vesture they are. Dodo loved her shabby 
 garret, and did not care though her carpet was threadbare, 
 and the press where she kept her slender outfit could with 
 difficulty be persuaded to open and shut. The gown in 
 which Cinderella proposed to go to the ball was of a piece 
 with these penurious surroundings : made of white silk and 
 trimmed with cheap embroidery, it had never fitted, and 
 was now as limp as a rag and as yellow as fresh butter. 
 
 "It is a wretch of a dress," said Dodo with a sigh. 
 
 "It was a pity you couldn't run to having it cleaned 
 instead of washed," Grace agreed regretfully. "Oh, I do 
 think things are stupid! Here I've gone and given seven 
 guineas for a new satin, and I'm not pretty, and I don't 
 care a hang about dances, and I 've been to hundreds of ones 
 
 34
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 35 
 
 up in town, whereas you've only been to three, and yoa'd 
 look so nice " 
 
 "I've a good mind not to go." 
 
 "Oh, Dodo!" 
 
 "Yes, I know it's childish to mind ; but I do mind," Dodo 
 said, revolving mournfully before a dilapidated mirror. ' ' I 
 don 't want a frock from Pasquin, but I do want to be aver 
 age! I dare say there are girls who look fascinating in 
 their old clothes, but I don't. I look plain and I feel plain, 
 and feeling plain makes me feel stupid. I can't stand 
 Mabel's expression, and and Mr. Auburn " 
 
 "Mr. Auburn!" 
 
 "Well, you know, Grace, I don't suppose he's ever 
 danced with a frock like this in his life!" 
 
 "It won't kill him," said Grace in iceberg tones. Dodo 
 laughed. 
 
 "Am I a snob? He knows the world outside. Therefore, 
 if he only gives me two duty dances which is all I deserve, 
 in this rag I shall be annoyed. I wish my fairy godmother 
 would Entrez ! ' ' 
 
 "Behold a baggage for mademoiselle," said Aline, ap 
 pearing with a large cardboard box in her arms; "it is ten 
 pennees to pay." 
 
 "Tenpence? how awful! Thank you Aline. " Dodo laid 
 down the box, which bore no lettering except her own ad 
 dress. "It's something parochial, I expect." She whipped 
 out a pocket-knife and cut the string. ' ' Tissue paper ! why, 
 what in the world can it be ? Why oh Grade!" 
 
 She stood transfixed : and so did Grace Trevor. Swathed 
 in fold after fold of wrapping, there lay before their eyes a 
 gown of white satin and lace, exquisitely fragile and ex 
 travagantly rich. Dodo stood speechless, while Grace, the 
 energetic, unwrapped and lifted out this realization of a 
 girl's dream. "Satin charmeuse, oh!" she breathed, "and 
 real old rose point, or my name's not Grace Trevor! Oh, 
 look!" From another wrapping she drew out a pair of
 
 86 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 long suede gloves, from another an exquisite lace fan with, 
 jewelled sticks, from a third a pair of slippers too small for 
 any foot save Cinderella's. "Oh, Dodo! oh, Dodo! I be 
 lieve this is one of Pasquin's frocks. Oh, Dodo ! who is it ? " 
 
 As one of a dream, Dodo awoke. "Grace Trevor, do you 
 know anything about this? The truth, mind!" 
 
 "On my honor, I know no more than you do yourself." 
 
 ' ' You don 't ? Well, but, who can possibly ? ' ' 
 
 She scrutinized the lid, shook out the paper, turned the 
 box upside down and scrutinized that. Not one scrap of 
 writing rewarded her. She examined the bodice; the 
 maker's name, if it had ever been there was obliterated. 
 "Try it on," said Grace. 
 
 Dodo flew into it, and thrust her small feet, of which she 
 was rather vain, into the magic slippers. 
 
 "This is witchcraft," she said. "Why, it fits without a 
 wrinkle!" 
 
 "Nearly," Grace nodded. "That's the way with clothes 
 that are really well cut," she added out of the depths of 
 considerable worldly experience. Grace was blunt and 
 frank, a thorough country girl in all her tastes and ways, 
 but her six seasons in town had left their mark for all that, 
 and Dodo was used to rely upon that shrewd judgment, 
 which had seen many men and things, and was not often 
 deceived. "Of course these Empire gowns are fairly flow 
 ing, and you're so soft and slight you haven't any angles. 
 Do you know what this must have cost, Dodo ? More than 
 my seven guineas. ' ' 
 
 "But who could have sent it?" 
 
 "Roden?" 
 
 "Roden never has a penny. No, it can't be any of the 
 boys, bless them! they couldn't run to it. Seven guineas! 
 Are you sure this lace is real?" 
 
 "Positive," said Grace with conviction. "My dear, you 
 can't mistake old rose point for imitation Valenciennes! 
 This is all made with the needle every stitch of it embroil-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 3T 
 
 ered on the net. (And I wish," she added to herself, "I 
 knew a shop where you can get an Empire gown in old 
 rose point for seven guineas, O my innocent Dodo!") 
 
 "But who can have sent it?" 
 
 "Do you mean to say you haven't an idea you can't 
 think of anybody?" 
 
 "I have not the very faintest idea, and I can't think 
 of " 
 
 She stopped dead. 
 
 "Hullo!" said Grace. 
 
 Dodo was extremely white. "Here, help me out of it," 
 she said abruptly. "It's all rubbish, you know. I can't 
 wear a dress that's dropped from the skies. It might be 
 stolen goods ! ' ' 
 
 "But, Dodo, you don't mean ?" 
 
 " Don 't bother me, ' ' said Dodo imperiously. ' ' Unhook it, 
 please: we shall be late for dinner. No no, it's no use: I 
 shan't wear it." 
 
 Vain to contend with her in this mood : Grace knew that 
 from experience. The loyal friend was scarlet with vexa 
 tion and regret, and the tears were not far from her eyes. 
 What crotchet Miss Carminow had taken into her head, 
 Grace could not guess: nor who the sender might be, nor 
 whom Dodo might imagine the sender to be. Keen as she 
 was, she never divined the secret arrow of certainty that 
 had darted into Dodo's breast. Extravagant, fantastic, 
 graceful, unpardonable Dodo knew of but one head irreg 
 ular enough to conceive and carry out such a prank. 
 Soberly she hooked herself into the despised Japanese silk, 
 while the satin charmeuse was laid back in its wrappings. 
 It had done its work, however. Plain as her dress might be, 
 apparently Dodo no longer felt plain: her pale cheeks 
 bloomed, her eyes flashed vividly blue under her coronet of 
 thick fair hair. "When she was ready, and Grace had pre 
 ceded her out of the room, she hesitated: an exceedingly 
 naughty look came into her face.
 
 88 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Oh, but it's serious!" she said aloud. "I oughtn't to. 
 ... If I do, and he did . . ." 
 
 "What?" said Grace from the stair. 
 
 "Nothing, darling," said Dodo. She snatched up the 
 jewelled fan and ran away from her conscience. 
 
 One provincial dance is much like another. The Bland- 
 fords' big double drawing-room was over-heated, over- 
 lighted, and imperfectly waxed: the military band was 
 described by Koden as few and evil : but the Moet et Chan- 
 don was excellent, while Mrs. Blandf ord in green satin and 
 Mr. Blandford in a fat white waistcoat diffused an atmos 
 phere of jollity and kindness. Charles Auburn had danced 
 with Mabel and shaken hands with Eric Blandford, and was 
 now waiting for the Trevors' brougham, delayed by the in 
 curable unpunctuality of Lady Trevor. Meanwhile he 
 found amusement in studying the crowd. 
 
 Here and there he recognized a familiar face, for the 
 Blandfords, rich, liberal, and genuinely kind, had made 
 good their footing among the less reserved of the county 
 dignitaries. Lady Ricky Harewood, grey-haired, Radical, 
 eccentric, distinguished in black velvet and diamonds, had 
 brought a handful of guests: her nephew Val Attwood, 
 handsome and pleasant ; her nieces, tall and languid, their 
 clothes a reproach to the rest of the room; a noted politi 
 cian, and an A.R.A. of thirty-five. The remaining forty 
 or fifty couples were drawn from the neighboring country 
 side, with a sprinkling of soldiers from Amesbury, and of 
 city men introduced by Eric. Probably Auburn's classi 
 fication would have run as follows: 1. Ordinary people. 
 2. Not bad sort of people. 3. Absolute bounders. At five- 
 and-twenty he would have given himself airs: at five-and- 
 thirty he was gloomily urbane. He was amused to see 
 Roden dancing with Louisine Attwood, the pair of them 
 looking like foreigners. Louisine was tall and dark and 
 handsome, a Londoner to her finger-tips. "When they van-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 39 
 
 ished on the eve of the Lancers, it crossed- Auburn's mind to 
 be sorry for Grace Trevor. While the set was forming, she, 
 with Sir George and Lady Trevor, and Dodo Carminow, 
 entered the room. 
 
 Auburn had been three weeks at Stanton Mere, and 
 showed no inclination to go. Why he stayed was as vague 
 to himself as to any one else. All he knew was that he 
 liked the gay, shabby, careless house, where Middle Age had 
 never been allowed to set foot. He liked Caron, with his 
 passion for art and his queer, personal turn of conversa 
 tion : he liked Mr. Carminow, painter, poet, musician, and 
 model parish priest: he liked Roden, Dodo's ally, and he 
 liked Dodo's gay youth and ironical eyes. He revelled in 
 the long summer days that began with a dip in the river 
 and ended with supper on the lawn. His own home life 
 had not been a happy one : underneath his gay manner he 
 was reserved to a fault, and never dreamed of boring people 
 with his private affairs, unless they were both cheerful and 
 trivial: with countless intimate acquaintances, he had 
 scarcely a single friend. "I do know one man who would 
 cry if I died, besides my tailor," he said once to Roden, who 
 was startled by his bitterness. He stayed on with the Car- 
 minows because they offered him genuine kindness and 
 affection. He was not given to self -analysis, and looked no 
 deeper. As for Dodo, he was very fond of her, and did not 
 choose to see her patronized by the Blandfords, but what 
 of that? She was a child of half his age! He had seen 
 thousands of women prettier than Miss Carminow, and his 
 net verdict was that they bored him. He marry? He 
 would as soon have gone to be hanged. Dodo was a pretty 
 child, but not in his line at all. When she followed Lady 
 Trevor into the Blandfords' drawing-room he was con 
 scious of an odd, startled sensation, a thrill that set live 
 pulses tingling in his finger-tips. That dress, good heavens 
 . . . and those eyes! 
 
 H was at her side, waiting, while she shook hands with
 
 40 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Mabel Blandf ord : he ignored Mabel Blandf ord, he also ig 
 nored Grace Trevor, to the great edification of that young 
 lady. "May I offer you a programme, Miss Carminow?" 
 he said very ceremoniously. 
 
 Dodo took it from his hand and glanced at it. From the 
 current set of Lancers to the last galop, ' ' C. St. L. A. " was 
 scrawled right across it in a wandering but legible hand. 
 Dodo studied it for a moment, biting her lips to hide a smile. 
 Coolly she took up the tiny green pencil, coolly she scored 
 a line across and across those impudent initials. 
 
 "I never allow any one but Roden to do that," she said. 
 
 "Oh, I didn't really expect to get them all," said Auburn. 
 
 "No? . . . How many did you expect?" 
 
 "Six or seven." 
 
 "H'm You are mad." 
 
 "How many may I have?" 
 
 "None . . . perhaps." 
 
 Auburn repossessed himself of the programme and 
 signed his name to three waltzes. "I begin with shame to 
 take the lowest room. ' ' 
 
 "Are you ashamed of yourself?" Dodo inquired. "I'm 
 so glad. I feel sure you ought to be. No, you can't have 
 the next waltz, I've promised it to Mr. Attwood, and here 
 he conies. . . . You may have the one after this." 
 
 "How d'ye do, Mr. Auburn?" 
 
 The speaker was Louisine Attwood. Auburn stared at 
 her for a moment without knowing her. She laughed a 
 little and gave him her hand. 
 
 "Aren't you goin' to ask me to dance? Let us console 
 each other among these barbarians. Unless you've found 
 consolation already?" 
 
 Auburn was conscious of a flash of anger that could not 
 be mastered, and that dictated his reply. 
 
 "Thanks," he said, "I have." 
 
 .The Blandf ords' garden sloped down to a little river,
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 41 
 
 which ran with a merry flow between moon-whitened banks 
 of grass, or lingered under the darkness of summer leafage 
 in deep, eddying gloom. Most of the dancers preferred to 
 walk on the lawns under the lighted windows of the court, 
 between trim parterres and strings of Japanese lanterns: 
 not so Auburn. "Let's get out of this," he said, and Dodo 
 made no demur, although it was dark under the alders by 
 the river, and the ways were too verdurous to be good for 
 satin shoes. For some time they strolled on in silence, 
 Dodo's hand lying on Auburn's arm, while the river 
 prattled to them with its clear voice like children talking, 
 and the night smell of honeysuckle breathed in their faces. 
 Dodo found in the situation an element of vague excite 
 ment, not to be defined, not to be ignored. They had been 
 alone together many times, but in informal ways, for at the 
 Vicarage one could never count on privacy : in their present 
 relation there was a tenseness, due partly to the minor 
 details of the scene the isolating dark, this close contact, 
 the very formality of dress and partly to some nameless 
 shade of constraint in Auburn's manner, which made her 
 feel as though she had never been alone with him before. 
 At length they came out of the dense gloom of a woodland 
 walk into a mossy clearing, freckled with pale moonlight. 
 "Dodo " said Auburn. 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 Bluntly, baldly, Auburn's emotions expressed themselves 
 in words. 
 
 "Dodo, will you marry me?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because you don't want me to." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Not really. You're saying this half against your will." 
 
 "Dodo, how on earth " 
 
 "Do I know that ? Never mind : I do." 
 
 Auburn stood looking down at her with his hands in his
 
 4 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 pockets. A beam of moonlight striking through the trees 
 lit up every line in his dark, worn face, while it silvered to 
 flaxen fairness the coronet of Dodo's hair, and bathed in its 
 unearthly glow the pallor and smooth slenderness of her 
 young shoulders and rounded throat. Thirty-five against 
 nineteen is long odds to begin with, and a life spent in a 
 country village is further handicapped by contrast with a 
 gipsy experience of every capital in Europe. Matrimony 
 means babies and butlers : Auburn was not fond of butlers, 
 and had a rooted objection to babies. He liked a wander 
 ing life, men's society, and the atmosphere of a club. It's 
 never the same when you're married : the one woman edges 
 herself in and edges out the many men, the tried and true, 
 the comrades of many a gallant fight. 
 
 "I do want you. I shouldn't ask you if I didn't." 
 
 "How many times have you said this before?" 
 
 "Never." 
 
 She raised her eyes, incredulous. "Is that really true?" 
 
 "Yes," said Auburn stiffly. "I don't tell lies, you 
 know." 
 
 "But you don't care for me." 
 
 "I do," said Auburn with the same ridiculous baldness. 
 The fluent protestations which he would have poured into 
 Louisine's ear deserted him now: the only things he could 
 have said were the things he dared not say, the eternal lan 
 guage of passion. "Dodo, I do love you: you might see 
 that for yourself, I should think. It's true I didn't want 
 to marry you, but I do now. I don't, as a rule, get on with 
 women, but you've struck your roots deep down into me. I 
 do want you : the Lord alone knows what I shall do with you 
 when I've got you, but but " 
 
 "And if you don't get me?" 
 
 He essayed to laugh. "I dare say I shan't die of it. 
 But ... ." 
 
 "Let us sit down," said Dodo, scarcely less agitated than 
 he, but schooling herself to an appearance of calm. There
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 48 
 
 was a seat in the middle of the glade, and she threw herself 
 into a corner of it, her face in shadow, though a diaper of 
 moonlight flickered in the breathing air over her silken 
 ankle, her lithe, twisted attitude, and the whiteness of her 
 arms and neck. "Do you realize, I wonder, how little I 
 know of you? I don't even know your name." 
 
 ' ' Charles St. Leger Auburn. ' ' 
 
 "Aged thirty-five: but that doesn't tell me much. It is 
 of you that I know so little you, yourself." 
 
 "I'll tell you whatever you like." 
 
 "You don't literally mean that?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "I may ask you what I like, and you'll answer me?" 
 
 "Fully." 
 
 "H'm," said Dodo, and was silent for a few minutes, 
 reviewing the extent of her power. All circumstances con 
 sidered, it was perhaps inevitable that her thoughts should 
 be more taken up with him than with herself, with what he 
 could give her than with what she could give him. Little 
 used to self -analysis, she had given up the complex of her 
 own feelings in despair, to turn curiously to the task of 
 eliciting Auburn's. "When," she said, "did you first 
 begin to care for me ? ' ' 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "When did you first find out you cared for me, then?" 
 
 "To-night, when you came into the room." 
 
 "Why?" He was silent. "Sit down here on the seat 
 where I can see your face, and tell me precisely what you 
 felt, for at present I don't understand you at all." She 
 hardly expected him to obey, but he did obey, though his 
 eyes were restless, and his attitude betrayed constraint. 
 
 "Precisely what I felt? Thou hast asked a hard matter. 
 I felt an utter fool I do still, if that's illuminative. I 
 you " 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 "Don't slave-drive me, Dodo."
 
 44 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 She threw out her long, slim hand and touched his arm. 
 "It is what I mean to do. You're too reserved, Mr. 
 Auburn: you want to pay your way everywhere in small 
 change. / shan't take silver from you don't think it: if 
 you're too proud or too shy to be frank with me to-night, 
 the bargain's off. I want the bottom of your sack." 
 
 "Can't I leave it to the imagination?" Dodo shook her 
 small head. "Here goes, then! To begin with, I never 
 wanted to marry any woman before. I 've seen more beau 
 tiful women than you are, but they didn't attract me: I've 
 liked a few women not many but I didn 't care for them 
 in that way. Most of them seemed to ask so much." 
 
 "So should I." 
 
 "Yes, but that's the the deviltry in you." 
 
 "Merci!" 
 
 "And, as such, I like it." 
 
 "Do you like having all this dragged out of you?" 
 
 "I'm blessed if I care ! You've got hold of me, Dodo, and 
 that's the truth. You can do anything you like with me, 
 if only " 
 
 "You don't ask me to love you?" 
 
 "No, I only ask you to marry me." 
 
 "Tell me some more about yourself. You've lived a dis 
 gracefully idle life, I believe. Did you never have any 
 thing to do?" 
 
 "I was in the Guards for a couple of years." 
 
 1 ' In the Guards ? " He nodded. ' ' Why did you go ? " 
 
 "Family affairs made it desirable." 
 
 "Are you under the impression that you've answered 
 what I asked?" 
 
 "Oh, confound it all! ... I thought it best to clear out 
 before before it grew too hot to hold me. No, it wasn't 
 my fault: but you've heard of Sir Charles and his ways? 
 He was worse then than he is now, and his name was all 
 over London. I thought I'd clear out of the road before 
 any very bad scandal happened."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 45 
 
 "Did any bad scandal happen?" 
 
 "Oh, Lord, yes half a dozen." 
 
 "So bad that you would have had to resign your 
 commission ? ' ' 
 
 "As to that I don't say. But one doesn't stay till one's 
 kicked out." 
 
 "Tell me something about Sir Charles." 
 
 "You've heard." 
 
 "I've heard that he's a bold bad man. Grace Trevor 
 shakes her head over him. But I don't know what he's 
 been to you." 
 
 "My father," said Auburn concisely. 
 
 "What sort of father?" 
 
 "I am certain I can't discuss him without swearing, 
 Dodo." 
 
 "I don't mind much." 
 
 "Soit ! on your head be it. I lived at home with him till 
 I was fourteen, when I went to Eton. After that I was 
 rarely at Auburn. I spent my holidays at Ferndean, the 
 place next to ours, with some people named Carew. Young 
 Roland the son of the house was and is rather a friend 
 of mine. "We were in the same form at Eton, and went up 
 the school together. After that we went up to Cambridge 
 in the same year, to King's. I had one grand row with 
 Sir Charles when I was twenty-one: I've never been home 
 since." 
 
 "Never been home since?" 
 
 "Never crossed the threshold of Auburn. After my time 
 in the Guards I went abroad and did Europe pretty thor 
 oughly: India, too, and Africa: America I've scarcely set 
 foot in. Roland used to come with me till he married : he's 
 a Devonshire man, with a strain of the Devonshire seafar 
 ing blood in him. That 's all. ' ' 
 
 "What is your father like?" 
 
 "Big, handsome, genial: like me but better-looking less 
 of a gipsy, and more of a squire."
 
 I 
 
 46 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "What did he do to you to make you hate him so?" 
 
 "Scared me," said Auburn after a pause. With a pri 
 vate keenness of gratification Dodo saw that he had slipped 
 into an easy vein of frankness, and was talking to her as 
 naturally as if he were thinking aloud. "I was most hor 
 ribly afraid of him, and that's the truth. Excessive fear 
 is a brutalizing thing. I doubt if you were ever afraid of 
 any one in your life : I never was, but of Sir Charles. All 
 my early memories are connected with him, and uncom 
 monly painful they are. ' ' 
 
 "What did he do to you?" 
 
 "He used to knock me about: but I don't think it was 
 the actual lickings I cared for. It was what lay behind 
 them, the diseased enjoyment of cruelty for cruelty's sake. 
 I once saw him beat a dog to death. I mean that literally : 
 he stood over it till it died. I saw him do it. It was in an 
 old shed at the bottom of the garden; and I never went 
 into that shed afterwards. I don't know that I should care 
 to go into it now. Years later, when I was at Eton when 
 I was at Cambridge I've woke up in the night and heard 
 that poor brute howling." 
 
 "What a time you must have had." 
 
 Dodo's banal comment served the purpose, for which it 
 was designed, of luring him on, while if she had said one 
 word in ten of what she thought he would have fallen back 
 instantly upon a lighter tone. 
 
 "I did have the very dickens of a time. I can see now 
 how bad it was, which of course I couldn't then. It was 
 lucky it didn't last another year or so, or there would have 
 been permanent mischief done. . . . There is mischief." 
 He had taken up Dodo's hand, and involuntarily his own 
 locked itself closer and closer over it till the grasp became 
 painful, while his voice dropped to a murmur. "There is 
 something wrong in me somewhere : a kink in my brain, 
 where Sir Charles is concerned. I can 't judge him sanely : 
 when I try to, incidente like that come between me and him,
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 47 
 
 and I lose myself in hating him. If I met him, I should 
 have hard work to keep my hands off him. I remember, 
 while I watched him laying into that poor brute of a dog, 
 how I longed that I or some one else preferably I could 
 take it out of him in the same way could kill him, to be 
 quite frank: and I don't believe that wish however 
 unedifying you may think it has ever quite died out of 
 me. I can't stand cruelty Roland used to say I was like 
 a woman in that: I want to pay it back, good measure, 
 pressed down and brimming over. I can tolerate most 
 vices I'm not a puritan, haven't the right to be, Heaven 
 knows, but that kind of conscious, deliberate brutality 
 makes me see red. I want it killed, that's all dead out of 
 the way, as I wish he were " 
 
 "Don't, Charles, you're hurting me." 
 
 ' ' Good Lord ! I 'm awfully sorry, Dodo. ' * . 
 
 "I don't care about my hand," said Dodo. With one 
 light movement she sat up, threw her arm round his neck, 
 and laid her pale face against his face, so close that the long 
 lashes of her closed eyes brushed against his cheek. "Do 
 you want me, Charles? I know you do. I'll marry you." 
 
 ' ' I believe I ought never to have asked you. I 'm sixteen 
 years older than you are, and I've been in ugly places. I 
 shall hurt more than your hand, child." 
 
 "I don't care. I can bear pain," said Dodo. 
 
 "Say you love me, or I swear I won't touch you." 
 
 She had to bear pain then : an insurgency of feeling that 
 was like the pangs of birth. All her nineteen years of cool, 
 self-contained, passionless youth revolted against the bur 
 den so suddenly laid upon her, and struggled to escape. 
 The Carminows were not an emotional family, and her life 
 among them had never trained her to play her part in cir 
 cumstances where strong feeling had to be not only suf 
 fered, but shown. "With the knowledge that Auburn was in 
 deadly earnest came also a sense of deadly lassitude and an 
 intuition of the only way to evade him. Subtle and fine,
 
 48 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 she slipped into, not away from, his arms, and looked up at 
 him with her vividly blue eyes, derisive, alluring. 
 
 "Too late," she said, "you've asked me to marry you, 
 and I shan't let you off. To be sure, you needn't kiss me 
 if you don't want to." 
 
 It was not what he wanted : he did not like it, even at the 
 moment. But he would have been more, or less, than man 
 if he had not taken up the challenge, and for the rest of 
 that evening, by moonlight or by lamplight, waltzing on 
 Auburn's arm or strolling with him in the scented garden, 
 Miss Carminow had leisure to appreciate the less exacting 
 aspect of her new tie : Auburn 's hard-driven meekness, her 
 own coquetry, Roden's disapproval, the envy of Mabel 
 Blandford, the raised eyebrows of Louisine Attwood, all 
 that life at Stanton Mere had to offer of heady, and spark 
 ling, and sour.
 
 V. 
 
 RACE, are you in bed? Can I come in for a 
 minute?" 
 
 Late as it was, and tired as she might have been, Grace 
 had not gone to bed. She was brushing her hair by the 
 open window of her bedroom, which, like most of the rooms 
 at Trevor Hall, was more comfortable than elegant. Indeed, 
 the solid plainness of the mahogany furniture, the dearth 
 of flowers and knick-knacks, and the frieze of sporting 
 prints that adorned the walls suggested rather a man 's occu 
 pation than a girl's. Grace was thinking about Charles 
 Auburn, and that with a clouded brow. He had been im- 
 penitently rude to Louisine Attwood, and had thrown over 
 every other claim to dance five dances with Dodo Car- 
 minow and sit out seven. Very young gentlemen very 
 much in love commit these extravagances, but not men of 
 Auburn's age, class, and tastes: for the world is censorious, 
 especially in country circles, and escapades of this sort are 
 not viewed with favor except as the preliminary to a ro 
 mantic betrothal. Inasmuch as Grace did not believe Mr. 
 Aubnrn to have the remotest intention of marrying Dodo 
 or any one else, the loyal friend was annoyed. She was 
 cross with Dodo too so reckless, so unguarded ! and had 
 scarcely said a word to her since Auburn had placed her, 
 hooded and drowsy, in the Trevors' brougham at two in the 
 morning. But she could not help smiling when Dodo came 
 in, looking abnormally young and innocent, and buttoned 
 with big brass buttons into a red cotton dressing-gown 
 which extended from her throat to her heels. 
 
 49
 
 50 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Have a biscuit," Grace suggested, nodding hospit 
 ably towards an easy-chair. "They're in that 'box on the 
 table." 
 
 "No, thank you, I had too much supper. Do you often 
 feel hungry in the night ? ' ' 
 
 "I like to have them by me, in case. I say, you didn't 
 meet Polly my new maid in the passage, did you ? ' ' 
 
 "No why?" 
 
 Grace chuckled. "Only because she's rather nervous. 
 You do look weird in that get-up, you know, old girl. ' ' 
 
 "H'm: it's very comfy. You needn't scoff at my 
 poverty" "Fiddle" said Grace "and draw invidious 
 contrasts between the way you dress and the way I dress, 
 because one of these days I 'm going to have a mauve silk 
 kimono trimmed with swansdown. ' ' 
 
 "Very sensible of you: swansdown washes so well." 
 
 "When it becomes soiled I shall throw it away no, give 
 it to my maid, I mean and buy another." 
 
 "All right," said Grace cheerfully, "invite me to the 
 wedding!" 
 
 "What wedding?" 
 
 "Why, your wedding, of course! What's the matter 
 with the child?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing. I say, Charles Auburn does dance well. 
 Don't you think he's really rather nice?" 
 
 "Well, if you ask me," Grace said with irrepressible 
 energy, ' ' I thought you both of you behaved abominably ! 
 Of course Mr. Auburn's a perfect spoiled child and thinks 
 he can do as he likes : but I must say, Dodo, I thought you 
 had more sense ! ' ' 
 
 Dodo sat down on the wide window-seat, leaning her fair 
 head against the dark oaken frame. Pale and grave, she 
 stretched out her left hand and waved it to and fro under 
 Miss Trevor's nose. On the third finger sparkled a curious 
 ring, consisting of a single square emerald sculptured with 
 the words : FOY POUR DEVOIB.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 51 
 
 " Hullo," said Grace, "what's all this? I rather think 
 I've seen this before." 
 
 ' ' I rather think you have. ' ' 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me you've gone and got engaged?" 
 Dodo nodded. "Engaged to Mr. Auburn?" 
 
 "Yes'm. D 'you mind?" 
 
 ' ' This this is news. ' ' Grace seized hold of a chair and 
 sat down. ' ' Dodo, are you are you sure he was serious ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, I am/' said Dodo with asperity, "perfectly 
 serious and don't you think you're rather rude?" 
 
 "Dare say can't help it. I never should have thought 
 it of him. So that 's why you two sneaked off into the gar 
 den, was it? I suppose we were absolute idiots not to see." 
 
 "There wasn't anything to see. I never was so startled 
 in my life, Grace ! I hadn 't the faintest idea he was going 
 to to " 
 
 "Didn't you know he liked you?" 
 
 "I didn't know I knew he liked me." 
 
 "Oh, you're too subtle for me. I say, Dodo: was it he 
 who sent you that frock ?" Dodo nodded. "There, I knew 
 it! It came into my head this morning, but I thought it 
 was a wild flight of imagination. How did he manage it ? " 
 
 "He stole my photograph out of Roden's room and sent 
 it to Pasquin's, with my height and general description. 
 He was here, you know, the day Mabel Blandford came to 
 tea, when she was what he calls so infernally patronizing, 
 and it seems to have rankled ever since. I taxed him with 
 it: he wouldn't own up at first, but he couldn't deny it 
 he's a truthful person and I soon got it out of him. He 
 declined to tell me what he paid for it, though. ' ' 
 
 "Well, well," said Grace, rubbing her nose, "it was very 
 nice of him. But are you really going to marry him?" 
 
 "Rather!" 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "Ten thousand a year, Grace Trevor, and you ask me 
 what for?"
 
 52 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Rat!" said Grace bluntly. "Do you really like him, 
 Dodo?" 
 
 "You see it's so sudden. Till to-night I regarded him 
 as a brother " 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "Well, more or less and then when I found he didn't 
 regard me as a sister it was so exciting that I was unable to 
 concentrate my thoughts at all. Gracde." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Did any one ever kiss you?" 
 
 Grace shook her head. 
 
 "Then we can't compare notes," said Dodo, disap 
 pointed. "You've no idea how queer it is. Parts of it 
 are oh, thank goodness Roddy didn't hear me say that. 
 It's on our black list." 
 
 Grace laughed: but she soon grew grave again. 
 
 "You'll have to make out a black list for Mr. Auburn 
 now." 
 
 "So I shall: it'll begin with a D." 
 
 "You don't sound overjoyed. Don't you want to be 
 married?" 
 
 * ' Oh yes, ' ' Dodo said, crossing one slender knee over the 
 other and clasping her hands about them, "I want to be 
 married, and go to Paris, and have kimonos and motors and 
 bisques and bechamels and things. But I'm rather sorry 
 about going away from home. I've always stayed here to 
 look after the boys, and I can't bear to think what they'll 
 do without me. Aline never gets up unless she's called, 
 and they can't call her it wouldn't be proper. And who'll 
 cook the supper on her evening out ? ' ' 
 
 "Roddy?" 
 
 "He can't make anything except an omelette; and he 
 can't even make an omelette without breaking more eggs 
 than you can get into the frying-pan." 
 
 "Well, you can't jilt Mr. Auburn to stay and cook the 
 supper. Besides, they'll get on all right people always
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 53 
 
 do. I Ve known heaps of cases where the family prop got 
 
 married " 
 
 " Without detriment to the family property. I know: 
 it's as the poet says 
 
 'Trust me, To-day's Most Indispensables ' 
 
 I quoted that to Mabel Blandford once, and she looked 
 rather grave : I think she thought it meant trousers. Dear 
 me, I'm afraid that's vulgar: I hope I shan't catch the in 
 fection from Charles. Doesn't it sound droll to hear me 
 calling him Charles? My Charles!" She stretched out her 
 arms with a rapturous expression. "Or as thus: 'Charles 
 darling!' Or again: 'My own, sweet Charlie!' What are 
 you looking so pensive about? I thought you would be 
 pleased. Are you cross because I'm not sentimental?" 
 
 "I don't know how sentimental you may be : I know you 
 jolly well wouldn't tell me if you were," Grace retorted 
 with more energy than elegance. ' ' I 'm not cross. ' ' 
 
 "What are you, then? Worrying over Boden having to 
 cook the dinner?" 
 
 "No, donkey!" 
 
 "I think you might be more respectful to the future 
 Lady Auburn." 
 
 "That's what I don't like," Grace said passionately, the 
 color coming into her face in the heat of her spirit. "I 
 don't like it: I can't bear it. You don't know what Sir 
 Charles is like." 
 
 ' ' My goodness ! ' ' said Dodo, turning round from the win 
 dow to gaze at her friend, "what's the matter with you? 
 Little pots are soon hot, Gracie." 
 
 Grace was plaiting her feelings into her pigtail, and did 
 not reply. In a more serious tone Dodo resumed, after a 
 short silence: "I think you ought to say more than that, 
 after saying anything at all. You've been simmering for 
 weeks ever since he came down here : and so has Charles 
 himself. Tell me I shan 't mind. ' '
 
 5* AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "It's only this, that I'd rather you weren't going to 
 marry the son of a dissolute old sot like Sir Charles Auburn. 
 It 's hereditary. ' ' 
 
 "But Charles doesn't drink, or dissolve either." 
 
 "The sins of the fathers ..." 
 
 "H'm. Unto the third generation, do you mean?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I'm not afraid. If we had a baby, and it took to 
 
 drink I mean " Dodo rippled into laughter "Well, 
 
 but, seriously, if when he grew up he wanted to resemble 
 his grandfather, we could fight it, couldn't we?" 
 
 "Doctors say " 
 
 "Pooh ! I don't care a fig about doctors. You can prove 
 anything in your head. Roddy and I once for fun worked 
 out a diet scheme of things that wouldn't give you microbes, 
 and by the time we'd collated three or four standard au 
 thorities we had nothing left except sterilized warm water 
 and toffee." 
 
 "Are you in love with him, Dodo?" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because, if you are, I won't say another word. There 
 is a risk in marrying a man who comes of such a stock as 
 Mr. Auburn does: but if you really love him it's a risk 
 that's worth taking. But if you don't " 
 
 "Why shouldn't I? He isn't bad-looking." 
 
 "He's very handsome, and a very good dancer, and his 
 clothes are perfectly cut," said Grace, with a passing tinge 
 of irony: "and I dare say he can be rather fascinating 
 when he takes the trouble. But you won 't be always danc 
 ing the two-step. You see, Dodo, you're very young I 
 think we all forget sometimes how young you are : you 're 
 so old in some ways. But you're not old in experience of 
 men of Charles Auburn's type." 
 
 "What type do you mean?" 
 
 "Idle, irresponsible: changeable." 
 
 "Is that how you read him?" said Dodo.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 55 
 
 She rose up, wound her arm round Gracie, and kissed 
 her to the great surprise of that young lady: for their 
 friendship was not of the reputed feminine type. "Dear 
 darling, I love you, anyhow. You're the very best old 
 Grace that ever did its hair in pigtails, and it's a shame to 
 keep you up so late and spoil your complexion, but I'm 
 going to bed now, so you can, too. Good-night." 
 
 She was out of the room before Grace had realized that 
 she was going. Misa Trevor stood long by the open win 
 dow : it was high dawn, and the birds were twittering in the 
 elms near by before she went to bed. Her eyes were 
 wistful.
 
 VI. 
 
 IT is sad, but true, that when Auburn awoke on the morn 
 ing after the dance, he wished Dodo and all her family 
 in Jericho. 
 
 He would have liked to run away. Unfortunately, things 
 had gone too far. "I must have been drunk !" he groaned. 
 This theory, however, fell through ; the most temperate of 
 men, he had not touched wine except to finish, from purely 
 sentimental motives, the remains of Dodo's glass of cham 
 pagne. How dreary it looked, that sentiment, in the cold 
 light of retrospect ! He was pathetically candid with him 
 self. "She won't jilt me," he said; "they never do when 
 you want them to. And how the dickens am I to tell 
 Roland? I swear she's not even pretty !" Auburn's medi 
 tations were entirely bare of chivalrous delicacy : he writhed 
 like a man in chains. Possibly such a frame of mind is not 
 so rare as one would like to believe, on that dismal To-mor 
 row morning. 
 
 Towards twelve o'clock, while he was smoking in the 
 studio over a novel, Dodo came home from the Trevors'. 
 He heard her voice in the hall, but stayed where he was, 
 feeling an immense disinclination to face her. Vain delay ! 
 The voice drew nearer, that rapid gay utterance so char 
 acteristic of Miss Carminow: she was giving directions in 
 French to Aline about the evening meal. " Je vais chercher 
 M. Koden," he heard her say: and the door opened and in 
 she came and paused. Apparently she was not prepared 
 to find Monsieur Charles. "Oh, there you are!" she said 
 with striking originality. 
 
 Auburn threw his book away. Ought he to kiss herT 
 
 56
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 57 
 
 Certainly not he had (thank heaven) only that moment 
 finished his cigar. But, short of a kiss, what was the ortho 
 dox greeting ? ' ' Yes, here I am, ' ' he replied, ' ' in fact, here 
 we both are. ' ' 
 
 A dim gleam came into Dodo's eyes. "It's a very fine 
 morning," she observed. 
 
 "Lovely," assented Auburn. "I hope you're not very 
 tired." 
 
 "Not at all, thank you," said Dodo. "We had ham and 
 eggs for breakfast." 
 
 "Ham and ?" 
 
 "Eggs. It doesn't matter what you say, so long as you 
 say something." 
 
 "Dodo !" 
 
 She had fled : she was in the hall, where Aline was scrub 
 bing the doorsteps. A trail of perfume from the mignonette 
 tucked into her belt, the echo of a naughty laugh, these 
 were all that remained of her. Auburn passed his hand 
 across his forehead. "What an ass I was to have that 
 cigar ! " he said. 
 
 He followed her, and found her framed in dusty sun 
 shine, which streamed across the raftered hall from the 
 wide-open doorway. "Enfin, c'est fini, n'est-ce pas?" she 
 was saying: "les petits pois pour ce soir, avec du 
 beurre . . . beaucoup, beaucoup de beurre. . . . " 
 
 "Bien, ma'm'selle." 
 
 "Dodo," said Auburn, "I'm going in to see Mr. Car- 
 minow. ' ' 
 
 "Bien, monsieur," said Dodo. 
 
 As often happens in this life of ours, Auburn 's interview 
 with Mr. Carminow was more amusing in retrospect than 
 at the time. A very unworldly man, the Vicar knew little 
 about Auburn 's financial condition : in fact, no thought of 
 settlements crossed Ms mind till Auburn himself introduced 
 the topic. It was some time before he could be got to be 
 lieve that Auburn was in earnest, and when that fact did
 
 58 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 dawn upon Mr. Carminow he did not go out of his way to 
 flatter so eligible a son-in-law; on the contrary, though 
 courteous as a Christian should be, he was openly regretful. 
 
 "To you personally I have no objection at all," he ex 
 plained, "in fact the very reverse." (Auburn had told 
 him candidly that he was an agnostic and the son of a 
 scamp; but these things did not affect the Vicar's peculiar 
 philosophy.) "There is no one I would rather adopt into 
 my family, if I wanted to adopt any one into my family. 
 But I do not, and that's the truth of it. Old men are often 
 selfish, my dear Charles. You see, you're going to steal 
 my one ewe lamb; and I can tell you frankly, if I had 
 known what would have come of it, I'd have forbidden you 
 the house." 
 
 "Can't you trust me to make her happy, sir?" asked 
 Auburn. 
 
 "Oh yes; but the point is I want her to make me happy," 
 explained the Vicar. 
 
 He put Auburn through a close catechism, and preached 
 him a most disconcerting little sermon on the duties of the 
 married state, Auburn keeping his temper with an effort : 
 at once shy and proud, he hated to be questioned. In the 
 end, Mr. Carminow gave an unwilling and provisional 
 consent. 
 
 "Of course you won't think of marrying for the next 
 year or two, ' ' he said. * ' Dodo is far too young at present ; 
 she is a mere child. You must wait till she is twenty-one at 
 least, and that will give us all time to know more of you, 
 my dear boy, and of your father too ; for I don't at all like 
 the idea of your not getting on with him. He may not be 
 in all respects quite what he ought to be, but still you are 
 his son, and you must forgive me if I am inclined to fancy 
 there may be faults on both sides. I think a great deal of 
 the family tie, Charles. I am unfashionable enough to 
 believe in filial duty. I should not like one of my boys to 
 speak of me as you speak of your father."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 59 
 
 Lunch brought a change, but hardly for the better. 
 Roden was grave, Caron sardonic, Bernard's face a study 
 in cold dislike : Dickie alone was whole-hearted in congratu 
 lation Dickie, the fool of the family ! and the prevalent 
 feeling of constraint was not lessened by the fact that Dodo 
 and her brothers were plainly at war. The meal over, Miss 
 Carminow fled to her own room. Roden drifted into the 
 garden, and there Auburn presently joined him. 
 
 "Why are you all so sick about this?" he asked without 
 preface. 
 
 "Various reasons," answered Roden the laconic. 
 
 ' ' Better speak frankly. ' ' 
 
 "She's too young for you, and you're too rich for her." 
 
 "You're an unworldly family, don't you think?" 
 
 "We have certain ideas." 
 
 "Anything more?" 
 
 "Sir Charles." 
 
 Auburn winced. "Damn Sir Charles! With luck, he'll 
 die soon. ' ' 
 
 "I know it's no business of mine," Roden said, "but I 
 wish you wouldn't swear at him. It does sound so very 
 dreadful." 
 
 1 ' Is that all ? " Auburn asked, after a pause during which 
 he decided not to lose his temper. 
 
 "Also you call yourself an agnostic, don't you?" 
 
 "Ah! "said Auburn. 
 
 He rolled over on his back, so that he could watch 
 Roden 's face. "You're not bigoted, Roden?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't blame you," said Roden, slowly and dis 
 connectedly. "It's not your fault. Still, one would 
 rather. . . . Religion counts for so much in some lives. 
 The Babe was born religious. She . . . will . . . see 
 God in everything. You, if any trouble comes, will . . . 
 have a bad time, Auburn. You will be beating your head 
 against a wall. That will be hard for you and hard for 
 Dodo."
 
 60 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "You see God in everything yourself, don't you?" said 
 Auburn in a conversational tone. His deep, unsatisfied 
 eyes dragged an answer out of Roden. 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 "I wish you'd give me the receipt. Would prayer and 
 fasting do it? . . . You really are certain of a future 
 life?" 
 
 ' ' Certain. Aren 't you ? " 
 
 "Quite that there isn't any." 
 
 Auburn turned over again, his fingers plucking at the 
 grass. 
 
 "You believe in it all Christ, Son of God, born of a 
 Virgin?" 
 
 ' ' Quia impossible ? ' ' 
 
 "What, miracles and all?" 
 
 Roden smiled. "By Jove!" said Auburn, "how do you 
 doit?" 
 
 "That's what I should like to know," said Roden. 
 "Candidly, Auburn, you are at least an equal mystery to 
 me. How can you live in this world, believing that there 's 
 no other ? Or, if you can face extinction for yourself and 
 it takes some facing how can you face it for others for 
 Dodo, say, if you really are fond of her? What do you 
 believe in anything?" 
 
 "In my dinner." 
 
 "That's an exhaustive creed. Do you put marriage on 
 the same footing?" 
 
 "I never thought about it." 
 
 "Never thought about it! You never do think about it, 
 or anything else of the sort. You're as little introspective 
 as any man I've ever known." 
 
 Auburn sat up, cross-legged and scowling : his lean brown 
 face expressing a desperate effort in self -analysis. 
 
 "I gave up thinking about myself some twenty years 
 ago : did it more or less deliberately : sheer, flat, violent in 
 difference was the only thing that would carry me through.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 61 
 
 Mind you, I've not had altogether plain sailing in my life." 
 He waited a moment, tried to say to Roden part of what 
 he had said to Dodo of the years under Sir Charles' hand, 
 found that he could not do it, and went on: "So far as I 
 can read myself, I've not a particle of faith in me. I don't 
 hate the Christians I've no grudge against them; on the 
 contrary, it touches my imagination to see people praying. 
 But it doesn't touch anything deeper than imagination. I 
 needn't tell you that I shan't argue the point with Dodo. 
 If she likes to believe in a reunion after death, let her ! I 
 could as soon believe in Balaam's ass or Jonah's whale, but 
 I've no desire to proselytize. But I do believe in this life, 
 and not from the sensual standpoint, either. You Chris 
 tians are apt to think that we pagans are necessarily sen 
 sualists : I deny it. I 've seen women ten times handsomer 
 than your sister, but I didn't care a straw for them: I do 
 for her. I dare say, if you threw your weight into the 
 wrong scale, you could make Mr. Carminow refuse his con 
 sent. Don't do it, will you? We should win in the long- 
 run, but I don't want to waste time." 
 
 "Eternity thundering at the doors?" 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "At my back I always hear, 
 Time's winged chariots hurrying near," 
 
 quoted Roden, gravely. "I see your point." 
 "Just so: I'm thirty-five already. Half my time's gone, 
 
 and there is no extension of leave." 
 "What a pleasing notion!" 
 " Ah ! I'm not introspective," said Auburn with a light 
 
 laugh.
 
 yn. 
 
 4 4 T BEG your pardon, sir." 
 
 JL Eoden paused with the gate in his hand. He was 
 on his way home from tennis at the Trevors', and the per 
 son who had accosted him at his own door was a slight, 
 undersized man of thirty, with a thin, brown face, and the 
 bearing of a gentleman's servant. "Yes?" said Koden, 
 "what is it?" 
 
 "May I ask, sir, if you are one of the young Mr. 
 Carminows?" 
 
 "I used to be." 
 
 "I have a letter, sir, for my master, Mr. Auburn." 
 
 "What then do you want me to give it to him?" 
 
 "If you would be so good, sir. I've been up to the house, 
 but the maid told me my master was out, and I hardly cared 
 to leave it with her: it's an important letter." 
 
 "But where do you come from?" Eoden asked, becom 
 ing sensible of the strangeness of a man thus springing up 
 from nowhere with a letter in his hand, "not by train, 
 surely?" 
 
 "I am at an inn at Countisford, sir, where Mr. Auburn 
 told me to wait for him. I am his body-servant : he gen 
 erally takes me about with him. I have been sending on 
 the rest of his correspondence, but I did not care to trust 
 this into the post a second time. I know he'll like to have 
 it as soon as may be. ' ' 
 
 "Why not wait at the house till he comes in, then? He's 
 sure to be home to tea. ' ' 
 
 The man shook his head. "I must get back to Countis 
 ford, sir. Mr. Charles might be riding over, and I shouldn't 
 
 62
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 63 
 
 like to have him do that and me not there. But I feel sure, 
 sir, if you will excuse me, that the letter '11 be safe with 
 you." 
 
 Somewhat amused, Roden accepted his commission, and 
 the letter was extracted from a leathern pocket-book and 
 duly handed over : a large, square, white envelope, ad 
 dressed in a large, square, imperfectly educated hand. 
 This done, the faithful servant got on his bicycle, touched 
 his cap to Roden, and rode away. 
 
 ' ' Hullo, Dickie ! Is Auburn in yet ? " 
 "He's gone up the hill with Dodo and Caron." 
 " Par-r-rbleu ! I wish he weren't so beastly energetic. 
 Rather mean of Caron to go too!" 
 
 Dickie grinned. * ' Dodo made him : said she didn 't want 
 to spoon. ' ' 
 
 "Queer little animal, our Dodo!" was Roden 's philo 
 sophic comment, as he set his weary legs to climb the steep 
 footpath through the orchard. A couple of hundred feet 
 above the Vicarage chimneys, he came out upon a wild 
 hilly region, where the long grass under the fruit trees- gave 
 place to moorland turf, sparse and flower-set. He had to 
 go still higher before he came upon those he wanted : Dodo 
 sitting on a shelf of turf, Auburn as usual supine at her 
 feet, Caron cross-legged under a bush and sketching the 
 pair of them. There was a good deal of wind blowing : the 
 opposite hills were nearly of the same color as the clouds, 
 and they were slaty blue : the village lay below, winding 
 with the winding valley, picked out in the silver of sunlit 
 windows, and threaded here and there with smoke : the sky 
 too was silver-pale where it was clear, but the large vague 
 clouds near the sun were rimmed with burning wire. Sun 
 shine and shadow never prevailed over the whole landscape 
 at once, but kept flying after each other, as if chariots of 
 iron and chariots of gold were being driven by the wind 
 over the tops of the hills alternately.
 
 64 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 At a glance Roden perceived that the spiritual atmo 
 sphere was full as sunny as the natural. Caron was hap 
 pily absorbed in his art. Dodo's brow was placid. Auburn's 
 smile was that of a man who is in charity with all mankind. 
 Roden looked over the artist's shoulder, and uttered a 
 startled exclamation. 
 
 "What's up?" asked Auburn lazily. 
 
 "You've spoiled it now," Caron said, "but I don't mind. 
 I don't want to retouch it. "Why should a man bother about 
 the bare body? The soul's always bare, when you've eyes 
 to see it. When I do things like that I forget that I'm a 
 hunchback." He stretched his arms above his head and 
 laughed softly. Roden silently held up the sketch. The 
 shadows of a bare room, an iron-barred window, and a man 
 lying on the bare floor: Auburn in every lineament, but 
 Auburn struggling in hard endurance to keep down the 
 rising wildness of terror. 
 
 ' ' Good ! ' ' said Auburn placidly. 
 
 "Give me," said Dodo. 
 
 She took the block from Roden, and in a trice the frag 
 ments of Caron's sketch were showering down the wind. 
 Caron only laughed. It was done, and he cared no more for 
 it. Dodo was methodical and unrepentant. 
 
 "I say, Auburn," said Roden, "do you mind getting up 
 for a moment ? ' ' 
 
 "Intensely. Why?" 
 
 "Because I can't kick a man when he's down, can I?" 
 
 "Eh? What's up?" 
 
 "You've been tampering with Dodo's affections, and 
 basely betraying my young sister's confidence. What do 
 you mean by carrying on a clandestine correspondence 
 under our very noses, and using your miserable flunkey as 
 a go-between?" 
 
 "What about my flunkey?" asked Auburn, sitting up. 
 
 Roden handed him the letter with the tips of his finger 
 and thumb. "Hardened reprobate!" he said, as Auburn
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 65 
 
 after a glance at the handwriting tore it open with a startled 
 expression. ''He doesn't even blush. If you've any 
 proper pride, Dodo " 
 
 "I hope it isn't bad news, Charles?" said Dodo. "Do 
 sit down and be quiet, Roddy, you're like a gnat buzzing." 
 
 "Here's a go!" said Auburn, laying down his letter with 
 a perpleved expression. "I thought it was too sunny to 
 last. This is rather awkward, Dodo." 
 
 "Italian wife?" inquired Roden cheerfully. 
 
 "Don't buzz, Roddy. What is it, old boy ?" 
 
 "It's the venerated parent on the war-path. I'll read 
 it aloud if you like : our family affairs are generally trans 
 acted in public." 
 
 In a very sober voice, Auburn proceeded to do as he had 
 said. 
 
 "ROSE COTTAGE, AUBUBN, 
 "July 1st. 
 
 "SiR, The Devil is come Abroad, having great wrath 
 because he knoweth that he hath but a short Time. He 
 hath broken 6 Wineglasses and 2 Decanters through Davis 
 'being frightened of his bad words and falling downstairs 
 with the Tray. He is going up shortly to find You, and 
 Davis tells me he is like a Madman when he talks about 
 You. Piers writes You are staying with Friends. I am 
 writing same time to Piers as I do not know Your Address 
 to bid him carry this to You direct. For dear Sir I fear he 
 will not have any scruple to thrust himself upon Them and 
 make a To do as You will remember at Mr. Carew's. 
 
 "Piers writes You are thinking of getting married. Now 
 my lamb if this is true there is a thing You ought to know. 
 Do not entangle Yourself with the Young Lady till You 
 have seen and spoken with me. I have no skill to write, but 
 I would fain see Your face again, Who are in some sort 
 my Son, and I will speak what I cannot write. 
 
 "Sir Charles hath been having gout in his Toe lately, 
 but I fear it is better and will not come on again.
 
 60 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "As You so kindly ask after Jeannie, She is no better, 
 but sends Her duty, as I do also. 
 
 "Your most obedient humble Servant, 
 
 ' ' LESBIA BURNET. ' ' 
 
 Biting her lip to repress a smile, Dodo took the letter 
 from Auburn, and smoothed it out on her knee. "Who 
 writes ? ' ' she asked. 
 
 "My foster-mother and nurse: she lives with her sister 
 in a cottage just outside our gates. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Is she mad ? ' ' asked Caron. Auburn laughed. 
 
 "None less so. I have complete faith in Lesbia's judg 
 ment worse luck." 
 
 "You don't mean to say you'll go?" Dodo asked. 
 
 "I shall indeed, if it were only to prevent him from 
 coming up here. You have no room for Sir Charles." 
 
 "We could easily put him up " Dodo began, taking 
 
 these words literally, but Auburn laughed in her face. 
 "Thanks," he said dryly, "but you don't 'remember Mr. 
 Carew's.' I do. Once is enough." 
 
 "Let's see, when did you write to him?" asked Roden. 
 
 "The day before yesterday. I wonder what it is that's 
 riled him? He's been at me to marry any time these ten 
 years. There's no pleasing some people." 
 
 "What does she mean by 'getting entangled'? She's 
 rather rude, I think," said Dodo, referring to the letter. 
 "And what do you suppose her secret is?" 
 
 "Can't say: it's the first I've heard of it." 
 
 "What's she like?" 
 
 "Fifty-five: a widow since she was thirty. She was my 
 mother's maid before my mother married Sir Charles, and 
 she married my grandfather's soldier servant. They had 
 one child, a boy, born the same day that I was : it only lived 
 a week. She'll never get over that, but I don't think she 
 regrets the late Alexander. I've heard her describe 
 him as 'a poor lash thing, like a jenneting in a wet
 
 67 
 
 summer.' After my mother's death she settled down in a 
 house close to our gates with her half-sister, Jeannie, a girl 
 of half her age, very pretty but very delicate. Lesbia 
 mothers her sternly. Lesbia 's uncommonly handsome, if 
 that 's anything to the point : tall, with iron-grey hair and 
 dark-blue eyes and a splendid pair of shoulders. Has a 
 will of her own, too, and a temper." 
 
 * ' Formidable ! Why does she write in that queer way ? ' ' 
 
 "She writes as she talks, a dialect of her own coinage. 
 The foundation is scriptural: the late Alexander con 
 tributed a dash of Scots, and association with my mother 
 added a dash of bookish, cultivated English. But Lesbia 's 
 not educated she can only read and write. Jeannie 
 talks like a book. My mother's family made a pet of 
 her and sent her to school, and the result is that when 
 Lesbia talks Calvin Jeannie talks Browning. They're an 
 odd pair." 
 
 "They are, I should think. And shall you really go 
 down there?" 
 
 "In the car," Auburn. "I shall be there and back in 
 twelve hours." 
 
 "Well, don't be long," said Dodo nonchalantly. "I 
 shall be so bored. ' ' 
 
 Auburn sat up, threw his arm around her, and kissed her. 
 It was done so rapidly that Dodo had no chance to protest, 
 but could only gaze at him with all her astonished soul in 
 her eyes. Caron screwed up his face as though he were 
 taking medicine, and Koden said, "Well, upon my word! 
 Pray don't let us embarrass you!" 
 
 "My dear souls, you don't," Auburn responded cheer 
 fully. He rose up, very tall and erect, from his couch of 
 turf. "Farewell, Dorothea! I'm off." 
 
 "Why, you're not going now?" 
 
 "I never take risks with Sir Charles." 
 
 He ran down the hillside, springing from tussock to tus 
 sock, from ledge to ledge. At the top of the orchard he
 
 68 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 turned, waved his hand, then vanished under the arcade of 
 the trees. 
 
 "Suppose he never comes back?" said Eoden involun 
 tarily. 
 
 "Then Dodo will regret having torn up an essentially 
 lifelike imaginary portrait." 
 
 "Clever boys!" said Dodo indolently, "how well you 
 know himl"
 
 vm. 
 
 LATE on a warm grey evening, Lesbia Burnet stood 
 with her arms folded along the top of her garden gate, 
 looking down the road, which was already turning dark 
 under the shade of July woods. Kose Cottage waa a small, 
 square house, standing in a plot of garden where flowers 
 and vegetables throve together: it lay close to the park 
 gates of Auburn, and was regarded as a Naboth's vineyard 
 by the present baronet. Lesbia, however, slept none the 
 worse for that. Her father and her father's father had 
 lived in it before her, and it was her own: she loved the 
 red roof, the latticed windows, the giant willow that 
 towered up behind it, and the dense woods that shut it in. 
 Artists came and sketched it for it was a picturesque old 
 place at their peril, for Lesbia liked privacy and was 
 strong in the arm. Rich content swelled in her bosom when 
 she looked round her small domain. 
 
 A warm, grey evening: the great, vague clouds tinged 
 with a bluish shade, which looked, thought the weatherwise 
 Lesbia, like thunder. The wind had dropped. The great 
 elms hung down their leaves without stir or sigh. Nothing 
 was to be seen but an empty curve of road, perhaps a quar 
 ter of a mile long, bordered on either side by the tall deer- 
 fence enclosing the dark masses of the Auburn woods. 
 Turning away disappointed, Lesbia walked up the short 
 path between the red summer primroses and the laden 
 gooseberry bushes, and went into the house. First into the 
 hot kitchen, to shift a saucepan and take a look at the oven : 
 then along a flagged passage into the front parlor, arranged, 
 in defiance of etiquette, as the living-room of an invalid.
 
 70 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 There was a large folding window, thrown wide to let in 
 the airless air : there were curtains of pale flowered chintz, 
 tapestried armchairs, books, old-fashioned china, and a 
 handful of honeysuckle thrust into a specimen glass. Near 
 the window, on a sofa heaped with cushions, lay the ailing 
 girl for whom all these pretty things had been gathered 
 together: Lesbia's young sister Jeannie. There had been 
 others, but they were dead, carried off by premature sick 
 ness the same whose ravages were traceable in Jeannie 's 
 haggard face and hectic color. Only Lesbia herself, in her 
 magnificent strength, had escaped the dread taint. As she 
 came in, Jeannie laid down her book. "Mr. Charles won't 
 come to-night," she said in a low, somewhat husky voice. 
 
 "I'll sugar your porridge if you say that again !" Lesbia 
 cried out resentfully. "You idle thing, you might as well 
 prophesy smooth things as the other sort it's not much 
 you know about it, that I can see. ' ' 
 
 "He'll stay up in the Plain and make love to his pretty 
 lady " 
 
 "He's not such a fool, then!" 
 
 "And put your letter in the fire," finished Jeannie, 
 laughing in Lesbia's angry face. "What's it to him! He's 
 far far too handsome to be true." 
 
 "I'll take your books away if you talk to me like that," 
 Lesbia grumbled out as she went to light the lamp; "or 
 serve you as I did the chap that came this afternoon while 
 you were lying down. Did you hear us ? I wonder at that, 
 for he made noise enough. Sat himself down in the road, 
 he did, with his knickerbockers and his camp-stool you'll 
 never persuade me that the Lord meant all these artist folk 
 to wear knickerbockers: if He did, He'd have given them 
 calves to their legs and brought out his sketch-book and 
 began to paint the house! Out I came with a bucket of 
 water to tip over the roses, and there was my gentleman 
 cap in hand and as cool as impudence!" 
 
 "What did you say to him?"
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 71 
 
 "D'you think I was going to speak to muck like that? 
 'Twas he began it. 'My good woman/ says he, and with 
 that I stopped him. 'I'm no woman of yours, unless you're 
 dead and buried in Woking Cemetery, which is too good 
 news to be true.' ' 
 
 "You had him there!" 
 
 "Not he! Some folks are such fools you can't have 
 them, and he was that sort : he thought 'twas I was the fool. 
 'Madam,' says he, 'it's only a way of speaking I meant no 
 harm.' You're to observe that I could easily have taken 
 him across my knee and spanked him, but I didn't, and he 
 went on. 'In plain English,' says he, 'I'll give you half a 
 crown to stand in the porch while I work you into my 
 sketch.' 'Let me look at the sketch,' says I. It was with 
 out form and void, like his breeches. 'It's worse than your 
 manners, my good man,' says I, and with that I hit the 
 bucket of water over it, and came away." 
 
 "Well, you had him there, anyhow," said Jeannie dryly. 
 "But you'd better mind what you're about, Lesbia, or 
 you '11 have people calling you eccentric. ' ' She turned rest 
 lessly, and stretched out her hands towards the window. 
 "It's a hot night, isn't it?" 
 
 "Glooming up for a thunderstorm, I think. Does your 
 head ache ? ' ' 
 
 "A little : there's such a hot, dead feeling in the air under 
 all these trees. I heard the wind going in the tops of them, 
 though, before you came in." 
 
 "The thunder will come with the wind, and the rain 
 after the thunder: it will do a lot of good," said Lesbia. 
 Again she walked to the window and glanced up and down 
 the road. "To think I'm going to see my boy again to 
 night ! I 'd rather have my tongue torn out than say what 
 I 've got to say to him : but it will be good to see his hand 
 some face again, for all that." 
 
 "Much obliged for the compliment!" 
 
 Entering the porch just as Lesbia went to the window,
 
 73 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Auburn had walked in without ceremony, and now ap 
 peared in the doorway, his head barely clear of the lintel, 
 his hands in his pockets and a merry smile on his lips. 
 Jeannie opened her mouth to a silent "0!" of surprise, 
 pleasure, and some less obvious emotion. The room seemed 
 suddenly to have grown smaller. 
 
 "For shame, Mr. Charles!" said Lesbia, coloring deeply 
 from vexation. ' ' Is it of you that I 'm to learn to lock my 
 doors against eavesdroppers?" Making him a slight 
 curtsey, she drew forward a chair. "Will you please to sit 
 down, sir? You've walked, I suppose, from the village." 
 
 Auburn shut the door and leaned his back against it. 
 "Mr. Charles won't sit down till he's addressed in a proper 
 way. Allans, Lesbia ! I 've had neither tea nor dinner, but 
 if you won't be civil I'll go to the station and kill myself on 
 Bath buns!" 
 
 "That you'll not, then, when I've taken the pains to get 
 supper ready for you," retorted Lesbia, half laughing : and 
 lifting the lamp out of the way, she began to set the table 
 with her powerful, capable hands, so rapid and exact in 
 every movement the sort of hands that would not be 
 stronger to wield a hammer than delicate in nursing a 
 wren's egg. "There's a hash of venison that would go bad 
 before Jeannie and I got through it, and such a dish of 
 peas as they wouldn't give you at your club, and some 
 ungodly bottled beer that 111 not keep in the cellar a day 
 longer for fear the roof should fall on us Bass is the man 
 that made it him that's so chief with the Man of Wrath. 
 Well, and how's your young lady?" 
 
 Auburn was used to Mrs. Burnet's inquisitorial methods, 
 and remained unblushing. "Very fit, thanks: she sent her 
 love to you." 
 
 "My lamb, you've never let it go on to that?" 
 
 "I grieve to say your letter arrived a day behind the 
 fair. I was already entangled." 
 
 Lesbia set her silver straight without a word : her face
 
 73 
 
 was very dark for a moment, but resolutely she cleared it. 
 "I wonder," she said, more to herself than to Auburn, 
 "how an unbeliever gets through this world. I'd go mad 
 if I thought the tangles were in my hands to clear. Jeannie 
 my girl, here comes the storm : finish you the table while I 
 see to the dishing up. ' ' 
 
 She went out, leaving Auburn alone with Jeannie, who 
 rose and went on with her preparations. Auburn threw 
 himself into a chair to watch her. She had Lesbia's dex 
 terity though not her strength, and it was pretty to see her, 
 with her long, lean, shadowy fingers, plaiting up a damask 
 napkin into a little white ship. 
 
 "Who's that for?" asked Auburn idly. 
 
 "Me, I think: to sail away in, some day." 
 
 "I wouldn't sail away if I were you: I'd stay in port." 
 
 "Would you?" said Jeannie, smiling: 
 
 Tainter and fainter wreck and helmsman loom, 
 Still standing for some false, impossible shore. . .' 
 
 It was a great man that wrote that, Mr. Auburn: a man 
 who knew what it's like to be wrecked." 
 
 "He was an inspector of schools," said Auburn. "I'm 
 sorry, but he was. ' ' 
 
 "I know: I've read his life. If you come to think of it, 
 the greatest experiences are those that are common to all 
 men, even inspectors of schools birth, death, bereave 
 ment. ' ' 
 
 Thunder pealing, lightning flashing right overhead made 
 a strange accompaniment to her words. The wind had come 
 with the thunder, but the rain was not yet come : the trees 
 were bending and straining and rattling their dry leaves, 
 the lower branches whitened by the whirling dust, the upper 
 dark against the incessant glare in the sky. In came Lesbia, 
 carrying a great platter of venison, smoking hot, in one 
 hand, and a noble dish of peas in the other : they drew up 
 their chairs to the table and fell to, after a short grace, pro 
 nounced and probably composed by Mrs. Burnet. "Lord,"
 
 74 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 said she, "grant that we may eat with thankfulness and 
 without gluttony these Thy creatures of meat and fruit; 
 and that Thy creatures of the fields, the trees and the crops 
 and the animals, and Thy tall churches, and ships at sea, 
 may be preserved from the will of Thy servant the Devil in 
 his storm." To this Jeannie having replied "Amen," the 
 venison and the peas were discussed with a good relish. 
 The beer was for Auburn's use alone: his hostess (whose 
 creed would have taxed the brains of a theological college) 
 and Jeannie confining themselves to water. 
 
 "And now," said Lesbia when the meal was over and the 
 table cleared, "Jeannie, go to bed." 
 
 Jeannie rose obediently. "You'll not be very long?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Not long." 
 
 ' ' Good-night, Mr. Auburn. ' ' 
 
 "Good-night, dear," said Auburn absently. As he took 
 her hand, she looked up into his face with her deep, burn 
 ing eyes. "Oh," she said, "how like you are to your 
 father, sometimes!" 
 
 She drew back. Auburn, who had had some idea of kiss 
 ing her, looked inquiringly at Lesbia, who shook her nead. 
 
 "Let her go: she's tired to-night, and the thunder makes 
 her fanciful. Eun, child, and slip between the sheets: 
 here's rain to cool the air and make you sleep. Come, be 
 off!" 
 
 Jeannie went out slowly, with the lagging footsteps of 
 fatigue. Left alone with Auburn, Lesbia still found a thing 
 or two to do : she wound the clock, wiped up a few drops of 
 water spilled on the cloth, and lifted in a couple of plants 
 that had stood all day on the window-sill. Auburn watched 
 her proceedings in silent amusement. At length she blew 
 the lamp out, and sat down on Jeannie 's couch under the 
 open window. The storm was over now, and the wind had 
 gone by : the air came in slowly, blessedly cool, smelling of 
 wet grass and leaves. They heard the ceaseless rushing of
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 75 
 
 the rain, the steady drip, drip, patter, patter, of water 
 falling through a crack in the gutter under the eaves. It 
 was close on ten o'clock, but the night was not dark: there 
 was a small moon behind the clouds, which diffused a uni 
 versal grey illumination, scarcely amounting to light, cast 
 ing no shadows, yet different as daylight itself from the 
 dark of a moonless night. Drip, drip, patter, patter, patter. 
 "Lesbia," said Auburn, "let's get it over." 
 
 "I know you're not one of those that like to be kept wait 
 ing. But you must bear with me, Charles; I'm not so young 
 as I was. Tell me, without any joking, is it true you're 
 going to be married to this young lady?" 
 
 "Yes, I am." 
 
 "Does she know what manner of man your father was!" 
 
 "She knows a good deal. "Who doesn't?" 
 
 "You've told her yourself?" 
 
 "Yes, before we became engaged." 
 
 "Charles, there's much that even you don't know." 
 
 "Oh, come !" said Auburn with a sudden laugh, "I can't 
 believe that! There's little room for expansion. He lies 
 like a hatter, he swears like a trooper, and he drinks like a 
 fish what more do you want? 'Portrait of a Father, by 
 his Son: guaranteed genuine a labor of love.' " 
 
 "Did you ever hear anything about your mother, 
 Charles?" 
 
 "My mother? Little enough: she died soon after I was 
 born, didn't she?" 
 
 "Aye: she never rose from her bed." 
 
 "But why? you're not going to tell me she shared any of 
 his little weaknesses?" 
 
 "Your mother was a sweet lady: good and kind, gentle 
 and true. She was nineteen when they married her up to 
 Sir Charles: I was her maid, and my man Alexander, he 
 got the post of valet to Sir Charles. You and my boy were 
 born the same day, and when my boy died I took you from 
 her breast, and you were to me as my own son. SfaeM only
 
 76 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 been married a year : such a year ! Many 's the time when 
 he was drunk, yes and sober too, I've seen him strike her, 
 and that before the servants. And he 'd bring women to the 
 house, and make her sit down to dinner with them. ' ' 
 
 "Lesbia, why are you telling me this? I'm not so fond 
 of him already." 
 
 "I tell you you don't know a thing about it," said Lesbia 
 slowly. "What I've got to tell you is something quite dif 
 ferent. . . . He killed her." 
 
 "Good God!" said Auburn. 
 
 He rose and went to the window. The room, Lesbia 's 
 voice, his own body, all seemed to have grown unreal. He 
 felt the cool air breathing on his forehead, which was 
 covered with perspiration. He thought he was going to 
 faint, and taking up the vase of honeysuckle he wetted his 
 handkerchief and put it to his face. In a minute or so 
 the horrible feeling passed off, and he was able to face 
 Lesbia with some degree of composure. 
 
 "What do you mean? Explain, please." 
 
 "It was like this," said Lesbia. "You were seven weeks 
 old. My lady had been very ill, but she was better, and the 
 doctor said she'd pull round if we could only keep her 
 quiet. He forbade Sir Charles to see her. ' On guard, ' he 
 said to me. 'Let nobody pass. I've told Sir Charles to 
 keep away,' he said, 'unless he wants to be the death of her. 
 Agitation would be fatal.' That was all he said, but we 
 understood each other. He had wonderful sense for a 
 man, that doctor. 
 
 "It was the night of the tenth of September, and very 
 warm for the time of year. My lady lay in bed, dozing, 
 and I sat by with you in my arms. My man was sleeping 
 near at hand, and I'd had him put up a bell that rang in 
 his room. He hadn 't much of a head, but he 'd been in the 
 Grenadier Guards. 
 
 "By and by up comes Eliza to say Sir Charles wanted 
 me in the library. My lady was frightened he'd come up
 
 ORDEAi OF HONOR 77 
 
 and make a row, so to pacify her I said I'd go. I put you 
 down in your cot and locked the door behind me. I went 
 to the library: it was empty. 'He's in the garden,' says 
 Eliza. 'I'll fetch him.' So I waited, thinking no harm 
 why should I! But when the time went by, and she didn't 
 come back, I began to be uneasy, and at last I gave him up 
 and went up the stairs again. Half-way up I heard a babe 
 crying. Then I began to run. As I came to the door I 
 heard a loud, heavy noise like something falling over in the 
 room, and then my lady's voice crying out 'Oh dear!' and 
 then, ' Oh, Lesbia, do come ! ' ' 
 
 She stopped short, clenching her hands together. "Go 
 on," said Auburn. 
 
 "The lock stuck, and I couldn't turn the key. I cried 
 out, 'I'm here, I'm coming,' but there was no answer, only 
 gome more noises. Before I got the door open it was all 
 silent; only you were crying in your cot. My lady was 
 lying on the floor in her nightgown. There was an inkpot 
 on the table with a pen sticking in it, and the window was 
 wide open. Then I remembered we'd had it open a crack 
 at the top all the evening, because of the heat; and there 
 was a balcony outside." 
 
 "And ?" 
 
 "Alexander came in, and I sent him riding for the 
 doctor. But she went off delirious and died that night." 
 
 Lesbia rubber her handkerchief over her eyes. The re 
 cital had wrung a kind of tears from her; few they were, 
 and bitter. 
 
 "My lady was very rich, and a good bit of her money was 
 in her own hands. When her affairs were gone into, Sir 
 Charles produced a will leaving every penny of it to him 
 self without conditions. The name was written very irregu 
 lar and feeble, but it was her own hand. Eliza and one of 
 the footmen witnessed it; and they swore they'd seen her 
 sign it. A worthless lot the servants were, never the same 
 two months running. Sir Charles was a young man then,
 
 78 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 and his hand didn't shake, and his eye was true ; he'd think 
 nothing of pelting the decanter at a footman's head: and 
 as for the maids, no girl that valued her character would 
 stay in that house. Eliza and Tom got married soon after 
 none too soon for her and went off to Canada, I suppose 
 it was out of their savings. 
 
 "What I've told you to-day, I've never told before but 
 once, and that was to the lawyer, Mr. Maine. He told me 
 to hold my tongue, for he said you couldn't hang a fly on 
 such evidence, and I might get myself into trouble. 
 
 "I've held my tongue for five-and-thirty years, and I 
 hoped I might hold it for ever. But when I heard you 
 were for marrying, I knew I'd got to speak. I'm sorry, 
 dear." 
 
 The rain was still falling, but more softly: showering 
 down over the parched ground, the brown turf, the tanned 
 haycock in the mead. 
 
 "Don't mind for me, Lesbia." 
 
 "Not mind for you, my dear one? Ill be in my coffin 
 when that day comes. ' ' 
 
 "You're my real mother. I'm grateful to you for tell 
 ing me this story, although it's rather a blow." He could 
 not go on for a moment. "I'm glad you told me, all the 
 same. You're pretty brave, old Lesbia; you know how to 
 face the music. . . . Look here, I can't stay indoors; I 
 must get out into the open." 
 
 Lesbia made no demur, although it was still pouring with 
 rain. "Don't get through the window," she said, "you 11 
 break the geraniums. I'll let you out at the door." She 
 took him into the passage, turned the key, shot bolts, and 
 lowered bars. "One would think you were afraid of 
 thieves!" said Auburn. 
 
 "There's precious little in this house for any man to 
 steal now," Lesbia answered. "Aren't you going to take 
 your hat? I'd lend you an umbrella if I thought you'd 
 put it up."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 79 
 
 "I shouldn't thanks all the same. Good-night, dear." 
 
 * * Good-night, and God bless you, my darling. ' ' 
 
 She shut the door on him and locked and bolted it again.
 
 IX. 
 
 BABE-HEADED and without an overcoat, Auburn 
 swung off down the road, while the rain continued to 
 fall thickly and softly over the leafy woods. It was dark 
 under their branches, but he knew every step of the way: 
 he had roamed it many a time in his boyhood on wilder, 
 gloomier nights than this, preferring the scourge of the hail 
 or the deep drifted snow to the inhospitable luxury of 
 Auburn. He might have slept in the heather, for all Sir 
 Charles would have cared. 
 
 In the great grey Georgian house there had always been 
 fires on the hearth, wines in the cellar, and horses in the 
 stall, while bills were paid without demur, and pocket- 
 money was to be had for the asking ; but that was all. Per 
 haps Sir Charles did not dislike his son ; perhaps there were 
 times when he was inclined to be proud of the boy's 
 physique and looks. If it was so, Auburn did not know it. 
 Like the rest of the world, he found in Sir Charles only a 
 man of violent temper and of coarse and cruel disposition. 
 
 Fortunately for himself, Auburn in his fourteenth year 
 took to his bosom a friend in the person of Roland Carew, 
 aged fifteen, only son of Mr. Peter Carew, of Ferndean, 
 whose lands marched with the Auburn property. In com 
 mon with the rest of the county, Mr. Carew held that the 
 life at Auburn was a scandal; and, finding that an inti 
 macy had sprung up between his son and young Auburn, 
 he encouraged it, and gave the handsome wild boy the run 
 of the house. His neighbors shook their heads, prophesying 
 that he would regret it, but Mr. Carew placed considerable 
 faith in Roland, and was also rather taken with the manners 
 
 80
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 81 
 
 and looks of R-olands new ally. "Roland is fourteen," he 
 said, "old enough to take his own part. He'll go to Eton 
 in the summer, and there he'll have to choose his friends. 
 The lad is a plucky lad, and a gentleman at all events. I 
 don't thing he'll teach Roland to drink or to swear, but if 
 he tries it on I can trust my boy to settle with him. Any 
 how I '11 take no step to come between them till I see signs 
 of mischief going on." 
 
 At this time Roland had a private tutor, and when Mr. 
 Carew had satisfied himself that his confidence would not 
 be abused he told Auburn that he might, if he liked, share 
 Roland's lessons. Sir Charles was not consulted on the 
 point, which Mr. Carew felt to be sailing rather near the 
 wind: but then the circumstances were exceptional! Au 
 burn at thirteen scarcely knew his ABC. He jumped 
 at the opportunity, and worked double tides, till he 
 was nearly on a level with his companion. Then came Eton 
 for Roland, and a relapse into his former wild and solitary 
 life for young Auburn : and Mr. Carew expected them to 
 drift apart. They did not. During the next vacation they 
 were inseparable, and before Roland returned to school 
 matters came to a crisis. 
 
 Sir Charles came on the boys together in Auburn's room 
 one evening. He had been drinking, and was full of an 
 imaginary grievance against Auburn, who had been riding 
 one of his father's horses an act in itself no crime, but Sir 
 Charles was in one of his brutal tempers, and merely re 
 quired a pretext. Roland was witness of a scene such as 
 had many times before been enacted at Auburn, but never 
 in his presence. Disgusted, he listened to the copious tor 
 rent of profane eloquence that flowed from Sir Charles' 
 lips : but disgust passed into wrath, and wrath into dismay, 
 and dismay into a burning passion of pity and indignation, 
 when Sir Charles went from words to action. At length 
 Roland could bear it no longer and ran in between them, 
 telling Sir Charles he was an old brute, and vaguely threat-
 
 83 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 ening to send for the police. Possibly Sir Charles did not 
 know the lads apart; at all events he made no attempt to 
 discriminate between them, but with complete impartiality 
 knocked Eoland down and walked out. Roland jumped up, 
 ran to Auburn, and hugged him. But Auburn turned away, 
 leaned his arm along the mantelpiece, and laid his head 
 down on it for a minute or two, sobbing. "Oh don't, old 
 man ! ' ' said Roland, greatly distressed. "Did he hurt you t 
 Don't, I can't stand you crying!" 
 
 Auburn lifted his head, and Roland saw that he had not 
 been crying, and saw also that no bodily pain could have 
 called that tragic, unboyish misery into Auburn 'a eyes. 
 "You cut it, Roland," he said gently, "and you shan't 
 come up here again. This place isn't fit for nice boys with 
 people like yours." 
 
 Roland went home obediently, sought his father, and 
 related the affair without exaggeration. Next day Mr. 
 Carew had an interview with Sir Charles, and placed before 
 him certain strong representations. Sir Charles was in a 
 softened mood, and in some dim way ashamed of himself: 
 the upshot of it all was that Auburn returned with Roland 
 to Eton, and thenceforward spent most of his holidays at 
 Ferndean. 
 
 Of all these things, and many others, Auburn was think' 
 ing, as he went on under the trees dripping with rain, over- 
 spanned by a heaven of soft glooms and vague cloudy 
 masses with a bloom of moonlight on them. Early suffer 
 ings print an imperishable mark upon a man's character. 
 He could speak of Sir Charles lightly, but he could not 
 think of him in that way, and for this reason 1 j rarely 
 allowed himself to think of him. A deep, settled, vindic 
 tive, sickening anger lay embedded in the very depths of 
 his nature. Lesbia's story had quickened that anger, and, 
 till it was mastered, he was not master of his own thoughts : 
 they spun through his head like a drift of dead leaves. 
 
 He turned the bend of the road, where the woods on the
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 83 
 
 right fell back, and the tall deer-fence gave place to a low 
 railing, beyond which fields dotted with clumps of trees 
 went rolling away, far as the eye could see in that dim light, 
 in broad and colorless undulations to the woody bound of 
 the hills. The rain had ceased falling, but the air was 
 blurred with mist : through the thinning clouds a faint glow 
 revealed the situation of the moon, leaning down over the 
 hills. There was neither light nor color anywhere, but only 
 variations of the universal neutral tint of green things 
 growing in the dark. He passed through an outlying 
 hamlet; lamps gleamed here and there in the upper win 
 dows, and a dog barked angrily at the sound of steps along 
 that lonely road. After that he came to a cross-roads, where 
 a white lane wound away towards the river and the old 
 mill. The night, the cloudy sky, the homely English land 
 scape spoke to him with a thousand voices. The sleepers 
 in those cottages were his father 's laborers : he knew them 
 all, and they knew him he could tell the names of the chil 
 dren by their likeness to their parents. There was little 
 change in the Vale. The same families lived in the same 
 cottages year in year out, intermarrying and reproducing 
 the same tow-headed, blue-eyed Saxon type. Sir Charles 
 Auburn of Auburn was a great man to them, and "young 
 Charl' " a person worth staring after. Yes, this was home ! 
 Then he began to think of Dodo, and to try to imagine him 
 self married to her, and living with her in the great grey 
 Georgian house. Passion was dead in that hour, but in its 
 place came a strange warmth of friendship. "I should like 
 to tell her all about it," he thought. He found himself 
 longing for her presence, for her eyes and the touch of her 
 hands. "But I never can bring her here," he thought, "to 
 that house where. ..." Hatred began to stir in him again, 
 like some old pain that has been drugged for a time. "I 
 can't bring her anywhere. I can't marry her. I am his 
 son. My physical self is made out of his body. Oh, brute 
 and devil! am I bound to you for ever? If I knew what
 
 84 
 
 part of me came from you I'd cut it out fast enough, right 
 foot or right eye!" 
 
 Wandering on at random, it was with surprise that he 
 found himself, towards midnight, under the ivied walls of 
 Ferndean and not a mile from Kose Cottage. He had been 
 walking in a circle. Presently he came to the lodge gates, 
 and turned in: a long avenue wound away through the 
 park, but he took a familiar short cut, vaulted a fence, and 
 crossed the lawn. Apparently the Carews had been giving 
 a dinner-party, for lights were still burning in the drawing- 
 room, and the windows were open. Auburn stood on the 
 gravel, looking in. It was a pleasant room, spacious and 
 grave : one wall was lined with books, another with tall cab 
 inets full of Sevres china and such-like precious trifles. The 
 skin of a black panther sprawled along the polished floor. 
 Near the windows, on an inlaid table, stood a huge Chinese 
 bowl full of all colors of roses. The master of the house was 
 standing in front of the hearth with his hands in his pock 
 ets: a tall, well-built man, with dark hair, dark eyes, and 
 dark regular features. The trim severity of black and white 
 became him very well : he looked handsome perhaps rather 
 handsome than interesting, rather well-bred than warm 
 hearted. Violet Carew, clad in a French-looking gown of 
 black chiffon, stood under the chandelier absorbed in a 
 newspaper, which she held up before her in both hands. 
 She was neither pretty nor plain, and by people who did 
 not know her well she was considered very sweet-looking. 
 Presently she put down the newspaper, strolled up to 
 Eoland, and picked a white thread off his sleeve. "Well," 
 said the master of the house, using the phrase consecrated 
 from time immemorial to such occasions, "thank goodness, 
 that's over!" 
 
 "Yes," assented the hospitable hostess, "but I thought 
 they were never going. I'm so sleepy." She yawned un 
 affectedly. "I shall go to bed. Aren't you coming?" 
 
 "Directly. I want half a pipe first."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 85 
 
 "Oh. Well, good-night in case I'm asleep." 
 
 ' ' Good-night, darling. ' ' 
 
 He kissed her. Five years of married life had not, ap 
 parently, taken the savour from that process. Violet moved 
 away, but paused at the door. "It went off all right, don't 
 you think?" 
 
 "Oh, very. They're all nice people." 
 
 "Thomson waits very well now." 
 
 "Eather slow with the wines." 
 
 "H'm," said Violet, stifling another yawn. "Do you 
 think the asparagus was done enough?" 
 
 "Didn't have any." 
 
 "Rupert Maxwell told me he met Sir Charles Auburn at 
 the station yesterday morning, going up to town." 
 
 "Did he? I wish the train would run off the metals." 
 
 "I do too, rather. Shall you be long?" 
 
 "No I'm coming directly. You run along you're look 
 ing fagged." 
 
 Violet went out. As soon as the door was closed, Auburn 
 walked in. Roland was standing before the looking-glass 
 inspecting his tie: he caught sight of Auburn, wheeled 
 round, and stood rooted to the ground in astonishment. 
 
 "Auburn! Tout" 
 
 "No, my ghost." 
 
 "Where on earth do you spring from?" 
 
 " I Ve been calling on Lesbia, and I thought I M come on 
 here." 
 
 "Are you aware that it's past midnight?" 
 
 "Oh? I thought it was ten minutes to one." 
 
 "But, good heavens! do you know that you're dripping 
 wet?" 
 
 Auburn made a slight grimace. "The dickens I am! I 
 forgot that. I think I'd better not come in." 
 
 "Come and sit down. Have you had anything to eat?" 
 
 ' ' Take your hand off that bell-rope, unless you want me to 
 depart incontinent. I don't desire a fuss, Roland."
 
 86 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Roland took him by the shoulders and pushed him down 
 on a sofa, himself sitting on the arm of it. The tie between 
 the two men was so old and deep and strong that sympathy 
 took the place of penetration, with which Mr. Carew was 
 poorly endowed. "All right, I won't make any fuss, old 
 boy," he said. "Only I think you might tell me what's 
 
 wrong. Have you had a row with Sir Ch Auburn! 
 
 Look here, you shut up : that sort of thing's not good taste. 
 After all he's your father." 
 
 1 ' That is what is wrong, ' ' said Auburn. ' ' I 'm sorry, but 
 I shall infallibly swear if I talk about him. Very wet to 
 night, isn't it?" 
 
 "Has anything happened?" 
 
 "I haven't murdered him, if that's what you mean. I'm 
 not sure that I shan't, though. Why do you harp on that 
 subject? I said it was a wet evening." 
 
 "Is it anything fresh?" 
 
 "Oh, let me alone, do, for heaven's sake! What an old 
 woman you are to be so inquisitive!" 
 
 "Auburn, if you could see your own face you would be 
 inquisitive." 
 
 "Should I? ... Well, 1 11 tell you, then. Lesbia says 
 he killed my mother. ' ' Roland said nothing. ' ' I don 't say 
 he actually went for her with a bludgeon, but he was di 
 rectly responsible for her death." 
 
 Half a dozen questions put Roland in possession of the 
 facts. Auburn gave them languidly, looking white and 
 tired : apparently he had exhausted himself in that one short 
 and sharp outbreak which had called down on him Roland's 
 rebuke. "A very indecent affair, isn't it?" finished 
 Auburn. 
 
 "How utterly awful!" said Roland Carew slowly. 
 
 "You always put things so nicely," said Auburn, yawn 
 ing. "Yes, I suppose it is utterly awful. It's not a hang 
 ing matter. To go to your wife's room and drag her out 
 of bed is not murder. No one can touch Sir Charles."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 87 
 
 ' ' My dear fellow, you surely are not regretting it ? You 
 don't want a scandal." 
 
 "No, I'm his son, ain't I?" 
 
 Roland abandoned that side of the question; it did not 
 bear looking at. "Lesbia ought never to have told you," 
 he said. ''She ought to have had the strength of mind to 
 keep it to herself. Just like a woman they're so fond of 
 doing things by halves." 
 
 ''She thought I ought to know." 
 
 "I don't see why now more than at any other time." 
 
 "No, possibly you don't," said Auburn, with a gleam of 
 genuine merriment lighting up his eyes. "Let's see, when 
 did I write to you last from Salonica, wasn't it? Ah, 
 that 's ages ago. Have patience with me, and I will tell thee 
 all." He got up and strolled over to smell the roses. "I'd 
 have sent you a card for the ceremony, old man, on my 
 honor I would!" 
 
 "What ceremony?" 
 
 "You wouldn't have been any good, you know, having 
 already preceded me into the fatal noose. Still I should 
 have been glad of your moral support " 
 
 "Auburn, I do beg of you to be sensible! This is not a 
 laughing matter. ' ' 
 
 "The fact that my father murdered my mother is cer 
 tainly not a fit subject for mirth. The fact that I myself, 
 am, or was, about to get married is not a fit subject for 
 raving up and down the room, dear boy! Calm yourself, 
 do you see I'm quite calm!" 
 
 Roland was not raving up and down the room, but neither 
 was he calm. He came and put his hands on Auburn's 
 shoulders : he went so far as to shake him slightly, half in 
 exasperation, half as if he really hoped to shake the truth 
 out of him. Auburn stood with his hands in his pockets 
 and allowed himself to be shaken: passive, merry, invin 
 cibly stoical, he continued to laugh at Roland till his own 
 whimsical fancy veered towards confidence.
 
 88 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Look here," lie said suddenly, "I'll tell you all about it. 
 I always meant to tell you some time, only the time didn't 
 arrive. I 've got engaged : I only did it last Tuesday ! You 
 know I told you I was going to stay with some people named 
 Carminow? It's Dodo Carminow. Her father's vicar of 
 Stanton Mere, near Countisford. She's nineteen, and I 
 don't think she's ever stayed in London. She's been there 
 for the day, though, several times. She doesn't really like 
 me much, but she likes the prospect of being Lady Auburn 
 and having plenty of money to spend Not serious ? I am, 
 though rather ! She trots round the parish with port wine 
 and blankets, and she teaches a boys' Bible class. "We're 
 going to Paris for our honeymoon, and I 'm pledged to buy 
 her some clothes at Pasquin 's. She 's rather pretty, Roland. 
 The odd part of it is that I shouldn't care a hang if she 
 heard every word I've been saying, and she wouldn't either. 
 Oh, I forgot to add that she's a religious-minded Dodo: 
 good to the n th , in fact you may fill up the blanks with all 
 the Christian virtues." 
 
 "Are you in love with her?" asked Roland, as bluntly as 
 Grace had asked the same thing of Dodo. 
 
 Auburn looked puzzled. "Bet you sixpence I am?" he 
 said in an inquiring tone. 
 
 "Are you modi" said Roland. It was purely a rhetori 
 cal question. 
 
 "Yes, I think so," said Auburn happily. "Yes, let's 
 settle that I am, it'll save a jolly lot of trouble. Oh, Roland, 
 you are a blessed old ass! Can't you understand all the 
 things I haven't said? Can't you see I'm I'm " 
 
 "Roland, did you " 
 
 Both men started, and turned round: but their surprise 
 was considerably less than Mrs. Carew's. She was in her 
 dressing-gown, and her pretty brown hair was disposed for 
 the night in pigtails and curling-pins, and probably nothing 
 would have been further from her thoughts than to find a 
 very wet, very muddy Charles Auburn standing in her
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 89 
 
 drawing-room. Her looks expressed a lively mingling of 
 horror and surprise. Auburn shook off the hand that 
 Roland instinctively laid on his arm, and made two strides 
 of it to the window. 
 
 "You're not to go, Auburn! It's pelting with rain 
 don't be an ass!" 
 
 "Mr. Auburn, don't go!" said Violet quickly. "You're 
 going because I'm here, and I don't want you to, honestly. 
 We can easily put you up!" 
 
 Auburn paused a moment on the gravel to turn up his 
 coat-collar, making a slight grimace over the cold wetness 
 of it against his cheek : his face illumined by the light from 
 within, he smiled back at Violet, bending his head. Know 
 ing little of women, and having gathered from books a 
 general impression that masculine friendships were at a 
 discount in their eyes he had expected, when Roland mar 
 ried, to be civilly bowed out of intimacy : it had not been 
 so, yet Violet's frank kindness still came to him always as 
 a surprise. "Dear souls," he said, "how very good you 
 are to me ! Add one more to the list of your many charities, 
 and let me depart in peace." 
 
 * ' Why not stay in peace ? ' ' Violet suggested. ' ' Nobody 11 
 ask any questions." 
 
 "What on earth do you mean by that?" asked Auburn, 
 perturbed. "Go away, I don't like you. Roland, you'd 
 better lock up the broomsticks. Good-night, the pair of 
 you: I hope you'll always be as good as you are happy." 
 
 "Auburn " 
 
 Roland grasped his arm. Auburn wrenched himself free 
 with a violence that sent Roland staggering back into the 
 room, and vanished. They heard him cross the gravel and 
 swing off across the lawn: the night had grown dark, and 
 it was beginning to rain again. A gust of wind set the 
 lights flaring, and Violet slowly closed the window.
 
 IT was evening again ; one of those lovely summer nights 
 when July clothes the earth with the beauty of moon 
 light. The Carminows had finished supper, and were pur 
 suing their wonted avocations in the schoolroom, whose 
 windows were all open down to the ground. Caron sat 
 cross-legged on the middle threshold, smoking, and gazing 
 out into the greyish-azure of the deep, unclouded sky. 
 Boden was lying on the sofa, ostensibly reading ; but it was 
 only at rare intervals that he turned a leaf. These were 
 the contemplative members of the family. Mr. Carminow 
 had been called out to baptize a sick child, and Dickie had 
 volunteered to escort him for the sake of the walk. Bernard 
 had taken to himself one end of the big table and sat there 
 immersed, surrounded by books and papers, his own pri 
 vate reading-lamp casting a private circle of light over his 
 desk. Dodo at the other end was plying her sewing- 
 machine, which made a subdued whirring noise in the quiet 
 of the room. The wheel spun, the needle clicked ; there was 
 no other sound to be heard except an occasional rustling of 
 Bernard's papers. Dodo resented the hush of quiet, so 
 rare in that lively household. 
 
 "The lamp is smoking, Bernard," said she. 
 
 "Because it's badly cut," said Bernard, turning it down. 
 'Curious that one can't trust a woman to do the most 
 trifling things properly ! One would not think it required 
 much brain to trim a lamp." 
 
 "What an extraordinarily evil manner you have, Bern 
 ard!" said Caron. "I wish you'd give me a lesson in the 
 art I know how to be rude, but I don't know how to be 
 
 90
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 91 
 
 offensively rude." His tone rather belied his words, but 
 Bernard only lifted his head to stare at him for a moment, 
 then returned to his calculations. 
 
 "Did you get any tennis up at the Trevors', Roddy?" 
 
 "Couple o' sets." 
 
 "Who was there?" 
 
 "Oh, the usual team; Grace and Mabel Blandford and 
 Val Attwood." 
 
 "Who won?" 
 
 ' ' Grace and I. Attwood couldn 't make much of the great 
 Mabel. She was weirder than ever, in a pink costume, with 
 a pink sash and a red straw hat with poppies in it. Att 
 wood was awfully sick, he had her on his hands the whole 
 afternoon; he went directly after tea. She's a persistent 
 angler, is that young woman, and she 's got her eye on Val. ' ' 
 
 "With a cast in it," suggested Caron. "But she's not a 
 judicious hooker. He has a fine head, has Attwood. What 
 was that queer story he was mixed up in, though? That 
 pal of Dickie's that he brought over here last autumn told 
 us, don't you remember? He nearly had to send in his 
 papers." 
 
 "Dickson never ought to have repeated it," said Dodo 
 with some warmth, "and you're not to, either, Car I won't 
 have it. I hoped you'd forgotten about it. Poor Val was 
 only twenty-two!" 
 
 "Which, taken in conjunction with fine eyes and an 
 attractive manner, is ample ground for forgiving anybody 
 or anything," remarked Bernard. "What did Attwood do 
 embezzle the mess funds or turn up drunk on parade?" 
 
 Dodo turned on him with a flash in her eyes. "Bernard, 
 you are as hard as the nether millstone ! If ever you want 
 mercy, I hope you'll not get it." 
 
 "Oh, Bernard's the apostle of pure reason," said Caron, 
 laughing. "Chivalry has no place in his composition he 
 thinks it's an unworthy weakness-." 
 
 "No, I don't," said Bernard. "I keep some for you."
 
 93 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 The wheel spun and the needle clicked: Dodo did not 
 intervene. Caron might cross swords, if he liked, with his 
 brother: she knew better than to engage in that unequal 
 strife. She glanced once or twice at Roden, but he was 
 buried in his book. Whose side was he on? That re 
 mained to be seen. Long experience had proved to Dodo 
 that she and Roden were the only members of the family 
 capable of standing up to Bernard in a hand-to-hand fight : 
 Caron, hypersensitive and morbidly troubled by his lame 
 ness, was predestined to come to grief. As a rule Rodeu 
 might be relied on to cover his retreat; to-night, however, 
 his face expressed nothing but a slight weariness, which 
 might or might not conceal disgust. Caron being on Dodo's 
 side, and Roden refusing to take sides with Caron, did it 
 follow that he would support Bernard against Dodo ? She 
 creased her work into a straight fold, and flattened it down 
 methodically on the tablet under the needle. Hearts may 
 break, but shirts must be hemmed Bernard's shirts, for 
 example ! Such is the ingratitude of man : not that Bernard 
 knew they were his shirts. 
 
 ''Was that the front gate opening?" Dodo asked sud 
 denly. "If so I must go Aline 's out." 
 
 "Yes, I hear some one coming up the drive," said Caron. 
 
 Through the evening quiet they could all hear distant 
 steps on the gravel: light, firm steps, walking fast. Ab 
 ruptly they ceased : the late comer had turned off across the 
 grass. Dodo pushed her work aside, and rose. Bernard 
 also rose, and prevented her. 
 
 "Don't trouble," he said; I'll go." 
 
 "What do you mean, Bernard?" 
 
 "Simply that I won't have that fellow coming here any 
 more." 
 
 "To your house!" exclaimed Caron. 
 
 "I shall have to meet him in the street, then," said Dodo. 
 
 "If you like to disgrace yourself, that's your affair. 
 Don't be a fool, Caron. Get out of the way "
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 93 
 
 "No, "said Roden. 
 
 He dragged himself up off the sofa, looking the image of 
 exhaustion. "Don't you be a fool, Bernie. Do you want 
 to quarrel? I'm on. Call the police if you like. I've 
 talked it over with father and he thinks it had better be I 
 who see Auburn." 
 
 Bernard, who had not taken the pains to assure himself 
 of Mr. Carminow's support (which was usually at his serv 
 ice, partly for peace sake, and partly because he had an 
 irritating knack of being in the right), stood silent, his 
 brow dark. Roden passed him as if he did not exist, and 
 stepped out on the terrace, Dodo following. The little scene 
 had gone by so quickly that Auburn was still only half-way 
 across the lawn. 
 
 ' ' Oh, bless you, Roddy ! ' ' said Dodo in an ardent whisper. 
 
 "Yes, I dare say," said Roden, "what a beastly little 
 nuisance you are to drag me into a row with Bernard! 
 Life won't be worth living for a fortnight. Cut it, now: 
 I 've got to do the heavy brother. ' ' 
 
 Dodo retired provisionally: and Roden ran down the 
 steps to be instantly hailed by Auburn. "Oh, I say, I've 
 had such a dickens of a time ! The exhaust pipe broke, and 
 I clattered home like a mad dog tied to a tin kettle. 
 Where's Dodo?" 
 
 "Indoors," said Roden. 
 
 He passed his arm through Auburn's, turned him round, 
 and began to walk up and down the lawn, stealing keen 
 glances at his tall companion. He liked Auburn very much, 
 and had done so from the first : had been attracted by the 
 sight of Auburn's overflowing vitality and high-spirited 
 acceptance of life : but he did not trust him why should 
 he? Their acquaintance was in reality slight, and Roden 
 was not impulsive, nor prone to judge by intuition. This 
 attitude had naturally been intensified by the recent change 
 in their relations, for what was good enough in Roden 's 
 friend was by no means good enough in Dodo 's lover. Au-
 
 94- AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 burn meanwhile was racking his brains to account for a 
 reception which struck him as peculiarly chilly. At length 
 he was driven to ask, "Is anything wrong?" 
 
 "There has been rather a row on at home." 
 
 "A row about me?" 
 
 "Yes: and I said I'd talk to you because I knew you 
 couldn't be expected to stand Bernard's methods, and the 
 Vicar funked it. Father has had a letter " 
 
 "From Sir Charles?" 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "I divined it. Continue." 
 
 "First let me say that the writer's prejudice was obvi 
 ous. He had had your letter announcing the engagement : 
 he disliked the idea of it for which I don't blame him: 
 she's no catch and his express purpose was to break it off. 
 He wasn't particularly civil to my father, or any of us. 
 He refused point-blank to consent; and he declared that 
 in doing so he was thinking as much of Dodo as he was 
 of you." 
 
 "Keally? Why?" 
 
 "He painta you in lurid colors don't lose your temper 
 if you can help it. He says you've been pretty wild." 
 
 Auburn laughed out : the situation was not without irony. 
 "Wild, have I? that's rather droll. Did I make love to 
 housemaids, or throw the decanters at the footmen's heads? 
 My good Roden, is it possible that you take him seri 
 ously?" 
 
 "Seriously enough to want a categorical denial." 
 
 "Then I give you a categorical denial it's a damnable 
 lie." 
 
 "Can you prove your words?" 
 
 Auburn jerked his arm away and swung round on Roden 
 with so angry a flash that the latter thought he was going 
 to be knocked down, but on the brink of an outbreak Au 
 burn checked himself, and laughed instead. "How you 
 must enjoy all this! So do I, but I'd rather be cross-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 95 
 
 examined than cross-examiner. You're a cool hand, 
 Roden." 
 
 "You must let me remind you that we really know next 
 to nothing of you. Your father gives you a bad character, 
 and you retort by swearing at him: he proves nothing 
 neither do you." 
 
 "Oh, you're logical enough: I'm not blaming you. But 
 the upshot of it is that Mr. Carminow withdraws his con 
 sent, I suppose, till I can clear myself?" 
 
 ' ' He withdraws his consent till your father gives his. ' ' 
 
 "Oh? That's very funny. Won't it do if I can get a 
 certificate of character?" 
 
 "Hardly. You see he hates the idea of Dodo marrying 
 into a family that doesn't welcome her. We have no 
 money," Roden 's clear and concise utterance lent point 
 to his words: "and so we think the more of ourselves. Sir 
 Charles evidently believes we've conspired to catch you. 
 You can't expect my father to like that." 
 
 "No." 
 
 ' ' Besides, he hates the idea of you and Sir Charles being 
 on bad terms over it. He's a firm believer in the family 
 tie, you know, and he thinks I'm not sure I don't agree 
 with him it must be partly your own fault if you don't 
 get on. Sir Charles writes pretty decently about you his 
 only son, and all that: he certainly is more civil to you 
 than " 
 
 "Than I was to him?" 
 
 ' ' I dare say you think I have no right to say this. ' ' 
 
 "Not at all : as Dodo's brother I have given you the right 
 to examine into my private affairs." 
 
 "Well, yes: I think you have," said Roden roundly. 
 Auburn laughed again. His face was as expressionless as 
 a mask, and he would not meet Roden 's eyes. 
 
 1 ' Quite so. Am I to see Dodo ? ' ' 
 
 "Father won't say no, but would rather not say yes." 
 
 "And Dodo acquiesces, of course? What it is to belong
 
 96 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 to a virtuous family! Thank heaven, there's no risk of 
 that for me. Never mind: I'll go down to-morrow and 
 make it up with Sir Charles, and all shall go merry as a 
 marriage bell. "Will that satisfy Mr. Carminow?" 
 
 "You will go down to Auburn?" 
 
 "Certainly: what else should I do? I haven't seen Sir 
 Charles for ten years, so it will be a touching reunion." 
 
 Roden was vaguely dissatisfied, though he could not have 
 said why. "Are you in a rage?" he asked, trying to read 
 Auburn's face. "You've got a temper, I should fancy. 
 Are you annoyed with me or with him?" 
 
 "You don't know what you're talking about, Roddy: 
 you don't in the least understand the situation, or him, or 
 me. I shall get back to town to-night and go down by the 
 one o'clock train from Waterloo: that gets to Auburn 
 towards evening. I shall catch Sir Charles after dinner 
 when he's in his mellowest mood. I'll bring over the olive- 
 branch next day. Well, now I think I'll say good-night: 
 I'm dead sleepy." He made as if to hold out his hand, but 
 checked himself. Simultaneously Roden seized it and 
 wrung it. 
 
 "You've been awfully decent over this." 
 
 "Yes, I've borne with your impertinence." 
 
 "You see," Roden paused, visibly screwing himself to 
 the sticking point, "we're very fond of Dodo." 
 
 "Very proper sentiments, my son," was all the answer 
 Auburn vouchsafed : nevertheless his eyes softened. 
 
 Man proposes. As Auburn walked down the avenue after 
 parting with Roden, a small lithe figure slid down from its 
 seat on the arm of a fir and came towards him. 
 
 "Dodo!" said Auburn, recoiling, "go away I'm not 
 allowed to play with you." 
 
 "You can't cut a lady, it's not polite," said Dodo, ad 
 vancing and holding out her hands. Auburn took them: 
 she put up her face. Auburn shook his head.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 97 
 
 "No: I'm on my honor." 
 
 "Oh!" said Dodo: "or you don't want to?" 
 
 "I desire it of all things." 
 
 "What's the matter with your eyes, Charles? they look 
 very queer." 
 
 "The matter with my eyes? Nothing! What's wrong 
 with them?" 
 
 "Altogether you're not like yourself. Where are you 
 going?" 
 
 He parried with another question. "Aren't you afraid 
 to talk to a dangerous, dissipated scamp like me?" 
 
 "That is utter nonsense," said Dodo slowly. "I don't 
 believe a word of it." 
 
 "Not when you have it on such good authority? I'm 
 his only son, and he 's devotedly attached to me. Think how 
 painful it must have been for him to have to give me 
 away!" 
 
 "What's the matter, Charles?" 
 
 "Nothing. I'm tired: I've had a long day, and the car 
 wasn 't running well. Let me go, Dodo. ' ' 
 
 "Go where?" 
 
 "To London. I'm not fit to sleep at the Vicarage." 
 
 ' ' Oh dear me ! ' ' said Dodo, crushing her fingers together. 
 "I do so wish men wouldn't meddle in things they don't 
 understand. What are you going to do to-morrow ? ' ' 
 
 "Make it up with my dear father." 
 
 "Charles, you're not going to Auburn?" 
 
 "Faith, but I am, though!" 
 
 He stood smiling down at her with indolent, ironical eyes. 
 "You may think of me as folded in the parental embrace. 
 What, aren't you touched? You don't appreciate the beau 
 ties of the family tie. When a father doesn't get on with 
 his only son, darling, there are certain to be faults on both 
 sides. I'm going to ask him to forgive me, and take me to 
 his breast again." 
 
 "You shan't go, Charles."
 
 98 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 She stepped in front of the gate. Auburn, however, was 
 no less resolute : he slipped his arm round her waist, lifted 
 her in his clasp like a child, and set her aside. His strength, 
 the silent laughter in his eyes, and the realization of her 
 own weakness brought the color to Dodo's cheek and put 
 her to silence. Meanwhile, Auburn had passed out into the 
 road. ' ' Oh, don 't, ' ' cried Dodo, ' ' dear, don 't do it ! " But 
 he only waved his hand to her and went on his way.
 
 XL 
 
 ODEN > are 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' said Koden, retiring an inch, or so farther 
 under the bedclothes. "Fast asleep. Go away!" 
 
 Dodo perched herself on the bed, tucking up her bare 
 feet under her, and folded her arms as tightly as the tight 
 ness of the red dressing-gown would permit. "Have you 
 got any money?" Koden snored. "It's not the least use 
 your doing that, said Dodo calmly. "Don't be silly 1" 
 
 Koden emerged, looking very cross in the pale mid 
 night moonlight, his fair hair much ruffled, his grey eyes 
 blinking. As he was notoriously a light sleeper, Dodo felt 
 justified in ignoring this ostentatious drowsiness. "Have 
 you got any money ? ' ' she repeated, ' * and if so, how much ? ' ' 
 
 "There's a shilling and three halfpennies on the dressing- 
 table which you can have if you '11 only go away. "What do 
 you want money for in the middle of the night?" 
 
 "I want you to go to Auburn to-morrow and get hold of 
 Charles." 
 
 Roden left off yawning and looked mutely at his sister. 
 
 "I want you to prevent him from going to see his 
 father." 
 
 "My dear child, what are you afraid of?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "I don't see what's going to happen to him unless Sir 
 Charles locks him up in the cellar : and if I were Auburn I 
 wouldn't be green enough to go into the cellar." 
 
 "Yet you'll go." 
 
 "How can I? He has twelve hours' start of me, and I 
 
 99
 
 100 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 don't know where to find him! Be rational, dear child 
 even if you are in love." 
 
 "You can easily waylay him, for he doesn't mean to go 
 to Sir Charles till after dinner. Call at Auburn and leave 
 a message for him." 
 
 "I can call spirits from the vasty deep," said Roden, 
 with more relevance than appeared at first, "but will they 
 come when I do call for them? Your beloved Charles is 
 fairly obstinate. I think he will tell me to go to Jericho." 
 
 "Possibly, but he won't tell me to go to Jericho. I'll 
 give you a note for him. ' ' 
 
 "Nonsense: I'm not going." 
 
 ' ' Yes, you are, ' ' said Dodo, coaxing. ' ' You know, Roddy, 
 I'm not an idiot. I shouldn't say this without reason. I 
 know a great deal more about Charles than you do, and I 
 
 I dread " she broke off. "I don 't like it : I 'm miserable 
 
 about it. Be sweet to me, darling!" 
 
 "What's the fare?" 
 
 "Nineteen and a penny." 
 
 Roden shook his head. "Circumstances over which I 
 have no control " 
 
 " I 've got seven and f ourpence. ' ' Roden shook his head. 
 "Well, borrow from Caron." 
 
 Roden shook his head again. "My child, I have." 
 
 "Isn't there anything we could sell?" 
 
 "Not unless you could bring yourself to part with that 
 dressing-gown." 
 
 "Don't be so silly. Of course father would give it us, 
 but " 
 
 "But " Roden nodded assent. "Tell you what 
 
 "borrow from Bernard!" 
 
 The proposal was startling. "But he won't give it you!" 
 objected Dodo. 
 
 "Child, child, what a pitiful lack of imagination yon dis 
 play ! Would you mind handing me my covert coat off that 
 chair?" Dodo gave it him, and he got up, wrapping it
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 101 
 
 round him over his pyjamas reconciled to the journey that 
 lay before him by the exhilarating prospect of committing 
 a burglary. Dodo could not help laughing as she watched 
 him gravely getting into his slippers. "It'll serve Bernard 
 right," he said firmly; "bleed a little of the self -righteous 
 ness out of him. Wonder where he keeps his tin, by the bye ? 
 He's such a beastly screw, I shouldn't be surprised to find 
 he locks it up." Koden's tone was injured; he himself had 
 never been known to lock money up but once, when he hid 
 away a 10 note in a drawer, lost the key, and forgot what 
 he had done with the note, which came to light some months 
 later, when Bernard had occasion to break open the desk. 
 "Never mind, you wait a sec.," said the chronically impe 
 cunious one, cautiously tip-toeing out of the room. "Pli 
 rummage out his caches." 
 
 In point of fact he was away some little time, and when 
 he returned Dodo had curled herself up on the pillow and 
 was asleep in good earnest. Roden stood for a few moments 
 silently regarding her. Sleep had effaced the marks of 
 thought and action, leaving her very fair, quaint, and child 
 ish. "She looks like a chit of twelve!" he thought. His 
 own face had taken on a much older and sterner expression 
 than it generally wore. The brother and sister were curi 
 ously alike in feature and in coloring, but there the resem 
 blance ended, for Dodo was genuinely youthful, while 
 Roden was a man rather old for his eight-and-twenty years, 
 and trying more or less deliberately to put the clock back. 
 
 Of all the Carminows, Roden, seemingly the most com 
 monplace, was perhaps in reality the least normal. Inherit 
 ing a strain of his mother's quality, he had in him the 
 makings of a saint or a martyr: an intense silent faith, a 
 courage ascetically austere. Underneath the veil of manner 
 his life burned with a white flame of purity, and endur 
 ance, and singleness of heart. He kept his own counsel, 
 however. So far, of all earthly emotions the one that 
 swayed his life most strongly was a deep love for his sister :
 
 10* AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 but those waters ran so still that Dodo herself hardly knew 
 of them. Liking in Roden, or even love, by no means im 
 plied confidence. To Auburn, on one painful occasion, he 
 had been compelled to be explicit, but sorely against the 
 grain ; and yet he liked Auburn well. He was one of those 
 few men who are capable of extremes. 
 
 "She looks like a child of twelve!" he thought. "I 
 wonder what Auburn thinks he sees in her ? There is a lot 
 of devilry in Dodo, but he can't have seen that what does 
 he know of her? It's not as if she were pretty, and she's 
 abominably badly turned out as a rule. I'd give twopence 
 to know what he thinks he likes her for, and whether it'll 
 last. Give her another ten years, and she might hold him : 
 
 but Dodo ? He's straight, though, is Auburn. I'd take 
 
 his word as I would Bernard's. If she must be married, 
 I 'd as soon it were he as any one, but what a vulgar busi 
 ness it all is, to be sure ! I am convinced there is a heaven 
 we can 't enter hand in hand. ' ' 
 
 He touched her arm. "Dodo, wake up, will you ?" 
 
 Dodo sat up, broad awake in an instant. ' ' Have you got 
 it!" 
 
 "Rather! He keeps it loose in his trousers' pockets. 
 Very bad plan to keep money loose in your trousers' pocket, 
 especially when you've a hole in it." 
 
 ' ' Roddy, you 're a genius ! I 'm awfully grateful to you. ' * 
 
 * ' So you ought to be. Frankly, you know, I think this is 
 the most idiotic idea that ever entered a human brain." 
 
 "Yes, I know it is," assented Dodo placidly, "but it's 
 much better to be idiotic than miserable. I shall have no 
 fears for Charles now I know you '11 be there to catch him 
 you're so reliable, so intelligent : I have implicit faith " 
 
 "No go," said Roden. "I only got two quid, and I shall 
 want all that myself." 
 
 To Auburn from Stanton Mere is no great distance as 
 the erow flies, but by rail it is a different matter. Charles
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 108 
 
 Auburn, into whose head the idea of saving money on a 
 railway fare had never penetrated, rode over to Countis- 
 ford in time to catch the last train to London, transacted a 
 little agreeable business with Manton the great jeweller, 
 and caught an afternoon express down again: Roden left 
 early the next morning, took a cross-country route, and 
 spent his day in slow trains and at junctions. 
 
 It was close on nine o'clock when he stepped out on the 
 little country platform of Riversley, the station nearest to 
 the hamlet of Auburn. There was still a great deal of light, 
 for it was a clear sunset, but the colors were fast fading: 
 gone was the rose-red over the west, gone the rose-pink 
 from the hollyhocks that stood up tall and stiff in the 
 parched borders beside the platform. Roden made up to 
 the ticket collector, in quest of direction. 
 
 "Go along th' road for a matter of a couple o' miles," 
 said the ticket collector drowsily, "or three it mi-be, an' 
 you'll fin' it on y'r right." 
 
 "Thank you," said Roden, languidly polite, "and per 
 haps you can tell me if you have seen anything of Mr. 
 Charles Auburn to-day? I believe he is down here." 
 
 "No, I ain't: I never heard tell on him. I know th' oP 
 governor, happen it's him you mean? ol' Charley Auburn." 
 
 "No, not Sir Charles," answered Roden the imper 
 turbable, "his son." 
 
 The ticket collector jerked his thumb over his shoulder in 
 the direction of the stationmaster. "Ask th' ol' man. You 
 mus'n' go stoppin' th' way." 
 
 Realizing that he was doing so, Roden fell back to ad 
 dress the stationmaster, when he was himself addressed by 
 one of his fellow-passengers, a tall, dark man in whose 
 pleasant voice there lingered the faint traces of a Devon 
 shire burr. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir, but I think I heard you asking 
 for Charles Auburn?" 
 
 "Yes, I was," said Roden. "I hare followed him and
 
 104 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 missed him, and I 'm not quite sure which way he has gone. 
 Can you direct me, sir ? " 
 
 Roland Carew turned to the stationmaster. "Raymond, 
 have you seen Mr. Charles to-day ? ' ' 
 
 "Why no, sir! I didn't know he'd been down. What 
 train did he come by?" 
 
 * ' One of the evening trains, ' ' said Roden. Mr. Raymond 
 shook his head. 
 
 "I've been in the goods office this hour and more, and 
 Walters here don't know him. Thompson!" beckoning to 
 a porter, "here's Mr. Carew inquiring after Mr. Charles 
 Auburn. Did he come by the 8.29?" Thompson looked 
 doubtful. "He's very tall, you know well over six feet, 
 isn 't he sir ? And very free with his money. ' ' 
 
 "There was a very tall gentleman got out of a first-class 
 smoker, sir, and gave young Brown a shillin' for pickin' 
 *ip his walkin '-stick. Would that be him?" 
 
 "In a grey suit and a Panama hat and carrying a light 
 cane? That was he," said Roden; while Mr. Raymond ex 
 pressed what was evidently a genuine regret that he hadn't 
 had the pleasure of a word with him. Upon further inquiry 
 it transpired that Auburn had left by a field path in the 
 direction of his home, and Roden, having satisfactorily es 
 tablished the fact of his arrival in the minds of a cloud of 
 witnesses, was about to follow him, when Roland intervened. 
 
 "May I introduce myself? I am Roland Carew. I dare 
 say you have never heard my name," he said with his grave 
 smile, "but I am one of Charles Auburn's oldest friends, 
 and as my house is on the way to Auburn I think it quite 
 likely he may call in there. Will you let me drive you 
 down? My phaeton is waiting." 
 
 Roden, who was not fond of walking, accepted with 
 effusion, and explained his own identity, while Roland led 
 the way towards the road, where a trim groom stood at the 
 head of a handsome chestnut horse, which was harnessed to 
 a very high phaeton, and appeared to be anxious to get rid
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 105 
 
 of it. "Jump in," said Roland, viewing these manreuvres 
 with an equanimity which Roden did not altogether share, 
 "look sharp behind, Stephens he's rather fresh to-night, 
 isn't he?" 
 
 "Yessir," said Stephens; which, as Claude Duval (the 
 name was of Violet's coinage) had dragged the phaeton 
 sideways across the road and was doing his best to back 
 it up the embankment, was a superfluous remark. Roden 
 got in, philosophically reflecting that a man can die but 
 once : Stephens scrambled up behind : and they went racket 
 ing off at a pace that tried the strength of Roland's wrists. 
 "I had no idea that Auburn was coming down here again," 
 he said, with a frown for which Claude Duval was evi 
 dently not responsible: "is he going to see Sir Charles, do 
 you think?" 
 
 "I believe so." 
 
 "I hope nothing fresh has gone wrong?" Roden hesi 
 tated. "I think I may ask you to speak openly. You are 
 the best judge of that, of course, but Auburn does not keep 
 many secrets from me." 
 
 "It's rather a ridiculous affair altogether," said Roden, 
 laughing. "I'm here to satisfy a whim of my sister's and 
 what sort of reception I shall get from Auburn I don 't like 
 to speculate upon. She wanted to prevent his going to 
 Auburn, but thanks to the trains not fitting I 'm afraid I 'm 
 too late for that. However, I '11 tell you the facts, and you 
 shall give me your opinion of them." 
 
 He outlined the situation: the letter of Sir Charles, the 
 attitude assumed by Mr. Carminow, the nature of Auburn 's 
 errand, and the lurid vagueness of Dodo's fears. "I don't 
 know what she thinks is going to happen," he explained, 
 "but there was no way to pacify her, so I gave in." 
 
 Roland gave the horse a cut witli the whip that sent him 
 on at a gallop. "It's four miles to Auburn: if he got 
 out of the train by half -past eight he'll be there by half- 
 past nine. On the other hand, he may have gone in to
 
 106 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Ferndean to get something to eat. We'll call in there first, 
 and if he's not there we'll walk on up to Auburn together. 
 We shall probably find him with Sir Charles. ' ' 
 
 He spoke in a tone so confused and perturbed that Roden 
 glanced at him in wonder : but he said no more, and they 
 were going so fast that Roden 's attention was pretty well 
 taken up with holding himself and his hat on. Shaving 
 the gate-post by the fraction of an inch, they dashed up the 
 avenue of Ferndean at a canter: at length the porch was 
 reached and Roland pulled up, jumped down, and hurried 
 into the house. A minute later he reappeared, followed by 
 Violet. "Well?" said Roden. 
 
 "No, he's not here not been here. Shall we walk on up 
 to Auburn ? ' ' 
 
 "Wouldn't Mr. Carminow like some dinner first?" 
 
 "My wife," said Roland, preoccupied and hasty. 
 
 "Oh, duty first, don't you think, Mrs. Carew?" said 
 Roden. 
 
 Evidently he need not have feared to be thought to have 
 come on a fool's errand. Roland was betraying uncontrol 
 lable nervousness, while even Violet met his reply with a 
 glimmer of relief. 
 
 Roland sent the phaeton away and took him by a short 
 cut across the fields and through the woods of Auburn, 
 through the wet grass and under the heavy midsummer 
 leafage. The sunset was all gone now, and the world was 
 white with moonlight. Vaulting a fence, they came into 
 the Auburn avenue and gained the house. Roland rang the 
 bell ; after some moments came the noise of bolts and bars 
 unfastening, and the door was opened. 
 
 "Mr. Charles isn't here, is he, Davis?" 
 
 "Mr. Charles, sir?" 
 
 "Isn't he here?" 
 
 "No, sir; he was at Mrs. Burnet's day before yesterday, 
 but I didn't see nothing of him. He haven't bin nigh the 
 place to-day, so far as I've heard on."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 107 
 
 * ' Not here ? Are you sure ? ' ' 
 
 "Certain, sir. Sir Charles always likes this door shut up 
 of an evening because of all the silver in the hall. Mr. 
 Charles haven't bin near the place this fifteen years come 
 Michaelmas: he don't never come here now, sir." 
 
 Roland pulled out his watch : it was close on a quarter to 
 ten. Relief, not unmixed with bewilderment, appeared on 
 his face. "It can't have been he who was at the station 
 after all," he said, turning to Roden. "He would have 
 been here half an hour ago. There must be some mistake." 
 
 He turned back to the butler. Davis had been many 
 years in the family, and his fidelity was unimpeachable, his 
 discretion no less so. "Look here, Davis, this gentleman 
 has followed Mr. Charles to give him an important message. 
 If by any chance he should come here to-night, or if he 
 comes to-morrow morning, will you give him this note? 
 And say that Mr. Carminow is at Ferndean, and must see 
 him before he goes to Sir Charles or anywhere else." 
 
 "Mr. Carminow, sir? Very good, sir," said Davis, eye 
 ing with unconcealed curiosity the young gentleman whom 
 he readily divined to be the brother of his future mistress. 
 The two men left the house together. When they were 
 well out of earshot, Roden put a question that had lain long 
 in the recesses of his mind. 
 
 "Mr. Carew, what are you afraid of?" 
 
 Quick and earnest came Roland's answer. "Of ft 
 quarrel." 
 
 "A serious quarrel?" 
 
 "Indeed I think it is but too likely. Consider what 
 provocation Auburn has had ! and much more, very much 
 more than you know of. I would not for ten thousand 
 pounds have had him meet Sir Charles to-night. Davia 
 is a fellow in a thousand, though: he will see to it that 
 Auburn gets your note and the message, which I purposely 
 left too vague to be disregarded ^supposing, that is, that 
 he does by any chance turn up at Auburn this evening.
 
 108 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 We may find him at Ferndean. Or he may have gone in to 
 Lesbia's: we'll call and make sure." 
 
 Lesbia's cottage, however, proved to be deserted: no 
 lights were burning behind the closed windows, and the 
 discovery of a can of milk and a loaf of bread left on the 
 doorstep settled the question. "Both out," said Roland: 
 "I believe there's a flower show on at Hillingdon. Well, 
 now we'll go home: you'll be glad of something to eat." 
 
 It was so evidently taken for granted that Roden 's night 
 would be spent at Ferndean that the traveler acquiesced 
 without protest, being really rather tired and very hungry. 
 It was close on ten before they reached the house, where 
 supper awaited them, but no sign of Auburn. After the 
 meal followed cigars in the billiard-room, and a game of 
 billiards, cut short by Roden 's yawns, which he was unable 
 to conceal : nor was he at all sorry to be ordered off to bed. 
 
 He was quite ready to go to bed. Yet, oddly enough, 
 when he was in bed he could not sleep. He lay listening 
 to the various sounds in the house, gradually diminishing 
 till all was quiet : only through the open window the distant 
 "Hoo! hoo!" of an owl came plaintively to his ears. It 
 was a hot night, and he tossed to and fro, restless, wakeful. 
 "I wish I hadn't had that coffee," he thought to himself. 
 "What an idiot I was!" The fact remained that he had 
 had the coffee, and the coffee, or something else, was now 
 in possession of his brain. He got up and went to the 
 window; it was a brilliant night, bathed in moonshine. 
 Less than a mile away he could discern quite clearly the 
 dark masses of the Auburn woods. Roland's words rang 
 in his ears: strange words, spoken in all sincerity by one 
 who was well qualified to judge. 
 
 ' ' What are you afraid of ? " 
 
 "Of a quarrel." 
 
 Indolent Roden had early grasped the first principle of 
 indolence, that it is often less trouble to do a thing than to 
 argue oneself out of an inclination to do it. Rapidly he
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 109 
 
 dressed himself, reserving only his boots, which he carried 
 in his hand: opened the door and went softly downstairs. 
 He had noticed that the billiard-room windows were not 
 shuttered ; the door was locked on the outside he had only 
 to unlock it, and let himself out into the garden. Across 
 the lawn, down the avenue, out into the white road, the road 
 he had traversed with Eoland earlier in the evening: at 
 length he reached the gates of Auburn, and turned in at 
 them, noticing as he did so that a lamp was burning in an 
 upper window of Mrs. Burnet 's cottage. Lesbia was home, 
 then, home from the flower show. 
 
 Far off in the valley a church clock was chiming the 
 quarter after twelve as he turned in at the gates of Auburn.
 
 XII. 
 
 AUBURN had indeed come Hby the 8.29, and had taken 
 an hour to cover the four milea to Auburn, gaining 
 the lodge gates by solitary and unfrequented paths, partly 
 because he enjoyed the coolness of the evening woods, and 
 partly because he was in no mind to meet his friends. "When 
 he reached the Auburn avenue it was the loveliest sum 
 mer night imaginable, and the lawns and shrubbery were 
 obscured by a haze of moonlight; mist lay in swathes, 
 ankle-deep over the turf, but where the river flowed slow 
 and quiet it rolled along in clouds, as if that sluggish water 
 were a steaming flood. 
 
 He had not visited the house for fourteen years. Yet, 
 when he came in sight of it, he found no change. There it 
 stood a great grey block, pierced with half a dozen rows 
 of windows: featureless, colorless, gaunt, more like an 
 asylum than a private dwelling. The gardens were beauti 
 ful, however, and kept up in the pink of perfection. The 
 borders under the walls were dense with masses of bloom : 
 pale phlox, thickets of shaded hydrangea, wallflowers the 
 color of a tiger's coat and saturating the air with odor. 
 The rear of the house was drowned in woods: from the 
 front a smooth expanse of grass rolled down, girdled by 
 woods, to the river, beyond which ran the road, and then 
 more woods, and a stretch of plain country bordered by a 
 low range of hills. By day in this open district one could 
 discern the smoking chimneys, by night the lamps in the 
 upper windows, of Ferndean, less than a mile away. 
 
 Roland's mistake lay in taking for granted that Auburn 
 would go in by the hall door. So far from doing so, in hia 
 
 110
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 111 
 
 anxiety to avoid his friends, Auburn made his way direct 
 to the French windows of the dining-room, where he felt 
 pretty confident of finding Sir Charles. Ah, how familiar 
 it was in every detail ! The room was oval and lofty, and 
 very dark: floor and walls were of oak, the latter richly 
 carved. Facing him stood an oaken buffet, piled with valu 
 able plate: the high-backed chairs, the great oval table, 
 were all of oak, and scarcely less precious than the silver. 
 A dozen candles set in branched candelabra dispersed a 
 scanty light over wines that glowed red and brown like 
 jewels through their long-stemmed, fragile glasses. All 
 was unchanged. 
 
 Yes, all was unchanged: and least changed of all was 
 the man who filled the great chair at the farther end of the 
 hall. Sir Charles was in evening dress, trim and handsome, 
 his big shoulders squared against their oak background, his 
 head, with its crown of thick white hair, held gallantly 
 high. Clean-shaven, regular-featured, sunburned, he was 
 the very type and flower of the English country gentle 
 man a father any son might be proud of. 
 
 He had, in fact, a constitution as robust as his conscience. 
 At sixty-five, he rode to hounds four days a week, and 
 wrung from a countryside which detested him reluctant 
 acknowledgment of his pluck and judgment. His manner 
 in the hunting field was always jovial, and his kind smiling 
 good looks baffled the universal pugnacity. Yet he had no 
 friends. In the country there must be something radically 
 wrong with a man if he cannot win the sympathy of his 
 enemies' enemies. But Radicals and Conservatives, Church 
 and Dissent, high and low, rich and poor, one with another 
 made common cause against Sir Charles. 
 
 At all events his nerves were steady. Few men like to 
 be watched, least of all the Ishmaels of society: yet Sir 
 Charles, when he caught sight of Auburn at the window, 
 betrayed no alarm. He turned in his chair and laid a hand 
 on the bell, then addressed the stranger with easy courtesy.
 
 "Will you have the goodness either to come in or to go 
 away?" 
 
 Auburn replied by coming forward into the candle-light. 
 Sir Charles took his hand from the bell and sat looking 
 fixedly at his son, a slight smile playing round his lips. 
 "So it's you, is it? Well, upon my word, sir, this is pretty 
 unceremonious ! I didn 't expect you, Charlie my boy, but 
 I am devilish glad to see you." He pointed to a chair and 
 Auburn sat down, throwing his gloves and cane on the 
 table. "Give yourself a glass of wine." 
 
 "No wine, thanks. I dined in the train." 
 
 "But you're going to stay the night, of course?" 
 
 "No, I'm afraid I shall have to get off as soon as pos 
 sible, thanks all the same." 
 
 The unbiased spectator which Auburn certainly was 
 not might have detected a shade of something very like 
 disappointment in Sir Charles' blue eyes. "I should have 
 thought you would like to renew your acquaintance with 
 the old place, seeing it must be every day of ten years since 
 you were down here, but you know your own business best, 
 no doubt. Well, now let's have a look at you?" He 
 stretched out his hand, and the candle flames were drowned 
 in a glare of electricity. "Why, you're not such a bad- 
 looking fellow after all ! These ten years have made a man 
 of you you've grown up, filled out, developed! You're 
 not much like me, though : I can't think where you get your 
 brown eyes and red hair from." 
 
 "So much the worse for me, sir." 
 
 "Gad, if poor Maude had been a more attractive 
 woman " 
 
 "You look very fit, sir." 
 
 "I don't wear badly, for a man of sixty-five, do I? I 
 should make a poor text for a parson to preach on. Try 
 one of these cigars, I can recommend them." 
 
 "Thanks, I will," said Auburn. 
 
 He took one, and lit it from his father's. "It's a long
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 113 
 
 while since I was down here, but the place hasn't changed 
 much. You keep it in pretty good order." 
 
 "Yes, I'm rather vain of my garden. You should see it 
 by daylight. The roses have done pretty well this year. I 
 believe Ranson expects to take two or three first prizes at 
 the Hillingdon flower show, which was on this afternoon." 
 
 " That's a novel interest for you to take up," said 
 Auburn, raising his eyebrows. Sir Charles smiled 
 unmoved. 
 
 "My vices are leaving me off, my boy that's where it is. 
 One must do something to kill time. Tell me about your 
 self, these years have been fuller of incident for you than 
 for me. You seem to have traveled a good deal I 've heard 
 of you from time to time in all quarters of the globe. ' ' 
 
 "I've had my wander-years," said Auburn. He crossed 
 one knee over the other and leaned back in his chair, one 
 arm thrown out along the table: his attitude brought to 
 light a likeness between the two men that lay far deeper 
 than the superficial dissimilarity of coloring, a likeness in 
 height and frame and pose, in the carriage of the head, and 
 the structure of hand and foot. "I've globe-trotted with 
 a will till I'm sick of globe-trotting, and now I want to 
 settle down. That's what I came over to talk to you about. 
 You had my letter?" 
 
 "I did, my boy." 
 
 "Yours to Mr. Carminow was, I suppose, indirectly in 
 answer to mine. ' ' 
 
 "I ought to have written to you too, I know I ought. 
 But I never was fond of letter-writing, and I guessed you'd 
 see what I said. ' ' 
 
 "I did not actually see it, but Roden Carminow my 
 brother-in-law that is to be told me what was in it. You 
 were rather rough on me, weren't you? Writing to a 
 clergyman, it was pretty severe of you to say what you did 
 about my morals. ' ' 
 
 "It was: you're right. I felt that very strongly. But
 
 114 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 I thought it was my duty to be frank with him. You can't 
 suppose I liked saying it?" 
 
 "I don't know what grounds you were going on." 
 
 Sir Charles laughed. "Oh, I know a thing or two," he 
 said, shaking his head in genial reproof. " You can't hum 
 bug your old father, Charlie. I've been young myself, and 
 I know what sort of blood you've got in your veins. Bless 
 me! I don't blame you young men must sow their wild 
 oats, to use a rather hackneyed phrase: but I didn't feel 
 that I could conscientiously whitewash you to Mr. Car- 
 minow. I suppose he's a man of the world, if he is a 
 clergyman he must know that young fellows can't all be 
 expected to live like Saint Anthony." 
 
 Auburn puffed a wreath of smoke before replying, and 
 watch it slowly twine away in faint blue rings. 
 
 "Not as a rule. But it's a curious fact, though I can 
 hardly understand it myself, that I 've never gone in much 
 for that kind of thing. Where you got your information 
 from I don't know, but it wasn't correct." 
 
 ' ' Oh, no ! " said Sir Charles, winking. ' ' Certainly not ! ' ' 
 
 "Well, it wasn't." 
 
 "Come now, Charlie! I'm not going to believe that, you 
 know." 
 
 Auburn gave up that tack and tried another. 
 
 "I see I shan't convince you," he said, "so we'll drop 
 the point. But, my dear father, you really must listen very 
 seriously to what I'm going to say. You've written to Mr. 
 Carminow to forbid my marriage. I needn't remind you 
 that you've no legal right to interfere; you know that bet 
 ter than I could tell you. Besides, you have a moral right, 
 and that means a great deal to Mr. Carminow. I want you 
 to reconsider your words. ' ' 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't do that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because I don't want you to make a mess of your life." 
 
 "Marrying Miss Carminow won't do that."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 115 
 
 The elder man laughed. "And that's where we differ. 
 Why, the girl hasn't a penny! I've known some im 
 pecunious parsons' daughters who were very fetching, and 
 so, I don 't doubt, is your young lady in any capacity ex 
 cept that of a wife. ' ' 
 
 "But you want me to get married." 
 
 "Want you to get married! I should rather think I 
 do ! " Sir Charles said hotly. ' ' Here you are at thirty-five, 
 and no family! I don't ask you to remember your duty to 
 the State, but you might think of the House ! Suppose you 
 were killed to-night in the train, what would become of the 
 title? I've told you over and over again that it would go 
 to some brute of a fellow out in Australia, without an 'h' to 
 his name 'Kid' Auburn's grandson, the descendant of a 
 man who had to cut and run to keep out of jail ! But you 
 youngsters are all alike, you think of nothing but your 
 selves. Of course I want you to marry ! ' ' 
 
 "Then why place difficulties in my way?" 
 
 "I didn't say I wanted you to marry a country parson's 
 daughter without a penny, did I? Yes, the name's good 
 enough but what sort of breeding, what sort of manners 
 can a girl of that class possess? Your wife ought to be 
 able to cut a dash in the county, give dinners and balls and 
 all that sort of thing. I don 't think so much of the money 
 question even though you'd have found yourself in Queer 
 Street long ago but for the way I've nursed the property: 
 but I do insist upon it that you shan't marry a girl who 
 tumbles over her own train." 
 
 "But should I be likely to want to marry a girl who 
 tumbled over her own train ! ' ' 
 
 Quintessential cynicism spoke in the lift of Sir Charles' 
 eyebrows, the shrug of his shoulders. "Oh, when a man's 
 in love 1" 
 
 "What's your idea of being in love?" 
 
 "Gratification of the senses, my boy purely that and 
 nothing more. You don't like it? I didn't grasp it so
 
 116 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 clearly myself when I was your age. Wait till you're sixty- 
 five ! I 've seen a good deal of it in my time, good and bad, 
 pour le bon motif and the other kind, and you may take it 
 from me that that 's what it comes to. You believe you love 
 her because she has an intellect and a soul, but you take it 
 from me, Charlie my boy, that the odds are she has nothing 
 but a body." 
 
 "Oh, you're altogether wrong about it," said Auburn, 
 smiling. 
 
 He knocked the ash from his cigar and laid it down on 
 the tray, the light falling on his dark lined face and curi 
 ously expressionless eyes. ' l The whole thing isn 't a bit as 
 you imagine it. The Carminows are of good family, to 
 begin with : Mr. Carminow is related to the Amhersts, and 
 his wife was a Wray of Suffolk. And they don't want me 
 to marry Dodo at all; they dislike the notion intensely, 
 because I 'm not orthodox. You think they caught me, but 
 you're mistaken, honestly you are. Dodo's only nineteen, 
 you know, and very unworldly I'm sure you'd like her if 
 you met her." 
 
 "Pretty, eh?" said Sir Charles. 
 
 "Very pretty." 
 
 "What's she like?" 
 
 "Kather small, very slight and fair: blue eyes, fair hair, 
 pale complexion. That sounds characterless, but she isn't; 
 she has quite a will of her own. ' ' 
 
 "Pretty figure?" 
 
 "Very; she carries herself like a Frenchwoman." 
 
 "Not my style," Sir Charles said, shrugging his big 
 shoulders. "I like them more full-blown. Every man to 
 his taste I dare say she's a taking little thing. You've 
 evidently a bad case, too. That comes of not getting it over 
 early: I've seen it thousands of times if I've seen it once 
 there's no fool like a man of five-and-thirty when he falls 
 in love for the first time." 
 
 "Quite so. As a matter of fact I am most devoutly in
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 117 
 
 love, and an utter fool about Dodo. It takes some time, 
 you know, to get over it when it's a bad case. If I don't 
 marry Dodo, it'll be five years before I look at another 
 woman. I'm not keen on feminine society, as you are. I 
 shall probably go off into the wilds and solace myself by 
 shooting or getting shot." 
 
 "I see all that," Sir Charles nodded. "You've got the 
 pull on me there, I'm not denying it. They won't let you 
 have her without my blessing: but if I don't let you have 
 her you won't have any one else. Is that how the affair 
 stands?" 
 
 "Precisely. How quickly you take my point! You state 
 the case like a lawyer." 
 
 "It's a confounded awkward case for me. Of course I 
 want you to marry ; I want an heir to the property. Is she 
 pretty healthy?" 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "The girl Dodo." 
 
 "Very, I believe." 
 
 "That's in her favor. But you ought to marry money, 
 my boy. We're not rich, as incomes go nowadays; and 
 with these confounded land taxes we shan't get any richer. 
 Birth, she has birth: but birth is exactly what I wouldn't 
 stickle for. We've got birth ourselves. What you ought 
 to do is to marry some fine, healthy brewer's or banker's 
 daughter bring a little interest into the family, some 
 American pork or English beer: I shouldn't object to 
 grocery if it was big enough. Then the next step would 
 be a seat in Parliament and a peerage. But you'll never 
 do that if you marry a country parson's daughter. I say, 
 Charlie." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "You're set on getting this girl!" 
 
 "Set." 
 
 "Must you marry her?" 
 
 "I beg your pardon!"
 
 118 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Oh, you know what I mean. If she's fond of you 
 which I dare say she is, for you're a good-lookin' fellow 
 you ought to be able to get round her. There 'd be a bit of 
 a scandal, I dare say, but it 'd be worth it. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I shouldn't mind the scandal," said Auburn. 
 "We're used to that in our family. It's our notion of the 
 domestic tie." 
 
 He had time for one last gleam of bitter merriment, an 
 ironical laugh at his own and Mr. Carminow's expense, 
 before mind and reflection were drowned under the incom 
 ing tide of anger, long resolutely dammed. He rose to his 
 feet, and Sir Charles rose too, and they faced each other, 
 Sir Charles flushed and startled, Auburn deadly white. 
 
 "You young puppy, what do you mean by that?" 
 
 "How many women have you ruined in your time? 
 They were better off than the one you married, though: 
 you didn't kill them." 
 
 "What what do you mean?" 
 
 "As you killed my mother." 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 "Don't swear, there's nothing to be afraid of." 
 
 "You young devil!" Sir Charles cried out. 
 
 He had his share of vices, but he was no coward, and 
 Auburn's cold, jeering face fired him to a blaze of temper. 
 He caught up Auburn's stick from the table and struck at 
 his son no mean blow, for a man of sixty-five. But in a 
 twinkling Auburn had seized him by both wrists and bent 
 them back. For an appreciable space of time Sir Charles 
 was in danger, for Auburn, with his great strength, was 
 forcing him to his knees, and had both will and power to 
 beat him down. The survival of the civilized instinct, so 
 slow to die in modern men, came between him and the red, 
 angry, startled face : he shook Sir Charles from him with a 
 violence that sent the elder man staggering to the wall, and 
 went to the window. He had closed it when he came in, 
 and the hasp caught; he struck the glass with his hand,
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 119 
 
 shivered it, and went out into the night. It was then close 
 on eleven o'clock. 
 
 Towards the small hours even a midsummer night gets 
 cold. When Auburn began to get himself in hand again he 
 was lying on the grass near the river, his clothes saturated 
 with dew and with the fog that rolled between him and the 
 declining moon. He looked at his watch : it said five minutes 
 to one. What an interminable night ! 
 
 He had been walking up and down the paths among the 
 shrubberies for close on two hours, in a frame of mind 
 bordering on madness: the flame that sprang of thirty 
 years of smoldering hate. Later he found that he could 
 piece together, under the touch of circumstances that re 
 called them, a moment here and a moment there, as one 
 does by dreams : but there was no coherency in these recol 
 lections. "It is as if I had been drunk!" he said to him 
 self. He was sane and sober now, and inclined to wonder 
 at himself for getting in such a passion ; his interest in the 
 whole affair had sunk, for the time being, to zero. 
 
 He pulled himself to his feet. He was wet through and 
 aching with fatigue and cold: every blade of grass was 
 tipped with a glistening drop, and the print of his own 
 body was outlined dark upon the white, wet turf. Where 
 could he find a lodging for the night? Village inns go to 
 bed at ten ; friendship, even that of a Roland Carew, draws 
 the line at a visit in the small hours. But there was one 
 door which would never, as he well believed, be closed 
 against him. He found his way back to the avenue and out 
 of the great gates and up the narrow path between the 
 gooseberry bushes to Rose Cottage. All was dark and still, 
 except for that one candle burning in the sick girl 's room. 
 Well did Auburn know Lesbia's window: he threw up a 
 handful of pebbles and heard them rattle on the glass like 
 hail. Scarcely a moment later, Lesbia's dark head looked 
 out of the open easement.
 
 120 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Who's there?" 
 
 "I Charles Auburn. Will you take me in?" 
 
 "My bairn, where have you been?" 
 
 "Up at the house. Let me in, there's a dear." 
 
 Lesbia vanished. Auburn anticipated delay, but no : in 
 a moment later she opened the door to him, fully dressed, 
 and with her long black hair coiled behind her head, as she 
 always wore it. "What have you been doing, Charles? 
 Where do you come from? Why!" she grasped his arm, 
 ' 'you 're wet ! What is it ? " 
 
 "Dew," said Auburn cheerfully. "I've been wandering 
 about in the fog since eleven o'clock. I've only had a scrap 
 with Sir Charles." 
 
 "A scrap with Sir Charles!" repeated Lesbia. 
 
 She led the way into the kitchen. Auburn followed; in 
 a twinkling the lamp was lighted, and the fire, laid ready 
 for the morning. "Sit," said Lesbia, drawing forward a 
 chair. Auburn dropped into it and held out his long brown 
 hands to the quickening flames. Lesbia set on a tiny kettle 
 to boil, then vanished, to return with a tumbler and a bottle 
 of whiskey. "There now, drink that," said she, adminis 
 tering hot grog with a practical air. Auburn drank it off 
 with a grimace (he preferred it cold), but was immediately 
 the better for it, and awoke to a languid interest in things 
 around him. "Why aren't you in bed?" he asked between 
 yawns. 
 
 "Jeannie's ill: I've been up with her half the night. 
 She would go to see the rose show at Hillingdon, and it 
 broke her down. Now what '11 I do with you ? ' ' 
 
 She stood regarding him, hands on hips. "Here's the 
 time," she said with a grim humor that was all her own, 
 "when I begin to miss that departed saint of mine. If I'd 
 a man's shirt and a pair of breeches in the house, I'd have 
 those wet clothes off you and you should go to bed in a 
 Christian way, but I doubt you'd not be much the better 
 of one of my nightgowns. Eh ! I never thought, when I
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 followed him to the grave, that I should come to wish him 
 back again but there's no telling what may happen." 
 
 In the end she made him up a bed in front of the kitchen 
 fire, piled clothes on him till he was suffocated, and left 
 him sworn over not to throw them off : and for the rest of 
 that strange midsummer night Charles Auburn slept like 
 the dead.
 
 XIII. 
 
 AWAKENED at five by Lesbia's entrance, Auburn was 
 packed upstairs to enjoy a cold tub in a garret and 
 to shave himself with the razor of the unregretted Alexan 
 der, and by half-past six was ready to be off. He did not, 
 however, return by Eiversley, for he found Lesbia prepar 
 ing to tramp into Hillingdon to get fresh medicine for 
 Jeannie, and could not do less than offer to go instead, 
 though at the price of a five-mile walk and the sacrifice of 
 his return ticket ; Hillingdon being on another line. Lesbia 
 made but faint demur ; she was loth to leave Jeannie. 
 
 Arrived at Stanton Mere, Auburn found the Kectory 
 deserted. M. le cure was taking a wedding for a brother 
 parson : M. Roden had vanished the day before, Aline knew 
 not whither: Mademoiselle and M. Caron were gone for a 
 pique-nique with Mile. Treveur. But stay, added Aline. 
 Mademoiselle had left a billet for Monsieur if he should 
 come. 
 
 And after some searching she produced a line from Dodo. 
 
 DEAR CHARLES, "We are gone to Cassar'a Camp. 
 There is some cold beef on the table if you are hungry : if 
 not, we have sandwiches for four." D. C." 
 
 Auburn decided in favor of the sandwiches, and struck 
 off across the Plain for Cseesar's Camp. It was a lonely 
 spot, and wild enough in winter, but lovely in the high 
 summer weather : a fortification of thymy turf encircling a 
 shallow dew-pond which glassed the blue of the unclouded 
 sky. From a great way off he saw them gathered on the 
 
 122
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 123 
 
 western side of that green rampart, under the shade of a 
 solitary oak. The wind was blowing over the heath, wild 
 and sweet, but cool as a wind at sea : a broad high tone that 
 is never heard in cities, a shrill monotonous chant that had 
 gone singing on, year in, year out, unbroken and unper 
 turbed, over the leagues of the upland grass and heather. 
 There was exhilaration in it, and sadness: it had chanted 
 the requiem of the last sacrifice offered on the dread altar 
 of the Plain, it would murmur the same merry tune when 
 those who now listened to it had crumbled away into dust. 
 To Auburn, in the pride of his keen vitality, its cry was a 
 challenge. Let the dead bury their dead ! 
 
 Fey, Caron thought, was the word for him, as he came 
 across the turf bareheaded, with the afternoon sunlight 
 striking down upon his chestnut hair and dark, merry eyes. 
 
 "Caron," he said, "I've proved nothing. I've been 
 ignominiously kicked out of my paternal home with a flea 
 in my ear. But I'm going to marry Dodo all the same." 
 
 He threw himself down on the grass and dropped a packet 
 on Dodo 's knee, while Caron shrugged his shoulders as one 
 who disowns responsibility, and Grace dived into the 
 hamper. Caron 's insouciance and the keen goodwill of 
 Grace soothed the wanderer, each in its way. They be 
 longed to the Plain how far unlike the heavy, choking 
 woods of Auburn! And Dodo? Dodo served admirably 
 to hang jewels on. Her hair was the sunlight, her eyes the 
 blue sky, while the green of the turf and the hazy whiteness 
 of the hills were crystallized in her pearl collar, with its 
 fringe of trembling emeralds. To what depth they loved 
 each other he cared as little as he knew : content to play at 
 extravagant adoration, while she remained gay, amiable, 
 and mocking. No tragic airs, in heaven's name! Human 
 existence is a small thing, said the wind: dust in the 
 balance, chaff on the threshing-floor of nature. 
 
 Dodo and Caron were pledged to dine with the Trevors; 
 the invitation was extended to Auburn and towards seven
 
 124 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 o'clock they all turned in at the gates of Trevor Hall, an old 
 brick manor-house lying away from the road among 
 orchards and fir groves. As they drew near they caught 
 sight of a cluster of folk gathered on the broad steps before 
 the porch. "Visitors what a nuisance!" said Grace. 
 ' ' Can you see who it is, Car ? ' ' 
 
 "Those on the steps are Sir George and Lady Trevor,*' 
 Caron answered, screwing up his dark eyes. "I know my 
 lady by her sun-bonnet. The third looks uncommonly like 
 Roden " 
 
 "It is Roden, I believe," said Auburn in a perplexed 
 voice, "but who the dickens has he got with him?" 
 
 "A tall, dark fellow whom I don't know." 
 
 "Do you know him, Charles?" 
 
 "It looks like but it can't be " 
 
 "Like whom?" 
 
 "Like, oh, it's absurd sorry, dear child! Like Roland 
 Carew." 
 
 Caron sent his voice up the avenue. "What's the mat 
 ter ? is anything wrong ? ' ' 
 
 There was no reply, and a few moments later they met 
 the group face to face: Sir George and Lady Trevor, Mr. 
 Carminow, Bernard, Roden, and Roland Carew. Their 
 constraint was so plain and so odd that even Grace was 
 frightened. 
 
 Auburn went straight to Roland. "Is anything wrong 
 with Violet?" 
 
 "Are you mad? I came to help you to get out of the 
 country. ' ' 
 
 The answer was so remote from Auburn's wildest con 
 ception that it fairly took his breath away. The word fell 
 to Dodo. 
 
 "Father! Roden!" she said, "for pity's sake tell us 
 what has happened! For we have, none of us, the very 
 faintest idea." 
 
 "I am afraid Charles knows only too well, my darling,"
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 185 
 
 said Mr. Carminow, his voice shaking so that he could 
 hardly speak plain. 
 
 "Do you know, Charles?" 
 
 "Not from Adam," said Auburn, shrugging his shoul 
 ders; "some malentendu, probably, which would be dis 
 pelled if anybody had the courage to open his lips. ' ' 
 
 "Grace," this was Lady Trevor to her daughter, "go up 
 to your room. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," said Sir George with a touch of his magisterial 
 manner, "it's impossible to discuss the affair in the presence 
 of ladies. Go, my dear, to your room: and I'm sure Mr. 
 Carminow will agree with me that Dodo had better run 
 away too. ' ' 
 
 Lady Trevor pulled Grace by the arm. "Do come, dear! 
 you hear what papa says." 
 
 "I will if Dodo does." 
 
 "I?" said Dodo. "Oh, Lady Trevor! would you, if it 
 were Sir George?" 
 
 "My dear, don't say such things!" said Lady Trevor 
 hastily. Her tone startled Dodo more than anything that 
 had gone before. 
 
 "Why, what has he done?" 
 
 "Nothing," averred Auburn, answering Dodo, but look 
 ing at Roland. 
 
 "Hypocrite!" said Bernard, drawing all eyes to himself 
 by his tone. "If nobody else has got the pluck to speak, I 
 will. It 's in all the evening papers, so it can 't long be kept 
 quiet. Sir Charles Auburn was murdered last night, or 
 early this morning, under circumstances which leave no 
 doubt who did it." 
 
 "Murdered!" said Auburn, turning as white as a sheet. 
 
 "Oh, Charles!" said Dodo, slipping her fingers into his 
 hand, "it was not you." 
 
 It was not, indeed ; but for the first moment he had felt 
 as if it were. He had so heartily longed to do justice on 
 his father that it seemed as if it must have been his wish
 
 126 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 that had done the work. Dodo's words they were not a 
 question recalled his wits. 
 
 ' ' Murdered ? Last night ? Impossible ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh yes," Bernard answered with his quiet sneer, " im 
 possible and improbable too, if you like. Keep your story 
 to yourself: I for one wouldn't hesitate to swear to an in 
 consistency at the trial." 
 
 "Bernard," said Mr. Carminow in horror, "think of 
 your sister!" 
 
 "But I was with him till eleven o'clock!" said Auburn. 
 
 "Take care!" said Sir George quickly. "Bernard is 
 quite right, Mr. Auburn though, considering what provo 
 cation you received, I cannot say I like his tone. ' ' 
 
 "But do you mean that you think I did it?" asked 
 Auburn. No one answered. "Koland! do you think I did 
 it?" Roland's heavy eyes fell. Auburn walked straight 
 up to him and seized his hand. "Answer me." 
 
 "Don't oh, don't, Auburn." 
 
 "Don't what?" 
 
 "What is the good of this? We know you did it. Own 
 the truth : it would be more manly. It breaks my heart to 
 see you pretending." 
 
 Auburn dropped his hands and stepped back with a look 
 
 of painful surprise. "I should have thought " he 
 
 began, and broke off. "But murdered! Is he dead, 
 then?" 
 
 "Dead enough, as you very well know. It's no good 
 denying it," said Bernard. "You're a capital actor, and 
 it wasn't a bad plan to sneak off like that from Hillingdon ; 
 but unluckily, you see, Roden had let out that you were 
 down there, and once that fact was known it was all as 
 clear as daylight. You reckoned, I suppose, on not being 
 recognized at Riversley station ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, Bernard, hold your tongue!" said Roden. "Go 
 leave us alone if you can't be quiet: no one wants you 
 here."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 127 
 
 Roden was deadly pale, paler than Roland Carew ; unlike 
 Roland Carew, lie did not look as though he had shed tears, 
 but he looked, Auburn thought, as though he had received 
 an awful shock. His burst of nervous anger was in itself a 
 sign of something very wrong. But he collected himself 
 and went on more quietly. 
 
 "It really is true, Auburn. Sir Charles was murdered 
 last night or early this morning between twelve and one, 
 the doctor says. He was struck on the head with a stick, 
 and killed on the spot. I was breakfasting with Mr. Carew 
 when we heard the news from the postman. Thanks to my 
 inquiries at the station, they all know you were down there. 
 The boy who picked up your cane on the platform has 
 identified the one that was found on the floor near the body. 
 The whole countryside is ringing with it; they're all very 
 sorry for you, but they take for granted you're guilty." 
 
 "Yon don't?" 
 
 "I? no, I don't." 
 
 "You're fond of minorities," was Auburn's dry 
 comment. 
 
 For there was not one of the other men who believed 
 him. Sir George was full of grave pity: Mr. Carminow 
 was turned into an old man by the shock: Bernard was 
 cynically triumphant, Caron aghast. Misery and shame 
 were written upon Roland's fine, haggard features. In 
 most cases, the friends of an accused man will incontinently 
 swear him innocent because their minds cannot take in the 
 idea that he may be guilty. Such things don 't happen out 
 side the newspapers, or at all events they don't happen to 
 people in one's own set. But in Auburn's case there was 
 no such feeling of surprise. Between Sir Charles' scanda 
 lous reputation and his son's notoriously hot temper it 
 seemed only too likely that mischief might have come about, 
 and many minds would have leaped to a suspicion with far 
 less evidence to go on. 
 
 Clear-eyed Grace had her arm locked round Dodo 's waist.
 
 128 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Idiots!" she cried, undutifully including in this category 
 her father and mother, "can't you see he's speaking the 
 truth?" 
 
 "I would give my right hand to believe it, Miss Trevor," 
 said Roland, "but I can't. Don't kindle hopes in that poor 
 girl, which can never be realized." 
 
 "Let me think," said Auburn. He put his hand up to 
 his head as if he felt dazed; and so he did. "Do you say, 
 Roland, that you came up here to get me out of the country T 
 Am I in danger, then?" 
 
 "There's a warrant out against you." 
 
 "Which you signed, I suppose?" 
 
 "No," said Roland simply, "I wasn't asked. I think 
 they knew about us. ' ' 
 
 ' ' A warrant out against me ! ' ' repeated Auburn. After 
 wards he was sorry to have made Roland wince, but at the 
 time he did not think twice of it. "But you are not going 
 to tell me that I'm in actual danger of arrest?" 
 
 "How can I say? Before ten o'clock this morning they 
 knew you had gone from Lesbia's to Hillingdon." 
 
 "Nine hours ago. Grant them ordinary skill in picking 
 up a trail, and, by Jove! I may sleep in jail to-night." 
 
 "It is possible. They will wire to the nearest police 
 station Amesbury, Sir George Trevor tells me to send 
 over a man to look for you." 
 
 "Do they allow bail?" 
 
 "Not in a not in these cases." 
 
 * ' Not in a murder case, do you mean ? ' ' said Auburn, his 
 lip curling. "Well, it is a devilish awkward situation 
 beg your pardon, Lady Trevor. When did you come, 
 Roland?" 
 
 "Before two o'clock. You might have got clean away 
 by this time. I telegraphed to Paterson to have the yacht 
 ready to sail at a moment's notice " 
 
 "You're a pretty magistrate!" Auburn exclaimed. 
 "Why, man, you must be out of your senses! Do you
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 129 
 
 know what you'd get, for compounding a felony and de 
 frauding the ends of justice ? And where did you propose 
 that I should go to Callao ? Thanks, I 'd rather stand my 
 trial! They can't hang me, I should think." He felt, 
 rather than saw, the shiver that went over them all. ' ' Oh, 
 apparently you think they can! Good God! what sort of 
 a net is this I 've got into ? I might have known he would 
 not let me go so easily " 
 
 "Who's this coming up the avenue?" said Dodo. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Auburn Auburn, old man ! ' ' cried out Carew. 
 
 Involuntarily, he made a movement to throw himself 
 between Auburn and the stranger : a big, quiet man in the 
 sober dress of a sergeant of police. Caron, who had never 
 taken his artist 's eyes from Auburn 's face since the begin 
 ning of the scene, read in it the rush of a dozen sensa 
 tions pride, anger, dread, the physical instinct of flight, 
 amid all the unconquerable desire to laugh. But the ruling 
 principle was a noble kind of pride. Auburn put his arm 
 round Dodo and she leaned against him, with no more 
 regard of onlookers than if they had been in a desert. 
 They had so few moments for such a long farewell. 
 
 "My darling, I must go." 
 
 "To prison?" 
 
 "If it were to death, you wouldn't have me cut and 
 run?" 
 
 "No: you're innocent." 
 
 Auburn's next words, murmured with bent head, were 
 inaudible, but all heard Dodo's reply and remembered it. 
 
 "Is this love or loyalty you're giving me?" 
 
 "Love and loyalty, through this world and the next." 
 
 The policeman came up, and Auburn released Dodo, and 
 made Roland move aside. The man in blue was civil, 
 deprecating, not unsympathetic, but professionally wide 
 awake : he stepped up to Auburn, touching his cap impar 
 tially to him and to the rest of the group, with some of 
 whom he was, of course, familiar.
 
 130 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir Mr. Auburn?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I'm sorry to say, sir, it's my painful duty to arrest 
 you " 
 
 * ' You have a warrant ? Don 't read it here, ' ' said Auburn 
 quickly. "I'll come with you." 
 
 * '.Very good, sir. ' ' 
 
 He stood expectant. Auburn looked round at his friends, 
 and again had to crush down that wild desire to laugh. 
 "There isn't much time for farewells, is there?" he said. 
 "Well, goodbye, all of you." No one answered, and he 
 dropped his hand on Roland 's shoulder. ' ' 'Bye, Roland 
 give my love to Violet. I shall see some of you again, I 
 dare say." 
 
 Not one of them could find courage to reply, and he left 
 them without another word, baring his head to the ladies. 
 They watched him go down the avenue with his easy, swing 
 ing tread, beside the trim soldierly figure in blue. He did 
 not look back.
 
 XIV. 
 
 AMONG the many strange characteristics of human 
 nature, not the least strange is the rapidity with 
 which it grows used to the unusual. Twenty-four hours 
 earlier, if any one had told Dodo what was coming, she 
 would have refused to believe that such a thing could hap 
 pen, or that, if it did happen, it could do less than turn her 
 whole life upside down. It had happened : it seemed already 
 to have happened years ago, to be as familiar as a twice- 
 told tale: and the course of her duties, on the evening of 
 Auburn's arrest, flowed on as smoothly as if it had never 
 happened at all. 
 
 Not so in the village, for that was teeming with excite 
 ment. Fell, the blacksmith's son, bicycling home from 
 Amesbury with a copy of the North Wilts Evening Star 
 doubled up in his pocket, dropped in at the Fox and 
 Hounds to spread the tidings of the Auburn murder, and 
 was met with the news that "that there young feller oop t* 
 Carminows" had been seen driving out of Stantoa Mere in 
 a dogcart in the custody of a sergeant of police. Country 
 districts are dry grass, easily set aflame. "When Caron 
 crossed the Market Square to catch the evening post, he was 
 infuriated to find that heads popped out of every doorway, 
 and a buzz of talk sprang up behind him as he passed. 
 
 But at the Vicarage all was quiet enough. Eoland Carew, 
 who had been put into Auburn's empty room for the night, 
 tramped up and down the terrace with his pipe in his 
 mouth, dark, silent, brooding. Caron, told off to look after 
 him, lounged with his books and his cigars in a long chair 
 not far from the study window, through which now and 
 
 131
 
 182 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 then a phrase floating out moved him to a sour grin. 
 Within, Roden and Bernard were wrestling for possession 
 of Mr. Carminow 's soul, torn in twain between worldly and 
 unworldly wisdom. Meanwhile Dodo, lint-white and com 
 pletely self-absorbed, had gone to the kitchen to help Aline 
 get ready the supper, and was deviling cold chicken for 
 Roland's benefit with the placidity of a machine. 
 
 Towards eight o'clock they were all startled by a loud 
 ring at the bell. It turned out to be Piers Comfrey, 
 Auburn's valet, ridden over from Amesbury to ask what 
 was wrong. He would not come in, and Roden went out 
 and spoke to him at the door. The man was desperately 
 agitated: he had been Auburn's servant for thirteen years, 
 and had not only read the news in the papers, but also seen 
 his master being driven through Amesbury High Street 
 under escort of the police. He had run after the dogcart, 
 and was able to inform Roden that Auburn had been packed 
 off that same evening to Hillingdon, alone with his escort 
 in a reserved compartment. Roden in exchange told all 
 that he knew, and offered the faithful servant a night's 
 lodging: but this was declined. "I could not catch the 
 early train to Hillingdon, sir, if I stayed here," Piers re 
 plied simply. 
 
 He left before eight next morning, and was followed a 
 couple of hours later by a party consisting of Roland Carew 
 and Roden and Dodo Carminow. Mr. Carminow 's oppo 
 sition, undermined by Roden 's lucid common sense, gave 
 way altogether before Dodo's white composure. He agreed 
 with Bernard that Dodo ought to be kept out of an ugly 
 business, and with Roden that it was her place to stand by 
 Auburn in trouble : but his decision was facilitated when he 
 found that Dodo took consent for granted, and that he dared 
 not undeceive her. 
 
 "Who will go with you?" he asked. "I can't, until I 
 have a man for Sunday." 
 
 Dodo answered, "Roden."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 133 
 
 "And where will you stay?" inquired Mr. Canninow. 
 "You know there is not much money going, my dear." 
 
 "Mr. Carew says he'll put us up at Ferndean. That 
 won't cost anything except railway fares, and tipping the 
 servants. ' ' 
 
 "God bless you, my darling," said Mr. Carminow, kiss 
 ing her. "Dodo, my poor little girl, this is hard for you." 
 
 Dodo could not answer for the contraction of her throat. 
 She slipped from the room and went upstairs to pack her 
 modest portmanteau, wondering, as she took her skirta 
 down from their pegs, how long it would be before she hung 
 them up there again, and what would then be her outlook 
 upon life. She could not talk, she could not think, she 
 could not pray ; but when her box was packed, and all had 
 been said that could be said to Aline in the way of direc 
 tions, she sat down to go on with Bernard's shirts. 
 
 It was a relief to be out of the humming gossip of 
 Stanton Mere, and alone with men who did not watch her. 
 Grace Trevor saw her off, and hugged her on the platform. 
 Grace would have given much to come too. She had asked 
 leave, but Sir George had peremptorily forbidden it, and 
 Grace was too sensible to rebel, knowing that in such a case 
 the rebellion of the daughter is visited on the head of the 
 friend. She reserved to herself the right to have her own 
 way later. 
 
 Dodo had not wished to go to Ferndean at first, but had 
 given way before the advantages of the plan; for Roland 
 was personally acquainted with the governor of Hillingdon 
 Prison, and as guests of a J.P. they would be sure of a 
 civility which might or might not be extended to strangers 
 lodging at an inn. Mr. Carminow added that Mrs. Carew 
 would be a chaperon for Dodo, but here Dodo shook her 
 head : she did not expect to like Violet, and in fact took for 
 granted that it was she who had poisoned Roland's thoughts 
 of Auburn. Dodo had not yet learned to follow the work 
 ings of that mind, so prone to believe evil, so eager to
 
 184 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 believe good, so womanly tender and withal puritanically 
 stern. It was during the long hours of that interminable 
 journey that Dodo first grew to know Roland Carew: not 
 by speech, for they barely exchanged a syllable, but by 
 patient study of the dark, averted face. 
 
 As they came into Riversley station she saw those dark 
 eyes suddenly light up. With a word of apology, he sprang 
 out before the train stopped and went to meet Violet, who 
 came forward looking very grave and yet very French in 
 her grey skirt checked with heliotrope and heliotrope slip, 
 with a cluster of living violets pinned to the lapel of her 
 coat. 
 
 "So they've arrested him?" she said, taking Roland's 
 hand. "Weren't you in time?" 
 
 "No: but he wouldn't have gone in any case. Violet, he 
 swears he's innocent!" 
 
 An untranslatable shade of expression flitted over 
 Violet's face. "Does he? Do you believe him?" 
 
 Roland shook his head. 
 
 "Oh." 
 
 " I 've brought Miss Carminow back, and her brother. I 
 said we'd put them up." 
 
 "Have you? Oh, I'm so glad," said Violet. 
 
 It was quite untrue, as Mrs. Carew 's remarks generally 
 were when she described her own feelings. Her first 
 thought had been, "Heavens, I shall have to pet her!" 
 But she changed her opinion when Dodo came forward 
 with her pale, alert face and brilliant eyes. Violet Carew 
 was an habitual student of character, silent, profound, 
 decisive: if she had ever thought about herself she must 
 have smiled, now and then, at the boldness of her own judg 
 ments. She was as sure of Dodo in that first glance as she 
 had been, from the first, of Auburn. 
 
 A car was waiting, and they were soon at Ferndean. It 
 was a roomy, old-fashioned house, the furniture dark with 
 age, the carpets worn, the pale, flowered chintzes shabby
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 185 
 
 from much sunlight. Dodo was given the Lilac Boom, 
 which overlooked the sunset and the garden, and was so 
 big that an enormous four-post bedstead was dwarfed with 
 all its lilac hangings into insignificance: she had never 
 slept in such a big room in her life. She changed her dress 
 before she went down to dinner, and washed off the dust, 
 and coiled up her fair hair into a classic knot, surprised 
 to find as she did so that she cared not a straw for her own 
 appearance, and could not pretend to care, though she rated 
 herself for what must, surely, be affectation ? But no ; the 
 greater part of her thoughts were from home, and what 
 was left was but just light enough to walk by. 
 
 Afterwards, looking back, Dodo was inclined to give the 
 palm for utter dreariness to that first day after the arrest. 
 Worse pain came later, but never again such weary blank- 
 ness. After dinner, Mr. Maine, Auburn's solicitor, came 
 and was closeted for an hour with Roland and Roden in the 
 library, while Dodo sat in the drawing-room with Mrs. 
 Carew, the latter sewing at a drawn-thread cloth, her guest 
 buried in photograph albums as a defense against having to 
 make conversation. Violet raised her eyes now and then to 
 steal a quiet glance at Miss Carminow: she would have 
 liked to tell her to put the books away and go to bed, but 
 guessed that Dodo would dislike the implication of sym 
 pathetic tact. Meantime Dodo only longed to be at home, 
 and to go and peel potatoes, or sweep out a room, and so 
 quiet her mind by the exhaustion of her body : the restless 
 fatigue of her journey and of a sleepless night contributing 
 to sink her spirits to zero. 
 
 Maine went at half -past nine, and the men came into the 
 drawing-room, but there was nothing to be got out of them. 
 Roland went to the piano and began to play: Roden, un- 
 concealably depressed and tired, dropped into an armchair 
 and tried to talk embroidery with Violet with less than his 
 usual ease. 
 
 At last it was night. At ten o'clock Roland read prayers,
 
 186 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 an institution unknown, strange to say, at the Vicarage, f o* 
 Mr. Carminow's incurably whimsical taste rebelled at the 
 thought of praying in an atmosphere of fried ham : but in 
 the long drawing-room at Ferndean there was nothing to 
 offend, and Dodo had her first moment's ease in that brief 
 and simple service. Her chair was near to Roden 's, so that 
 when they knelt she could see his face in profile, and she 
 was struck by its expression: so calm, so spiritual, so 
 remote. His was that peace which the world cannot give. 
 
 A moment later Roland, with an involuntary vibration 
 in his deep, even voice, came upon the Litanical prayer for 
 all prisoners and captives : and Dodo saw Roden shrink and 
 wince with a sudden sharp spasm, as if in physical pain, 
 and hide his face in his hands. The thought crossed her 
 mind, "He might well look like that if he had done it him 
 self." The impression was only transitory, but it was 
 strong, and recurred later. 
 
 Some time after, when Dodo had gone up to bed, Roden 
 came to her room. He found her sitting by the open win 
 dow in the dark, her fair hair faintly illuminated by the 
 Btarshine. "Is that you, Roddy? I thought you'd come." 
 
 "What have you got on? You'll catch cold." 
 
 "I'm perfectly warm." 
 
 Roden crossed to her side and stood looking ont into the 
 glimmering darkness, over the moist lawns of Ferndean 
 and its groves of oak and ash. "Not much like the Plain, 
 is it? "he said. 
 
 ' ' No. What did Mr. Maine say ? " 
 
 "The inquest is to be to-morrow, at the Crown Inn at 
 Hillingdon. He thinks there is not much doubt that the 
 verdict will go against Auburn, but of course that counts 
 for absolutely nothing. After that the case will have to go 
 before the magistrates, and then before the Grand Jury, 
 either of whom may throw it out: we shall have got our 
 evidence together by that time." 
 
 "And if they don't?"
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 187 
 
 "It will go to the Assizes in October." 
 
 "And that will be final. Has he seen Charles yet?" 
 
 "For half an hour, this afternoon. He is comfortably 
 lodged carpet, furniture, pen and ink, books and all that: 
 gets his meals from the hotel. Maine says he's very cool 
 over it." 
 
 "What does Mr. Maine think of Charles' own story?" 
 
 Eoden fidgeted under this unsparing cross-examination. 
 "He didn't say." 
 
 "What does Charles say? I don't really know what his 
 version is, you know. We were out on the moors when he 
 came back, and Grace and Car were there. I haven't seen 
 him alone since before he went to see Lesbia. ' ' 
 
 "Well, he doesn't seem to have been very communi 
 cative." Try as he would, Roden could not keep the note 
 of depression out of his voice. "He says he saw Sir Charles 
 and had a talk with him, and was out of the house again 
 by eleven: but he doesn't seem to have gone to Lesbia till 
 some hours later, which is unlucky. I don 't exactly under 
 stand what he did with himself between whiles." 
 
 "Does Mr. Maine believe him innocent?" 
 
 "Of course he does!" 
 
 "Did he say so?" 
 
 "Not in so many words. He he implied it." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Dodo. She was silent a moment, looking out 
 of the window. 
 
 "Look, Roddy. Do you see that light over there between 
 the trees, a little lower down?" 
 
 "Yes. What is it?" 
 
 "Auburn. They keep a lamp burning all night in the 
 room where Sir Charles is lying." 
 
 "Who told you that, Dodo?" 
 
 "The maid who brought up my hot water. I asked her 
 if one could see the house from hers." 
 
 "Horrible!" said Roden, shuddering. "Why do you 
 think of such morbid things?"
 
 188 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "I don't know. I should like to see Sir Charles,*' said 
 Dodo slowly. "I should like to propitiate him. If I were 
 a heathen, I'd set up a shrine and burn incense and offer 
 flowers. Roddy, this thing is going wrong : I am sure of it. ' ' 
 
 * ' That is utter nonsense, my child. ' ' 
 
 "No, it's not. I've been thinking over all the evidence. 
 It is very heavy. I don't see much chance of escape, unless 
 they find the real murderer. ' ' 
 
 ' ' The real murderer ! ' ' 
 
 "Why, he can't have done it himself, you knowl If it 
 had been a revolver shot or a knife-wound but nobody can 
 cut his own head open with a walking stick. It was not a 
 bruise: it was a wound. There was blood on the silver 
 handle My dear Roden!" 
 
 "You're cooler than I am," said Roden, wiping his fore 
 head. "Are you insensitive as you pretend to be?" 
 
 " I 'm not pretending at all, ' ' said Dodo. * ' What is there 
 so very dreadful in what I said? It's you who are morbid : 
 you always do take things queerly. I don't know," she 
 added a moment later: "I don't think I do feel quite nat 
 ural, but I can't help it. I would be if I could. Is it 
 insensitive not to care at all about Sir Charles not to feel 
 any pity or regret? I can't. I feel as if something evil 
 were out of the way. Not quite out of the way, either : I 
 shall be glad when he's buried." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, to be rid of him. I feel as if he were still some 
 where near hovering round his own body till it's put 
 under the earth waiting to see how things will go. I was 
 thinking, before you came in, that if that lamp is burning 
 by his bed he must be able to look straight across to this 
 window. He must have been a man of great power the 
 sort that don't die easily. I shouldn't be surprised if he 
 came to the window and looked in." 
 
 "I hope not," said Roden. "You won't mind my run 
 ning away, if he does?"
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 189 
 
 "Not at all. It would be natural for you to be frightened, 
 because to you he would be just an ordinary ghost. ' ' 
 
 "What would he be to you?" 
 
 "I should ask him whether he did altogether hate 
 Charles, or whether there was not a grain or so of disap 
 pointed love at the bottom of it." 
 
 "That is a wonderfully acute thing to say," Roden ob 
 served after a pause, "though the form in which you say 
 it is desperate nonsense. What makes you say it?" 
 
 "Charles himself. He painted Sir Charles in such lurid 
 colors. No man could be so bad, I think, as he believed Sir 
 Charles to be. I imagine Sir Charles was more of a brute 
 more stupid, that is and less of a Mephistopheles. " 
 
 "Yet Auburn's a shrewd judge of character." 
 
 "Yes: but he's very proud." 
 
 ' ' That looks suspiciously like a non sequitur : but I don 't 
 pretend to follow you." 
 
 "It's only a short cut," said Dodo, "down a way you've 
 never been taken. ' ' 
 
 "You're confoundedly fond of that fellow, Dodo." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I wish to heaven " said Roden, and broke off, 
 
 frowning. He might as well have gone on, for Dodo dotted 
 his i's for him. 
 
 "You wish I'd never seen him? Ah! you too think 
 things will go badly." 
 
 Roden was mute, regretting his slip. "Don't pretend," 
 said Dodo with a touch of scorn, "or rather don't try to 
 pretend, for you can't do it not with me. Besides, I'd 
 far rather face it. If they don't find the real murderer, 
 they will hang Charles." 
 
 "They may condemn him: if they do, we shall petition." 
 
 "For a reprieve to a life sentence." 
 
 "Why, yes," said Roden. "I don't deny that it looks 
 black enough either way." 
 
 "Either a life sentence, or else oh, let me say it just
 
 140 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 once, Roden ! I may see it less if I ' ve said it once some 
 time this autumn, a group in the jail yard, the gallows, the 
 chaplain, three or four warders, the jail governor, and 
 Charles in the middle with a cord round his neck: then 
 some one pulls a bolt, the trapdoor falls, and you hang 
 there for two or three minutes before the struggling 
 ceases. . . . And that is real : it isn 't morbid imagination : 
 it may actually happen. And I shall read the notice of it 
 in the newspapers, and live on, and on, and on . . ." 
 
 She turned and looked out into the night. Roden leaned 
 against the window-frame with his eyes shut and his hands 
 in his pockets. He could better have coped with the wildest 
 passion than with this intensely quiet realism. He, too, had 
 a keen imagination, but it had long been his way to curb it, 
 to look past spectres towards heaven not, as Dodo dared, 
 to look them in the face and look them down. 
 
 "You think too much of life and death, Dodo." 
 
 She raised her head, but did not reply. 
 
 "Death is not what you think. You speak as if it were 
 an end, but it's only a beginning. What does it signify 
 what door you go by, to leave earth for heaven ? ' ' 
 
 After that they were long silent, Roden incapable of 
 another word: he had summarized his creed for Dodo's 
 benefit, but could not expatiate upon it. At last Dodo 
 turned from the darkness towards him; she put her arm 
 round his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. 
 
 "Dear Roddy," she said, "oh, you are good! Go away, 
 go to bed : I'm going to bed myself. You've done me heaps 
 of good. I have been feeling so queer all day: it has all 
 been one deadly dream. One's nerves do play one tricks. 
 Nothing ever could be so bad as what I've been seeing 
 to-day." She shivered, and drew down the blind. "Dear 
 darling! and then you hear girls say they can't get on with 
 their brothers. I don't know, though: on second thoughts, 
 there's Bernard. "What have I got my hair loose for?" 
 She seized it, and in a moment had plaited it up into her
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 141 
 
 usual pigtails. "Go to bed, old boy: you look as white as 
 anything!" 
 
 "Your conversation, my child, is not of that soothing 
 character " 
 
 "It has soothed me, anyhow, which is the main point. 
 I should hope you would rather I was soothed than you 
 were?" 
 
 She lit a candle, and by its flames Roden saw that it was 
 the old Dodo who confronted him, able to put a good face 
 on her troubles and even to jest over them. He himself 
 was not the old Roden: but Dodo, keen as her eyes were, 
 did not distinguish that change. 
 
 "Good-night, dear darling," she said, "bless you for an 
 angel ! Let us all devote our energies henceforward to find 
 ing out the man who really did do it." 
 
 "By all means," said Roden. "I'm with you, heart and 
 soul. He deserves no sympathy if he can stand by and see 
 an innocent man suffer when a word might save him."
 
 XV. 
 
 THE Assize Court at Hillingdon stood on the rise of a 
 hill at the end of the town : a large, square, modem 
 edifice, fronted with the pillars and architrave of a Grecian 
 temple, but tailing off at the back into an anomalous col 
 lection of out-buildings. Between the great iron gates a 
 flight of steps led into a square hall guarded by police, 
 whence doors opened into different courts; and in one of 
 these that reserved for Grand Jury cases was proceed 
 ing, on a hot evening early in October, the last scene of the 
 Auburn trial. 
 
 The Court was a large, light, cheerful room with a glass 
 roof and cream-colored walls, the floor cut up into oddly- 
 shaped compartments not unlike old-fashioned square pews, 
 the back occupied by rows upon rows of hard, narrow 
 forms one above another. Galleries and benches alike being 
 packed with a dense mass of spectators, and every window 
 shut to suit a whim of the judge, the atmosphere was like 
 that of the pit. 
 
 The judge was Mr. Justice Dymock. He sat facing the 
 spectators in a large leather armchair on a raised platform 
 surmounted by the royal arms. On his right sat the High 
 Sheriff, a tall, good-looking personage in scarlet and gold : 
 on his left, the black figure of the chaplain: and, beyond 
 these, various dignitaries of the neighborhood : while in the 
 well of the Court immediately below sat the Clerk of Assize, 
 small and uneasy-looking, who divided his attention be 
 tween his papers and his wig. It did not fit, and he was 
 constrained more than once to take it off and put it on again. 
 
 On the right, the witness-box, now empty : on the left the 
 
 148
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 143 
 
 jury, a curious mixture of types and classes, respectable 
 tradesmen from Hillingdon rubbing shoulders with Colonel 
 Playfair of the Grange, or Mr. Farquhar, ex-M.P. for 
 North Hants. Intellectual, cunning, stupid: conscientious, 
 cowardly, frivolous: sympathetic, vindictive, bored, they 
 represented every phase of emotion, and it was hard to say 
 which class of qualities predominated. 
 
 Thanks to Roland Carew 's position, a bench was reserved 
 in the front row of spectators for the friends of the accused : 
 Mrs. Carew and Miss Carminow together, Roden beyond 
 Dodo, Roland between his wife and the prisoner. They had 
 figured on the front page of the Daily Illustrated, those 
 four, in a sketch of "The Assize Court at Hillingdon," 
 fringed with a string of hurried profiles Violet a blur, 
 Roland scowling, Roden inane to a degree, Dodo as deli 
 cately sweet as the medium permitted: and, "it certainly 
 can do no harm," said old Maine, as he held the print to his 
 nose. 
 
 Jimmy Maine was an old fox, the last of three generations 
 of lawyers, who had acted as legal advisers to as many 
 heads of the house of Auburn. Business apart, he had a 
 personal liking for his present client, and was inwardly 
 cursing Auburn's stiff-necked folly. By hook or by crook 
 Jimmy Maine had intended to get Dodo into the witness- 
 box, but a word let fall chanceably before Auburn had 
 spoiled the plan, bringing down upoa. him commands point- 
 blank that Dodo should not be dragged into the mire. So, 
 Dodo sat with the audience, and Jimmy Maine in the stifling 
 well of the Court wiped his bald head with a green silk 
 handkerchief and grumbled in undertones: for the trial 
 was all but over, and he had a grave doubt which way it 
 would go. 
 
 So far, it had all gone exactly as he had expected. There 
 had been no surprises, and few dramatic moments. It was 
 all stale, a twice-told tale a mere repetition of what had 
 been said at the inquest and again before the magistrates.
 
 144 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 The police had deposed to the finding of the body of Sir 
 Charles with the blood-stained stick lying hard by: the 
 medical evidence had fixed the time of death within an hour 
 or so. No, it could not have been suicide, said Dr. Upton : 
 the nature of the wound absolutely precluded the idea. The 
 deceased had been struck on the temple and probably killed 
 on the spot. The weapon produced was exactly what might 
 have been expected to cause such a wound. Then came the 
 testimony of the lad at the station, who identified Auburn 
 as the passenger of the previous evening, and the cane as 
 the one he had picked up. 
 
 Next came Davis, a horribly damaging witness the 
 more so for his obvious reluctance, which had produced one 
 of the liveliest moments of the inquest, when the prisoner, 
 in defiance of decorum, blazed out into an indignant, "Will 
 you tell the truth, you old scamp?" Thus adjured, Davis 
 had told the truth, and a pretty tale it was for the prisoner ! 
 He knew nothing and never would have known anything of 
 Auburn's presence on the night of the murder, had it not 
 been for the ill-starred visit of Koland and Roden: but 
 scarcely were they gone when it occurred to him that 
 Auburn might have repaired straight to the window, and he 
 crept to the dining-room door to listen. Bit by bit they 
 dragged from him what he had overheard the low voices, 
 the coldly civil tones, the lash of Auburn's irony, the 
 bludgeon-coarse humor of Sir Charles: 
 
 "You're not much like me, my boy." 
 
 "I'm sorry to hear it." 
 
 "Gad, if your mother had been a prettier woman, I 
 should have thought. ..." 
 
 Through the mask of Hampshire idiom the dead voice 
 emerged with a plainness which produced a murmur 
 scarcely to be quelled by the usher's iterated mechanical 
 cry of "Silence!" Those were the last words caught by 
 Davis, for Hayter the second footman (Sir Charles lived in 
 style) had come upon him unexpectedly, forcing him for
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 145 
 
 shame to quit his station; and Hayter was called to cor 
 roborate the tale, and to testify that he had found Davis 
 "a-shaking all hover, with 'is ear glued to the keyhole." 
 
 Then came Lesbia, a noble figure with burning eyes, in 
 her decent black dress and smoothly braided hair. Lesbia 
 in a mute, storm-driven fury, aweing the court with her 
 grand gestures and strange tongue. Yes, Mr. Charles had 
 come to her that night. Yes, she had taken him in and he 
 had slept under her roof. (Nothing would induce her to 
 speak of him by any other name.) Agitated? No; calm 
 enough; and wet through, "but not with blood," said Lesbia 
 in her strange vibrant voice: " 'twas nothing worse than 
 God's own dew, where he'd been out in the fog." No, he 
 had not talked much with her : he had told her that he came 
 from Sir Charles, and that they quarrelled inflexibly 
 truthful and sworn to tell the whole truth, Lesbia made this 
 avowal as one at the stake but he was calm enough: no 
 sign of painful dread: "he slept like a babe," said Lesbia, 
 making the judge smile in spite of himself: "I kissed him 
 in his sleep." Pressed to account for Auburn's action next 
 day in walking five miles to return, at the price of his ticket, 
 by a different line, she scored a point for the defense. Did 
 they think Mr. Charles would value ten shillings or five 
 miles above her convenience ? He had enjoined no secrecy 
 upon her: he had gone off waving his hand, said Lesbia, 
 "bonny and cool a rare figure of a murderer." No, she 
 had not in so many words asked him to go, but she had as 
 good as asked him she had let him know that she was 
 going, and that she could ill arrange for it, "and do you 
 think," said angry Lesbia, "any woman would have to ask 
 him plainer than that?" And so, bearing herself in hand, 
 she left the box to make way for an agitated Hillingdon 
 chemist, who proved that Auburn had actually applied to 
 him before eight o'clock to get the tabloids made up in time 
 to catch the local post. 
 
 Last of all had came the examination and cross-exam-
 
 146 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 ination of the prisoner, when Auburn, calm to a fault, gave 
 his version of the doings of that strange midsummer night. 
 Bastow, K.C., had characterized that version as extraordi 
 nary: and so it was, in its cold frankness. Jimmy Maine 
 was inured to dramatic effects, but even he had been startled 
 by what struck him at first as an affected and unseemly 
 piece of cynicism. 
 
 "Did you come to words with Sir Charles?" 
 
 "Yes, we had a row." 
 
 "Oh, you had a row! Upon what subject?" 
 
 "I decline to say." 
 
 "You have heard the evidence of the witness Davis. I 
 put it to you that Sir Charles used insulting language with 
 regard to his late wife ? ' ' 
 
 "That is quite true." 
 
 "Sir Charles insulted your mother, and you quarrelled 
 with him. Had you your stick in your hand at the time ? ' ' 
 
 "No, I had thrown it down on the table." 
 
 "It was within reach, however?" 
 
 "Oh yes." 
 
 ""When Sir Charles insulted your mother, what did 
 you do?" 
 
 "I left the house." 
 
 "By the same way as you had come in?" 
 
 "Practically the same. I had closed the window behind 
 me : the hasp caught, and I smashed the glass to get away." 
 
 "You could not stay to turn the handle?" 
 
 "No, I was too keen to be out of it." 
 
 "Nor to pick up your hat and stick?" 
 
 Auburn shrugged his shoulders. "I forgot them." 
 
 "You must have been in a very extraordinary frame of 
 mind. "Why were you in such a hurry ? ' ' 
 
 "Because I could not have kept my hands off Sir Charles 
 ten seconds longer." 
 
 Such words could not fail to produce a sensation, and 
 some moments passed ere quiet was restored. But Jimmy
 
 AN ORDEAL OP HONOR 147 
 
 Maine, catching the eye of the jndge, would have givn 
 much to know what old Dymock made of them. 
 
 At present the attention of the Court was fixed upon the 
 learned and eloquent counsel for the defense. He was worth 
 watching, indeed: a big handsome man, with a shrewd 
 dark eye and a tongue of silver. He laid stress upon the 
 improbability of the case: a young man of the prisoner's 
 class would not strike an old man, least of all one whom by 
 every tie of blood and decency he was bound to respect. A 
 quarrel might easily come about, but not a cowardly blow. 
 His learned brother had characterized the prisoner's de 
 fense as extraordinary. He quite agreed with him. It was 
 extraordinarily frank and straightforward. The prisoner 
 had not tried to suppress what might be thought likely to 
 tell against him. Mr. Riccardo would remind the jury that 
 for the details of the quarrel they were, in the fragmentary 
 state of the evidence of the butler Davis, chiefly indebted to 
 the prisoner himself. Did such frankness look like guilt? 
 Did it not rather suggest conscious innocence, which has no 
 fear of the truth? They had heard the testimony of Mrs. 
 Burnet. "Was it credible that a man fresh from a brutal 
 murder should be able to sleep like a child ? 
 
 Again, the evidence was purely circumstantial. There 
 was no direct proof whatever : nothing but a tissue of sur 
 mises. The utmost that could be proved against the pris 
 oner was that he might have committed the crime: but it 
 had by no means been proved impossible that some unknown 
 enemy of Sir Charles, who, it could not be doubted, had 
 
 made such enemies " (herb he was pulled up smartly 
 
 by his learned brother, the judge confirming the objection : 
 nevertheless, the hint had been got in, and was sure to tell 
 with the jury) "supposing, then, that Sir Charles had 
 what men of the most scrupulous honor and unstained 
 probity" (laughter) "were sometimes known to have a 
 personal enemy why should not such a man have found 
 his way in by the broken window and struck the fatal
 
 148 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 blow? He need not remind the gentlemen of the jury 
 that the onus of proof lay on the prosecution : and so long 
 as a shadow of uncertainty existed the prisoner was 
 entitled. ..." 
 
 ' * Oh, I wish he M have done ! ' ' Dodo whispered in Roden 's 
 ear. "It's cruelly trying for Charles." 
 
 Auburn stood erect, fronting the judge, the sunlight 
 striking down on his chestnut head. He had flatly refused 
 to wear mourning for political reasons, and was dressed in 
 grey. Placed between two warders, both tall and powerful 
 men, he overtopped them both by an inch or so. His clear, 
 brown skin, was a trifle the paler for his weeks in prison, 
 but not much ; sunburn ingrained in fifteen years of wan 
 dering does not wear off in a couple of months. It had been 
 a sickening surprise to him when he recognized, in the gal 
 leries, face after face that he had known in town : men to 
 whom he had played guest or host, women who had rarely 
 been too deeply engaged to spare him a dance. He was cool 
 enough, however, to deceive even Dodo. Had he betrayed 
 a tithe of the shame and confusion which seized him shy 
 Englishman that he was at heart when he first walked into 
 that crowded Court, he would have quelled her courage 
 altogether. But Auburn carried off the dishonors of the 
 situation with grace. 
 
 At length the great Riccardo sat down, having earned his 
 heavy fee by an address both emotional and reasonable, 
 which did him the more credit because he was convinced of 
 the prisoner's guilt: and after his strong and silver accents 
 rose the harsh elderly tones of the judge. Even Dodo, tired 
 to apathy, listened now: for this, she knew, would go far 
 to decide the verdict. 
 
 Knowledge of the law: insight into human nature: 
 shrewd common sense, that delighted to strike through legal 
 quibbles and tear down the cobwebs of sophistication spun 
 by partial pleaders these were the elements of Mr. Justice 
 Dymock's summing up. His rigor was tempered with
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 149 
 
 mercy he would strain a point, if need were, for the pris 
 oner rather than against him: but if it were possible he 
 would strain no point the facts must speak for themselves. 
 If the jury believed the prisoner's statement, and were pre 
 pared to accept the theory of the defense that some person 
 or persons unknown had entered the room after the prisoner 
 left it, then they must find accordingly : but it was his duty 
 to point out to them that there was no shadow of proof of 
 this theory: rather, the weight of evidence was against it. 
 What could have been the motive? Not robbery, for the 
 silver plate on the table, the rings on the dead man's fingers, 
 were left untouched. If revenge was the object, it was hard 
 to believe that the avenger would have come unprovided 
 with a weapon. But if they were not able to accept this 
 theory, and found themselves forced to believe that put 
 forward by the prosecution, then, again, it was their duty 
 to find the prisoner guilty, without allowing themselves to 
 be influenced by any considerations which affected, not the 
 facts, but what he might call the sentiment of the case. 
 
 Auburn drew a long breath and straightened his 
 shoulders : it would soon be over now ! Tired of his cramped 
 attitude for he had been on his feet the greater part of the 
 day he dropped into the chair that had been set for him 
 and crossed his knees. A buzz of talk sprang up all over 
 the Court. The judge consulted his notes, and chatted in 
 an undertone with the sheriff. Roden looked furtively at 
 Dodo, and Violet Carew wondered whether any power on 
 earth would induce her husband to go out for five minutes 
 and get a glass of wine and a biscuit. 
 
 A stir in the jury created a momentary tension, but 
 proved to be a false alarm. Uncertain on a point of law, 
 they desired to be enlightened by the judge. Their diffi 
 culty was elucidated in a dozen wise, simple sentences, and 
 the twelve heads young and old, rich and poor, aristocrat 
 and shopkeeper were bowed together again over their 
 verdict.
 
 150 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "I wish they would take Charles out," murmured Dodo. 
 "It's awfully trying for him." 
 
 ' ' I wish they would open a window, ' ' said Roden. ' ' This 
 place is deadly hot." 
 
 He put his hand to his forehead as he spoke, and Dodo 
 gave him a moment 's cursory observation. ' ' Poor Roddy ! ' ' 
 she said with a touch of compunction, "and you feel the 
 heat so much. You look very seedy, old boy. ' ' 
 
 "I don't know that we any of us look particularly bloom 
 ing," said Roden. "Auburn's the coolest of the lot." 
 
 "H'm," said Dodo, with an odd, meditative look. She 
 was spared the need of an answer by Violet, who leaned 
 past her to whisper to Roden, ' ' Do, please, watch my hus 
 band: I'm nervous about him." Roland sat erect, impas 
 sive, sickly-white, his hands clenched on his knee : he looked 
 ten years older for the last few weeks. But Roden gave him 
 a pity as superficial as he had himself received from his 
 sister. 
 
 "Those people, how they laugh!" said Dodo, shuddering, 
 as a titter went round the crowded benches behind them. 
 "Can it be much longer, Roddy?" 
 
 "No, dear." 
 
 "I thought the jury would leave the room to deliberate." 
 
 "Apparently they don't want to." 
 
 "If if it goes wrong Oh, Roddy! What's the 
 matter ? ' ' 
 
 "Here it is, anyhow," said Roden, with lips so clenched 
 that he could hardly speak. "Steady, Dodo! steady, for 
 Auburn's sake!" 
 
 There was again a stir among the jury: not a point of 
 law this time, but the end of the play. Auburn rose to his 
 feet, still cool to the brink of hardihood. Roden seized 
 Dodo's hand and crushed it, as the sheriff sat down and the 
 judge picked up his spectacles. 
 
 ' c Gentlemen of the jury, do you find the prisoner at the 
 bar guilty or not guilty?"
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 151 
 
 " Guilty, my lord." 
 
 Boden passed his arm round Dodo. It was not neces- 
 Bary. Tense as steel, no color in her face except the vivid 
 blue of her eyes, she was lifted out of all weakness. 
 
 The judge turned to Auburn. "Have you anything to 
 say, prisoner?" 
 
 "No," said Auburn mechanically: and, as he spoke, 
 raised his head and looked keenly, with an altered purpose, 
 into the face of the man who was about to condemn him. 
 For the low tones betrayed emotion : the judge was only a 
 man after all, with a man's heart to feel compassion, and 
 uncertainty, and the dread cross of responsibility. "On 
 second thoughts, there is something I should like to say. 
 May I say it?" 
 
 "This is not the time to reopen any question of fact " 
 
 "I am not going to, my lord. All I want is to thank 
 those who have taken part in this trial for the frank and 
 fair hearing they have given me. Yourself, my lord, it 
 would be an impertinence to thank for absolute impar 
 tiality: but I should like to acknowledge my sense of the 
 extreme fairness, and even generosity, with which I have 
 been treated by the counsel for the prosecution. I own," 
 continued Auburn, shaking back his head with a quick 
 movement, touched with a kind of whimsical humor, "if I 
 had had the trying of this case, I should have brought my 
 self in guilty. No one could stand against such a weight 
 of evidence. Chance I accuse no one chance has been 
 too strong for me. But, since I'm innocent, it seems to 
 me, be it understood probable that my innocence may 
 some day come to light : and when that day does come you 
 may like to remember, gentlemen, that I bore not the 
 shadow of a grudge against any one of you." 
 
 Dymock listened unmoved: not a flicker of expression 
 passed over the grim, wise face, over the eyes that never 
 for one moment quitted the eyes of the prisoner. Low and 
 stern came the answer of the judge.
 
 152 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Charles Auburn, you are about to stand in the presence 
 of your Maker, and no words of mine can make your situ 
 ation more terrible than your own conscience must perceive 
 it to be. You are an educated man : there is no need that I 
 should enlarge upon the grievous nature of your crime. 
 You say you forgive those who have sent you to your death. 
 You yourself stand in need of forgiveness. Use what time 
 remains to you in imploring the mercy of a Judge who 
 knows the secrets of all hearts." 
 
 They gave him the black cap, and he set it on his head. 
 Auburn moved a step forward, so that he stood alone, clear 
 of the warders. With a mind clear and composed, and able 
 to grasp every word, he followed that dread sentence to the 
 end. 
 
 ". . . . And that you be taken to the place whence you 
 came and thence to a place of execution and there be hanged 
 by the neck till you be dead : and may the Lord have mercy 
 on your soul." 
 
 "Amen," said the chaplain in a shaken voice: and 
 "Amen," said Auburn himself, and added under his 
 breath, "So, it's over." 
 
 An officer touched his arm with a sharp, "This way, 
 please." His tone had a new touch of authority, as of law 
 dealing with the criminal; a touch of awe also, as befits 
 man dealing with his fellow-man so soon to take leave of the 
 world. In five minutes' time the next case was to be tried. 
 The second warder unlocked the door of the dock and 
 stepped down from it. Auburn turned to follow swung 
 round and for the first time since the trial began bent his 
 aching eyes on the faces dearest to him in the fast-departing 
 world. He saw Violet touch Roden's sleeve, and Roden, 
 himself white and drawn and old in suffering, make a swift 
 movement to seize Roland Carew by the arm ; and he saw 
 Roland, without a cry, drop down before Roden could save 
 him, in a dead faint on the ground. But apart from all, 
 and nearer to him than all, he saw Dodo standing erect, her
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 153 
 
 face set like a white mask, but her eyes vividly blue, shining 
 as if they had seen God with a passion that outwent dis 
 honor and death : he saw her lips move, and read the troth 
 he could not hear : 
 "Through this world and beyond it."
 
 XVI. 
 
 AFTER the trial Auburn was taken back to the county 
 jail, but not to his old quarters. That night the fine 
 weather, prolonged beyond its usual limits, broke up, and 
 as he lay in his cramped cot, chafing under the eye of the 
 warder on guard, he heard hour after hour the crying of 
 wind and dash of rain against the high, barred window of 
 the condemned cell. 
 
 Day came, desolate and stormy, but soft, one of those wild 
 grey days of early autumn that set the blood tingling in 
 young veins. It drove Auburn to pacing up and down. 
 So many a time, in the years long ago, he had flung out of 
 the grey University town, alone or with Roland Carew, to 
 breast the rise of Madingley Hill to tire out in a long 
 country tramp the body that ached with excess of life. The 
 old days haunted him. He shut his eyes and saw it all 
 again: the wide Cambridge champaign, the grey wind 
 blowing between the ring of far grey hills, the red leaves 
 drifted by the roadside, the smell of fog and bare wood 
 lands, and amid all that himself and Roland Carew, bare 
 headed, arm in arm, waking the quiet road with their high 
 boyish voices and laughter. 
 
 The entrance of a second warder and a summons to quit 
 his cell recalled him to present circumstances. Expecting 
 an interview with the governor or the chaplain, he silently 
 followed his escort to the visitors' room, to be met by Roland 
 himself. " Hullo!" said Auburn. "I was just thinking of 
 you. Do you remember the Madingley road ? ' ' 
 
 "The Madingley road?" 
 
 "The road up Madingley Hill, with the old windmill on 
 
 154
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 155 
 
 top looking like a moth that had been through a candle, and 
 the short out down through the woods to the village, and 
 the inn where they gave you buttered toast and beer. Oh ! 
 spare me that funereal face, Roland. What's the good 
 of it?" 
 
 "Auburn! for heaven's sake " 
 
 "I know, I know," Auburn struck in, " *for heaven's 
 sake be serious, Auburn!' All right, I'll be serious I'll 
 be anything you like! Say the word what shall it be? 
 Pious resignation? I haven't a grain of piety in me and 
 don't feel resigned; but if you would like us to say the 
 Lord's Prayer together I don't mind going down on my 
 knees." 
 
 "Auburn, do remember " 
 
 ' ' Binns ? Binns is deaf : aren 't you, Binns ? Besides, he 's 
 quite amiable. What the devil have you been doing with 
 yourself fasting in sackcloth and ashes ? Come, bear up : 
 don't be so hypersensitive! It's a quick death, after all." 
 
 "A reprieve " faltered Roland, the words barely 
 
 intelligible. 
 
 "Rot! You'll never do it. The judge has the casting 
 vote, I know that much, and you'll get precious little change 
 out of old Dymock. Where's the good of building castles 
 in Spain ? ' ' 
 
 "Of course we shall petition " 
 
 "Do by all means if it amuses you, but if I were Home 
 Secretary you might whistle for a reprieve. Rank senti- 
 mentalism of the most vulgar type, that's what it will be: 
 shopgirls and actors and dissenting parsons signing in their 
 millions because I'm passably good-looking and have a 
 handle to my name. Old Hardyng will put it behind the 
 fire your petition." 
 
 "God help us all!" said Roland. He covered his eyes 
 with his hands : he had forgotten the warder 's presence, as 
 had Auburn himself. "If you if they if if " 
 
 "If I'm hanged fire away."
 
 156 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "If this awful thing does happen, it will be the end of all 
 things, for me. A God who strikes with such blind injustice 
 is no God at all or a devil." 
 
 "Yet your creed doesn't profess to be a system of tem 
 poral rewards and punishments." 
 
 "I can't stop my ears with formulae. Oh, I'm wrong, I 
 dare say; but, wrong or right, if you die it will all go to 
 pieces." 
 
 "A circumstance which I should exceedingly regret," 
 said Auburn with a low laugh. "Oh, be good, Roland! 
 Where's the use of swearing? I've had a very lively time 
 of it anyhow : not so long as could be wished, but eminently 
 festive. If there is a God, I cry quits: I've had a run for 
 my money." 
 
 "But death," said Roland, throwing himself down on the 
 seat from which Auburn had risen: "but death!" 
 
 "Death, eh? Well, we've faced it for fun can't you 
 face it in earnest? I remember when you bagged your first 
 tiger you gave him the coup de grace on foot at close quar 
 ters out of sheer devilry: you were less nervous then." 
 
 "That was different: there was no dishonor attached 
 to it." 
 
 "And I confess, old Roland, I shall not think myself 
 dishonored." 
 
 "Ah, Auburn!" said Roland, sorrowfully, "and yet you 
 mean to die with a lie on your lips ? ' ' 
 
 Auburn started : the unready color sprang to his face. 
 
 "True, I'd forgotten that," he said, after a long and 
 noticeable pause. 
 
 He perched himself on the table, one hand in his pocket, 
 the other thrown round Roland's neck. "Dear old fellow, 
 I wish you wouldn't take it so hardly. What a boy it is, for 
 all its six-and-thirty years ! I should think never prisoner 
 had a more loyal pal loyal under difficulties too, by Jove !" 
 he bit his lip to repress a smile. "But don't swear grace 
 overboard, there 's a dear lad ! Play a waiting game. Clear
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 157 
 
 out of England as soon as it's over I suppose I mustn't ask 
 you to go before clear out and take Violet with you, 
 yachting, say: the sea's a tonic. You'll soon learn to see 
 things in a proper light. I'm not the first, you know, and 
 I shan't be the last." 
 
 "I'm not so cold blooded as you are." 
 
 "No, you were always sentimental. But your blood will 
 cool, you'll find, in time: you'll be able to reflect that after 
 all, since I knocked Sir Charles on the head, I only got my 
 deserts. A man grows most gallantly philosophical over his 
 troubles when he's forgotten what they were." 
 
 ' ' And do you suppose I shall forget ? ' ' 
 
 "Suppose? I know it," answered Auburn with deep 
 scorn. "In a couple of years' time you'll be back at Fern- 
 dean giving garden parties. Oh, you won't have forgotten 
 me Lord, no! You'll say to Violet, 'Vi darling, I think 
 we'll put off those people on Tuesday: you know it's the 
 anniversary of the day poor Auburn was was ' and 
 there you'll pull up, because you're congenitally incapable 
 of saying hanged " 
 
 ' ' Oh, do be quiet, Auburn ! I cannot stand you when you 
 get into that tone. You know I always hated it." 
 
 "You seem to hate most of my ways and works at 
 present." 
 
 * ' I hate everything, ' ' said Roland. He was broken down 
 by want of sleep and by the long nervous strain, and spoke 
 with the f retfulness of a child. Auburn, still sitting with 
 his arm round his comrade's neck, touched the dark cheek 
 lovingly and lightly with his long brown fingers. 
 
 "Are you and I going to apologize to each other? . . . 
 Come, there are still a dozen things I wanted to say. I 
 made my will a few days ago as a precautionary measure, 
 and I've left you a few odds and ends that I thought you 
 might care for: books, pictures, the contents of my rooms 
 in town, personal trifles that I knew no one else would 
 valne." Roland eould not trust himself to speak. "My
 
 168 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 and horses, too will you give them a home? I 
 shouldn't care to have the Daisy sold to a man who couldn't 
 ride." 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 "The property of course goes with the title to the 
 Australian branch, and I wish them joy of it! But there's 
 some money of my own, which came to me through my 
 mother I can't explain now, but I've given Maine full 
 instructions ' ' 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir, but your time's just on up." 
 
 Roland started, and so did Auburn: the interruption 
 jarred. "So soon!" said Auburn: "hang you, Binns, I'd 
 forgotten you were there. I know there were no end of 
 things I wanted to say!" 
 
 "And I'd one thing to say to you which I've not said." 
 
 "Say it now." 
 
 "Do you want to see her?" 
 
 "Whom? Do you mean ?" Roland nodded. "Elle 
 
 le veut? Ah nom, par exemple . . . elle croit que je le 
 veux." 
 
 He got up and leaned against the wall, hands in pockets, 
 head thrown back. Roland scrutinized him, but could read 
 nothing in his features : they might have masked either iron 
 self-mastery, or genuine unconcern. "What shall I say?" 
 asked Dodo 's ambassador. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I am to say No?" 
 
 "You are to say No." 
 
 "You refuse to see her?" Roland exclaimed, amazed and 
 half indignant. "But, my dear fellow, why?" 
 
 "Chut! ne parle pas d'elle," said Auburn imperiously. 
 "Do as I tell you say No. Say I'd rather not change the 
 old associations for the new : that an interview would only 
 make things harder for both of us for me especially. Say 
 I don't liks touching farewells, and would rather not see 
 any on at all not Roden, nor Mr. Oarmitrow, nor you
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 1S9 
 
 again : that ought to carry conviction. Hurt? No, I think 
 not : we're not all so sensitive as you are. Say I don't wish 
 it, that I shrink from the idea." 
 
 "But is that true?" asked Roland. Auburn drew him 
 self up and looked down at him, silently laughing. 
 
 1 ' True ? Of course it 's true ! What a brute you are to 
 insult a helpless prisoner! Now I'm falling into levity 
 again, oh Lord ! you and your infernal Puritanical ways 
 one would think it was you who were going to be hanged, 
 not I. I hope they'll give me a long enough drop, that's 
 all; I don't want ... I beg your pardon, Roland, I am an 
 ass." He had shocked himself as well as Roland: there 
 were things even for him that did not bear putting into 
 words. 
 
 Steps rang again in the corridor ; the door was unlocked 
 and a warder appeared on the threshold. Auburn held out 
 his hand and Roland took it in a nerveless grasp. Firm and 
 close was Auburn's pressure. 
 
 "Good-bye, old Roland," he said, "the best friend that 
 ever bore a cranky temper. Sans rancune, eh? in case I 
 don't see you again." 
 
 "Shall I give any message from you?" asked Roland, 
 resolved to get out of the cell with credit, but hardly know 
 ing how to bear himself under the bitter strain. 
 
 Auburn wrenched his hand away and stepped back. 
 "No: I've no messages to send."
 
 T 
 
 XVII. 
 
 HIS morning they came to tell me the time 
 fixed for the execution, which is to take place 
 on Tuesday next at eight a. m. A painful interview ! The 
 chaplain was reduced to tears, poor little chap. Pity they 
 don't put stronger men into .the Church: she must lose 
 many through the ineptitude of her ministers. Little 
 Phillips is a dear, good fellow he comes and prays over 
 me daily and exhorts me to repent. The fact that I don't 
 believe in heaven, or hell, or God, or angel, or demon seems 
 to be beyond the grasp of his queer little rudimentary 
 brain. He thinks it a part of the indecency of my general 
 attitude. 
 
 "If I hadn't still some lingering sense of the absurd, I 
 swear I 'd make an edifying end just to comfort him. It '11 
 put him out grievously if I die neither penitent nor 
 blaspheming. That an Atheist he says it with a large A 
 should be able to face death in a seemingly calm frame of 
 mind is a thing he can't grasp it upsets all his little 
 theories. Makes him, I verily believe, at times wonder 
 whether there is so much in it as he is pledged to maintain ; 
 but he scourges the thought out of his mind as a temptation 
 of the Devil. Lord knows 7 don't want to put it there! It 
 would be an infinite consolation to me to believe in a world 
 that rights the disasters of this. But there's no such world ; 
 I can't trick my brains at this time of day. To-morrow 
 week I this personality through which alone I conceive of 
 the world as existing will have ceased to exist; but the 
 said world will go on existing much as it did before. 
 
 "Little Phillips holds that all unbelief is based on 
 
 160
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 161 
 
 hypocrisy : on the sinner 's rejection of a moral law. Where 
 do parsons live, I wonder ? In what circumnambient black 
 fog of prejudice do they walk this earth ? Does he think I 
 would not rather believe in a heaven yes, or in a hell too 
 than in the void dark ? If there were one pin-point of foot 
 hold in the infinite, wouldn't I cling to it! To believe that 
 I might live and see Dodo again, however dimly, across any 
 bounds of time or space or even, leaving the personal ele 
 ment aside, to throw oneself altogether upon illimitable 
 power, by which all mortal wrongs are atoned into one deep 
 everlasting purpose But no: there's no such pur 
 pose. I die and the leaves die, and the only difference is 
 that I suffer and they don't. . . . Come, there's no doubt 
 that I have the religious temperament ! Lee was right I am 
 a devot manque, not a pure-blooded sceptic as he was himself. 
 Can't I hear him now, as he lay writhing his life out in my 
 arms: 'I don't want a God, I've nowhere to put him.' 
 Clever little Lee, with your shrewd gay eyes and your Gallic 
 impudence ! of you already there's nothing left but a hand 
 ful of bones and half a dozen memories. All the same, I 'm 
 grateful to Binns for letting me keep your crucifix. You 
 wore it for a woman's sake, I wear it for yours: who'll 
 wear it for mine? No one: even Dodo could hardly be 
 expected to take it off such a neck as mine will be. 
 
 "Let me be quite frank with myself. Do I dread it? 
 Yes, sickeningly: I can't keep my hands still when I think 
 of it. After all, what is it ? A short agony. One kicks and 
 dangles in the air for as much as three minutes, I 've heard : 
 but after the first minute it's not much more than the 
 mechanical kicking of a frog. I wish I knew. I can't 
 ask any one, though: little Phillips would have a fit if I 
 broached the subject to him, and the medico is not sym 
 pathetic to me, I confess. Darnley's a blackguard, and 
 knows it, and knows that I know it. ... Binns would 
 know, or Madden : but I can't ask them. 
 
 "I wish it weren't so beastly undignified. I wish they
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 didn 't pinion one 's arms and legs. I wish I 'd never heard 
 of that case a year or so back when the trap wouldn 't work, 
 and the poor brute was led out three times ouf ! I should 
 break down. He was reprieved in the end : but I 'd rather 
 die, and die by slow torture, than be three times dragged 
 up and taken off again. Besides, I dread breaking down. 
 
 "Yet I've faced it before, not once nor twice notably 
 that time in Cuba, when I stayed in the open under fire to 
 watch Lee die, with the bullets whining around me. Much 
 I cared ! though one nicked my hair, I remember. But the 
 risk, the fun of the thing pulled one through. There's no 
 fun in this, and no risk : the dice are loaded. 
 
 "Also, there's no doubt this prison life is trying, and 
 I've had several months of it. When one's used to be 
 always out of doors or on the sea, facing the sun and wind, 
 this close confinement takes it out of one. ... In other 
 words, there come moments, not infrequently, when I should 
 like to tear the walls down with my hands, and feel as if I 
 could. Tear them down ! I could gnaw my way out with 
 my teeth. . . . Then again, the prison discipline tells on 
 one. I'm not used to be under surveillance. The small 
 indignities are no worse, I dare say, than is necessary, but 
 they chafe. My nerves are out of order. I believe these 
 sickening fits of terror are half nervous, born of the long 
 confinement and bad food and sleep. 
 
 ' ' Is one egoist, under these circumstances ! A man would 
 think I thought of nothing but myself. He'd be wrong, 
 though : I think of those others often enough, at night, when 
 Madden can't see me. Then, when I grow very sick and 
 don't know how to stand it, I remind myself that it's worse 
 for them than for me. It won't last, though. Nothing 
 lasts: least of all, the memory of the dead. 
 
 "For him, the cruel thing is that he believes I'm guilty 
 and deny it. So like him ! if there were two views to take, 
 he always chose the darker. I can't for the life of me (not 
 much of an oath that, by the bye) see how he caa believe I
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 163 
 
 should lie to him. Faithful heart ! loyal, true, and tender 
 friend ! I should royally deserve hanging if I were capable 
 of that. But you do believe it, and protest only rubs the 
 wound: so, when you came to see me, like the augurs, we 
 didn't know which way to look ! it was deadly embarrassing. 
 Still, you came. Dear old friend, this be your epitaph: 
 'He had no faith, yet remained loyal.' But I can't say I 
 derived much pleasure from your visit. 
 
 "Only eight days more! It's incredible it's like a bad 
 dream. Half the time I don't realize it, and when I do it's 
 not only real but realist. After saying so long, 'This day 
 fortnight I shall run up to town, or cut over to Paris for a 
 week-end,' it is so odd to have to say instead, 'This day 
 fortnight I shall be dead and rotting.' I've seen men lie 
 unburied for a week when I was out in Cuba. That was a 
 hot climate, and things went faster : but they go fast enough 
 anywhere. Once drop out of the ranks, and Nature sees to 
 it that you don 't long cumber the line of march. This hand 
 of mine, now, so cleverly put together, nerves and sinews, 
 bone and flesh : how stiff it will be in ten days' time ! Who 
 was that devil incarnate who dreamed of a future life when 
 the soul was chained to the body ? . . . Morbid, eh ? Try 
 waiting to be hanged, and see if you're not morbid! 
 
 "How the old days haunt one! That last night of the 
 Mays, fourteen years ago do you remember that, old 
 Eoland? We bumped Jesus, and came out head of the 
 river I'll be sworn you've not forgotten that. You and I 
 pulled together then, and now you think I 'm lying to you. 
 Still, you're loyal: let me not be unfair. You do the best 
 you can with a suspicious temperament. But it's fine 
 comedy, to hear you preach to me. So I display too much 
 levity, do I? So do many criminals under sentence, I've 
 heard. Poor devils ! if all their levity is of the same calibre 
 as mine. . . . 
 
 "This cursed strength of mine ! Sickness makes the way 
 easy: but to die with all your strength in you, with your
 
 164 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 veins full of blood and your spirit aching for all that only 
 one woman can give. . . . 
 
 "If I could only see her once, once! We've had so 
 little time together, and we've thrown most of it away. 
 I've only once heard her say she loved me, and that was 
 before them all, with the bobby coming up the avenue ! I 
 never would have believed that I was capable of caring for 
 any woman as I care for her. "What wouldn't I give if 
 I'd anything to give to see her just once, even here, even 
 under B inns' eyes, to say good-bye? 'But is that true, 
 Auburn ? ' Oh, precious Roland ! what should we do in this 
 world without fools? He believed it, believed that I didn't 
 care about seeing her I who was aching with the thirst to 
 see her! And I had only to lift a finger and she'd have 
 come, my white Dodo, to break her heart in this vile hole, 
 to stamp on her mind those memories that can never be 
 effaced yes: I suspect that such a farewell interview, so 
 unforgettably woeful, would have bound her to me for ever. 
 I could not, face to face, have pretended to do less than 
 adore her. Oh ! my darling ! oh, my darling ! . . . Thank 
 heaven, I had just sufficient manhood to refuse. Bind you 
 to me? No, I love you too il for that. You're young: 
 you'll forget. Not so soon as HC ,nd will : but soon enough. 
 I give him a couple of years, you Jli ree or four . . . three 
 to be healed, four or five to love again and marry ... and 
 another man will have all that I never had, and and you '11 
 call your eldest boy Charles! You won't see the joke, bless 
 you. Neither shall I, then : but I do now. 
 
 "Steady, you coward ! You may be as much of a coward 
 as you like under your skin, but I swear to you, you shan't 
 whimper. No, you shall not send so much as your love. 
 You shall do what you can to make it easy for her to for 
 get. . . . You fool ! you may as well do it with a good 
 grace. . . ."
 
 XVIII. 
 
 HAD Auburn only known it, he might have spared 
 himself much suffering, for the message that had 
 cost him so dear was but idle breath. Dodo listened to 
 it gravely, thanked Roland, and said to Eoden, "I shall 
 go the day before the end." 
 
 It was late on the Monday afternoon when she passed the 
 doors of Hillingdon Prison. The sallow October day a 
 day of vexing wind and flaws of rain was drawing to 
 wards an early close. The clouds were so thickly folded 
 that the whole face of heaven was darkened: only in the 
 west, here and there, light peered through a brownish rift. 
 The leaves of a stripped acacia danced in the prison yard. 
 Within, the gloom of the weather was accentuated by the 
 cold cleanliness of flagged floors and yellow walls. Boden, 
 who had obtained leave to go with her to the door of Au 
 burn's cell, saw her shiver as her eyes fell on the trapeze- 
 work of stout wire netting which was stretched from side to 
 side and from end to end of the central hall at the level of 
 each landing. Although Hillingdon was but a county jail, 
 that network had been found necessary to keep prisoners 
 from cracking their skulls on the floor of the hall below. 
 
 The warder who was their escort unlocked the door of 
 the visitors' room and went in before them, but Dodo 
 followed so quickly that he had no time to prepare Au 
 burn, who was sitting with his arms folded on the table. 
 The prisoner sprang to his feet. Dodo came to him and 
 held out her hands, he took them, and so held her for a 
 few moments: till without a word she threw her arms 
 round him and laid down her head. 
 
 165
 
 166 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "I told you not to come, Dodo." 
 
 "I'd have come if I'd been dying I'd have come from 
 the dead." 
 
 Silence again, and for both a space of pure forgetful- 
 ness. Passion, like a fire, had burnt up what had been 
 and what was to come after ; for the lovers nothing existed 
 but their love. 
 
 "Lift your face," said Auburn. "I 'ye dreamed of it 
 so often, and couldn't always remember it." Dodo raised 
 her head, white and tense as he had seen it in the court 
 room, her eyes blue as steel and undimmed by tears. 
 "Dodo, you won't forget me?" 
 
 "No, Charles." 
 
 "Don't forget me!" 
 
 "My darling, I promise you " 
 
 He laid his hand over her lips: his face was colorless. 
 "Hush ! You're not to say it. "What a fool what a scoun 
 drel I am ! ' ' She saw him crushing and chaining down the 
 anguish that had momentarily betrayed itself, repressing 
 his love and agony and weakness and fear, schooling him 
 self to talk quietly and to look carelessly, to unfasten eyes 
 from eyes and heart from heart. Very gently he disen 
 gaged himself from her arms, and drew forward his own 
 chair, and made her sit down, himself seated sideways on 
 the edge of the table close by : and her lover, broken down 
 by suffering, of a moment ago was once more the self- 
 contained Auburn of Stanton Mere. Dodo could hardly 
 breathe for the constriction of her throat: her own grief 
 sank under the intolerable burden of pity. She thought 
 him needlessly cruel to himself and to her, till with his 
 next words illumination broke upon her. He was not 
 weak, to let the jailer's presence trouble him he had been, 
 he could have continued to be, royally indifferent to that : 
 nor vain, to nurse his own dignity; his rigid, iron-handed 
 self-control was based on a worthier motive than self-con 
 sciousness or pride.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 167 
 
 "Please don't say or think of saying anything of that 
 sort, Dodo. I don't want you to swear eternal constancy." 
 
 ''Why not?" 
 
 "Really " he was bending over her and his voice had 
 dropped to a murmur, but his manner was cool to the brink 
 of hardness "that kind of thing strikes me as rather ab 
 surd. Where's the use of it? You lose, and I don't gain." 
 
 "You think to-morrow is the end of everything?" 
 
 " 'In heaven they neither marry . . .' On your own 
 showing, you see, there 's no chance for us. We might meet 
 as angels, my dear : but that would give me no satisfaction. 
 No: our little romance so short it's been, hasn't it? is 
 finished and done with. You oughtn't to have come here 
 to-day. Didn 't that ass Roland give you my message ? ' ' 
 
 "Of course he did," Dodo answered with a derisive ac 
 cent, "taking precautions not to wound me. But I dis 
 cerned your native candour through his wrappings of 
 politeness, and, you see, I understood." She saw the 
 nervous movement of his lingers, clenched over the edge 
 of the table, and pitied him. "But we'll play the game, 
 if you like. Let me see, what's it to be? You're to die 
 to-morrow, and that's to be the end of you, and I I'm to 
 get it over it and marry some one else, I suppose ? ' ' 
 
 "What's that?" said Auburn, perturbed, thrown out 
 of his part. "Dodo you're talking nonsense." 
 
 "Am I? You see this little romance this boy and 
 girl affair of ours has given me a certain degree of 
 acuteness, and oh, have it your own way ! Do you know 
 you're looking very ill, Charles?" 
 
 She touched his hand: it was cold and wet, and his 
 face was lined like that of a man of fifty. She saw that 
 he was resolute, and that she was throwing a heavy strain 
 on him to no purpose, and after a moment she began to 
 speak in an altered tone, frankly and gently, without 
 passion and without irony, though all the strength of her 
 nature revolted against the loss of their last hour together.
 
 168 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "People have been very kind. Roland told you we were 
 going to petition? It has come to nothing, of course, but 
 still I 'm glad we tried it. "We had over six hundred thou 
 sand names. Many people believe you're innocent, you 
 know. Roland offered a reward of a thousand pounds: 
 that has come to nothing, too, but I was glad he did it." 
 
 "Heroic of him, as he's not one of those who believe." 
 
 "Yes, that is queer. I was talking about it to Mrs. 
 Carew the other day: she's very loyal, she made me 
 understand his position better than I ever did before. 
 You see, he was prepossessed with the idea that if you 
 and Sir Charles met yoa would quarrel, and he seems to 
 have had an almost superstitious dread of what would 
 come of it : so, when the news came, it was hardly so much 
 as a surprise it was only a confirmation of what he had 
 feared from the first. ' ' 
 
 "Your apologetics are thrown away, my dear: I know 
 Roland's ways. I should have been more surprised if he 
 had believed me." 
 
 "Are you trying to convince me that you were not hurt 
 cut to the heart by what he said? Don't, Charles: you 
 won't succeed." 
 
 "He did sting," Auburn owned, "but don't you tell him 
 I said so. How you read me, Dodo!" 
 
 "Profoundly, don't I? Never mind, I won't be discon 
 certing any more. I pity Mr. Carew when the truth comes 
 out, though: he'll never forgive himself." 
 
 "I rather hope the truth never will eome out. Think 
 of old Dymock's feelings to say nothing of the jury!" 
 
 "I doubt if Mr. Dymock will feel anything at all. He's 
 very ill: he had a sort of stroke only a day or two after 
 the trial, and he's been unconscious or light-headed ever 
 since. ' ' 
 
 "Really! Poor old chap, I'm sorry for that: he was 
 very decent to me cut short his peroration, for which I 
 was grateful. Tell me how all your own people are."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 169 
 
 "Bernard's very fit. One would really think he was 
 rather pleased than otherwise. He turned up to lunch 
 yesterday. We're still at the Carews', you know, Roddy 
 and I, and the others come and go. It's rather an uncon 
 scionable visit, but they evidently don't mind I think 
 Roland hardly realizes what goes on round him. Father 
 sent his love to you. He's one of those who believe, by 
 the bye: it was what you said in court that finally con 
 vinced him." 
 
 "I've a vague impression that I made rather a fool of 
 myself." 
 
 Oh no! You were remarkably dignified, I assure you: 
 not a shade of self -consciousness, that struck us all. Father 
 saw it in print, and told us that if he had not known you 
 he would, from his experience of the way men tell lies, 
 have betted his last sou you were speaking the truth." 
 
 "How are the boys?" 
 
 "Very distressed. Dickie has gone back to his regiment: 
 he couldn't get an extension of leave, and I think he was 
 glad to go. Caron has been at his rooms in town, but he 
 came down to Ferndean yesterday. He helped us to 
 get heaps of theatrical and artistic signatures. Roddy of 
 course is staying with me. He brought me here to-day: 
 I wanted him to eome in for half a minute, but he 
 wouldn't." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 Dodo shook her head. "Roddy is very queer. There was 
 always a queer strain in him, and all this has developed it. 
 He tries hard to be normal, but I know him pretty well, 
 and I 'm sure there is something wrong. He liked you very 
 much, and he's always been a great dear to me, bpt there's 
 more than brotherly affection in the way he's taken this. 
 Dr. Sartoris used to say that he was highly nervous, and 
 I think the horror of it has worn on his nerves. Grace 
 said once that he looks as if he was ghost-ridden." 
 
 "Grace?"
 
 170 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Grace Trevor. She's here at the Carews' for a few 
 nights." 
 
 "To see you through? Good old girl! Have you seen 
 anything of Lesbia?" 
 
 "Not since the trial. Jeannie has been ill, and Lesbia 
 stayed at home to nurse her so Mr. Carew said : he went 
 in there one day. But we have been very busy, you know : 
 petitions take up a lot of time, organizing and despatching 
 forms and getting the printing done. Oh, and, Charles 
 I wanted to thank you for something that Mr. Carew 
 told me." 
 
 "You were not angry?" 
 
 "No: I understood. It was very good of you to think 
 of it." 
 
 "I do not see you working for your living, Dodo: and 
 forgive me one doesn't grow rich nowadays in the 
 Church." 
 
 "We're not millionaires," said Dodo dryly. "I've al 
 ways looked forward to being a nursery governess or a 
 lady's companion in my declining years: always, that is, 
 till I thought I should be your wife." 
 
 She leaned back in her chair and was silent for a little 
 while. Within the prison the evening had darkened fast: 
 so little light came in through the high, barred window 
 even by daytime that the room was now full of shadows. 
 They could almost have imagined themselves alone. Still 
 seated on the edge of the table, with his arms folded, and 
 his head thrown back, Auburn had completely regained 
 control of himself, and looked so full of life and so vigor 
 ously healthy, with his tanned skin and brilliant eyes, that 
 it was hard to believe him not twenty-four hours from 
 death. If she had wished to go on talking at the same 
 level, Dodo would have done well to give herself no leisure 
 to think. A shudder seized her and shook her from head 
 to foot "Dear, what is it?" said Auburn, quickly, bend 
 ing over her.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 171 
 
 "This time to-morrow !" said Dodo with a gesture of 
 
 horror. 
 
 "Why, you won't see me," said Auburn, "that won't 
 hurt you." 
 
 "Oh, don't, Charles!" Dodo cried out: and then, half 
 suffocating, "oh, don't make me laugh!" Auburn threw 
 his arm round her : he had spoken in good faith, and could 
 not now see exactly where the joke lay, but he had seen 
 hysteria once or twice in men, and knew the real from the 
 less dangerous variety. "Don't make a scene, Dodo!" he 
 said roughly, and Dodo, white and shaken, came gradually 
 back from the borderland. But he dared not withdraw his 
 arm, and in that close bodily contact there came to Dodo 
 the certainty that she could not any longer bear to be held 
 spiritually away from him. She leaned her head against 
 him : her lips were close to his ear. 
 
 "Do you think I care?" she murmured: "do you think 
 I would not love to hold you, dead, to-morrow as you're 
 holding me to-day ? You know so very little of women. ' ' 
 
 "Don't know: I've had plenty of experience." 
 
 ' ' I am not amenable to those tactics : you can 't make me 
 jealous. How fantastic you are, Charles! Why do you 
 want to keep me at arm's length?" 
 
 "Do I look like keeping you at arm's length?" 
 
 "You're doing it. I shall never marry any one but you. 
 Don't you believe that?" 
 
 Auburn was silent, but the strong, sardonic curve of his 
 mouth betrayed his mind. 
 
 "What! you think I shall marry?" 
 
 "My child, you're very young. Constancy is a virtue 
 much believed in by youth : at my age one finds it hard to 
 distinguish it from a vice." 
 
 "I only know there never will be any other man in the 
 world for me but you." 
 
 "Of course not!" said Auburn derisively, "besides, 
 you'll die of a broken heart before a twelvemonth is over."
 
 17S AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "No, I shan't; it isn't so easy when you're young and 
 strong. But I never shall forget." 
 
 "Dodo, you can't devote yourself to the memory of a 
 man that was hanged: it's too squalid. Besides," he saw 
 her flinch, and tried to soften the harshness of his own 
 words, "you are such a child: you've only known me a 
 few weeks. This day six months ago you had never set 
 eyes on me. Be content with the loyalty you've given me 
 while I was alive, and don't try to turn yourself into a 
 little weeping willow over my grave. You're too young, 
 and I'm too old, and and the whole affair is too sicken- 
 ingly hard lines on a child like you." He could not go 
 on: Dodo's deep ironical eyes mocked him from his cyni 
 cism, genuine though it was. He had not an atom of faith 
 in her, but she could make him ashamed of his want of 
 faith. Indeed, she had great power over him, greater than 
 she had ever realized before: and strong and strange the 
 desire came upon her to make full trial of that power, to 
 plumb the depths of this uncharted sea which was bearing 
 her ship so far out of sight of land. She threw her arm 
 round his neck and drew him down against her. Unable 
 to extricate himself, Auburn knelt at her side, leaning his 
 head against her breast, his breath coming in labored gasps : 
 weakened by the long confinement and nervous strain, he 
 was within an ace of breaking down, and would have done 
 it so thoroughly had Dodo wrought upon him if it had 
 not been for his inflexible determination to leave her free. 
 What he did not understand was that Dodo, reading his 
 struggles with her acute woman's eyes, was more pro 
 foundly moved by them than she ever would have been by 
 a weak appeal for pity. She held him locked in her arms, 
 as if she would have defied death itself to take him from 
 her. "Oh, my darling," she said, weeping, "I did not 
 think it could hurt so to love any one." 
 
 "Don't cry, dear." 
 
 "I wish I'd married you I wish I'd made you marry
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 173 
 
 me in prison. I can't bear to have you die without be 
 lieving me. Do you think I could bear to suffer like this 
 twice over?" 
 
 "No, my sweetheart: I think next time you will prob 
 ably have better luck." 
 
 "You think that I shall have another lover after you, 
 and let another man hold me as you're holding me? I 
 should feel myself unchaste for ever. It would be a sin." 
 
 "No, Dodo: it will be perfectly natural and right." 
 
 "Oh!" said Dodo, outraged. "Charles, you must be 
 lieve me!" 
 
 "I do believe you. I know you mean it now: but in 
 five years' time " 
 
 " or in fifty years' time, I'll never forget you, 
 
 never! Listen: I give you my word of honor, I swear to 
 you by this love of ours which I believe will be eternal " 
 
 He had freed himself, and sprang up: he turned on 
 Binns with a movement of command. "Get that door 
 open!" he said. Binns stared at him, dumbfounded: he 
 had witnessed some curious farewell interviews, but Au 
 burn's white fury was a novelty to him. "Will you get 
 that door open, damn you ? ' ' said Auburn. Dodo rose : in 
 her, too, the feeling momentarily dominant was a para 
 doxical anger. 
 
 "All right, I'm going," she said. She walked to the 
 door and called through it. "Roden, make them let me 
 out, please." 
 
 "I told you not to come," said Auburn sullenly. 
 
 "I certainly shan't come again," said Dodo. 
 
 "No . . ." said Auburn. 
 
 Their eyes met, and Dodo realized what she was saying. 
 Her heart died within her : but with that realization came 
 also the knowledge that she had not hurt him, for he under 
 stood. Meanwhile the door was unlocked and Roden en 
 tered with a warder. It was all over, the end had come. 
 "Come, dear," said Roden, drawing her hand through his
 
 174 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 arm: and without one word more Dodo went out into the 
 corridor. Eoden turned in the doorway to wave his hand 
 to Auburn, standing motionless in the middle of the room : 
 and he saw, what Dodo did not see, the white change that 
 went over the prisoner's face when this last instant came. 
 But there was nothing to be done: the intolerable had to 
 be borne: and good-tempered Binns, brushing the back of 
 his hand across his eyes, shut the door and relocked it. 
 
 "Dodo has come and gone. I would I had never seen her. 
 My love, my darling! I never shall see her again, not in 
 this world nor in the next. I wish I could be alone for ten 
 minutes. 
 
 "She's pretty, is Dodo; slight and fine, with eyes like 
 blue steel, and white, fine features. Eminently pretty and 
 marriageable. ... God! God! Steady, my friend: 
 you verge on the grotesque, with your insane jealousy. 
 You, jealous? Et pour cause! A dead man jealous of the 
 living . . . you 11 be an acceptable lover by this time to 
 morrow, eh? No, you must let her go let her go? as if 
 you could keep her! They'll all forget me, all, all! the 
 world will go on its way exactly as if I had never lived. 
 
 "At all events death brings annihilation: there's no 
 jealousy in the grave. ' '
 
 XIX. 
 
 TEAGIC events claim, but rarely gain, a tragic setting. 
 For one human soul that suffers amid storm, and dark, 
 and silence, ten have to play out their parts in the kitchen 
 or the drawing-room, drying their eyes to face the gaslight, 
 steeling their lips to talk politics, or the last new play. 
 
 Life at Ferndean had flowed on pretty much as usual 
 during Auburn's trial, and now, on the last night of his 
 life, the routine of dressing and dining had to be gone 
 through, and conversation kept up before the servants, 
 though no one could eat anything, or cared to hear what his 
 neighbor said. Dodo herself, on her return from the jail, 
 had told Koden that she should stay in her room : but when 
 the dressing-bell rang a flickering gleam of humor made 
 her spring up to change her clothes. She saw the inevitable 
 tray, the glass of port and the wing of chicken. Too 
 absurd, all that ! 
 
 The men did not linger over their wine, and by nine 
 o'clock all the inmates of Ferndean were gathered in the 
 great hall. No sadder company had ever gathered there, 
 since the days when Amyas Carew built it to please his 
 young wife, six months before he fell at Sedgmoor for the 
 Carews had been Protestant always, and rebels whenever 
 their principles allowed. The old hall had seen many livea 
 come and go, merrily or sadly ; but no ordinary death could 
 have created such an oppression as reigned in it now. 
 
 It was a place of shadows. To-night it was unlit, except 
 for a couple of shaded lamps, and for the dance of bright 
 ness painted over Jacobean wainscoting and smoke-dark 
 ened beams by the flames that leaped on the great hearth. 
 
 175
 
 176 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 The staircase, broad and shallow and slippery as glass, was 
 also Jacobean, and a curiosity: an oak peacock spread his 
 clipped plumage on each finial of the balustrade. Near by 
 a tall window, opening on the terrace, framed a peep of 
 moonlit and stormy landscape, while snatches of broken 
 music, no less stormy, floated through the half -closed door 
 of the drawing-room, where Roland Carew sat alone in the 
 dark, touching the keys as the whim came on him. 
 
 All those most deeply interested in Auburn's fate were 
 there, for Carew had thrown open his house with a hos 
 pitality not only ungrudging but unconscious. All that he 
 had was at the service of Auburn and of Auburn 's friends. 
 Roden and Dodo had stayed at Ferndean since July: Mr. 
 Carminow had come up a week since to look after his chil 
 dren: and the day before had brought Caron, and also, 
 after a hard fight with her parents, Grace Trevor. She 
 was Dodo's only woman friend, and she knew that Dodo 
 would have need of friendship in the coming dread hours. 
 
 So far, however, Grace owned sorrowfully that she was 
 useless. Dodo had tried to sew, to read: an open book, a 
 litter of needle-work testified to her mind's disorder. She 
 stood by the window looking out into the half -dark of the 
 wild night, where now and then the moon, peering out be 
 tween banks of driven cloud, held up her wan crescent 
 notched and streaked with their jagged blackness. Dead 
 leaves whirled like withered elves over the long autumnal 
 grass, and the trees, almost bare, writhed their giant arms 
 downward and up again under the hammering of the gale. 
 The wind hooted through them in a loud, high, prolonged 
 piping, like the hoot of sirens over the sea. 
 
 Dodo was beyond thought. During long intervals she 
 lost all consciousness of her surroundings. She was back in 
 Auburn's cell, re-living the evening's interview, steeping 
 herself in a sense of warmth and strong vitality. She felt 
 his arms close round her in the recklessness of passion and 
 draw her down against his breast, against his hurried
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 17T 
 
 breathing and the heavy throb of his heart. Meanwhile the 
 Dutch clock in the hall, with the clicking of its brass pendu 
 lum, ticked off the last seconds of his life on earth. Onee 
 or twice Dodo heard it, and said to herself, ' ' This time to 
 morrow he will be dead and stiff," but the words had no 
 meaning. 
 
 Not far off sat her father, watching her and Caron the 
 latter an habitual anxiety under cover of the Times. Poor 
 Mr. Carminow ! It was a hard fate that had plunged him 
 into such a business. Epicurean that he was, a life spent 
 in doing good had not taught him to face grief as inevitable, 
 and with an exquisite pitying tenderness both for Auburn 
 and for Dodo was mixed up an angry wonder that Provi 
 dence should suffer such miseries to go on. 
 
 The same vein of weakness as ran through Mr. Car 
 minow 's character reappeared in a different form in his 
 second son. Caron, after varying all day between fits of 
 wild excitement and irritable gloom, had been persuaded to 
 lie down on the sofa with a book recommended by Violet 
 Carew: the book a clever sketch of modern Danish art, 
 interleaved with line engravings had proved unexpectedly 
 interesting: and Caron was as deeply absorbed in it as a 
 strong sense of the dramatic allowed. Now and then he 
 ruffled the pages impatiently, or threw it down with a sigh, 
 but he soon picked it up again. 
 
 Roden too was deep in a book a weak library novel: 
 turning leaf after leaf with a face devoid of expression and 
 eyes riveted to the print. Fair, and wearing only a slight 
 moustache, he had a deceptively youthful and innocent air, 
 and nothing in his dress (point device as ever) or personal 
 appearance suggested that he had a care in the world. None 
 the less Violet Carew, raising her head now and again from 
 her needle-work to glance at him, felt her eyelids burn. 
 
 Near the fire sat Grace Trevor, squarely upright in an 
 oak chair, her needles clicking in and out of a silk tie. She 
 too found her sight more than once so dim that she could
 
 178 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 not count her stitches. A sense of sadness, irremediable, 
 insufferable, weighed upon her. She grieved for Auburn, 
 as well as for Dodo : it seemed to her but yesterday that she 
 had watched him come swinging across the moor in his 
 flower and pride of life. But now he must die, and with 
 him, as Grace full well knew, the flower of Dodo's life 
 would wither too: and well for all if it were only Dodo! 
 No wonder that such bitter dew gathered again and again 
 in Grace Trevor's loyal eyes. 
 
 The strain of Celtic blood in Roland Carew broke out in 
 his playing. Although not always note-perfect, he had the 
 born musician's hand: a touch that made the wires throb 
 like harp-strings. So long as he confined himself to broken 
 snatches of harmony, the Appassionato, with its tragic open 
 ing chords, the mountain-music of the Wilhelm Tell, his 
 audience were content: but by and by he struck upon a 
 theme which made some of them shiver. The wail of this 
 lament, its note of inconsolable anguish, was too much like 
 a woman crying to fall agreeably on Roden's ear: while 
 Mr. Carminow rustled his newspaper as if he would have 
 liked to drown it, and Caron, the intemperate, threw down 
 his Danish Art and started up with a word of anger. 
 
 ''What on earth is that thing Carew 's playing?" 
 
 "Chopin's funeral march," said Dodo. 
 
 Roden strolled over to the open door. "Play something 
 lighter, Carew, if you don't mind 'Songs of Araby,' or 
 the Waltz in Faust. You're rather premature." 
 
 Roland stopped dead, horrified, in the middle of a bar. 
 He answered out of the dark, his full, grave tones a rebuke 
 to Roden's ironical affectation. "I'm very sorry. It came 
 into my head, and I forgot what it was. I never meant to 
 play it" 
 
 "Wait a few hours," said Dodo. 
 
 Roland Carew 's music and Caron 's curious anger had 
 shaken her out of her abstraction. She came to the fire and 
 stood leaning her arm along the high oaken chimney-piece,
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 179 
 
 stretching out her left hand to the flames, which struck 
 green sparks out of Auburn's emerald. Foy pour devoir: 
 BO ran the legend on the gold against her skin. The heavy 
 silence was broken by the chime of the clock striking ten. 
 
 "Dodo, my darling," said Mr. Carminow, " won't you go 
 
 to bed? You'll be so tired to-morrow " he broke off: 
 
 not one of them dared face the thought of that morrow. 
 "I don't want my little girl to make herself ill." 
 
 She tried to rouse herself, to respond with a smile to his 
 loving care. "I'll go in a little while. It's so early yet, 
 darling." 
 
 Violet Carew threw in a quiet word to introduce a safe 
 impersonal element into the nascent talk. "Has any one 
 heard how Mr. Dymock is to-day?" 
 
 ' ' No better, ' ' said Roden. * ' They doubt if he will recover 
 consciousness at all before the end." 
 
 ' ' What is really the matter ? ' ' asked Grace Trevor. 
 
 "A stroke of paralysis, they tell me. I heard he was 
 feeling very ill before the trial, but no one had any idea 
 that he would collapse so suddenly within three or four 
 days. So far as we're concerned, though, it makes no dif 
 ference : we had nothing to hope from him. The summing- 
 up was dead against us, and Maine tells me his notes were 
 examined and found to be quite conclusive. ' ' 
 
 Roden spoke with a touch of deliberation. Conversation 
 on indifferent topics being impracticable, it seemed to him 
 that any sort of conversation was better than none at all, 
 and so it did to Mr. Carminow. Anything to soothe Dodo's 
 restlessness and recall her brooding fancy ! 
 
 "Maine didn't tell me they had looked over his papers, 
 but I 'm glad of it. It would be intolerable to feel that the 
 fate of the petition was affected by the accident of a judge's 
 illness." 
 
 "Accident!" repeated Caron. "There's precious little 
 accident about the case, it seems to me. Men don't crack 
 their own skulls by accident."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 ' ' You mean that there must have been some one who did 
 it ? Yes : isn 't that a queer idea ? ' ' said Dodo slowly. 
 
 She turned her hand about in the firelight and watched 
 :the green gleams flash this way and that. "That really is 
 the strangest part in the whole affair the part of it that I 
 :find hardest to realize. Some one must have killed Sir 
 Charles, and apparently for all the evidence points that 
 way it must have been some one who lived near and knew 
 his habits. It couldn't have been an ordinary burglar, be 
 cause nothing was stolen: it could hardly have been a 
 planned revenge, or the man would have brought a weapon 
 of his own. In fact, what with Charles in the garden, and 
 Lesbia awake at the lodge, and Sir Charles himself, so far 
 as we know, more than usually sober, it's hard to see how 
 any one could have got in at all without attracting atten 
 tion, unless he knew the ins and outs of the place very well. 
 It looks almost as if it had been some one inside the house, 
 and yet there was no shadow of ground for suspecting any 
 of the servants. But isn 't it queer to think that somewhere 
 in the world, and not improbably in this very village, there- 
 is a man who, if he'd only confess, would still be in time to 
 clear Charles?" 
 
 "Only confess only slip the noose round his own 
 throat," said Caron: "thank you: that is a considerable 
 proposal. Men aren 't so fond of chucking their lives away ! 
 I would not do it." 
 
 "I would," said Mr. Carminow. "I mean that if I had 
 done such a thing, and were secure from detection, and had 
 no particular moral scruples, I should give myself up all 
 the same. Imagine what that man 's feelings must be like ! 
 I can conceive nothing more dreadful than to stand by and 
 see an innocent man suffer, knowing that a word from you 
 could end it." 
 
 "Nor I," said Dodo. "One would never be able to get 
 the thought of it out of one's mind." 
 
 "How do you know!" said Caron, willing as usual to
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 181 
 
 argue any case from any standpoint. "He might have 
 some perfectly unselfish and legitimate reason for holding 
 his tongue you never can tell. Suppose he were married 
 and his wife were very ill " 
 
 "That would be a motive, not an excuse," said Dodo. 
 "If he were guilty it ought to be his wife who suffered, not 
 Charles'." 
 
 Caron dropped that instance, with a sensation of having 
 burnt his fingers. "Well! take the case of a priest in the 
 confessional. ' ' 
 
 "But the priest is not the guilty man," Dodo objected. 
 
 " No : but we 're assuming that he knows who the guilty 
 man is. He's an accessory." 
 
 ' ' Then it would be his duty to speak out, ' ' said Mr, Car- 
 minow. "No such pledge of secrecy, however solemn, could 
 justify a man in keeping silence under such circum 
 stances." 
 
 "Now I call that frankly immoral," said Caron. "If a 
 man has promised to hold his tongue he ought to hold it, 
 and you Christians should be the last persons to blame him. 
 Don't all your doctrines teach the sin of doing evil that 
 good may come ? A promise is a moral obligation, and you 
 are no more entitled to break it to save another man 's life 
 than to save your own." 
 
 "Logical," said Mr. Carminow: "all the same, if I were 
 ever in such a horrible dilemma I should prefer to risk my 
 soul for the sake of an innocent man. Whoso loseth his life 
 shall find it." 
 
 "Who talks about risking one's soul?" Caron retorted 
 scornfully. "My priest wouldn't care twopence whether 
 he were damned or the other thing all he'd think of would 
 be the eternal Yea and Nay. He'd argue like this: sin is 
 wrong, and God is all-powerful, and if God wanted this 
 innocent man 's life saved He could do it without my sin : 
 so I'll have faith and hold my tongue." 
 
 "And Charles and I'd go to the wall," said Dodo. "Your
 
 182 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 priest is a saint, Car; but saints like that inflict horrible 
 suffering. ' ' 
 
 11 A saint? I am not sure," said Mr. Carminow. "In 
 the first place he would have to be very sure of his own 
 motives: one grain of the fear of hell would be enough to 
 damn him. And what man could be sure " 
 
 "It's impossible to read while you're all talking," said 
 Boden. 
 
 He sprang up, threw down his book, and went out 
 through the tall window into the garden, leaving them all 
 astonished. Mr. Carminow half rose, then sat down again. 
 Dodo turned round and gazed after her brother, whose low 
 hurried accents were as strange to her ear as the roughness 
 of his words. Violet Carew sat arrested, needle in hand, 
 with a curious startled look. 
 
 "The boy's nerves are out of order," said Mr. Carminow 
 gravely. "I never knew Roddy to say a rude thing 
 before. ' ' 
 
 "He is sleeping badly," said Caron. 
 
 "That is it, then; insomnia will make the sweetest-tem 
 pered fellow irritable. After all," added Mr. Carminow 
 with a faint smile, ' ' it was merely in the family, for neither 
 Mrs. Carew nor our dear Grace was guilty of contributing 
 to the conversation. But really we shall have to get him 
 away. I can't have Roddy growing pert to me at my time 
 of life. I'm used to it from some of my sons, but this is a 
 new departure." 
 
 ' ' We shall all go after to-morrow, ' ' said Dodo. ' ' There '11 
 be nothing to stay for. ' ' 
 
 Her words produced a momentary silence, in the middle 
 of which Grace Trevor stuck her needles through her tie, 
 replaced it in her work-bag, and silently followed Roden out 
 on the terrace. She knew perfectly well that Caron would 
 find spirit enough to grin intelligently, and that Mr. Car 
 minow would be vexed; but at that moment she cared 
 nothing for the opinion of her world, being altogether
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 188 
 
 driven by the strong wish to attempt some form of conso 
 lation. She came out into the wild fury of the blast; its 
 piercing coldness struck on her bare arms and throat, but 
 Grace was hardy and cared little for that. When her eyes 
 grew used to the comparative darkness, she made out 
 Roden standing with arms folded on the high stone balus 
 trade. He did not hear her, he did not see her, and the first 
 intimation of her presence came to him when she linked 
 her arm through his. Even then he scarcely stirred, and 
 made no effort to conceal his misery. Grace felt a hand 
 catch at her heart. She threw an arm round his neck. They 
 had known each other since the days of corals and peram 
 bulators, and it was Roden 's oldest friend and all but sister 
 who came to him in his sore need. "Dear old fellow," said 
 Grace softly, "what is it?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "You were awfully fond of Auburn, I know." Roden 
 made a sound of distress. "Did it upset you, seeing him 
 this evening? Dodo said you went into the cell." 
 
 "I was only in a second." 
 
 "Did he look very bad?" 
 
 "Yes no: it depends what you call bad. He was cool 
 enough, except his eyes." 
 
 "Poor old Charles," said Grace sorrowfully. She was 
 feeling her way in the dark, uncertain of the exact source 
 of Roden 's grief, and still more uncertain how far he would 
 support her interference. She need not have been afraid, 
 for Roden had come to that pass when any companionship 
 is a relief, and when the grasp of a friendly hand seems to 
 be the one thing stable amid the chances and changes of 
 life. "It'll be better when to-morrow's over," she said, 
 out of the depths of a considerable experience. "This wait 
 ing's enough to kill any one. But when once the wrench is 
 over, we shall begin to pick ourselves up again. Because 
 the world must go on, Roddy. We can't all die." 
 
 "No."
 
 184 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "You'll have to go back to your regiment in a few weeks, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 "What an awful crash it all is! I'm not trying to make 
 light of it, you know : only good times and bad times and 
 all times pass over. This is the very darkest time of all. 
 We've got to buck up and get through it somehow, old boy, 
 for Dodo's sake: she's rather dependent on you just now." 
 Grace found it hard to search for consolation without well 
 knowing what pain it was she had to comfort. "You can 
 do more for her than any one else, she's so awfully fond of 
 you, and she trusts you so " 
 
 "Oh don't don't, dear," said Roden under his breath. 
 
 The moon came out of the clouds at that moment, and 
 Grace saw his face. She held her peace, terror-stricken. 
 Then Roden dropped his head on his arms, and Grace, the 
 first shock of dismay over, tightened the clasp of her arm 
 round his neck, and laid down her head on his shoulder. 
 
 "Roddy, Roddy," she said, weeping, "don't look like 
 that! It's not your fault, anyhow you can't help it I 
 Dear old boy, I can't bear to see you so wretched!" 
 
 Bitter-sweet was the cup that Grace was drinking. The 
 raving confusion of the wind, the cloud-shadows that went 
 sailing in ragged blots over flagged terrace and beaded 
 lawn, even the stinging chill of a sudden little fall of rain 
 all this storm-scene in black and grey was, for her, only the 
 setting that framed the most intimate and tender moment 
 her life had ever known. That her sympathy did Roden 
 good was plain when at length he raised his head and smiled 
 at her with eyes weary and infinitely sad, but calm. 
 
 "Did I scare you, old Grace? I'm sorry! There's 
 nothing to be scared about. I've I've had an awful time 
 to-day, what with Dodo and one thing and another. But as 
 you say, the thing's inevitable, so we must pull ourselves 
 together and face it. What a brute I am to have kept you 
 out here in the cold By Jove ! what 's the row about ? ' '
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 185 
 
 An electric bell had rung out suddenly loud and long, 
 and so close in their ear that it made them both start. 
 Looking up, they saw that a small window stood open near 
 the tall window that opened into the hall. "Oh, it's only 
 the telephone," said Grace, "that's the telephone room, you 
 know, in there " 
 
 The words died away in her throat as she met Roden's 
 eyes. "Who on earth can be ringing us up at this time of 
 night ? ' ' he said, stammering over the words. ' ' Let 's go in 
 and and see who it is. ... Why on earth doesn't some 
 one go?" 
 
 Grace followed him into the hall an odd scene, on such, 
 trivial grounds. Mr. Carminow was standing up, still 
 grasping his paper. Caron lay back on his cushions, lividly 
 pale. Dodo, beaten from her self-control, had slipped down 
 on a chair and looked as if she were about to faint. Mean 
 while the bell had never left off ringing. At the same 
 moment Roland came out of the drawing-room. "Who 
 who's that?" he asked. 
 
 "Good heavens!" said Roden, "look at the child! My 
 darling, there isn't an atom of hope !" 
 
 "No, no," said Violet Carew quickly, "don't talk to 
 her go and see who it is. ' ' 
 
 Her words were half drowned in the sharp iterated ting 
 ling of the bell. Roden made three steps of it to the tele 
 phone room and caught up the receiver, leaving the door 
 wide open, so that every word he said was audible to all. 
 
 "Hullo . . . yes ... I'm here . . . Yes, it's Car 
 minow. Who are you? . . . What? I can't hear . . 
 Can't hear. I want to know who you are, first. . . . Oh! 
 All right, go on ... Yes, we're all here we're waiting 
 . . . Yes, all of us ... Yes, my sister too . . . Go awayf 
 No, I'm certain she won't! You needn't be afraid, we're 
 resigned to anything. Let us have the worst . . . Oh, 
 very well." He lowered the receiver and turned round, 
 looking at Dodo. "It's Maine with some news for us."
 
 186 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Has he killed himself?" said Dodo. 
 
 "Are you there? . . . Yes, I've warned her: will you 
 go on ? I tell you nothing could be worse than this hell of 
 suspense. . . . What ? Are you sure ? ... Is it is there 
 no mistake? ..." 
 
 Grace touched his arm. "Roden, you're killing Dodo." 
 
 "It is a reprieve," said Roden. "Maine has just had a 
 wire from the Home Office." 
 
 "A reprieve?" 
 
 "The sentence is commuted to penal servitude for life." 
 
 ' l Stop a moment, Roddy, ' ' said Grace Trevor. 
 
 She ran and caught Dodo in her arms. Dodo had broken 
 down into frightful convulsive sobbing, into the tears that 
 disfigure and unnerve ; but she fought hard for composure, 
 and was soon quiet enough to raise her head, from which all 
 semblance of youth and beauty had vanished, and bid Roden 
 go on. He did so, repeating sentence by sentence the 
 infinitesimal whisper that crept to him over the electric 
 wires. 
 
 "They wired to Hillingdon before they wired to Maine. 
 Auburn was to be told instantly. Probably he knows by 
 now. Major "White would go to him in prison. . . . Maine 
 says it is a most extraordinary case. He has never known 
 a reprieve left so late. ... It was Dymock who did it. He 
 became conscious this morning, and Mrs. Dymock spoke to 
 him about it. Then he made her telephone to the Home 
 Office, and old Hardyng himself came round in his car and 
 saw him. He was very weak but quite clear-headed, and he 
 was strongly in favor of a reprieve. ... It seemed 
 Hardyng had been wavering, and this knocked him clean 
 off his pins . . . gave him a pretext . . . He didn't want 
 the Opposition to say he gave in to popular clamor. . . . 
 Maine pumped all this out of one of Hardyng 's secre 
 taries. . . . Nobody seems to know exactly what made 
 Dymock alter his mind. . . . Hardyng only had a few 
 minutes with him. . . . Maine says he's sending congratu-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 187 
 
 lations to Auburn, and if we've any message shall he add 
 it? He thinks the prison officials will put it through." 
 
 There was no reply. Roden looked round : the aspect of 
 his audience brought a sudden nervous laugh to his lips. 
 
 "Shall I say you're all rather sorry?" he asked. "You 
 look it" 
 
 "I I can't realize it," said Mr. Carminow, brushing his 
 hand over his forehead. "We we've been so close to the 
 edge " 
 
 Caron struck in with his characteristic harsh irony. 
 "Does Maine propose to congratulate him on being sent to 
 penal servitude for life? By the Lord, I think apologies 
 ought to be the order of the day. ' ' 
 
 "No, no!" said Dodo. 
 
 She sprang up, came to Boden, and took the receiver from 
 his hand. 
 
 "Are you there, Mr. Maine? . . . Roden says you're 
 writing to Charles . . . thank you. Will you write these 
 words, then just this and nothing morel You have a 
 pencil! . . . 
 
 "Mr DEAR CHARLES, It will probably not be more than 
 twenty years. I will wait, if you will. Always yours, 
 
 DODO."
 
 XX. 
 
 AS Maine had told Roden, it was the jail governor him 
 self who conveyed to Auburn the news of the re 
 prieve. When the tall soldierly figure came in, Auburn was 
 still sitting at the table; he had not lifted his head since 
 Dodo's departure, five hours before. Major White came to 
 the point at once, without beating about the bush. Having 
 risen at his entrance, Auburn remained standing : he said 
 nothing, till the Governor, a kindly man, asked him if he 
 felt ill. At that Auburn pulled himself together to utter a 
 few words of thanks, and Major White, himself intensely 
 relieved, withdrew. An hour later Auburn was taken from 
 the condemned cell, and placed alone in a different part of 
 the prison. 
 
 Except for a glimpse of his solicitor, Auburn had no 
 further intercourse with the outer world. A few days later 
 he was awakened early in the morning by a warder coming 
 into his cell, who told him to get up and dress at once. He 
 did so, and in twenty minutes' time his breakfast was 
 brought to him eight ounces of bread, half an ounce of 
 margarine, and a pint of porridge. It was half-past six on 
 a clammy November morning when he left Hillingdon jail, 
 handcuffed and under escort of two warders, one of whom 
 sat beside him in the fly, and the other on the box. 
 
 They had some time to wait at the station. Auburn stood 
 on the platform in a drizzle of rain, while the gas-jets, pal 
 ing in that dreariest of twilights which precedes a wet 
 winter's dawn, flared over the soiled yet staring advertise 
 ments, the grinning monkey who won't wash clothes, the 
 buxom young woman with a cigarette between her teeth. 
 
 188
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 189 
 
 Auburn wished he could have had a cigarette himself. Used 
 to smoke at all hours, he found the longing for tobacco 
 harder to bear even than the pangs of hunger, which played 
 a prosaic but important part in his discomfort. 
 
 By and by the train came in, and habit directed his steps 
 towards a first-class compartment. Felons do not, however, 
 travel first-class, and assistant-warder Mackinnon, with 
 something like a faint grin discernible on his weather-beaten 
 countenance, put his charge into an empty third. He and 
 his chief sat down the one by Auburn's side, the other 
 opposite and the door was locked upon them. 
 
 Icy fogs of dawn under the gloomy arch of a London 
 station: interminable platforms to be crossed, prisoner's 
 right wrist linked to the left wrist of Principal Warder 
 Brown, while drowsy porters grinned apathetically, and 
 travelers, less inured to the spectacle, turned round to stare 
 after the prison uniforms. When they were in their seats, 
 quite a knot of observers gathered at the train door, till 
 Brown, compassionating Auburn's silent endurance, pulled 
 down the blinds, to be lightly thanked for his good-nature. 
 Like most of his class with whom the prisoner then or later 
 came in contact, he had a fine face, manly, intelligent, and 
 kind. 
 
 This second train journey was short. Alighting, Auburn 
 was marched out into the station yard, where he had to wait 
 a few minutes : here there was no blind to be pulled down, 
 and he was hard put to it to keep his countenance under a 
 running fire of comment from a sympathetic crowd. At 
 length Mackinnon arrived with a four-wheeler, and all three 
 got in, and were driven off through the mean streets of a 
 slum suburb. Auburn had held his tongue all the way up 
 in the train, a thing he never liked doing : now he turned 
 on his escort with a question "Where are you taking me?" 
 
 Brown hesitated, and it dawned upon Auburn that he 
 was not used to be spoken to so freely. But he gave the 
 name of the prison in a perfectly civil tone, though with
 
 190 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 an assumption of equality which was not the less annoying 
 because evidently unconscious. 
 
 4 'How long shall I be there?" 
 
 "That's for the Governor to say, I expect." 
 
 "Is it a decent place? I mean " Auburn realized 
 
 that the terms of his question stood in some need of amend 
 ment "is the food good, and so forth?" 
 
 ' ' Good enough, I reckon. Prison life is pretty much what 
 you make it yourself ; if you keep out o' trouble and behave 
 properly, you won't find it come so hard. 'Course, if you 
 give us trouble, we 're bound to give you trouble. ' ' 
 
 "Is the work hard?" 
 
 The man looked at him with a good-natured smile. "That 
 depends on what you're used to. It's Trade Union time 
 eight hours a day." 
 
 "What do you do with yourself I mean, what do we do 
 with ourselves the rest of the day?" Auburn asked, his 
 curiosity beginning to wake up. Viewed afar off, twenty 
 years is twenty years, but seen near at hand it is twenty 
 times three hundred and sixty five days, of which the first is 
 to-morrow. "Surely I shan't have to stick in my cell the 
 whole time?" 
 
 "Your work's done in your cell," Brown answered. 
 "You won't be out of it at all, except for an hour's exer 
 cise. That's what they call solitary confinement, that is." 
 
 "How long does it last?" asked Auburn after a silence. 
 
 "Five months: but you won't be here all that time. 
 You'll finish your time in Portland or Princetown, most 
 likely I don't know which, and I couldn't tell you if I 
 did." 
 
 "They've all got to begin like that," Mackinnon joined 
 in, still with those faint remains of a grin, as if he found 
 Auburn no end of a good joke. "Used to be nine months, 
 but they had to knock off a spell, because " 
 
 "Here we are," said Brown sharply, cutting short his 
 subordinate: but Auburn's own imagination found it not
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 191 
 
 hard to fill up the gap. The cab was rolling between iron 
 gates, which were at once relocked behind it, and over the 
 cobbles of a wide square yard. All three got out, and 
 Brown took off Auburn's handcuffs, no longer needed: he 
 was inside the precincts of the prison. He looked about 
 him with interest. 
 
 Behind lay the iron gates, and beyond them the street 
 with its mire and drizzle of rain, its frowsy shops and 
 constant stream of low life. On either side of the yard rose 
 a block of dwelling-houses, the residence of various jail 
 officials, and between them stood the inner gateway of the 
 jail, having immense doors sheeted with iron, and an em 
 battled front clear-cut against the frowning sky. It dated 
 from the middle of the nineteenth century, but the architect 
 had had an eye to the picturesque or was it only a vagrant 
 sense of humor? Grim as any robber keep rose up the 
 fortress-front of the jail. 
 
 A small wicket gate was thrown open in the middle of the 
 iron portals, and the figure of a man in uniform appeared 
 behind it, framed to the knees. Some sort of formality was 
 gone through by the principal warder. Mackinnon mean 
 while stood on guard, and Auburn chafed under his placid 
 surveillance. What did they expect of him? Some wild, 
 mad dash for liberty? At a word he passed the second 
 gateway, to find himself in an inner court of turf, within 
 which rose the irregular mass of the actual prison buildings, 
 of a type of architecture eminently practical and common 
 place. What did Auburn see, looking round? Only the 
 sooty rain coming down out of the sooty London sky: the 
 immense line of the second wall, thirty feet high and slop 
 ing inwards: the great blocks of prison buildings, pierced 
 with many, many rows of windows, little and narrow and 
 barred. One of those windows belonged to the cell where 
 he was to pass the next five months, day and night, except 
 for an hour's daily exercise in the open air so-called 
 under the shadow of that great brick barricade.
 
 192 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Brown had stopped to speak to the porter. Auburn heard 
 the wicket-gate close, not with the hollow clang of imagi 
 nation, but quickly, lightly, firmly. It was the gate, not 
 of a prison, but of Prison: a gate that never would open 
 again for him till twenty years had come and gone, till 
 vigorous manhood was changed into broken middle age. 
 The odds were, in fact, that he would die behind its bars. 
 
 " Nasty mornin'," said Brown to his crony at the gate. 
 "How's the missus to-day?" 
 
 "Nicely, thankye. Baby's doin' well too." 
 
 "Good job it 'sail ILel-lo!" 
 
 Though there were three present, he blew his whistle 
 before he closed with Auburn. Mackinnon was lying on 
 the ground insensible. Auburn had drawn back and set 
 his back against the brickwork : his face was distorted, and 
 there was blood on his mouth. Brown threw himself upon 
 him, to be met with that terrible drive from the shoulder 
 which Auburn had learned at King's. Brown reeled back 
 and stood off a pace or two. ' ' Come, ' ' he said, ' ' what 's the 
 good ? You can 't fight us, you know. ' ' 
 
 "Can't I?" 
 
 "Look round you a bit. Is it any good?" 
 
 From all directions men in uniform were pouring out into 
 the yard, summoned by that warning whistle. "I shall 
 have to draw my sword on you," said Brown in coaxing 
 tones. "Now don't you be a fool! You'll only make it 
 worse " 
 
 "Floreat Etona!" cried Auburn, with a burst of 
 laughter. 
 
 Simultaneously they were all on him at once, striking 
 at him with the flat of the sword or with their batons or 
 clubbed sticks. He was unarmed, till one of the smaller 
 men coming in too close gave him his chance, and reckless 
 of the blows that rained on head and shoulders, Auburn 
 caught the man by the wrist, bent his arm back, and twisted 
 the heavy club out of his hand. After that the fight waxed
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 193 
 
 furious. His height and powerful physique alone would 
 not have enabled him to prolong such a contest, but he was 
 really mad for the time being. If there was any thought in 
 his mind at all beyond the blind lust of fighting, it was a 
 hope, as blind, that one of those blades that were flashing 
 round him might sheathe itself by lucky chance in heart or 
 brain, and so end it all for ever. He was dragged away 
 from the wall and thrown down, fingers locked round his 
 throat, a man's knee on his chest up again with half a 
 dozen on him at once, his clothes in rags, his stick broken, 
 suffocated, blinded, the blood raining down over his eyes 
 down once more, and this time not able to rise. 
 
 ' ' Good Lord ! ' ' said Brown slowly. " Good Lord ! " He 
 picked himself up, limb by limb, dusting his trouser knees 
 with a hand which shook from the violence of his exertions. 
 "Good Lord!" he said once again, as he looked over the 
 field of battle, "who'd ever have thought it?" 
 
 "That's your quiet man!" said Mackinnon, sitting up 
 and rubbing his head : ' ' that 's your fancy prisoners ! That 's 
 what comes o' bein' deceived by their artfulness!" 
 
 "Here's Barstow with a broken arm, an' Mackinnon with 
 a broken head, an' Smith, an' Hughes, an' Hewett all cut 
 about like so many wounded soldiers good Lord, I wonder 
 what the Governor '11 say to this little job?" 
 
 "I'd like to break 'is 'ead," said Mackinnon, standing 
 and looking down on his prostrate foe. Auburn lay as 
 dead his clothes in rags, the blood running from a gash 
 across his forehead. "A taste o' the cat is what 'e wants, 
 to cool 'is 'eated temper. ' ' But there was a touch of grudg 
 ing admiration in his tone all the same, and it was with no 
 ungentle hand that he helped to lift the insensible form. 
 
 "Best carry him round to the hospital ward direct," 
 Brown said shortly. "He'll want a bit of stickin' plaster, 
 I fancy." 
 
 Thanks to the fact that prison warders fight to overpower
 
 194 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 and not to injure, Auburn's hurts proved to consist mainly 
 of bruises, and he was not detained in the infirmary. Later 
 that same day he entered his cell for the first time. He 
 had undergone his medical examination, taken his bath, 
 changed into prison clothes, and received a short and sharp 
 lecture from the Governor (his punishment had to be left 
 to the decision of the Visiting Magistrates) : his hair was 
 cropped, in accordance with prison regulations, to one- 
 sixteenth of an inch: and what with that, and the dress, 
 and his bandaged head, there was little enough left of the 
 original Charles Auburn. 
 
 His cell was a fair-sized apartment, warm, well venti 
 lated, and scrupulously clean. The small, barred window 
 was not only set so high that he could not look out of it, but 
 filled with ground glass, which made a blank even of the 
 sky. A plank bedstead, measuring six feet by three, stood 
 tilted up on end against the wall. Mattress and blankets 
 were rolled up on the floor beside it. In opposite corners 
 were fixed a couple of brackets, the one bearing a tin mug 
 without a handle and a tin plate, the other a brush and 
 comb, a Bible, and a tooth-brush. A tin washing jug and 
 basin, standing on the floor, and a plain wooden stool com 
 pleted the furniture. Outside the cell door hung a card, 
 recording the prisoner's number, and the daily tale of 
 marks by which he was to earn or forfeit remission of so 
 many days of prison. Given his choice of three religions, 
 Auburn had elected for Dodo's faith in preference to the 
 Roman Catholic or Jewish creed, and the card was there 
 fore not red nor green, but white. 
 
 In the door itself, at the level of a man's eye, there was a 
 small round hole filled with talc and covered with a mov 
 able iron flap. Through this the prisoner was kept under 
 frequent observation day and night. 
 
 Just then Auburn did not care whether he was observed 
 or no. He threw himself down on the floor and lay still. 
 He felt as if every sinew in his body had been cut. His
 
 head throbbed as if hammers were going in his temples, and 
 the taste of blood was in his mouth : his throat was dry, his 
 hands were burning hot. He would have given anything for 
 a drink of water. He could not control his thoughts, and 
 by and by he heard himself beginning to moan aloud, and 
 to utter names the names of those he loved mixed with 
 broken sentences. Then the fear of madness came upon 
 him, and he tried to raise himself, leaning on one hand, 
 trembling, and wet with cold dews of terror. 
 
 It was just then that the door was unlocked to admit a 
 visitor. He came in with a hesitating step, as if uncertain 
 of his welcome : a small, brown man in clerical dress, with 
 blue eyes deeply set under dark eyebrows. Hugh Eose, 
 generally known as the Padre, suffered from a chronic in 
 firmity of the flesh : he was after his own peculiar 
 fashion an abject coward. Being a faithful disciple of 
 his Master, he was bound to trample this weakness under- 
 foot, and in so doing he was sometimes led far along the 
 path of rash and reckless bravery. He had heard of 
 Auburn 's morning exploit, and had determined on the spot 
 that it was his duty to go and see this desperate criminal. 
 It was with much inward shrinking that he whipped him 
 self up to the threshold of Auburn's cell: but as soon as 
 the door was opened he forgot his frailty. He knelt down 
 on the floor and put his arm round Auburn. "Lie back," 
 he said, "my poor fellow, you're ill!" 
 
 "Water," said Auburn faintly. Eose filled the tin mug 
 and held it to his lips, but Auburn had only drunk a few 
 drops when he pushed it away and sat up, dizzy and flushed 
 with a sudden heat of fever. "I feel so frightfully sick," 
 he said, putting his hand to his throat. Almost as soon as 
 he spoke a violent spasm of sickness came on him, probably 
 the best thing that could have happened, but a disconcerting 
 experience for one who had never known a day's illness 
 since childhood. It brought his senses and his self-control 
 back, however: he lay back spent, but with clear brain.
 
 196 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "You ought to be in hospital," Rose exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh no," Auburn answered languidly. "My own fault, 
 you see. That would be putting a premium on mutiny. 
 Besides, I'm not hurt only bruised a bit. There's no 
 physical harm done. ' ' 
 
 Rose laid a finger on the wrist, and was reassured. 
 "Then your malady is of the mind," he said. "What's 
 wrong ? ' ' 
 
 "Nothing. I'm all right now thanks very much, by 
 the bye." 
 
 "What made you go for those men this morning? They 
 are good fellows enough, and it 's not their fault that you 're 
 here." 
 
 ' ' Oh, heavens, no ! Do you think I meant to do it ? " 
 
 ' ' I see it was a temporary madness. I hope you won 't 
 give us any more of it." 
 
 "So do I," said Auburn, smiling queerly. 
 
 "Nothing will do you any good, except to submit with 
 what patience you may. It is always hard upon the edu 
 cated men, this system especially the first months of it. 
 But the pricks won 't be unendurable unless you kick against 
 them." 
 
 "I haven't got a kick left in me," Auburn said candidly, 
 "really, I haven't!" 
 
 "No, you look pretty well worn out. But when you get 
 over this, what is to come? Are you going to be defiant, 
 sullen, moody, giving and getting the maximum of trouble ? 
 Or are you going to set yourself to bear, in a manly, un 
 complaining spirit, what is, after all, only the consequence 
 of your own crime?" 
 
 "My crime? What crime?" 
 
 "The crime which has brought you here," Hugh Rose 
 said, staring at him in wonder. 
 
 Auburn stared back for a moment, and then laughed 
 outright. 
 
 "By Jove, I'd clean forgotten! Of course I murdered
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 197 
 
 Sir Charles, didn't If No wonder you look upon me as a 
 desperate character!" 
 
 The queerest cold thrill, like icy water, went down Hugh 
 Rose 's spine as he listened to those simple words. The most 
 passionate asservations, the humblest pleadings, would not 
 have had one-tenth part so much weight with this keen and 
 astute student of human nature. He received at that 
 moment an impression which he scouted as ridiculous, but 
 which never lost its first grip on his mind an impression 
 of cool, unprejudiced, unvindictive innocence, of a man 
 borne down by circumstances, bending his head with stoical 
 calm to the stroke of man's injustice. 
 
 ''You know best," said Rose after a pause, "what 
 brought you here." 
 
 "Do I?" said Auburn, pondering: "then Providence 
 must have a remarkably vague and imperfect knowledge of 
 the reason, that's all I can say." 
 
 "And it lies entirely with you to decide how things shall 
 go with you now while you are here. ' ' 
 
 "I shan't voluntarily turn Berserk any more, if that's 
 what you mean. I don't want to lose marks and forfeit 
 my remission." 
 
 "But I thought yours was a life-sentence!" Rose 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "As witness these armorial bearings." Auburn pointed 
 to the large "L," signifying Lifer, worked on his rough 
 sleeve. "But it means twenty years, doesn't it?" 
 
 "You're looking forward to your release?" 
 
 "One's life isn't over at fifty-five." 
 
 "Quite right," Rose said, calling himself sharply to 
 order. "You could not possibly take up a more sensible 
 line. Now let me give you a word of advice. You 're going 
 through the hardest part of your sentence in these next few 
 months : my advice to you is, keep your mind employed. I 
 dare say you have a smattering of two or three languages ? 
 Improve and consolidate your knowledge. Learn poetry
 
 198 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 by heart: make out an abstract of history, mathematics, 
 what you will only keep your brain employed. You will 
 not be able to get much out of the library, but use it as far 
 as you can. Nothing will be so beneficial to you as study ? ' ' 
 
 "You think so, do you?" 
 
 "I've seen it exemplified in a hundred cases." 
 
 "Good : I'll take your advice. You ought to know if any 
 man does: you've evidently had plenty of experience. I'm 
 going to live through it if I can, ' ' Auburn continued, lying 
 flat on his back with his arms clasped behind his head : "if 
 I can. You'll give me a look-in now and then, won't you ? ' ' 
 
 "As often as possible. Some day, when you are 
 calmer" Auburn raised his eyebrows: he considered him 
 self tolerably calm "you will, I hope, let me talk to you 
 of things that may help you to bear your punishment in a 
 better spirit." 
 
 "Ah! your trade? I forgot you were a parson. What 
 do you want to pray with me?" 
 
 "Don't you think you might do worse?" 
 
 "Rather! It'll be quite exciting so novel." 
 
 "Do you never pray?" 
 
 "I'm afraid I don't know any prayers," said Auburn 
 with perfect gravity. "Unfortunately I was never taught 
 to say them at my mother's knee, because she died when I 
 was six weeks old. But you must teach me." 
 
 Rose hated flippancy: he stood up, knitting his brows, 
 and moved towards the door. Auburn looked after him 
 with a painful contraction of the forehead and mouth. 
 "Going?" he said. 
 
 "I must leave you now: yes." 
 
 "Leave me in this hell? And you're a good man oh 
 yes : I should do the same myself, of course. I 've seen men 
 under the surgeon's knife, and it didn't affect my appetite. 
 . . . Excuse me, I think I 'm talking nonsense. Good-bye, 
 and thanks so much for coming!" 
 
 "Good-bye," said Rose gravely. "You'll be better in a
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 199 
 
 little while, you know. It's only what they all have to go 
 through." 
 "Yes, but " said Auburn.
 
 XXI. 
 
 WHEN Auburn was removed from Hillingdon, there 
 was nothing to keep the Carminows in Hampshire, 
 and the Ferndean household broke up. Grace Trevor 
 had taken herself and Mr. Carminow back to Stanton 
 Mere on the day after the reprieve: Caron rushed off to 
 town: the Carews went yachting in the Mediterranean: 
 and Dodo gathered her courage up to let Eoden bring 
 her home. 
 
 Courage: for she dreaded that return. The intense suf 
 fering of one day threw a shadow over her memories which 
 darkened all the sunshine of nineteen quiet and sunny 
 years. She shrank from the tongues and eyea of the vil 
 lage, their curious interest, their talkative pity. Above all, 
 Bhe was afraid of the ghosts who haunted every step of that 
 familiar ground her lover with his light swinging tread 
 and merry eyes, and that dead gay child at his side, so 
 incredibly reckless, her own old self. 
 
 One cannot live long at such a tension as had racked 
 Dodo on the night of the reprieve. After the relaxation of 
 the strain came a kind of interregnum, during which the 
 spirit that sat in Dodo's soul refused to suffer any more. 
 She ate and slept and talked and went about her life at 
 Ferndean with a coolness that perplexed all, except perhaps 
 Eoden and Violet. But the reckoning day waited for her 
 at Stanton Mere : there, as she dimly knew, she would have 
 to take account of herself, to review her strength, and work 
 out the problem of her future. 
 
 She was already beginning to do so when she stepped 
 from the train at Amesbury, and smelt the damp breath of 
 
 200
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 801 
 
 the wintry moorland air. Bernard was waiting with the 
 dogcart, and she was soon whirling across the Plain, past 
 the very place where she had first seen Auburn, that June 
 evening so long ago. Mr. Carminow was at the door, 
 anxious and saddened. "It's all right," said Dodo, trying 
 to laugh as he kissed her, "my hair hasn't turned white, 
 darling not even in a single night ! " In the dining-room 
 there was a big fire burning on the hearth and a cold sup 
 per laid out on the table, which was trimmed with a few 
 purple asters, extremely winter-starved, stuck by Aline in 
 a couple of squat red vases. They sat down to supper, 
 Dodo's quick eyes taking in every detail of the dusty furni 
 ture, the dingy silver, the tough beef -steak which Mr. Car 
 minow could not eat, the nameless sediment ingrained at 
 the bottom of fastidious Roden's tumbler. They were all 
 very gentle to her: all, that is, except Roden, who waa 
 fractious, and clamored to know why no woman could ever 
 cut a decent slice of bread, for which she was grateful to 
 him: it was dreadful to have even Bernard pitying her! 
 Conscious that she had of late piped but melancholy music 
 to her patient family, she made a good supper, and talked 
 and laughed over it: and was rewarded for her pains by 
 seeing the light come back to Mr. Carminow 's worn face, 
 and the curve of humor to his lips. "Heart-broken people," 
 said Dodo to herself, "are tiresome inmates. I must mend 
 my ways ; it is too bad of me to plunge us all in mourning 
 for a mere acquaintance ! ' ' This was a deliberate exaggera 
 tion, but had some truth in it: no use crying over spilt 
 milk! 
 
 At last it was bedtime, and Mr. Carminow ordered her 
 upstairs to get a good night 's rest. Roden, tired and yawn 
 ing, went off at the same time, and they stood together on 
 the landing for a moment while he lit his candle from hers. 
 "Good-night, old boy," said Dodo. 
 
 "Good-night, dear," said Roden. 
 
 He put his arm round her and kissed her, and she saw
 
 80S AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 that his eyes were wet. ''Oh, Roddy, don't!" said Dodo, 
 startled. "I'm all right, really!" 
 
 "I was thinking of Auburn just then," said Roden. 
 
 Dodo was wondering, as she went into her room, how it 
 was that Roden always said what she wanted some one to 
 say. She locked the door, set her candle on the dressing- 
 table, and looked about her. Unchanged ! No change could 
 have seemed so strange as to find it unchanged : the same 
 quiet, fresh, shabby little room that she had passed so many 
 quiet nights in. There were her second-best brushes on the 
 dressing-table, her old slippers under a chair, a score of 
 trifles that made the days before sorrow came as close as 
 yesterday, and saddest of all ! the very book that she had 
 taken with her to Caesar's Camp lying where she had thrown 
 it, with a sprig of heather thrust in to keep the place of the 
 most beautiful of modern love songs : 
 
 "Awake to be loved, my heart, awake, awake . . ." 
 Heather that Auburn had picked for her ! She closed the 
 book on all its memories and thrust it away at the back of 
 the bookcase, decently hidden as dead things should be. 
 That done, she unlocked her portmanteau, took from it a 
 square of unframed canvas, and sat down on the broad sill 
 beside the open casement to look at Roland Carew's parting 
 present, and to take counsel with her heart. 
 
 Dodo's window gave over the valley, spangled near at 
 hand with the lights of the village, but reaching out beyond 
 into the dark distances of the Plain. It was mild weather, 
 and the wind blew in upon her in warm gusts, sweet with 
 the breath of rain. Night had fallen on the Plain : a night 
 of great clouds, lying in dark and grey strands alternate as 
 the moon fleeted through them, now quenched, now bright 
 as a pearl, now working through ripples of wrack that 
 gleamed like a pale surf crawling up a dark beach. By 
 that inconstant light Dodo looked long at Roland's brilliant 
 oanvas. It was a portrait of Auburn, painted in Italy for 
 lov, and rathr against Auburn's will, by Farquhar,
 
 youngest of Academicians, in the days when he still jeered 
 at the Academy, and the Academy at him. He had fore 
 gathered with Roland and Auburn on a tramp in quest of 
 adventure, and had pleaded a dozen times for leave to record 
 Auburn 's swarthy features and indefinable look of the half- 
 civilized gipsy, but vainly, till one of Auburn's fits of 
 immovable laziness gave him his chance : and the result waa 
 a singularly vivid piece of work, full of humar and ani 
 mation, half sleepy, half reckless, wholly insincere. It took 
 Dodo's breath away. "So it's you!" she thought. 
 
 She held the portrait at arm's length. "You! yes, you, 
 in your weakness and in your strength. So handsome, and 
 so very unmistakably idle and rich, in spite of that soft 
 shirt and that Latin Quarter silk scarf which you think 
 suits you so well ! Vain they call us vain : I wonder how 
 long you spent over that bow, sir ? Ah ! it's rather a change 
 from silk scarves and Italy to stitching mail-bags in a 
 mustard-colored jacket to the plank bedstead where you're 
 lying at this moment, with a Government blanket to cover 
 you, and a warder taking peeps at you periodically to see 
 that you don't hang yourself from the window-bars. Oh! 
 my darling, I wish I could go to you, for I know you want 
 me." 
 
 Dodo's twenty blithe springs had made but a scanty 
 preparation for a love like this. It had not altered, but it 
 had ripened her. Intellectually, Dodo had matured early: 
 in her teens she had acquired a keenness, and with it that 
 touch of hardness which seems to be the inseparable acci 
 dent of intelligent youth. To her own people and to Grace 
 Trevor she had always given a deep affection, but for the 
 rest of the world her temper, under its surface amiability, 
 had been too readily amused to be altogether kind. Now 
 the old irresponsibly happy acceptance of life was gone for 
 ever, and with it the old touch of pitilessness : she could not 
 go on laughing at the world since she had seen its wounds. 
 Never again would there rise to her lips that ory of the
 
 204 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 young, "Such things don't happen," for she knew now 
 that nothing is too cruel to happen, and no cruelty too hard 
 to be borne. 
 
 There was one part of her old life that passed the bounds 
 of her toleration, and that was the first day of her engage 
 ment. The memory of that evening in the Blandfords' 
 garden long retained power to make Dodo's face contract 
 and her hands clench themselves in the bitterness of strong 
 pain and indignation. To have had such an hour, and to 
 have thrown it away ! She had hurt Auburn, too : she had 
 cut deeper than his self-love, deeper than his pride. Weak 
 or strong, frank or insincere, at least he had not tried to 
 bargain with her. "I do love you." She remembered the 
 very tones of his voice, stumbling in unaccustomed nervous 
 ness. "I'll tell you anything you want to know." He had 
 laid his life with all its reticences, his love in all its bare 
 strength, in her hands freely: and she, in the recklessness 
 of youth, sure of worlds and time enough, and afraid of 
 her own heart she had put him away with a laugh. "And 
 that will come back to him," she said to herself, "and he'll 
 think that was the real Dodo." Death itself can hardly 
 make us long more to live our lives over again, than does 
 separation. 
 
 But it was only now and then that Dodo gave a cursory 
 saddened glance to the wreck of her own life. That lay all 
 plain before her : no pleasant prospect, but clearly mapped 
 out, and not to be avoided. To guide the house, to harry 
 Aline into orderly ways, to charm away Mr. Carminow's 
 fits of gloom, Caron's petulance, Bernard's sullenness: to 
 take her place in the parish, drill her boys, and carry port 
 wine to her own women : and to do all gaily, to be the light 
 of the house and not an oppression in it there was her 
 duty, the true woman's duty, trivial but not thankless, in 
 expressibly weary yet bringing its own reward. All that 
 she could bear, and did, as she sat by the open casement 
 above the lamplit valley, make up her mind to bear fear-
 
 205 
 
 lessly and gallantly : but that was a slight thing, after all. 
 What weighed on her and crushed her was the burden of 
 pity for Auburn : a burden that would never lift, for she 
 never could, day or night, say to herself, ''Now he is at 
 rest." Bitter it was to remember that she had not been 
 able to convince him of her constancy. " Other women 
 have said they would not forget, and have forgotten," she 
 said to herself, "but I shall not forget. Forget! Oh, my 
 love, I could as soon forget God as your eyes that night." 
 The memory made her wring her hands together in torment. 
 
 She sat looking at the portrait as if it had been a mirror 
 that showed her, by lightning-gleams, the very truth. And 
 so indeed it did : for now she was realizing the things that 
 for some while she had only believed. 
 
 "What will you do in prison, Charles? Kill yourself? 
 You're reckless enough. Or die under it? You're weak 
 enough. Live through it and come back to me? Hardly, 
 I think. Bernard might, Eoden would: but you've neither 
 Bernard's toughness nor Eoden 's calm, deep strength. 
 You've lived a self-indulgent life for five-and-thirty years, 
 obeying no law but your own pleasure and your class code 
 of honor, which I dare say was not very inflexible. You're 
 proud, yes: with the kind of pride that prison regulations 
 will break and crumble to atoms. You labor under the 
 impression that you're a democrat, but when it cornea to 
 being ordered about by what do you say? . . . 'those 
 infernal brutes of warders ' 
 
 "What will you be like when you come back to me in 
 twenty years' time, grey-haired, and used-up, and old? You 
 think I shall forget: but isn't it you that will have for 
 gotten? That night at Hillingdon you loved me better, I 
 think, than most men ever love a woman : but that was be 
 cause the whole thing was so tragically worked up, and you 
 yourself were strung to breaking-point with that odd dread 
 of death and greater dread of letting me see it. But in 
 twenty years' time what you will want will be a clear fire,
 
 *06 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 and a good dinner, and a glass of wine and a cigar. Tell 
 me, Charles, isn't that a true bill!" Auburn's eyes looked 
 somberly into her own. They told her nothing : they would 
 not have told her much had they been his living eyes, for 
 Auburn's face, with all its gay animation, was no index to 
 his thoughts. "Are you angry with me for reading you so 
 hardly? Do I misjudge you? I know you're no coward 
 under a sudden strain, witness that last interview of ours 
 and your coolness on the rack : but have you the reserve of 
 strength, the quiet, undramatic, commonplace courage that 
 one needs to fight through twenty years? Will you break 
 down under it, and let it degrade you ? Or will you die in 
 prison ? 
 
 "Oh, and while I sit here by the open window and the 
 great bright night, you're stifling in your cell under the 
 warder's spy-hole." 
 
 She slipped down on the floor and knelt there, her arms 
 flung out on the sill, her head buried between them. In that 
 moment Dodo knew the meaning of revolt. For he was 
 innocent : not God but man, not justice but law had thrown 
 him into his living grave. "Oh, my God! oh, my God!" 
 Dodo spoke aloud, "am I to see him die, the man Thou 
 gavest me? He's mine, mine, not theirs mine, and inno 
 cent : am I to live on year after year while they break him 
 under their hammer ? Oh, if I were free ! . . . and shan 't 
 I be free, some day?" 
 
 Agnes Carminow had been dead twenty years, but her 
 blood was still flowing in the veins of some of her children. 
 The saint and mystic had early reappeared, though under 
 an altered form, in Bod en's austere religion: another side 
 of her remarkable character was now to manifest itself in 
 Dodo, by will, by tenacity, above all by a singular intel 
 lectual daring. She imagined herself standing alone against 
 all the organized forces of society, and she was not afraid : 
 the mere brute mass of authority, which, as a rule, bears 
 down all individual thought, had small weight with her.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 207 
 
 Long she remained kneeling, and when she rose to her feet 
 it was with an altered look. The new thought that had 
 come into her mind was working in her so strongly that 
 every other thought, even grief, even fear, even the haras 
 sing preoccupation of pity, had vanished from her eyes. 
 She undressed and got into bed, but she did not go to 
 sleep : the night went by like one hour while she lay think 
 ing out her resolution. At length grey dawn surprised her : 
 somewhere far off in the house a clock chimed the hour : it 
 was six in the morning, and her sleepless eyes were bright 
 and rested. 
 
 She slipped from her bed again and went to look out of 
 the window. The sun would not be up for an hour: the 
 morning was cloudy and soft. Winter dew lay thick on 
 the wintry wold. A dim light, so grey that it could hardly 
 be called light, was diffused over the face of the earth under 
 a fell of grey cloud, whose ragged curtains lifted in the east 
 over a gleam of brownish air. How chill it was how soft 
 and chill! How infinitely far off lay the uplands of the 
 Plain, their wrinkles and ledges softened by a bloom of 
 mist ! There was little color in the wide, wintry landscape, 
 and little life except for the ceaseless blowing of the chill 
 and early wind. Dodo threw her window wider open and 
 leaned out, bathing herself in the rush of strong, cold air. 
 If all the world beside was unilluminated, there was light 
 on her face: if the Plain languished in winter there was 
 spring-time in that slight figure, the May of youth, and 
 passion, and courage that no odds can daunt. 
 
 "I'll go on loving the world, Charles," she breathed, 
 looking northwards to his prison. "You're still in it."
 
 XXII. 
 
 Q5 ENSATIONAL trials crop up from time to time, run 
 k3 through their nine days' wonder, and are forgotten. 
 Years later, glancing over a file of old newspapers, the 
 chance reader recalls the famous details with a reminiscent 
 nod, but the actors, for him, are shadows: the play is 
 played out : the curtain has fallen. It is odds if the reflec 
 tion so much as once occurs to him that the tragedy of the 
 last act is still going on behind the scenes. 
 
 Within a twelvemonth of the Auburn trial Charles 
 Auburn, so far as society was concerned, had ceased to 
 exist. He lived only in the memories of his immediate 
 friends. Ferndean, shut up in charge of a caretaker, bore 
 witness to the unf orgetting grief of Roland Carew : a Wilt 
 shire vicarage, a London studio, a cottage in Hampshire, a 
 Plain station under the far Indian sun exchanged tidings 
 of the prisoner, and that was all. The waters had closed 
 over him. 
 
 Another year passed, and Koland came back to Fern- 
 dean. A man has no right to neglect his tenants for a pri 
 vate sentiment! Caron Carminow wintered in Norway, 
 returned with a portfolio full of etchings, made a hit with 
 an exhibition at Staveley's, and was (courteously) carica 
 tured in Punch. The world smiled on him, and it would 
 have been ungracious not to return the compliment. Roden 
 was twice down with fever, and from his letters home, al 
 ways laconic, Auburn's name gradually dropped out. Eric 
 Blandford decided that old scandals might now be safely 
 ignored, and proposed to Dodo, and shortly afterwards 
 Grace Trevor, for no acknowledgeable reason, had a quarrel 
 
 208
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR *09 
 
 with Mabel Blandford and cut her dead at the Mothers' 
 Meeting. It was suggested in connection with this affair, 
 of which the Blandfords made no secret, that Dodo must 
 still be thinking of her old lover, or she would never have 
 refused so eligible a young man : but few believed it. All 
 agreed that she had acted imprudently: for Mr. Carminow's 
 health was failing fast, and when he died what would 
 Dodo do? 
 
 Meanwhile Auburn, having completed his five months' 
 solitary confinement, had been transferred to the great 
 prison which stands up, grey and grim, in the heart of wild 
 Dartmoor. The day which took him down to Princetown 
 was one of wild April storm, and bitter was his disappoint 
 ment when he found his view of beloved Devon obscured 
 by streams of rain. Even so, however, the journey was a 
 welcome break in the monotony of his daily life. 
 
 When Auburn first went to prison, he knew no more of 
 what he should find there than any other man who skims 
 two or three newspapers a day. He was prepared for heavy 
 work, short commons, brutal warders, dirt, and misery. He 
 found a great establishment organized on a military basis, 
 largely cheerful, going by clockwork, and clean as a new 
 pin. It is hardly in man, it certainly is not in the average 
 member of the criminal classes, to live long at the breaking- 
 point of distress, and the large majority of his mates were 
 fairly resigned to their lot. The wardens, many of them 
 old soldiers, were as a class just and kindly men, who did 
 what they could to ease the discipline over a jaded temper. 
 The work was not oppressive, and the food was fairly good 
 of its kind : it is true that Auburn was always hungry, and 
 at times would have sold his soul for a pipe, but for these 
 hardships he had to thank his own vigorous physique and 
 the eternal cigars of the past. 
 
 In all this there was neither brutality nor severity, but 
 there was much monotony. From reveille at ten minutes 
 past five of a morning till lights-out at eight of a night,
 
 210 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Auburn's day went by routine. Breakfast, chapel, parade, 
 work, dinner, work, supper, bed so ran the simple pro 
 gramme, in which a good deal of time was devoted to sleep 
 that knits up the raveled sleave of care ; on winter Sunday 
 nights, indeed, when all lights were out by half-past four 
 in the afternoon, there was nothing for it but to resign 
 oneself to a sleep of thirteen hours. In these circumstances 
 the weekly bath and shave became a sensational event: 
 books, borrowed every Saturday from the prison library, 
 were read from cover to cover ten times over: and when, 
 one day in the quarries, a convict of the rare brutal type 
 ran amok and laid open a warder's head with a hammer, the 
 shock was so startling that Auburn missed all chance of 
 distinguishing himself, and stood staring throughout the 
 agitating ten minutes that followed before Bill Sykes could 
 be disarmed. 
 
 It was to the quarries that Auburn was sent, for his 
 physique marked him out for the most exhausting class of 
 labor, and he was glad: better, far better, to tax one's 
 muscles in the open air than to go into the shops as car 
 penter or bookbinder. Resolved to lose no marks, he threw 
 himself into the work with energy, and soon gained as much 
 approval as was consistent with rigid impartiality. The 
 warders liked the tall quiet man who could be relied on to 
 make a clean job of things, and to give no unnecessary 
 trouble, and to treat them with pleasant respect. Among 
 his mates, also, Auburn won an easy footing when once they 
 were assured that he would neither give himself airs nor 
 try to curry favor by telling tales. Conversation was 
 strictly forbidden. The prohibition was a dead letter. Be 
 tween practised artists talk went on incessantly under the 
 very noses of the officers, who had learned to be a little 
 blind on this point, since interference was sure to provoke 
 friction and could do no good. Auburn soon picked up 
 this inaudible lip-language, and while he swung his pick 
 axe heard many a fantastic life-story, many a chapter of
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 picaresque romance. He did not reciprocate these con 
 fidences. His name, however, was known (for at Prince- 
 town the prisoner does not sink his identity in a number), 
 and the L. on his sleeve proclaimed him a lifer, while later 
 arrivals contributed details, largely imaginary, of his 
 offense. Its reputed brutality cast an infernal halo round 
 Auburn's dark head; for there is an aristocracy of crime, 
 and among flats and hooks, snide pitchers and magsmen, 
 your uncrowned king is he who has had the narrowest 
 escape of being topped. 
 
 Auburn had one point of frequent contact with the non- 
 criminal world in the person of the Reverend Hugh Rose. 
 They had parted with mutual regret upon Auburn's first 
 change of quarters, only to meet again at Princetown, 
 whither Rose, troubled in his lungs by a long residence 
 amid London soot, had achieved an exchange, and there 
 had sprung up between the silent, well-mannered convict 
 and the devoted priest a feeling which under other circum 
 stances would have been called a sincere friendship. Such 
 influence as Auburn had among his mates was always at 
 the chaplain's service, while Rose, coming and going at odd 
 hours and alone, was, though he did not know it, the chief 
 agent in keeping Auburn sane and strong. 
 
 Sane : for prison life, despite its freedom from hardships, 
 does produce more than its normal crop of suicide and 
 insanity. Auburn had no right to grumble, and he did not 
 grumble, but it taxed his fortitude, as the years went on, to 
 remain his own master. The monotonous routine, the want 
 of privacy, and the mills of thought grinding in his own 
 brain combined in one steady pressure that went near to 
 bear down the walls of his individuality. He saw himself 
 a convict among convicts, worked, fed, gospelled, stripped, 
 to order. Rose linked him to the time when he had walked 
 a free man. 
 
 Rose, and Rose alone : for the same could not be said of 
 Roland Carew, though he did his best. As often as the
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 prison regulations allowed lie came to Dartmoor for half 
 an hour's talk through a wire screen and under the eyes of 
 a warder, but neither he nor Auburn had much satisfaction 
 from these interviews, for Koland, between grief, disgust, 
 and his own peculiar ideas of being tactful, managed as a 
 rule to confound himself and Auburn too. As for Dodo, 
 Auburn had not seen her since the night of the reprieve. 
 He had exchanged letters with her brief, formal letters 
 written in the light of prison surveillance and he had 
 heard of her through Roland from time to time. But 
 what's the good of letters, or of news at second-hand? 
 Auburn had hoped against hope that she would come to see 
 him. When she did not come he said to himself, "It is a 
 good thing that she is getting over it, ' ' and turned his face 
 to the wall. 
 
 June at Stanton Mere : an abrupt, hot June after a chilly 
 May, in the fourth year of Auburn's imprisonment. Eve 
 ning now, still and fresh: a sky softly quilted over with 
 grey clouds touched by after-sunset light to the coloring of 
 a dove 's breast : daisies shutting on the lawn, monthly roses 
 giving out their good country smell in the borders, rooks 
 wrangling in the tops of the tall elms over their beds for 
 the night. From the orchard behind the house came the 
 long, low, tuneless flute-note of a nightingale's song. 
 
 Sweet the welcome of this hushed coolness to the way 
 farer, as the gate under the chestnuts swung and clicked 
 between him and the dusty road! He came up the drive, 
 looking about him with quick, unfamiliar eyes that ob 
 served every change : the loss of a clump of laurels that had 
 died in the last hard winter, the vigorous growth of a 
 mountain ash that had sprung up in their stead. Such were 
 the changes that the years had wrought in Stanton Mere! 
 As he crossed the lawn, however, and ran up the steps to 
 the terrace, he was struck by a greater alteration, in the 
 forlorn aspect of the house, for it seemed to be deserted:
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 213 
 
 the garden was empty, and many of the windows were 
 closed. He peered into the darkening studio and saw a 
 woman not Dodo who stood by the table piling fruit on 
 a dish. "Who is it?" she exclaimed, startled. He did not 
 answer, and Grace Trevor, who was not nervous, walked 
 straight up to him. There was still light enough for her 
 to recognize the slight figure and the thin, fair features. 
 
 "Roden! Is it you?" 
 
 "Even so." 
 
 "You in the flesh?" 
 
 "To a reasonable extent. How are you, Gracie?" 
 
 He gave her hand a brotherly squeeze, which Grace was 
 too much astonished to return. "Really you!" she said: 
 "why, I was just thinking of you in India and wishing you 
 were home. Dear old Roddy, I I'm awfully glad! But 
 how did you know?" 
 
 "Know what?" 
 
 "I mean " she mended her slip hurriedly ''why 
 didn't you let us know you were coming? It's a perfect 
 thunderclap to have you turn up like this from the 
 Antipodes ! Never mind, come in and tell me all about it, 
 and then perhaps I shall begin to believe my eyes." 
 
 Roden stepped through the window into the studio, but 
 not the old studio. The air, warm and thick, was that of a 
 place that has been shut up through the heat of the day, 
 and a general aspect of desolation confirmed this view. 
 Dust lay thick on the lid of the piano, and the chairs were 
 pushed about in comfortless disorder. The ferns in pots 
 drooped for want of water: the vases were full of dying 
 flowers, some of which had dropped, showering down their 
 brown petals on the floor. Roden had begun to be seri 
 ously uneasy, but Grace, pulling forward a great leathern 
 armchair, gave him no time to ask questions. "What on 
 earth has brought you home in such a tearing hurry ? Have 
 you been being seedy again ? ' ' 
 
 "Rather: I had a third spell of fever, and was packed off
 
 2U AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 on the spot. A letter would not have got here before me, 
 and as for cabling, I didn't see the force of it: you would 
 only have concluded I was dying." 
 
 * ' And weren 't you ? ' ' 
 
 "Ami dead?" 
 
 ' ' Weren 't you pretty bad ? " He shrugged his shoulders. 
 "How long leave have you got?" 
 
 "Why, the fact is, they tell me I'm not to go back: but 
 I shall see to that later on. I'm perfectly fit again; the 
 voyage has pulled me round. Where's " 
 
 ' ' Where 's your luggage ? ' ' 
 
 "Coming on by porter from Amesbury. Wh " 
 
 ' ' Have you had anything to eat ? ' ' 
 
 Roden's eyes were quizzical, in spite of his anxiety. 
 "My dear girl, you were not born to grace the diplomatic 
 service. Will you tell me what is wrong is any one ill ? " 
 
 "Oh! Roddy " 
 
 "My dear girl, I'd rather know." 
 
 "Very well, I will tell you," said Grace, sighing. "It's 
 your father. He's very ill." 
 
 "Dying?" 
 
 "I'm afraid there isn't much hope." 
 
 "Any hope at all? . . . Never mind, I didn't mean to 
 distress you. I'm glad I'm here, anyhow. What is it?" 
 
 "Pleurisy and double pneumonia. He got wet a fort 
 night ago driving out of Amesbury." 
 
 "Can I go up to him?" 
 
 "Not just now. Dr. Minnett is with him." 
 
 "Where's Dodo?" 
 
 "She's up there too: I'll call her directly I can, but I 
 don't like to interrupt." 
 
 "Are the others here?" 
 
 "Yes, all of them. Shall I go and find them?" 
 
 "No : I'll wait and see Dodo first." 
 
 "I'm very sorry, Roddy!" 
 
 Roden smiled, but his face was painfully drawn. "It's
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 215 
 
 rather a bad bit of news for a welcome home, but I knew 
 something was wrong before I set foot in the house. I'm 
 glad I'm here: I should like to see him again. Will he 
 know me, do you think ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I expect so. He's quite quiet and not in much pain 
 now : wandering a good deal from time to time, but he gen 
 erally seems to know Dodo." 
 
 Roden was silent for a few moments; but his own 
 thoughts were so sad, and there were so many ravelled ends 
 to be knit up after three years of scanty though regular 
 correspondence, that he soon began again. 
 
 "How is Auburn?" 
 
 "Quite well, so far as we know. Dodo heard from him 
 in May, and will hear again in August." 
 
 "Is he still at Princetown?" 
 
 "Yes, working in the quarries. Dodo has been urging 
 him to try and get put on the roads: that sort of job is kept 
 for fourth year men, and she thinks it would do him such a 
 lot of good. He must feel so shut in, boxed up in a beastly 
 quarry." 
 
 "How does he write cheerfully?" 
 
 "Oh, always! He never grumbles. Generally he says 
 it's 'very decent,' or 'rather jolly than otherwise.' Once 
 Dodo said it got down to 'quite bearable,' and then she 
 knew he must have been brought very low: but that's the 
 only time. Lately he's been threatening to give up writing 
 altogether, though, because he thinks it stops her forgetting 
 him." 
 
 "What a charming state of affairs!" said Roden. 
 
 He leaned back in his chair, and let his eyes rove round the 
 studio, so changed from the gay vagabond of a room, spruce 
 though disorderly, which framed his boyhood's memories. 
 "It's a weary business, Gracie. Dear me, what jolly 
 times we used to have in this old room, and how idiotically 
 young we all were ! I never had any money, but that was 
 the only care I had in the world ; and Dodo was a droll child
 
 216 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 too, and as lively as a kitten. Do you remember that Christ 
 mas Eve when we were all about sixteen, and got up 
 charades, and you were Mother Hubbard and Dodo was 
 your dog? I suppose a more complacently silly set of 
 youngsters couldn't have been picked out of any house in 
 England. Who would have thought we should turn out 
 so tragically? It was a cruel stroke of luck that sent that 
 fellow down our way." 
 
 "I don't see why you should be so tragic as all that." 
 
 "I know you don't, but I can't escape it. Oh, I'm tired, 
 tired to death, Gracie!" He did look tired: more tired and 
 more spiritless, Grace thought, than was warranted even by 
 three spells of fever and the shock of her bad news. She 
 was not sure enough of her voice to reply, but she laid her 
 hand on his knee, and Roden put his own over it, and smiled 
 up at her, as she stood beside him, with an effort at gaiety. 
 "Dear old girl, I've no business to come and worry you 
 with my troubles." 
 
 "I like it, if it does you any good." 
 
 "Why, one does get sick of keeping them to oneself. 
 Never mind!" He straightened his shoulders and threw 
 back his head as if he were readjusting himself to an ac 
 customed burden, and went on more lightly. "Upon my 
 word, Miss Trevor, I wonder some one hasn't taken ad 
 vantage of my absence to carry you off. When are you 
 going to get married, may I ask?" 
 
 ' ' You evidently feel it 's high time ! I think you 're rather 
 rude." 
 
 "So I am, but I mean well. I was only thinking what a 
 pity it would be if none of those happy-go-lucky children 
 pulled off a good thing. You do it, and break the spell ! I 
 should like to see you married, it would be such a joke!" 
 
 "I'm glad you think so." 
 
 "Although, in point of fact, I should be seriously an 
 noyed if you did get married. I don't want to lose my 
 chum, and we've always been ehums, haven't we? Indeed,
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 217 
 
 I rather think on a previous occasion you promised to 
 many me." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "The exact date has slipped my mind, but I know we 
 were all drinking gingerbeer and eating strawberries on 
 the lawn, preparatory to playing hide and seek, and you 
 chose me as your partner, and we hid behind the cucumber 
 frames, and I kissed you and you kissed me " 
 
 "I didn't!" 
 
 "My child, you did and I said 'Let's get married when 
 we grow up,' and you said, 'Let's, what a jolly lark !' " 
 
 "I do remember," said Grace, "but it's a long time ago." 
 
 1 1 Half a lifetime, ' ' said Koden. ' ' I suppose I was about 
 fourteen. Can you believe that you're the same being now 
 as you were then ? I can't." 
 
 "I don't think I've altered much." 
 
 ' ' Haven 't you ? I wish I hadn 't. ' ' 
 
 He threw himself back impatiently, and the momentary 
 gleam of mirth faded from his face. "So we come back to 
 our blind alley, don't we? I say, do you think that ass 
 Minett is ever going ? ' ' 
 
 "Shall I go and see if I can get Dodo out of the room?" 
 
 "Do, there's a dear girl. I daren't, for fear of startling 
 her." 
 
 Not sorry to escape, Grace ran up to Mr. Carminow's 
 room, but met Dodo on the landing : she had just come out, 
 white and hurried. At first Grace could hardly get her to 
 listen at all: the name of the wanderer secured attention, 
 but no great show of surprise. 
 
 "Roddy here? Just arrived from India? Oh, thank 
 heaven! Where is he?" 
 
 "In the studio: but oh, Dodo, he does look so ill!" 
 
 "I can't think of that now. Do you know where the 
 others are?" 
 
 "Where the others are? oh, you don't mean 1" 
 
 "Yes, I do."
 
 218 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "The end?" 
 
 "Now, in a few minutes." 
 
 Grace wrung her hands. ' ' Oh, my poor Roden ! ' * 
 
 "Dear Grace, he'll be thankful to be here. But do you 
 know where the others are? Please think." 
 
 "Bernard's in his room, Car and Dickie are in the orch 
 ard. I'll tell them, you go to him." 
 
 "Thank you dearest," said Dodo, and ran down to the 
 studio. Even at that moment she, like Grace, was startled 
 by the change in Roden, and he by her, for the years had 
 set their mark on Dodo : still only two-and-twenty, she had 
 the graceful slenderness of youth, the smooth unwrinkled 
 skin, and the pale bloom of coloring, but with all the charm 
 of her age she was a woman as well, tired yet fearless, and 
 eminently capable of coping with sickness or pain. She 
 did not need to say many words to Roden. 
 
 "Drink this wine before you come up, old boy." 
 
 "My dear child " 
 
 "No, you must drink it: you've been ill, and you look 
 deathly tired. Dear Roden, you'll want your strength: 
 you're only just in time." 
 
 Roden drank it, chiefly because it was a tradition in the 
 family to obey Dodo, and followed her upstairs, feeling 
 so rapidly had events gone since his entry as if he had 
 been home a month. The nurse slipped from the room as 
 the children of the dying man came in, and after a moment 
 Dr. Minett followed her. Mr. Carminow was lying on his 
 back, his head and shoulders supported by pillows: his 
 eyes were closed, and his breath came in short, loud gasps. 
 One hand was thrown out. Dodo laid her own over it and 
 felt how cold it was, and how wet. At her touch he revived 
 for a moment, coming back not all the way but a part of 
 the way from that terrible next world. 
 
 "Who's there?" he muttered, in the thick, unfamiliar 
 voice of dying men. 
 
 "I Dodo."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Are the others with you? It's so dark, I can't see." 
 
 "I'm here," said Roden. As he spoke the others came 
 in together. "We're all here, father," Roden added, sure 
 that he was the only one who could control his voice. 
 
 "Good boys," said Mr. Carminow, "very good boys, on 
 the whole. Bernie a little hard, now and then " Bernard 
 was sobbing like a child "but I generally got my own way 
 with them, my dear." He tried to stroke Dodo's hand. 
 "It's been a long while without you, love." 
 
 "It's Dodo, father," said Dodo, unwilling to forego the 
 last word of farewell, for he evidently took her for his wife. 
 
 "Oh, Dodo, yes," he murmured, "yes, poor child . . . 
 very hard lines on Dodo. . . . Pink curtains with a green 
 paper ? Agnes, Agnes, how could you ? . . . Oh, have it 
 your own way, my sweetheart, I didn't mean to be cross." 
 
 He had gone back thirty years and was shopping with 
 Agnes Wray. Dear as his children had been to him, the 
 ruling passion was literally strong in death, and his eyes 
 passed over Roden, who would have given much for a word 
 of recognition, and Bernard, whose sore, remorseful heart 
 ached for a word of forgiveness, to look into the sweet smil 
 ing eyes of his young wife. Soon his utterance ceased to be 
 intelligible, and his thin artist 's fingers began to travel over 
 the sheets : and so night fell, and the tired worker set up 
 his everlasting rest.
 
 xxin. 
 
 JULY was hot that year. Round Auburn even the big 
 forest trees sickened in the dry light, while the lesser 
 shrubs hung down their branches, on which the leaves 
 withered and turned grey. In the garden of Kose Cottage 
 the lilies stood up straight and stiff, each in its own little 
 patch of moist earth, where Lesbia came with her watering- 
 can every evening. Jeannie liked the lilies, and they 
 bloomed for her. 
 
 It was half -past eleven, and the sun was in the south. 
 Great faint shapes of cloud, that were hardly more than 
 mist except at the rim, obscured his light and cast a pre 
 vailing brassy tinge over the blueness of the sky. There 
 was no wind: the trees, the grass, the cottage itself stood 
 sunburned and colorless in that parched air. Picking beans 
 was hot work, and Lesbia Burnet, bent double over the 
 squat rows, lifted herself up now and then and straightened 
 out her back with a jerk. Lesbia had always been a woman 
 of remarkable appearance, and she was not the less so for 
 the lapse of those long years. Her fine eyes looked out 
 defiantly from under haggard brows: her mouth had 
 hardened, and there were thick streaks of white in her 
 dark hair. When she had picked her basket full she 
 carried it into the spick and span little kitchen where 
 Jeannie lay, dressed in cool print, on an old oaken settle. 
 The younger girl lifted up her head once handsomer than 
 Lesbia 's, though disfigured now by long sickness with a 
 smile of flashing sweetness, and threw down her book. 
 "Here, I'll do those," she said, catching the basket from 
 Lesbia 's hand; " shelling beans is cooler work than reading 
 
 220
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Sordello. Is it ever going to rain? That sky coming on 
 top of the chimneys makes me feel faint." 
 
 "Yes," said Lesbia, glancing out of the window, "it's 
 hard to be shut between four walls on a day like this. 
 There'll be rain soon, I think," she added. 
 
 Jeannie knew well whither her sister's thoughts had 
 flown, but she knew too that Lesbia hated sympathy. She 
 went on with the beans, while Lesbia moved about the 
 kitchen preparing dinner. Presently her restless feet 
 carried the elder woman out into the garden again. 
 
 "I'm going to pull a handful of parsley," she said as she 
 went out : but when she had gathered the parsley she stood 
 for some minutes gazing up into the burning, shadowed 
 sky. Her lips moved, her face was wrung with the intensity 
 of her thought. "0 God," she prayed, "send the rain, the 
 blessed cool rain, lest Thy servant die in the heat of those 
 nasty little insanitary cells ..." 
 
 The sound of some one coming up the road brought her 
 back to earth and curiosity, for strangers rarely came that 
 way on foot. Here was a fair slip of a girl, dressed in black, 
 and walking with a finished grace and ease which drew 
 Lesbia 's eyes like a magnet. She stood leaning on her gate 
 with folded arms, watching, grave and keen, as the new 
 comer approached. 
 
 "Mrs. Burnett" 
 
 "That's my name." 
 
 "May I speak to you for a few minutes?" 
 
 "Certainly, ma'am if you've anything to say." 
 
 Lesbia continued to lean over the top of the gate, whieh 
 she had apparently no idea of opening. A cooler welcome 
 could hardly have been extended to a dusty wayfarer : this 
 wayfarer, however, was not to be put off. She said, "I 
 think you remember me." 
 
 "Perfectly, ma'am Miss, I should say. I knew you 
 directly I saw you. You're Miss Carminow." 
 
 "You have a good memory."
 
 222 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "I would have known you by the likeness to your 
 brother." 
 
 "I didn't know you knew my brother." 
 
 "I saw him once, after the trial." Lesbia's face hardened 
 to stone, as it always did upon any reference to that affair. 
 "You're as much like him, miss, as a young lady can be 
 to a man." 
 
 This flick of the whip made Dodo smile. She drew back 
 a pace or two and put her hands behind her back, school 
 girl fashion, looking up at Lesbia with her bright grave 
 eyes. " Mayn't I come in?" 
 
 "You'll excuse me, miss, if I say I know my own ways 
 best, and my own business." 
 
 "Why are you angry with me?" 
 
 "I'm not angry." 
 
 "Why won't you let me in then? I want to talk to you 
 about Charles. I've come from Wiltshire to see you. I 
 suppose you and I are the people who love him best in the 
 world " 
 
 "Love!" said Lesbia. Her speaking of the word was 
 like the first flash of the storm. "Love!" and the storm 
 began to break: "what do you know about loving a man, 
 miss, a young lady like you ? Did you want to be married 
 to him? No, you wanted to be keeping company a far, 
 far different thing ! Marriage goes deep, there 's things in 
 it you're much too modest to think of: it's for man and 
 woman, not for young gentleman and lady " 
 
 "But indeed I should have liked very much to marry 
 him," said Dodo, half smiling. 
 
 This not being at all the sort of answer that Lesbia had 
 expected, she was disconcerted, and showed it. Dodo fol 
 lowed up her advantage. 
 
 "You're cross, I think, because I've never come to see 
 you before. Let me in and I'll tell you all about it, but I 
 can't and won't have it out among the cabbages." 
 
 Lesbia shrugged her shoulders and stepped aside from the
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 223 
 
 wicket-gate. "As you please, miss," she said impatiently, 
 "will you step this way?" 
 
 She led Dodo round to the kitchen, and together they 
 entered the presence of the sick girl, whose mocking eyes 
 suggested that she had heard a good deal through the 
 window. "My sister Jean, miss," Lesbia explained, as she 
 set a chair for Dodo. "You'll not think me rude if I go 
 on getting dinner ready. Poor folks must eat, you 
 know " 
 
 "This lady will think you rude, though, if you talk to 
 her in that tone," struck in Jeannie. The musical refine 
 ment of her intonation fell pleasantly on Dodo's ear after 
 Lesbia 's rich but harsh contralto. "You'll bear with her: 
 she's not very used to company, and she's had much of 
 late to sour her temper God pardon her, it wasn't ever 
 very sweet!" 
 
 "Oh, I'll forgive her," said Dodo, "she means well." 
 
 She sat down and looked about her. Half sad, half sweet, 
 and piercingly keen was the sense of intimacy with Auburn 
 that came upon her in this trim kitchen, so vividly colored 
 by red of tiles, white of curtains and blackness of oaken 
 beams. Details of Lesbia 's evidence at the trial came back 
 to her mind. Here Auburn had appeared, fresh from his 
 quarrel with Sir Charles, on that eventful night : Jeannie 's 
 oaken settle had been his bed, Lesbia 's snowy deal his table 
 in the next morning's sunlight. Moreover, the room had 
 known him as child and boy, in every mood : it was pene 
 trated by memories of his vigorous life. At length Dodo 
 roused herself, to find Lesbia regarding her with eyes a 
 shade less hostile, for the meaning of that silence had not 
 been overlooked. 
 
 "See now, Lesbia: I've been wanting to come and talk 
 to you for a long while, but I was not free so long as my 
 father was alive. He needed me, and I owed him a duty. 
 He died in June " Dodo said it steadily, but with an 
 effort; she could not grow used to the truth "and since
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 then we have had all the bother of turning out of the Vicar 
 age and settling our affairs. This is my first free day. 
 I want to talk to you frankly, but you must meet me in the 
 same spirit: if you aren't going to believe me, it is no 
 good." 
 
 "Let her alone," said Jeannie mischievously: "she sees 
 she was wrong, but she'll never own it." 
 
 "All right," said Dodo. Lesbia, who was thrown out 
 by this droll amiability, stirred her pot in a hard silence. 
 "As I tell you, we're all turning out of the Vicarage. My 
 brothers are scattered: they don't want me at least, they 
 don't need me. I have no binding ties now, except the one : 
 and I have made up my mind to go and live near Charles." 
 
 "Near ?" 
 
 "Near Charles: near Princetown." 
 
 Lesbia turned round, and the lid of her saucepan rolled 
 on the floor with a clatter. "Near Mr. Charles?" she 
 echoed. "You?" 
 
 "Quite near him." 
 
 "What for, in the name of goodness?" 
 
 "What for? why, surely it's a very natural feeling?" 
 
 An inaudible muttering was all the answer Lesbia gave. 
 Jeannie 's interpretation threw not the most charitable light 
 upon it. 
 
 "Don't you mind her she's only vexed she didn't think 
 of it herself. It's a beautiful idea, and truly poetic!" 
 
 "Dartmoor is very fine, you know," Dodo explained. 
 "It is lovely country, and the air's a tonic. Artists go 
 there to paint a good deal. My idea was to rent a small 
 house within reach of Princetown, and I thought very pos 
 sibly you would come down and join forces with me." 
 
 "I wish," Lesbia said, "somebody would tell me whether 
 I'm standing on my heels or my head!" 
 
 She sat down on a wooden chair and looked earnestly at 
 Dodo. "What is it you have in your mind, child? Is it 
 Ruth's words you're thinking of?"
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 225 
 
 ' 'Perhaps it is. 'Where thou diest I will die, and there 
 will I be buried.' I'm afraid, you know, he won't live to 
 come out. ' ' 
 
 "He's strong enough!" Lesbia exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, he's very strong physically." 
 
 "They don't starve, nor yet mishandle them." 
 
 "No. But confinement is trying when you're not used 
 to it. Besides, the uniform diet comes hard on a man like 
 Charles, tall and healthy and hungry. It is all very well 
 for a sickly city-bred thief, but for an athletic man who has 
 fared sumptuously all his life it is systematic under 
 feeding. ' ' 
 
 A heavy sigh was Lesbia 's only comment. 
 
 "So that I don't suppose he is as strong as when he went 
 in," said Dodo steadily. "There's the heat too. Charles 
 can't stand heat. Think what those cells must be like, in 
 this weather!" 
 
 "You've thought of all that too, have you?" 
 
 ' ' Do you think Charles would have given all he did give 
 to a woman who didn't care for him?" 
 
 "There's no end to the fool a man will be when he's in 
 love. You're pretty." 
 
 "Ah! very," said Jeannie, throwing out her hand. Dodo 
 held it. 
 
 "I'm not so pretty as plenty of other women he must 
 have known. I wasn't rich: I wasn't well dressed. No: 
 he liked me because he knew that is, I don't think he 
 realized it himself, but something in him knew that there 
 was in me something strong and durable, which he could 
 rely on. Lesbia, I will not let him die in prison." 
 
 "You harp so on dying," Lesbia said fretfully, "but 
 it'll take more than heat and under-feeding to kill my 
 boy." 
 
 "Yes," said Jeannie, "heat of anger and hunger of heart, 
 loneliness and wakeful nights, shame and insults and 
 degradation, and nothing to look forward to but the grave
 
 226 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 or middle age it'll take all that to kill your boy, Lesbia, 
 and he's got it." 
 
 "No degradation." 
 
 "Not for one of our class: but is there none for a 
 gentleman?" 
 
 "No," said Dodo, white and dauntless. "You can't de 
 grade an innocent man." 
 
 "Maybe not; but you can make him feel degraded, and 
 that to the very dust." 
 
 "Quiet, Jeannie," said Lesbia roughly. "The child is 
 right, and long I've known it. Yet I don't think he'll die." 
 She bent her deep eyes on Dodo, and shook her head. 
 "He's got too good stuff in him to die my boy." 
 
 "Oh, he won't die of a broken heart," said Dodo scorn 
 fully. "That's not the way. But when your constitu 
 tion's thoroughly lowered, and your hold on life is weak, 
 you catch a cold or you get an indigestion, and it kills 
 you." 
 
 "And if he were to die," Lesbia asked pertinently, 
 ' ' what good would it do to him to have you living in a cot 
 tage half a mile away? You couldn't see him." 
 
 "Why not ? Any one walking along the high road can see 
 the convicts in the quarries or on the farm." 
 
 "But what good would that do to the pair of you!" 
 
 1 ' Charles will like to know I 'm near. ' ' 
 
 "H'm: Charles is not just a fool, my dear." 
 
 "Lesbia thinks you're not giving her the bottom of your 
 sack," Jeannie pointed out. Dodo threw back her head 
 and looked from one to the other with cool unreadable eyes. 
 
 "I haven't any home, and I want to be near Charles," 
 she said steadily. "There's nothing very queer in that, so 
 far as I can see. At all events, I 'm going whether you two 
 come or not the only question is, will you come ? ' ' 
 
 Twice Lesbia unclosed her lips to speak, and twice she 
 closed them. At length she said slowly, "I don't know 
 what you mean, and what's more I don't want to know.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 227 
 
 You've got some maggot in your head, I suppose: mind it 
 don't grow to a serpent, to turn and sting you. Now let's 
 hear more about this notion of yours. Where's the money 
 to come from? I'm not a rich woman. I've got a bit put 
 by, and I earn a bit more by taking in washing, and so we 
 make both ends meet, but then I pay no rent this house 
 is my own. I doubt I couldn't get much washing to do on 
 Dartmoor. I couldn't pay my way, and I never heard you 
 had much." 
 
 "I have plenty," said Dodo. 
 
 She waited a moment. "When Charles thought he was 
 going to die, he made his will. Auburn of course had to go 
 to the next of kin, and the Auburn money with it: but 
 there was a good deal that had been Lady Auburn's, and 
 this came into his power. He left it all to me. Later, after 
 the reprieve, he destroyed the will and drew up a deed of 
 gift instead, so that the money is mine absolutely. Hitherto 
 I haven't touched it, but now I shall take it and use it. 
 The boys I mean my brothers will make a fuss, but Mr. 
 Carew will back me up, he's dying to get it off his hands. 
 It will amply cover our expenses." 
 
 "But, you little thing," Lesbia said, between vexation 
 and humor, "I can't live on you!" 
 
 "Why not? You're coming with me at my request. 
 Surely you and I ought not to let ourselves be troubled by 
 scruples of that kind?" 
 
 "No, no," said Lesbia, "I've never eaten the bread of 
 charity yet, and I'm over old to begin. I doubt my 
 stomach's not strong enough to keep it down. If I come, 
 I'll earn my keep. What '11 you pay your servant?" 
 
 "I didn't mean to have a servant." 
 
 "No servant!" 
 
 "No: I thought we could manage for ourselves." 
 
 "Good: that settles it," said Lesbia after a short pause. 
 "Ill be what do you call it? cook-general for you, and 
 that'll cover my board and lodging. There's Jeannie to be
 
 228 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 fixed up now, though," she added, with a short laugh. 
 "What '11 you do to earn your dinner, Jean mend the 
 clothes?" 
 
 Jeannie sat up with her hands clasped round her knees, 
 the greenish tint predominating in her curiously shot hazel 
 eyes. Most of those who knew the sisters Auburn him 
 self included looked on Jeannie as a frailer copy of her 
 eccentric senior : but they were wrong. Lesbia acted much 
 on impulse, Jeannie rarely: Lesbia 's judgment was often 
 colored by her passions, Jeannie was deficient in passion 
 but dowered with a slightly inhuman critical faculty, which 
 made her dry ridicule quite as hard to bear for one who 
 felt it as Lesbia 'a ireful storms. There was more than a 
 dash of mockery in the glance that dwelt on Dodo 's tranquil 
 face. 
 
 "I shall think my dinner handsomely earned by coming 
 near the place," she said coolly. "A madder scheme I never 
 heard of: but it's ill preaching to those whose minds are 
 made up. If you two ladies are set to go, I suppose I must 
 make up my mind to tramp after you: but mind, don't say 
 I didn't warn you! There's such a thing as letting ill 
 alone lest you make it worse. ' ' 
 
 "Don't I know that? It's a thing people are very good 
 at doing." 
 
 "You'll never meet with one that loves him better than 
 Mr. Carew." 
 
 "Mr. Carew? I am sick of Mr. Carew!" Dodo broke 
 out. "Oh, he loved him, yes in his honest conventional 
 way. I do believe this business has half spoiled his life. 
 But he has a profound reverence for constitutional author 
 ity. If the law calls you guilty, guilty you are : and if the 
 law were to stretch a cord across your path he'd think it 
 nothing less than impiety if you were to dive under it 
 and " 
 
 "Hush, now!" Lesbia lifted her hand. "Don't you say 
 one syllable more, child, of that sort of thing or "
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 229 
 
 "Or what!" 
 
 "Or," supplemented Jeannie the mischievous, "Lesbia 
 won't be able to come with you to Dartmoor 1"
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE mountain railway that crawls, a noble feat of 
 engineering, upward inch by inch from low-lying 
 Yelverton to the intractable moor-fortress of Princetown, 
 calls on its way at Horraf ord Eoad ; and there, one evening 
 late in August, Dodo Carminow, Lesbia Burnet, and Jean 
 Armstrong descended from the train. 
 
 There was no cab to be had, but after some trouble Dodo 
 beat up a carter going their way who would take Jeannie 
 and the luggage, and with that they had to be content. The 
 road wound away uphill, the cart jogged on soberly, its 
 wheels creaking over the ruts, and Jeannie, tired out by her 
 journey, sat in a corner half asleep : the carter walked be 
 side his horse, whistling some tuneless jingle to which the 
 brass ornaments on the harness tinkled an accompaniment. 
 Lesbia and Dodo trudged along, side by side, through the 
 gathering dusk. 
 
 Soon they came out upon the open moor. It was a warm 
 night, because overcast, and through a lattice-work of dark 
 cloud the great arch of the west still glowed like a furnace, 
 throwing not a light, but a redness of shadow, over the dark 
 ocean of the tors. Like waves they rose up : heathenishly 
 old they looked, yet unreposeful in their age, although each 
 rushing ascent was topped with such a castellation of 
 granite as should have served to keep all dead gods buried. 
 There was enough wind to make a sound of moaning in the 
 air. At length the tired travelers came upon the lights of 
 a hamlet sparkling out of a rift in the moor below them : 
 this was Menval, stranded in the heart of Dartmoor, mid 
 way between Horraford and Princetown. A side-road, 
 
 230
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 281 
 
 steep and stony, branched off past a few scattered cottages 
 and a tiny Dissenting chapel, over a bridge where brawled, 
 loudly musical in the evening quiet, a rushing and clear 
 brook out of the hills, and thence upward again along a 
 straggling village street, till at length the cart pulled up 
 before a wicket-gate and their guide turned to Lesbia, point 
 ing with his whip, "There you be, my dear," said he. 
 
 While Lesbia looked to Jeannie, Dodo walked up the path 
 between thickets of lavender, which she could smell though 
 she could not see them, and let herself in. She had ar 
 ranged with a woman from Menval to light a fire and take 
 in provisions, but Mrs. Lee had gone home, and Heather 
 Cottage was empty and dark. Having never seen it but 
 once, Dodo made haste to light a lamp in the hall and to 
 survey her small domain. The late tenants, an artist and 
 his wife named Carpenter, had built the place for a sketch 
 ing retreat and got tired of it, and Dodo had taken it over 
 as it stood, with all its quaint, irritating furniture : ingle- 
 nook hearths where most of the fire 's heat went up the great 
 shaft of the chimney, a Dutch dresser in the prim parlor, 
 and grandfathers' clocks in every room. A fat Eve toyed 
 with a lean Adam on the kitchen door : both gave a remark 
 able impression of impropriety, and also, truth to tell, of 
 bad drawing. Dodo could not but wonder what would be 
 Lesbia 's verdict on Mr. Carpenter's conscientious nudes. 
 
 Front parlor, back parlor, kitchen so much for the 
 ground floor : Dodo ran upstairs. The large room over the 
 front parlor, with space for two beds if necessary, was to be 
 for Lesbia, the smaller one behind it for herself : the third, 
 then, must be Jeannie 's room. It looked southwards over 
 Cornwall, where far off, low and bright in a gap of the 
 hills, one could distinguish the light of Eddystone Light 
 house winking dimly through the dusk. Far other was the 
 prospect from Dodo's own chamber. Northwards the hills 
 lay huddled, peak behind peak, and the clouds that were 
 bowed over them caught a faint gloom from the windows of
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Princetown Prison, barely a mile away. Dodo threw open 
 her casement and leaned out, bathing herself in the night 
 wind as once before in the wind of early dawn. The years 
 that had seemed so long in the looking forward had slipped 
 away fast, and her probation was over : she was free to do 
 as she would with her own life. "God keep you, my dar 
 ling," she said. "I can't realize that you're really there, 
 Charles, reading in your cell by one of those lights, barely 
 a mile away. God help us both, and give me courage to go 
 on. Ah ! my lover, if you only knew " 
 
 For Auburn did not know : nor did any one else outside 
 Dodo's own small immediate circle. "When she turned her 
 back on Stanton Mere for ever, she contrived to leave be 
 hind her an impression that she was going to stay with her 
 brother for the present, and that her plans for the future 
 were unfixed. She gave no other address than that of 
 Roden's tiny flat in town. Grace Trevor, vexed, troubled, 
 but loyal, was her sole 'Confidante. The rest of Stanton 
 Mere had never taken much interest in Dodo, and was, 
 moreover, busy with the advent of a young and unmar 
 ried parson in Mr. Carminow's place. 
 
 Dodo had, in fact, made Roden's flat her headquarters 
 for a week or two, while she clinched the bargain with the 
 artistic Carpenters and completed her arrangements with 
 Lesbia. That done, she left him sorely against his will: 
 and thenceforward Dodo Carmmow ceased to exist, and 
 Dorothea Chasten came into being. Chaston was her own 
 second Christian name. "I think I'm rather too much of 
 a public character," she explained to her protesting family. 
 "My photograph was in all the halfpenny papers, you 
 know, and most of the penny ones. Some one at Prince- 
 town would be sure to have heard of me if I came on the 
 scene in my own person : and I do not think it is nice for a 
 modest young woman to figure so prominently in the glare 
 of notoriety. ' ' There was wisdom in this, as they were all 
 driven grudgingly to admit : if she must needs go off on a
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 233 
 
 wild-goose-chase, it was as well that she should drop her old 
 individuality. Her position if she were recognized would 
 be hard. 
 
 A wild-goose-chase was, however, too mild a term to be 
 used till all other resources of language had failed. 
 Idiocy; raving madness; criminal folly: these were Ber 
 nard's words. Car on, less militant, contented himself with 
 calling her a sentimental baby. Even Dickie thought her 
 action rather rot: while Roden, saying little and looking 
 less, was the hardest to cope with of all. The others resented 
 her whim only because it was a whim, eccentric, silly, and 
 expensive, and because the carrying out of it involved the 
 acceptance of Auburn's money, which stung their pride: 
 but what Roden thought Dodo could not tell. She had at 
 this time little clue to Roden 's thoughts. 
 
 For Roden was changed. When they came out of the 
 first preoccupation of sorrow, they all saw it: and the 
 change went deeper than Indian suns or even Indian fever 
 ought to have gone. Those might account for the fact that 
 he was pale and thin, and that the inveterate talker was 
 given to fits of silence, and the sweetest temper in the 
 family to fits of irritation: but they would not cover his 
 permanent languid want of interest in every one and every 
 thing, his own career included. Even the news that he was 
 appointed to an excellent billet in the War Office only drew 
 from him the remark that he had a good mind to chuck the 
 whole thing and get out of it. Clear-eyed Grace observed 
 all this and spoke of it to Dodo. "I think," she said, 
 " Roddy has some trouble in his life that neither you nor I 
 know anything about. Perhaps it is a woman. ' ' 
 
 "I've thought the same thing," said Dodo gravely: and 
 then the subject dropped, for there was nothing to be done. 
 Roden was in no mood to be questioned, and least of all by 
 Dodo. It is a trite observation that the wall of shyness 
 rises highest between those who love each other most dearly : 
 and Dickie, who was stupid, or Bernard, who was genu-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 inely uninterested, had more of Roden's confidence at this 
 time than his sister. Dodo grieved over this alienation. 
 
 Yet it had, for her, its advantages. The old Roden would 
 have been far harder to deal with. Even as it was, she did 
 not breathe freely till she was in the train for the south : she 
 dreaded up to the last moment the piercing keenness of 
 Roden's eyes and the quick cut and thrust of hard speech 
 that could not be parried. But, whatever his thoughts 
 might have been, he had said nothing, unless his closing 
 words were to be taken as a warning: "Mind you don't 
 get into mischief. Who breaks, doesn't always pay." 
 
 Dodo did not mean to have any breakages. Just as she 
 had contrived to leave Stanton Mere happy in ignorance of 
 her movements, so she made her appearance at Menval 
 without giving grounds for gossip. She paid her rent in 
 advance, and used Sir George Trevor's name as a reference. 
 She was the daughter of a country clergyman, for whose 
 death she was in mourning : her home had been broken up, 
 and her brothers were scattered : she was a trifle run down, 
 and thought it would do her good to live for a while in the 
 bracing air of Dartmoor. If she liked the place, she might 
 stay on for some months, while she was looking about her. 
 By way of chaperon she was bringing a very superior sort 
 of maid an old family servant, who was very much at 
 tached. She meant to be out all day on the moors, walking, 
 riding, sketching, leading the simple life. "It was very 
 lonely?" Oh! that was nothing to her she could not go 
 into formal society during her mourning, she did not want 
 to do so: if the vicar's wife, the doctor's wife, and the gov 
 ernor's wife would call upon her she would be fully content. 
 All these details did Dodo contrive to let fall or imply in 
 the course of her single interview with Mr. Carpenter, who, 
 having no reason to think of doubting them, not only gave 
 them currency in the neighborhood, but stamped them with 
 the sanction of his own incurious trust. Thus the surprise 
 of her arrival was discounted beforehand, and all the ques-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 285 
 
 tions were answered which might have gone buzzing round 
 that slight, curly-haired figure. 
 
 When Dodo reached Menval, she was in hourly expecta 
 tion of her quarterly letter from Auburn. That it was 
 already overdue she explained by the fact that it would 
 have to go to Eoden first. Next day she went to meet the 
 postman, but he brought her only a sheet from Grace. She 
 came back and found Lesbia, silent and grim, cleaning the 
 house down to assert her contempt for the dirty ways of all 
 artist folk, while Jeannie lay on three chairs in the dis 
 mantled kitchen and jeered at her. Dodo, clad in a sum 
 mer black muslin and an exquisite little straw hat with a 
 French-sweeping plume, paused on the threshold. 
 
 "Lesbia." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Can I do any messages for you in Princetown?" 
 
 Lesbia halted, leaning on her broom. "Are you going, 
 up to Princetownf" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "To get some shoe-laces." 
 
 "I can spare you the walk," said Jeannie. "I have 
 some." 
 
 "Quiet, Jean!" said Lesbia angrily. "No, I don't want 
 anything." She added after a moment, "Maybe I'll walk 
 up myself some time this evening." 
 
 It was a glorious day and a glorious scene : the air, warm 
 yet nimble, bathing in a blue glow all those leagues of fiery 
 gorse and wine-dark heather, while the rock-battlemented 
 tors rose up barrenly defined against the azure, and in the 
 swarded rifts between them shallow watercourses lay spread 
 out in patches of dampness that glittered like sun-smitten 
 steel. For all Dodo cared, it might have been Clapham 
 Common on a rainy day. She had acquired of late the habit 
 of intense, abstracted thought, which deadens observation. 
 At length, however, she gained the high road, and the im-
 
 236 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 mediate scenery grew less wild: scattered cottages, each 
 with its patch of cultivated ground, rose by the wayside. 
 Skirting the border of a wooded hill, she came on a village 
 that lay off along a road to the right, and in the midst of 
 which rose up, like some great factory, an immense block of 
 drab buildings enclosed in a high wall. It was Princetown 
 Prison. 
 
 Imagination is a weak thing. It needed that grey hell, 
 those rows of barred windows, to bring home to Dodo the 
 horror of prison life. She had trained herself to believe 
 that under modern civilization prison life has no horror, 
 but the sight of that ugly unfeatured place, where nearly a 
 thousand prisoners were packed together, undeceived her. 
 Nowadays, indeed, chains and the lash play no part in the 
 life of the average prisoner, but in their stead men suffer 
 unutterable tedium and monotony and mournful degrada 
 tion, so that an attempt at suicide is no rare thing in any 
 great convict establishment. "And Charles so keen on 
 yachting!" was the thought that darted into Dodo's mind, 
 bringing the saddest of smiles to her lips. She could feel 
 the passions and the miseries of the place striking out 
 across the sunlit air, and blackening it. 
 
 There lay the prison, and there, in the fields of the home 
 farm below, Dodo had her first sight of the prisoners them 
 selves. They were making hay, the late hay crop of Dart 
 moor, at no great distance from the road, and Dodo placed 
 herself beside a couple of sightseers from the village, who 
 were leaning over the stone coping of the highway to watch 
 them: small figures of men in drab jackets and breeches 
 and queer conical caps, toiling slowly and mechanically 
 under the surveillance of warders mounted or afoot, armed 
 with bayonets or rifles. Work is a good and honorable thing 
 so long as it is free, but these men were not free, and their 
 forced and languid labor added the last bitterness of dreari 
 ness to the dreary scene. The sightseers from Princetown 
 found it full of interest.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 237 
 
 "Uncle, what are those funny little things like pepper 
 boxes?" asked the younger of the two, nodding towards the 
 prison wall. 
 
 " Look-out places, my dear, where the civil guard are on 
 duty in case any o' those beauties should take it into their 
 'eads to cut and run." 
 
 " But do they ever?" 
 
 "Oftener than what you'd think for, especially in the 
 autumn when the fogs are on. I don't know what they 
 expect to get by it more than a bullet in their legs. ' ' 
 
 "Don't they ever get away? How stupid of them to go 
 on trying! What's the punishment for trying to escape?" 
 
 "Bread and water and the lock-up, and a kind of clothes 
 like a clown at a pantymine: they used to get a floggin', 
 but that's near done away with now more's the pity! 
 We're too tender with 'em by 'arf, seems to me." 
 
 "Do they all work on the farm?" 
 
 "Bless you, no! lots of 'em work in the shops indoor 
 work, that is; and some are put to reclaimin' the bog-land, 
 or road-makin', but that's only the good-conduc' men. Lots 
 of 'em work in the quarries, too. See there, down the road, 
 that 'igh wall? inside there's the quarries." It was in the 
 quarries that Auburn, so far as Dodo knew, was at work. 
 ' ' They 've dug an 'ole under the road now so 's they can get 
 to the quarries without people starin' at 'em. Oh, they're 
 uncommon tender with 'em, they are a lot o' brutes like 
 that! If I 'ad my way " 
 
 "You wouldn't hurt a fly, uncle," declared the girl 
 prettily. She slipped her hand through his arm. "Let's 
 go back to the hotel, I don't like being so near them." 
 
 She drew him away, and Dodo was left alone in the blind 
 ing sunlight. A little way off there was a place where the 
 road on either side was screened by a dense coppice, and 
 Dodo plunged into it, forcing her way through the hazels 
 and hollies till she was free from observation: and there, 
 if it had been to save her own life or Auburn's, she could
 
 238 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 not have held back the fit of strong crying that came on her. 
 She sat down on a fallen trunk and hid her face in her 
 handkerchief, afraid that her sobs would be heard from the 
 road, weeping as she had not wept since the night of the 
 reprieve convulsed, disfigured, suffocating. Her agony 
 it was no less endured some ten minutes and left her tired 
 and cold. 
 
 Dodo's tears were not of the kind that sap resolution. 
 When she had mastered herself and drawn down her black 
 veil she slipped back to the road, passed the quarries with 
 out a second glance (strange as it was to think that Auburn 
 was probably within earshot), and went on by the great 
 wall of the prison itself and the gateway overspanned by 
 so wise a motto : PARCERE SUBJECTIS. In the thick summer 
 dust she saw the print of many prisoners' feet, each 
 stamped with the broad arrow, and knew that one of those 
 footmarks showed where her lover had trod. A little farther 
 on she came to the church, enclosed in its own God's-acre, 
 and went into the churchyard for a sight of the graves. On 
 one side lay the honored dead, their names preserved on 
 cross or headstone for the love of those to whom they had 
 been dear : weak and vain effort of man to struggle against 
 the iniquity of oblivion! On the other side lay the dis 
 honored dead. No doubt they slept as quietly, but for them, 
 even in this place of universal amnesty, there was in the 
 majority of cases no cross in token of forgiveness, no name, 
 no date. There they lay in the sunshine, in rows of name 
 less mounds, and the grass flourished over them, and the 
 wind made music from it: dust returning to dust, unre- 
 gretted and unremembered. It was in this terrible church 
 yard that Dodo woke from her overwhelming oppression of 
 pain to a tenfold hardened strength of purpose. "Innocent 
 men don't live twenty years in those quarries," she said to 
 herself. "If he is left in prison he'll die, and they'll bury 
 him under one of those mounds, and he and his memory will 
 perish here together. He shall not die in prison."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 ' ' Leabia, where are you ? Has my letter come ? ' ' 
 
 Lesbia had gone upstairs to tidy herself, after her ener 
 getic spring-cleaning. She came into the kitchen now, and 
 picked up Dodo's hat, and veil, and gloves, which were 
 thrown chanceably on different chairs. "I wish you 
 wouldn't be for ever clutterin' up my kitchen with your 
 vanities, ' ' she said. ' ' What d 'ye want now ? ' ' 
 
 "Charles' letter. Has it come?" 
 
 "No, nor it's not coming: he's forgotten you or maybe 
 he's ill and can't write." 
 
 "Don't you heed her," said Jeannie, coming into the 
 room in time to hear Lesbia 's last piece of amiability. ' ' It 
 wants five minutes of one yet, and the second post isn't in 
 till the quarter past. Have you fetched the shoe-laces?" 
 
 "What incarnate teases you both are !" said Dodo, sitting 
 down on the window-seat, which looked sideways up the 
 road. ' ' No, Jeanneton, I forgot the laces, and yes, Jeanne- 
 ton, I have been crying. I know you were just going to ask 
 if I hadn 't found the dust very trying. ' ' 
 
 "Crying, my bairn? What for?" 
 
 "My first sight of the prison and the convicts. I saw 
 some of them quite close, on their way from the dairy: a 
 whole string walking two and two with warders on guard. 
 I also spent some time in the prison churchyard, and had 
 a talk with Charles' friend, Mr. Rose, the chaplain." 
 
 "You talked to him?" 
 
 "Certainly, why not? It's proper to talk to a clergy 
 man, even if you haven't been introduced. He's coming to 
 see me soon. It will be good to hear some first-hand news 
 of Charles." 
 
 "But you can't ask for him!" Lesbia exclaimed. Dodo 
 laughed at her. 
 
 "No," she said, "I can't say, 'Do you know a convict 
 named Charles Auburn?' But I can ask him whether he 
 has any gentleman prisoners, and whether it's true that 
 murderers give less trouble than any other class. Dear
 
 240 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Lesbia, did you ever know a man that didn't like talking 
 shop?" 
 
 "It's true: I'd forgotten that the boy's sure to be a 
 marked man," Lesbia admitted. "But what the better will 
 you be for that?" 
 
 "Pazienza !" said Dodo : "which is all the Italian I know, 
 and means Patience. I am in no hurry, I'll wait a twelve 
 month if need be to consolidate my position and get a sure 
 footing among these people." 
 
 "What's the man Rose like?" 
 
 "Small and brown and trim, with dark blue eyes and 
 black hair and a well-cut suit: a vivid talker, I should 
 imagine. He is High Church, so you must mind your p's 
 and q's, Lesbia: I won't have him frightened off by your 
 heresies. I do want to hear about Charles." 
 
 "Well, I wonder if he's worth it!" was Jeannie's com 
 ment. "When all's said and done, what is he? Just a 
 man!" 
 
 "An innocent man who has had three years of prison," 
 
 "I'll wager it isn't pity you feel," said Lesbia with a 
 short laugh. 
 
 She stood by the table and spoke on, bending her dark 
 eyes on Dodo's face. "He's paying for the sins of his 
 father: God knows that's a big bill, but it's up to him to 
 pay it. You and I that loved him, we've got to stand aside 
 and watch him suffer : isn 't that it ? " 
 
 "No, "said Dodo. 
 
 "No! why, what can we women do for him?" 
 
 "Set him free." 
 
 "Now you're joking, Miss Dodo." 
 
 "Ami?" 
 
 "You're never in earnest?" 
 
 "I am, as you know very well." 
 
 Lesbia had long known it, none the less Dodo's cool 
 frankness took her breath away. "Whiles I've thought 
 you were, and whiles I've thought you couldn't be," she
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 241 
 
 answered, dropping her voice, though Dodo had spoken in 
 her normal tones. "How long have you been planning 
 this?" 
 
 "Since my first night at home after the trial." 
 
 "It's midsummer madness. Do you know he may be 
 shot in escaping ? ' ' 
 
 "Better so than die in prison: it's a quicker death. But 
 I don 't intend him to fly in the face of the civil guard, you 
 know." 
 
 "What do you intend, then?" 
 
 "You'll see when the time comes. I'll tell you this 
 much : the way I mean Charles to escape is the way a man 
 actually did escape, a winter or two ago. What an ill- 
 developed Cockney thief has done, I imagine Charles can 
 do." 
 
 "And did the Cockney get away?" 
 
 Dodo shook her head. 
 
 "There it is, you see! Child, don't you know that in 
 fifty years not one prisoner has ever got away?" 
 
 "Dear me, yes ! they make a dash for it four or five times 
 in a winter, and now and then one, like my Cockney, dodges 
 the hue and cry for a couple of days, but they never get far 
 because they have no one outside the prison to help them. 
 My Cockney had no friends and no money, and after forty- 
 eight hours on the moor in the bitter winter weather he 
 gave himself up. A man with convict things on, or with 
 nothing on at all, is not likely to get far! That won't be 
 Charles' case." 
 
 "You think you could hide him?" 
 
 "A twelvemonth, if need were. Not a soul enters this 
 house but you and I and Jeannie. It won't be searched, 
 for there'll be nothing whatever to connect us with the 
 escape. ' ' 
 
 "But you couldn't keep him here for ever." 
 
 "I can till the hue and cry has died down. After that 
 we shall get him away in a closed motor-car ; and the next
 
 242 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 step will be Mr. Carew's yacht and an island under the 
 line." 
 
 "You think Mr. Carew'll help you?" 
 
 "You think Mr. Carew will betray us!" 
 
 Dodo laughed. "If he knew beforehand he would stop 
 it if he could, but I shan't tell him till it's done. As for 
 handing Charles over to the authorities, he may think it's 
 his duty, but he certainly won't do it. He'll provide the 
 money, too, for of course it will cost a good deal : but he is 
 Charles' trustee, you see, so that through him we can tap 
 Charles' own income. The yacht's crew will consist of him 
 and Charles and Piers Comfrey it won't be the first time 
 those three have sailed together. The one real difficulty I 
 foresee will be in getting Charles on board, but yachts are 
 privileged creatures, and come and go very unceremoni 
 ously. Besides, it will be months after the escape and 
 miles away from it." 
 
 "There's one thing more," said Lesbia slowly, "and a 
 pretty big thing too, to my thinking. How d'you make it 
 right with your conscience to break the law of the land? 
 For law-breaking it is, and that goes against my stomach. 
 'Obey such as are set in authority.' ' 
 
 ' ' ' For the ruler is not a terror to good works, but to the 
 evil,' " Dodo capped the quotation. "But Charles has not 
 done the evil. If he were guilty I would not lift a finger to 
 save him from the gallows. It is because he 's innocent that 
 I am free to save him : and save him I will, or die in trying. 
 Oh ! his eyes, that last night in prison ! ' ' She put her hand 
 over her own eyes, as if she could not bear the memory of 
 Auburn's look. "No, Lesbia, no! Justice is above law." 
 
 ' ' Aren 't you reckoning without your host ? ' ' said Jeannie. 
 
 Her low quiet voice struck a fresh note in the argument, 
 and they both turned to her. "How?" said Dodo. 
 
 " If he were retaken, you would run the risk of being sent 
 to jail for abetting his escape, to say nothing of a scandal 
 that would ring all over England. I don't know much of
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 248 
 
 gentlemen, and I'm not fond of the breed, but they have 
 their points, and I think Mr. Auburn is too much of a 
 gentleman to escape at your risk. You may lay your plans, 
 Miss Dorothea he '11 refuse. ' ' 
 
 "If I gave him twelve hours to think it over in, he'd 
 refuse : I know that. I shall not give him twelve hours, no, 
 nor one. I '11 carry him off his feet. ' ' Some spark of the 
 old mischief came into Dodo's eyes, the old rather wicked 
 allurement which Auburn indeed never had been and never 
 would be able to withstand. "Ah! you know Charles and 
 you know me, but you don't know me and Charles. He'll 
 repent afterwards I expect I shall have a lively time of it 
 with him: but he'll come. I can whistle him " 
 
 "Here's the post," said Lesbia. 
 
 A moment later Dodo had torn open a covering letter of 
 Roden's and taken from it a sheet of prison paper. The 
 strong, small, irregular writing had grown smaller and 
 blacker than ever, and the odd short lines Auburn's let 
 ters always looked like a copy of verses zigzagged errati 
 cally across the page : terse it was and to the point, as be 
 fitted a letter that had to pass under Major Topham's gold- 
 rimmed glasses and through the hands of Hugh Rose. 
 
 "PBINCETOWN," 
 
 August 27th. 
 
 "MY DEAR DODO, I am very sorry about Mr. Car- 
 minow's death. I was sorry not to be able to write before. 
 He's well quit of it all, but it is hard on you. But I am 
 glad you are leaving Stanton Mere. Roland came here a 
 week ago, who told me he saw you in Town with Roden, 
 looking blooming. That is far better for you. Old scandals 
 die hard in the country, but town memories are short. It 
 will be a new life for you, and you must drop the old one. 
 This is the last letter you will ever get from me. 
 
 "It is a silly business: keeps alive, or half alive, what 
 had much better (for both of us) be dead. I shall not write 
 again, and you are not to write to me. If you do, I will
 
 244 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 not read your letters. They will be sent back to you un 
 opened. Understand, the thing is done with now, and you 
 are free. I am certain you are full as tired of it as I am, 
 so let us have no more sentimentalizing over the grave, 
 please. You will think me an uncivil brute, but convict 
 life knocks the romance out of one (and the manners) and 
 knocks some common sense in. So good-bye. 
 " 'Regards to all if they care to have them. 
 
 "O.A."
 
 XXV. 
 
 DODO locked up that letter in her drawer and spoke 
 of it to no one. It was not the first time that Auburn 
 had struck at her : probably it would not be the last. She 
 knew that what he said was not true, for if it had been he 
 would never have said it. He was far too chivalrous to 
 throw a woman over if he were really tired of her. How 
 she came by this certainty she could not have explained: 
 she had known him not quite two months, and she was per 
 suaded that she read him to the depths of his nature. Why, 
 then, did the letter cut so deep ? Partly because it shut her 
 off altogether from communication with Auburn, for she 
 knew him too well to dispute his orders : but chiefly because, 
 though it could not overthrow her certainty of his love, it 
 did shake her confidence in her own power. Unforeseen, it 
 reminded her how frail all plans are that depend for their 
 carrying out on the passivity of a second human will. 
 
 No matter for that : even when her heart failed her she 
 never dreamed of turning back. She locked away Auburn 's 
 letter and turned to practical affairs. She had come pre 
 pared to play a waiting game, to let time slip away like 
 water rather than run a needless risk, and her first care 
 was to consolidate her position. With this end in view she 
 listened gravely to Hugh Eose's sermons (he was a bad 
 preacher), or carried into Menval's wind-swept cottages 
 the practical charity that she had learned in Stanton Mere. 
 She was seen sketching on the moor, her dress trim and 
 suitable, her air composed and merry. Mr. Rose, who was 
 greatly taken with her, sang her praises to Mrs. Topham, 
 and by a judicious use of what he had heard from the 
 
 245
 
 246 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Carpenters about Sir George Trevor, induced that lady to 
 carry her gold card-case to Heather Cottage. Dodo soon 
 found herself adopted into the small circle of Princetown 
 society: the very warder on guard at the prison gateway 
 learned to salute her as she passed. It maddened Dodo to 
 remember that if he was respectful to her Auburn had to 
 be equally respectful to him. 
 
 Meanwhile the weeks ran by, and summer ebbed into 
 autumn. Dodo did not grudge this loss of time : she was 
 like a prudent builder, who thinks no time lost that is spent 
 on solidifying his foundations. Now and then she was 
 moved to smile at the disproportion between means and 
 end, but she kept the end steadily in view, and she was too 
 practical to chafe under the day of small things. Hugh 
 Rose's coal-club and Mrs. Topham's card case were among 
 the many slight but significant touches by which Dodo 
 painted in her portrait of a normal young lady without a 
 care in the world. 
 
 It was on a late October evening that the tide began to 
 turn. 
 
 Dodo had seen Hugh Rose many times during the inter 
 val, but her instincts of caution had warned her to go very 
 carefully, and it was not till the night of the Tophams' 
 dinner that she entered into her first intimate conversation 
 with the priest, who thought her a sweet and most intelli 
 gent young woman. He no more suspected that their 
 pleasant talk in the conservatory was the bourne towards 
 which Dodo's plans had been converging for the last three 
 months, than he recognized in her the notorious Dorothea 
 Carininow of the Auburn murder trial. He would not have 
 believed it if he had been told so. No mystery hung round 
 Dodo, she was absolutely the typical English girl : it was 
 impossible to conceive of her in any unique or tragic rela 
 tion. Her foothold, so far, was secure. 
 
 In the Tophams' big double drawing-room Major Top-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 247 
 
 ham was drinking coffee on the hearth-rug and conversing 
 with the Chichesters of Caire, while Dr. Leigh and Ida 
 Topham turned over a volume of photographs, and Mrs. 
 Topham sat at the piano, handsome and cheery, running 
 through the score of Veronique for the benefit of a neigh 
 boring vicar and his wife. The doors of the conservatory 
 stood open, so that Dodo and her cavalier were distinctly 
 visible ; Dodo slight and elegant in her black gown and airy 
 scarf, Rose bending forward in his deck chair to point his 
 speech with lively movements of the hands. What they 
 said, however, could not be heard through the dashing 
 chords of Veronique. 
 
 "And don't you find your work awfully trying?" Dodo 
 asked, lifting her great blue eyes to the tired, dark face of 
 the priest. 
 
 "I might, if I let myself think about it." 
 
 "One feels that it must be so hopeless." 
 
 "Why, you see," Rose answered, his features lighting 
 up with his rare, half melancholy smile, "that's the crux 
 of the whole problem. Some think a prison ohaplain 's life 
 is spent in administering consolation to the penitent and 
 returning sinner." 
 
 "Oh, I shouldn't think that!" Dodo exclaimed, with a 
 lively vision of Auburn's mocking eyes. 
 
 "Exactly. It isn't. But then others think he has nothing 
 to do but thunder judgment against a set of hardened and 
 brutal ruffians." 
 
 Dodo shook her head. "They couldn't all be bad." 
 
 "Emphatically not. But I'll tell you what they all are 
 innocent." 
 
 "Do they say so?" 
 
 "Not in so many words, but it all depends on the point 
 of view. They don't, in many cases, deny that they com 
 mitted a crime, but then there were so many excuses to be 
 made for them! Bad companions bad books sudden 
 temptation pressure of poverty heat of anger want of
 
 248 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 thought there's no end to the excuses they find ! The wit 
 nesses were their enemies, of course that's human nature : 
 the lawyers were bribed sometimes the judge into the bar 
 gain. Miss Chaston, there's a perversion in the criminal 
 mind which renders a man incapable, I do believe, of seeing 
 his sin in its true light. Even the superior ones, the edu 
 cated men who do profess regret, mix it up with railing at 
 the false friends who misled them and the venial counsel 
 who blackened the case." 
 
 "Do you but perhaps I oughtn't " 
 
 "What? Please finish your sentence." 
 
 "I was wondering whether it was against etiquette for 
 me to ask you about the prisoners. I've so often wanted to, 
 but I was afraid of being indiscreet." 
 
 Rose smiled. ' ' There can be no indiscretion so long as I 
 don't mention names. We're not supposed to do that, but 
 there's no harm in my talking about the general aspects of 
 my work among them, that is if it interests you. What 
 were you going to say?" 
 
 "Do you think any of them are really innocent?" 
 
 "No. I don't believe innocent men get sent to prison. 
 People make a lot of fuss about it, but that's all humbug. 
 Of course a case does occur now and then " he turned his 
 head away and sighed "but very rarely." 
 
 "It is horrible to think of its ever happening, isn't it?" 
 murmured Dodo. 
 
 "Horrible," said Rose shortly. "But no human system 
 is or ever could be perfect." 
 
 "Ah, that's the man's point of view," laughed Dodo: 
 "you look at the case from its broad, practical aspect. 
 Women, you know, never find it easy to be philosophical." 
 
 "Heaven forbid that any man should find it easy to be 
 philosophical! I assure you, I don't." 
 
 "You say that as if !" 
 
 'Do I? Ah, it's nonsense, of course: Major Topham 
 would tell me it's my Celtic imagination. But the fact is
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 249 
 
 I've been to see a man this morning about whom I can't 
 help feeling uncomfortable. I knew him first at Worm 
 wood Scrubs I was there for some years before I came 
 here and I 've never felt happy about him from the first : 
 and yet I know it's purely fanciful. There can't be any 
 thing in it." 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "I've taken the trouble to look up his case in a file of 
 old reports it was a very sensational case, you would know 
 the name in a moment if I told you " 
 
 "I don't," said Dodo prudishly, "as a rule, take much 
 interest in sensational trials." 
 
 "Ah, no, no ! but this was quite exceptional all England 
 was ringing with it ! He was well known in London, and 
 the court was filled with smart people. He was only five- 
 and-thirty, and very well off." 
 
 "A gentleman prisoner? I was going to ask you if you 
 had any, and how they got on." 
 
 "We have a good many, but he is probably the most 
 notorious of all. It was an atrocious crime, and the case 
 was proved up to the hilt by circumstantial evidence, of 
 course : but the cane with which the murder was committed 
 was found on the floor of the room and positively identi 
 fied I beg your pardon, I am straying into gruesome 
 details!" 
 
 "Oh no, it's most interesting. Please go on about the 
 poor man." 
 
 " 'Poor man'!" Kose echoed, smiling at this instance of 
 a woman's habit of leaping to conclusions. "He is a 
 cowardly murderer, Miss Chaston, and I am a sentimental 
 fool to have any doubt about it indeed, I haven't. All the 
 same, it is a case to break one's heart. I've never got him 
 to vary from his statement that he is innocent. He doesn't 
 loudly assert it, he simply takes it for granted and expects 
 me to do the same. He's a very gentlemanly fellow, of 
 course, and must have been decidedly good-looking "
 
 250 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Does prison life turn people ugly ?" Dodo asked, stifling 
 an intolerable spasm. 
 
 "Well, naturally, the clothes and the shaven head and 
 all that don't make for beauty. Besides, the work's pretty 
 hard and the fare not luxurious." 
 
 1 ' What work is he doing ? ' ' 
 
 "None at all, just at present. He has been on the sick 
 list for a month or more " Dodo turned quickly, and bent 
 over a pot of chrysanthemums "nothing very serious, only 
 a crushed foot. I'm afraid you're feeling the heat, Miss 
 Chaston?" 
 
 "No, oh, no! It is so much cooler out here than in the 
 drawing-room," Dodo answered, plying her fan with a 
 languid swinging movement which partly veiled her face. 
 The unsuspicious frankness of Hugh Rose had made her at 
 first feel miserably like a spy, but before this news, so un 
 expected, her compunction vanished : she could think only 
 of Auburn sick and suffering in the rough hands of warder 
 nurses. "No, really, I don't want to go in: it's far hotter 
 in the drawing-room, and besides I'm interested in what 
 you were saying. Do go on about your poor convict." 
 
 "My poor convict? Oh, he's much better: he'll be out 
 of hospital in a day or two. He was working in the quar 
 ries, and managed to upset a barrowful of stones over his 
 own legs, but there was not much harm done. I told him 
 I believed he'd done it on purpose." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "Oh, he only laughed. He's not a malingerer. Some of 
 our gentleman prisoners spend half their time in the in 
 firmary, but he's never been there before. He likes the 
 work, I fancy: any thing's better than brooding." 
 
 "Does he brood?" 
 
 "He doesn't take me into his confidence," Rose answered 
 gravely. "He's not communicative about himself. He's 
 one of the coolest fellows I know, and chaffs me in the most 
 outrageous way without a particle of respect: but for all
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 251 
 
 that I can't answer for what he's like when he's alone. I 
 try to cheer him up as best I can : but, you know, what can 
 one say?" 
 
 Rose thrust his hands into hig pockets and sat with 
 knitted brows, gloomily turning over this problem in his 
 mind: a hard riddle to answer. Signs of movement were 
 visible within the drawing-room, and Dodo began to draw 
 on her gloves. 
 
 ' ' I should like to see him, ' ' she said, smoothing down her 
 forefinger with extreme care. "What will he do when he 
 goes back to work be sent to the quarries again?" 
 
 ' ' That I don 't know. When I last saw him he was very 
 keen to be drafted off with the road-mending gang, in which 
 case you would have every opportunity of seeing him : but 
 whether he '11 get his wish, of course, is more than I can say. 
 I shouldn't wonder if he did : road-mending is reserved for 
 the good-conduct men as a rule, and he, poor fellow, has 
 led an exemplary career, at Princetown at all events. Dear 
 me, I'm afraid I've been talking an unconscionable lot of 
 shop ! ' ' said Hugh Rose, smiling down at his little friend. 
 "It was your fault, though: you lured me on with your 
 sympathetic questions! I hope you haven't been bored to 
 death." 
 
 "How can you say so?" protested Dodo. "Don't you 
 know that every one is always interested in prison life 7 I 
 assure you, Mr. Rose, I've been deeply absorbed in every 
 word you said, and if your romantic prisoner does get sent 
 out road-mending I shall most certainly go and have a peep 
 at him." 
 
 "But you won't know him," Rose pointed out. 
 
 "Oh! you'll describe him to me," said Dodo.
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THE key grated in the lock, the door opened : Auburn 
 sprang up and laid aside the book a Spanish gram 
 mar with which he had been grappling. ' ' Ha ! Eose, this 
 is good of you. I've been wondering whether you ever 
 meant to come near me again. Sit, will you? you look 
 tired." 
 
 "I am tired," Hugh Eose acknowledged, seating him 
 self on the wooden stool which was all Auburn had to offer 
 him. "I've had a long morning, and a hard one." He 
 sighed and brushed his hand across his forehead with a 
 quick nervous movement that was habitual with him. 
 Auburn laughed, and let himself drop down on the speck- 
 less floor of his cell, where he sat with his back to the wall 
 and his long legs extended. He had from the first declined 
 to treat Mr. Eose on any other footing than that of a 
 normal friendship, and the priest, who was the last man 
 in the world to stand on his dignity, had accepted the situ 
 ation with goodwill. It was between twelve and one o 'clock 
 on the morning of a dark November day in the fourth year 
 of Auburn's imprisonment, and he had just finished his 
 midday meal. His empty dinner-can testified to the sound 
 ness of his appetite, for beans and fat bacon are not epi 
 cure's fare. 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked the prisoner sympatheti 
 cally, "got hold of a hard case?" 
 
 "I'm afraid so. The utterly unimpressionable type. 
 And the man's in on a charge of m " 
 
 "Murder : don't mind me !" said Auburn gaily. "You're 
 hypersensitive, my dear fellow. Is it the little rat-faced 
 
 252
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 258 
 
 man that's just been put into our push? I've observed 
 that he's going to come out on top, though there are half a 
 dozen of us that could put him in our pockets. But the 
 aristocracy of crime doesn't rest on brute force. What's 
 your six-foot bruiser compared with an honorable thief? 
 And, as in the old duelling days, the crowning distinction 
 is to have killed your man. As for me, I've got to sit low 
 to Jimmy Jones. I'm only a tyro an amateur." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't sit low to him, then. I believe he's 
 a plague-spot of corruption. But he's managed to get 
 round Brown, somehow." 
 
 11 Brown's an ass, and Jimmy is a little beast. I'm sorry 
 to have to say it of him, for he hails from my own part of 
 the world: introduced himself to me as a compatriot, in 
 fact, not to say an old friend. He was in court the day I 
 was sentenced, and improved the occasion I mention this 
 in confidence by prigging a wipe under the usher's very 
 nose. ' ' 
 
 " Prigging a what?" 
 
 "Nosewipe, nosewipe," said Auburn patiently: "my dear 
 Rose, what a very verdant Hugh you are more like a 
 green carnation, in fact. No, don 't try to think it out, it '11 
 only give you a headache. So Jimmy's a plague-spot, is 
 he? I can believe it. Shall I knock him down for you 
 sometime ? ' ' 
 
 "And get yourself into trouble? Certainly not." 
 
 "I did it once, and I didn't get into trouble. I heard 
 things going on that were unseemly, so I took my time to 
 interfere. My lord he was a long-firm man, and had been 
 at Oxford picked himself up pretty quickly, and said 
 things which I don't think he could have learned even at 
 Oxford, beastly hole though it be." Hugh Rose was a 
 Balliol man. "Robyns came up, heard what he had to say, 
 looked at his black eye and my knuckles, and told him to 
 get on with his work double quick time. Pretty smart of 
 Robyns, hey? If I hear the same sort of thing going on,
 
 254 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 I'll work the same oracle. I have said a word or two al 
 ready, for which Jimmy glowers at me like a mad ferret. 
 There are one or two even here who don't know absolutely 
 all the foulness there is in the world, and it's a pity to 
 brush the dew off their wings." 
 
 ''There isn't much that you don't know." 
 
 "No, by Jove," agreed Auburn simply. "There are 
 times when I feel as if my mind would like a bath. Come ! 
 dismiss Jimmy for the present. I'll say a word in season 
 for you, so don't worry. Isn't it a perfectly foul day ? All 
 the same I'm yearning for one o'clock: I want to be at 
 work again. You know they've put me on the roads?" 
 
 " So I 've heard. Are you glad ? ' ' 
 
 "Glad!" Auburn threw up his hands. "Glad! Bless 
 the man ! Would you be glad, do you think, to get a breath 
 of moor air and a glimpse of the hills after being boxed up 
 in the quarries for six months ? Yes, I am glad, more than 
 glad. I " 
 
 "You what?" asked Rose sharply. 
 
 "Nothing. What else have you been doing?" 
 
 "What were you going to say?" 
 
 "Don't be so damned inquisitive. Ah! I beg your par 
 don, I forgot your cloth always do forget it, I don't know 
 why: you're so very unlike the typical parson." 
 
 "The conventional parson, don't you mean?" said Rose 
 dryly. He dropped the question of Auburn's broken sen 
 tence: he had long found it increasingly hard to wring 
 from Auburn any confession of weakness, bodily or mental, 
 such as he divined to have been on the tip of the prisoner's 
 tongue. "I suspect your acquaintance with parsons is 
 limited." 
 
 "Not at all: one of the most charming scamps I ever 
 knew waa a parson, and commenced saint in later life. I 
 only knew him in the latter capacity, but I believe he was 
 equally delightful in both." 
 
 "Much obliged for the compliment! We're not so bad,
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 255 
 
 you know, take us all round. But you agnostics always 
 think you know everything." 
 
 "I think I know quite a good deal of Spanish," Auburn 
 remarked irrelevantly. "It will be tremendously useful 
 when next I run over to Spain. I'm grateful to you for 
 that tip, you know, but I wish I could lay hands on some 
 more Spanish literature. I want to read Don Quixote in 
 the original." 
 
 "How do you get on with your road-mending?" Kose 
 asked. Auburn laughed again, and held up his hands for 
 inspection. They were tanned and roughened and hardened 
 like those of a field-laborer: one of the right finger-nails 
 was blackened, and Auburn tapped it with his left fore 
 finger. 
 
 "Not so badly, considering I'm not exactly a skilled 
 artisan. This nail's coming off, I think, but that's the only 
 damage so far. I can swing a pick as one to the manner 
 born, as if as if I 'd spent my life mining in Piccadilly. I 
 recollect I used to bless the L.C.C. for blocking the road in 
 those days. Queer, these changes ! ' ' 
 
 "You have certainly seen some queer changes in your 
 life." 
 
 "Yes, quite. I say, how did the Whitney election go 
 off?" 
 
 " I 've no business to tell you. The Liberal got in with an 
 increased majority." 
 
 "Lucky for Yarborough, the byes going in his favor like 
 this : it '11 give him a shove in the right direction. Oh, you 
 Tories! It's not to be wondered at that God allows you to 
 exist, though, since He created fleas." 
 
 Rose bore with this rather unnecessarily strong expres 
 sion of political sympathy in unmoved good-humor. "Well, 
 I'm glad you like your road-mending," he said cheerfully. 
 "How are you off as regards the sleeping? Dent did not 
 give me much account of you this morning." 
 
 "Dent's an old woman."
 
 256 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Are you better, then? How many hours did you get 
 last night?" 
 
 "Don't know," said Auburn coolly: "do you suppose I 
 sleep with my watch under my pillow? If Dent talks to 
 you about me, do me the favor to rub it well into what he 
 calls his head that I won't be sent back to hospital. I'm 
 perfectly fit except for the not sleeping, and that '11 get all 
 right now I'm at work again. I wish to heaven I'd never 
 said a word about it ! only I thought he ought to be able to 
 patch me up with some of his beastly drugs. Tell me some 
 more newspaper news : how 's the sea serpent ? It 's about 
 due I should say." 
 
 Rose looked at him for some moments without answering. 
 Auburn was as brown as a berry and as lean as a lath, and 
 the hideous convict clothing hung on his spare athletic 
 figure like a sack, but apart from his want of flesh and the 
 remarkable brilliance of his eyes he looked very well ; and, 
 indeed, nothing ailed him except a fit of insomnia, which 
 had come on him like a strong man armed when he was sent 
 to hospital with his injured foot. The foot had ceased to 
 pain him, but the sleeplessness continued, and he was being 
 dosed with bromide in doses of rapidly increasing strength. 
 Rose laid his cool, sinewy hand suddenly on Auburn's wrist, 
 and held him so for a minute. 
 
 "You're very jerky, Auburn. Did you sleep at all last 
 night ? There, never mind : only, when you compare me to 
 a flea, you know, I look for some physical explanation of 
 your crankiness. I don 't think there was much news in the 
 paper to-day, but I've really hardly had time to glance at 
 it. I 've been across taking service in church it is a Saint 's 
 
 day, you know " 
 
 "To be sure!" said Auburn. "It had slipped my mind 
 for the moment. ' ' 
 
 "Scoffer! I met a very pretty girl there, by the bye: I 
 should think I stayed with her a good ten minutes, talking 
 about the graves in the churchyard " again he bit his
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 857 
 
 lip : it was so hard to find anything to talk about that was 
 not likely to lead into some such blind alley! Auburn's 
 derisive smile concealed, this time, a sinking heart. He 
 knew of those graves, and had speculated upon his chance 
 of lying under one of them some day. But he did not be 
 tray that fact. 
 
 "Continue!" said he. "Nameless graves very sad 
 Shed a tear and plant a daisy. I know the sort of thing. 
 She proposed to shed the tear and help you plant the 
 daisy." 
 
 "Nothing of the sort," said Eose crossly. "She is a 
 perfectly proper young lady, and is living at Menval 
 that 's the next village down the line for bracing air. She 
 took over a house that some people named Carpenter used 
 to live in, and they told me about her before they went. 
 Poor girl! she is in deep mourning. I fancy they said she 
 had just lost her father: anyhow I know she is a clergy 
 man's daughter, because she told me so." 
 
 "Really?" said Auburn. His thoughts had flown to 
 another young lady who was in the same situation, but he 
 did not betray that fact any more than the other, unless it 
 were in an accession of levity. "In that case she is prob 
 ably a chorus-girl. I never knew a chorus-girl and I have 
 known a good many in my time who wasn 't a clergyman 's 
 daughter. ' ' 
 
 "You're incorrigible," Kose declared, half vexed. "I 
 shall tell Dent to send you to the infirmary!" 
 
 "No, don't hit below the belt. Tell me some more about 
 your young lady. It 's years since I 've seen or heard of a 
 woman. What was she like really pretty?" 
 
 "I think so: fair hair and blue eyes and an ingenuous 
 sort of face. Bather an old-fashioned type, I should say: 
 the sort of girl that one instinctively wants to take her 
 ticket for." It was a pity Dodo could not hear this tribute 
 to her innocent airs. "I've met her several times at the 
 Governor's. She's deeply interested in prison life. I fancy
 
 258 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 she cherishes a private suspicion that all prisoners are half 
 starved." 
 
 1 ' So they are at least, I am. I 'd give a thousand pounds 
 for a rump steak any day. It must be jolly to talk to a 
 woman, you lucky beggar ! Did you tell her moving tales 
 about your star prisoners?" With wicked acuteness 
 Auburn caught the quick unconscious play of expression in 
 the priest's dark eyes, and the color sprang to his cheeks 
 as he translated Rose's thought into words. "Myself, for 
 example ? Did I point the moral ? Ah ! I wish I 'd heard 
 you." 
 
 ' ' I wish you had, ' ' Rose answered gravely. ' ' You would 
 be none the worse for a woman's pity." 
 
 Auburn's indefinable and fleeting grimace indicated that 
 he set no great store by such ware. "She must be very 
 ingenuous to pity a convicted murderer at second-hand," 
 he said. "No, you may have her: I gave her to you! I 
 hate ingenuous young ladies. Sweet, artless things! they 
 know a trick or two. ' ' 
 
 "Shame on you, Auburn! You of all men ought not to 
 sneer at women." 
 
 "What makes you say that?" said Auburn. 
 
 He had never spoken Dodo's name in Rose's hearing. 
 The priest colored high, conscious of having allowed a quick 
 temper and a Celtic imagination to run away with him. 
 
 "Forgive me: I ought not to have said it." 
 
 "But why did you say it?" 
 
 "You forget that your letters pass through my hands." 
 
 "True," said Auburn, "I did forget." 
 
 Rose could have bitten his tongue out. Reading 
 Auburn's letters year by year, he knew none better how 
 sore the wound was: knew, too, that he of all men, in his 
 official position, had least right to meddle with it. But the 
 mischief was done now. He touched Auburn gently on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "It was unpardonable of me to say that, it was trading
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 259 
 
 on a forced confidence. But I only wanted to pull you up. 
 You provoke me excessively, Auburn, when you get on that 
 cynical note. It is so unreal. In your heart you know very 
 well that you respect women : and what 's more, you respect 
 me too, and my profession. But when you're in one of 
 these cranky moods you go on and on like a fiddle that's 
 out of tune." 
 
 ''Damn you!" said Auburn under his breath. "You 
 know very well that I never allow you to talk to me of my 
 private affairs." 
 
 It was odd language from prisoner to chaplain, but Rose 
 thought of that as little as Auburn did. He sat for a few 
 moments silent: but the hard coldness of Auburn's face 
 warned him that his time was thrown away, and he rose 
 and touched the indicator over the door. 
 
 "I'm very sorry. I'll look in again to-morrow. Don't 
 bear malice, Auburn! Ah, here's Robyns to let me out. 
 Good-bye, my friend." 
 
 A shrug of the shoulders was Auburn's only reply, and 
 Rose went out sighing. Left alone, Auburn fell to pacing 
 his cell while he conjugated Spanish irregular verbs. He 
 could no longer trust himself to think of Dodo. 
 
 For his faith in her was dead. Never for a long while 
 had come an interview with Roland that he did not expect 
 to hear of her marriage. If she was loyal, why had she 
 never once come to see him? He knew her and her people 
 too well to believe that any conventional scruple would 
 have debarred her. Since she did not come, it was because 
 she did not want to come : and, though her letters had ar 
 rived with unfailing punctuality, they had not been couched 
 in such a language of passion as to reassure him. They 
 were written for the official eye, of course, and with such a 
 fate in view one is loth to be expansive, but this reflection 
 did not console Auburn for the laconic simplicity with 
 which Dodo began, "My dear Charles," and ended "Yours 
 very sincerely, D. C. Carminow." Those written since the
 
 260 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 death of Mr. Carminow had been peculiarly brief and 
 vague: the last, which had arrived under cover of a line 
 from Eoden, gave him no detail of her future movements, 
 and no address but that of Eoden 's flat in town. It was 
 after getting this letter that Auburn finally resolved to 
 break the links that held her, and, with a Quixotry sadly 
 thrown away on Dodo's lucid common sense, wrung from 
 himself those half -insolent lines whose value Dodo had 
 gauged so accurately. But, if he was Quixotic and absurd, 
 he paid for it : for his letter, and the blank of silence that 
 followed it, cost him dear. He felt himself now absolutely 
 forgotten : and he could not forget. As the dreary autumn 
 rolled by, the longing for news of Dodo so wrought on him 
 that he knew not how to bear it. Faith was dead in him, 
 but love was tenaciously alive, and jealousy, which is as 
 cruel as the grave. It was the thought of Dodo in another 
 man's arms, while he himself was locked within four walls 
 and could not get to her, that had once or twice, by night, 
 broken her lover down to tears. 
 
 At length Robyns reappeared. It was one o'clock. 
 Auburn was marched out with his comrades to the parade- 
 grounds, there to undergo the superficial search which took 
 place four times a day. This ceremony over, the great com 
 pany of misery cheerful enough to the eye was drafted 
 off in different detachments, some to the shops, some to the 
 farm, others, and Auburn with them, to the task of road- 
 mending which was reserved for good-conduct men. Under 
 escort of armed warders the file marched out of the prison 
 gates and up the rambling street. A belated tourist 
 (Princetown in the summer months was a favorite resort 
 of sightseers) snapped his camera at them as they went 
 by, to the strong indignation of the warders, and to the 
 dismay of some of the prisoners, who threw up their 
 hands to ward off recognition as though it had been a blow : 
 significant gesture! Auburn, in the front rank, was not 
 one of these.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 261 
 
 It was a miserable afternoon. Auburn cared little for 
 that. His lean sinewy body was immune by this time 
 against physical aches and pains, and even Dartmoor under 
 a crawling haze was better than the four walls of his cell. 
 It was glorious work: work that taxed the muscles and 
 gave a man a chance of the weariness that brings blessed 
 sleep. There were clouds and hills, wide tracts of moor 
 land, hedges wet with wintry dew, a free cold movement of 
 wind blowing in from the sea: there was also a constant 
 under-current of lip conversation, which, if not always 
 edifying, was at least better than a man's own thoughts. 
 Traffic passed along the road : Devon country folk, slow of 
 gait and of speech ; market carts, with wheels creaking and 
 harness a- jangle ; Mrs. Chichester 's carriage and pair, with 
 a quartette of ladies and men. Auburn had to step aside as 
 the last went by, and he stood erect, straightening his bent 
 shoulders, running the gauntlet of looks divided between 
 pity and healthy British scorn. He could well imagine that 
 for the next few hundred yards, till the working party 
 should be out of sight, that quartette would be conscious of 
 a shadow. Oh, this best of all possible worlds ! They would 
 not eat the less bread and butter for having seen a gang of 
 convicts at work. Auburn's neighbor was the Cockney 
 thief, Jimmy Jones, and Auburn was not surprised, nor 
 altogether unsympathetic, when he heard the little ruffian 
 
 mutter, "I s'pose they think they're toffs, an' we're 
 
 the dirt under their feet." 
 
 "And aren't we?" said Auburn. Jimmy gave him an 
 evil look. 
 
 "And you think you're a toff too, I s'pose? Ga-awd 
 luv yer!" he drawled out the oath with vicious slow em 
 phasis. "Ill get upsides with them an' you too one o' 
 these days, Mr. Sir Charles Auburn of Auburn, Hants, 
 
 Barrernet now you go an' peach to the screw an' 
 
 say I threatened yer!" 
 
 "I shan't peach," said Auburn coolly, "but I wouldn't
 
 262 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 advise you to threaten. I could put you down with one 
 hand, Jimmy." 
 
 "Ho, could you!" said Jimmy, growing almost audible 
 between surprise and rage. Auburn by the nicker of an 
 eyelid indicated the approach of a warder, but they were at 
 the end of the gang, and Brown stopped to speak to a 
 novice. Jimmy turned his face towards Auburn, the thin 
 lips working crookedly. ' ' Same like you did the old 'un 
 eh?" 
 
 "With one hand, Jimmy. And I shall do it, too, if I 
 hear any more of the talk that was going on this morning. 
 I think you know what I mean." 
 
 "Well, of all the blasted !" 
 
 But Jimmy's livid rage had betrayed him to a pair of 
 keen eyes which saw in a moment that more was passing 
 than the ordinary illicit conversation. "Come, that's 
 enough," said Brown peremptorily, "get on with your 
 work, Jones, and you too, Auburn I '11 have no quarrelling, 
 d'you hear?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Auburn. 
 
 Grey clouds, dusking towards brown, with never a rift 
 of sun, so that one could not tell east from west, though it 
 was near sunset: infinite desolation of moorland, rough 
 marshes half reclaimed below, bleak skies of impending 
 winter above: in the foreground of the scene a string of 
 men in grotesque clothes working on the road under the 
 superintendence of armed warders: such was Dartmoor as 
 Dodo saw it on that grim November day. 
 
 She came slowly up the road towards the gang of con 
 victs, one of whom she knew, from her talk with Hugh 
 Rose that morning, to be her lover. At her side walked 
 Lesbia, pale and strong, but silent as she : neither woman 
 had a thought to spare from what was coming. Now that 
 the time drew near to act, Dodo longed to postpone it. 
 Those grey dwarfs, toiling under armed surveillance amid
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 the bleak immensity of the November moor could one of 
 those be Auburn? If so, he was sorely changed. What 
 stunted, bestial figures! Was Auburn like that, he, too, 
 disfigured and bestialized by three years of shame and 
 misery? A swarm of terrors teemed in Dodo's mind. Had 
 she, after all, wit, coolness, courage, to go through it with 
 out self-betrayal? And still more her lover, unwarned, 
 unready was she not asking too much, even of Auburn's 
 seasoned hardihood ? Would he betray himself ? Woe, woe 
 if he did, both to him and to her ! 
 
 Her agony lasted till she saw him : and that was not till 
 she came abreast of the gang, for he was at the far end of 
 it. He was chipping flints, and his eyes were on his work. 
 Dodo watched him stealthily, hungrily, as a woman might 
 peer at the babe she had forsaken. How thin his hands 
 had grown! He was thin altogether: lean, haggard, 
 bleached under his sunburn. His face was pinched : there 
 were hollows at the temples and lines about the nostrils. 
 Yet it was a fine head, and contrasted well with the debased 
 faces near him : it bore the stamp of intellectual force, the 
 refinement of clean thoughts, and iron self-control. All 
 Dodo's terrors fled at this one view of him, and left her 
 steeled into abnormal strength. 
 
 As they came up, the women took note of his position. 
 Had it been unfavorable, they would have passed on, for 
 Dodo took no needless risks : but it chanced to be lucky. He 
 was last in the gang ; Jimmy Jones, his next neighbor, was 
 also chipping flints, and seemed to be pretty thoroughly 
 absorbed in his task. Brown, a few paces away, was rating 
 a shirker, but broke off to watch the women safely through 
 his division of the file, and to salute Dodo, whom he recog 
 nized as a friend of the Governor's wife. To him stepped 
 Lesbia, riveting all idle eyes, as Dodo had reckoned, by her 
 unfamiliar rich accent and remarkable looks. "Could you 
 tell me the time, sir ? My mistress and I want to get on to 
 Two Bridges, but I'm thinking we shall be benighted."
 
 264 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Meanwhile, under cover of this conjurer's patter, Dodo, 
 strolling on by Auburn's side of the road, had come so 
 near to him that she could have thrown her arms round his 
 neck. Auburn, struck by what seemed to him to be a 
 strange duplicate of Lesbia's tones, looked up, not with 
 the ugly sidelong peep of his mates, but with the old 
 straight and keen glance. Their eyea met: neither spoke. 
 Auburn stood quite still, leaning his clenched hands on the 
 handle of his pick. Dodo was carrying a muff: she let it 
 fall, and when she picked it up she left, where it had fallen, 
 a tiny packet. 
 
 As she rose and felt his eyes on her again, the knowledge 
 came to Dodo that if she delayed another moment she 
 would be in Auburn's arms. She would have liked to 
 delay. It would have been the loss of all : good ! would not 
 all be well lost if but for one moment she could be in 
 Auburn's arms? It was only by a blind exertion of will 
 that she could force herself to look aside and go quietly on 
 down the road. Not a touch, not a syllabi e did they ex 
 change. Dodo had longed for a chance to slip the parcel 
 into his hand, but that was before she saw him in the flesh. 
 Touch his hand? One touch, and she would have been on 
 his breast.
 
 XXVII. 
 
 then, Auburn, are you going to sleep?" 
 Auburn was still leaning on his pick, motionless, 
 and he looked so queer that Brown, a good-natured fellow 
 in the main, though given to hectoring came up and 
 touched his arm. " What's wrong with you, eh?" 
 
 Dodo's packet lay not six inches from Brown's foot. It 
 was small and very thin, and covered with silk that matched 
 the road. Auburn came to his senses and to the knowledge 
 that he must not, for his life, look down at it, or try to get 
 hold of it or to hide it. 
 
 "I felt queer for a moment. I'm all right now, thanks." 
 
 ' ' Well, get on with your j ob, then. This ain 't a workus ! ' ' 
 said Brown the sardonic. He moved away, and Auburn 
 instantly set his foot on the packet. Later on he was able 
 to pick it up unobserved. 
 
 At half -past four the men quitted work for the day, and 
 were marched back into the parade ground. Here all had 
 to stand with jacket and shirt open, arms thrown out, cap 
 in one hand and handkerchief in the other, while trained 
 fingers were passed over them from head to foot. Th 
 search, though rapid, should have been exhaustive. Human 
 nature, however, is human nature. It was an afternoon of 
 cold and fog and early dusk: each eonv!<jt had been 
 searched thrice that day already: Auburn's was a job that 
 did not involve the handling of such small tools as could 
 readily be hidden in a fold of clothing: and Auburn him 
 self, while at Dartmoor, had never lost a mark. When the 
 door of the cell was locked upon him, Dodo's packet was 
 still secure. 
 
 266
 
 266 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 But he dared not open it yet. The place was still wide 
 awake, warders were coming and going: at any moment 
 one might look in. He made up his bed, and sat down to 
 read Spanish grammar till six o'clock, when they brought 
 his supper bread and cheese and cocoa, and not enough 
 of either to satisfy his incorrigibly healthy appetite. At 
 last, however, the cell was locked up, and he had the night 
 before him, and ten minutes more of electric light to see 
 by. He lay down, pulled the blanket over him, and with 
 insensibly slow movements drew off the silken wrapper. In 
 it he found a three-inch file of exquisite temper and a slip 
 of thin paper in Dodo's writing. Prone on his plank bed 
 stead with his head propped on his hands and the letter 
 spread open under him he contrived to read it without much 
 risk. 
 
 "With this file you'll be able to cut your window-bars. 
 Tear your blanket into strips, knot them, and lower your 
 self to the ground. The outer wall of the prison is twenty 
 feet high and leans inwards. I will be at the northeast 
 angle: tap three times, and I will throw a rope over. As 
 you will have to dodge the watchmen, I shall wait all night 
 from nine till five. This plan is practicable: it has been 
 done. But it must be to-night, or they may find the file. 
 Once in our house you may lie perdu for a twelvemonth ; I 
 have seen to that. No one can suspect us, no one knows my 
 name. I've planned this ever since the trial. For God's 
 sake, do not hesitate! For you, the risk of a shot in the 
 dark is better'than sixteen years more in prison, and my 
 heart is breaking. I love you so, I think I shall die if you 
 don't come to me. I would rather be killed with you than 
 suffer any longer as I do now day and night thinking of 
 you. God bless and keep you, and bring you safe to your 
 own love, now and for ever." 
 
 Auburn read this letter through till he had got it fairly
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 267 
 
 by heart. His next act was of an eminently practical 
 nature he ate it. After that he lay still and listened. 
 Night watchmen wore rubber shoes and walked lightly, but 
 the ear of the convict was so acute that he rarely failed 
 to hear them, and it was not long before Auburn was aware 
 of a stealthy tread in the corridor: Hill had just come on 
 guard. Was Auburn to be spied this time ? If so, with his 
 clean reputation, he was not likely to be inspected again for 
 some while, for the rounds were long, and the watchman 
 had many cells on his beat. For the first time in his prison 
 life Auburn heard the click of the flap, as it was lifted over 
 the spy-hole, without a qualm of distaste. It was soon over : 
 the man passed on. 
 
 He was no sooner gone than Auburn began to ply his file. 
 It was exquisitely sharp, and bit through the bars like wax. 
 He had to work slowly, however, so as to make the mini 
 mum of noise : the watchman was out of earshot, but there 
 were his neighbors to be considered, who would not have 
 been slow to curry favor by putting a spoke in his wheel. 
 At length it was done such work goes pretty fast and 
 Auburn was able to lift away the whole framework, bars, 
 glass, and ventilator, leaving only the stump of one bar for 
 the loop of his cord. Half a pane of glass cracked, and, 
 before he could grasp it, fell out of the window : he heard 
 it smash on the stones below. Had the out patrol passed at 
 that moment, the game would have been up. But, when the 
 roaring of nervous blood in Auburn's ears had died down, 
 he found all as still as ever. So much for the window. 
 
 Next he had to tear his blanket into strips and knot it 
 into a rope. " 'Send it isn't shoddy!" he muttered with 
 the ghost of a laugh : his cell was fully thirty feet from the 
 ground. Luckily, he was a practiced athlete. The rope 
 when completed was not above twenty feet long. He 
 hitched the knot over his inch and a half of iron bar, and 
 swung on it to test its strength. At that moment he heard 
 the step of the inside patrol in the corridor. His blood
 
 268 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 ran like water and his knees knocked together as he hung 
 he had not even time to get back to bed : the step passed on : 
 it halted before his neighbor's door: passed on again he 
 was safe. For the moment ! 
 
 Cautiously he paid out the rope : and now came the hard 
 est job of all ! The window measured perhaps two feet by 
 eighteen inches, and was high off the floor. How to put 
 himself outside it with nothing but a stool to mount on, 
 Auburn did not know, but it had to be done, and he did it : 
 though he thought at one time that he should stick fast, and 
 be found the next morning with his head on one side and 
 his legs on the other. Nor was he much happier when he 
 was out and swinging over a thirty-foot drop. The night 
 was pitch dark, and wet with the denseness of the fog: 
 and into that fog, that dark, that unfathomable pit of 
 danger, Auburn felt a strong physical disinclination to go. 
 His fingers locked themselves round the stump of the bar : 
 he had to use force with himself before he could disengage 
 them, and throw all his weight on a strip of Government 
 blanket. In all the world he could see no glimmer of light. 
 Deciding to trust to luck and Dodo's prayers (luck came 
 first), he began to let himself down, hand over hand, 
 slowly, and straining his ears for the step of the out patrol : 
 and he did manage to get half-way before the rope snapped 
 above his head, and he dropped but, luckily, fell clear of 
 the splintered glass. No bones were broken. As for the 
 noise, that was loud enough in Auburn's ears to wake the 
 whole prison : yet the prison did not awake. 
 
 Picking himself up with all the constellations dancing in 
 his head, Auburn peered about him. It was so dark that he 
 could not see his hand before his face: nor could he tell 
 north from south : nor had he any clear idea which way to 
 go. A prisoner's window is filled with ground glass, so that 
 Auburn actually did not know where his cell was placed : 
 he only knew that the sun came into it late on summer 
 evenings. This was a point on which Dodo had not reck-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 269 
 
 oned! Taking roughly that he was on a north-west wall, 
 Auburn decided to strike straight forward towards what he 
 concluded to be the direction of the road, and he was just 
 feeling along the bricks to get his bearings when he saw a 
 good way off a shining eye of fire: the lantern of the out 
 patrol. 
 
 He crouched down against the wall. His nerves were so 
 undone that he would have liked to cry out "I surrender," 
 and if Dodo had not been waiting for him it was on the 
 cards that he would have done it : but for love of Dodo he 
 schooled himself to take his chance. He saw the light flash 
 ing nearer, this way and that, starred by the fog: now it 
 flickered over a bleak buttress, now it picked out every 
 crevice on the asphalt pavement. Its flitting finger touched 
 into momentary life objects familiar by day: they leapt out 
 of the dark and sank back into it. It rayed a window 
 within reach of Auburn's arm: it struck a spark from an 
 isolated splinter of glass a yard from his foot. Auburn 
 could hear the step, the breath of the watchman. He 
 stopped, not half a dozen yards from the crouching man: 
 he chafed his free hand over the benumbed hand that held 
 the light : its beam went dancing right over Auburn 's face 
 but "Warder Collins at that moment was thinking of his own 
 blue fingers and not of escaping convicts. 
 
 "Blasted cold!" he muttered. "A nice night for my 
 rheumatics, I don't think!" He moved on. 
 
 There is nothing so demoralizing as to be hunted. Al 
 though Auburn knew now exactly where he was his sub 
 conscious intelligence having printed off the scene detail 
 by detail into one complete photograph it was some min 
 utes before he could do anything but cower under the wall. 
 At length he whipped himself to his feet with an oath and 
 a laugh under his breath, and made straight across the 
 prison yard for the outer wall. "When he had gained it, he 
 had only to grope along to its next corner on the right, and 
 was at the end of his journey.
 
 270 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 He tapped three times, and before a moment had gone by 
 other taps answered him. By day the sounds would have 
 been inaudible, by night they were barely to be distin 
 guished. Something whizzed through the air and fell at 
 his feet. He picked it up, and found a pebble muffled in 
 felt, attached to a string. Gathering in the string hand 
 over hand, he came at length to a stout rope, and the line 
 ceased to pay out : evidently it was made fast on the other 
 side. He went up it like the sailor that he was, and was 
 soon astride of the wall. He looked down, but could see 
 nothing: earth, sky, and whoever stood below were buried 
 in the dark of the moor fog. He felt along the wall with 
 his toes till he found the buttress which propped the angle. 
 Prison walls slope inward : the outer side is, therefore, com 
 paratively easy to descend. In the angle formed by the 
 buttress Auburn slid slightly down, barking his legs and 
 elbows, and parting with rags of his dress on the way : his 
 feet touched earth. 
 
 "Dodo?" he breathed. 
 
 "Here," answered Dodo's murmured tones out of the 
 gloom : and Dodo 's hands fumbled for him and found him. 
 Auburn could see nothing of her but the dim whiteness of 
 her upturned face. He leaned down to her and drew her 
 into his arms, her cheek against his bared breast, his lips 
 touching her hair. She could feel the deep labored throb 
 bing of his heart, and she turned her head and kissed it. 
 "Mine," she said, "mine, mine, my dearest." 
 
 "Love! Dodo!" 
 
 "No, no, I can't bear it " 
 
 Such passion burns like fire: but Dodo forgot the pain 
 as she felt Auburn 's breast rise in a great sob, and then he 
 murmured, in a voice altogether changed 
 
 1 ' God God ! what have I done ? I 've been mad ! This 
 risk you're running! Let me go back!" 
 
 "No, no, too late ! Ah, I knew you'd say it. No, Charles, 
 no you can't. I'd give myself up if you did."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 271 
 
 It was true. He might and would curse himself till 
 Doomsday: there was no going back. 
 
 "Dodo, if they take me " 
 
 "They shan't." 
 
 "If they do, remember, it was well worth while. Nothing 
 they could do to me or to you either, I swear would not 
 
 be well redeemed by this by you " he strained her 
 
 closer, as though through the mist of the night and the 
 veil of the flesh he would have drawn her very soul to his 
 own. 
 
 "They shan't take you. We'll die together first." 
 
 "They will take you, and make small bones about it, if 
 you dawdle about much longer. Get his boots on, child, 
 while I finish hauling in the slack o ' the rope : is this a time 
 to stand hugging and kissing each other?" 
 
 This was good sense though roughly phrased, and Dodo, 
 who had forgotten Lesbia's existence, was quick to disen 
 gage herself. "Take off your shoes," she said. Auburn 
 obeyed as well as he could, his bruised fingers fumbling in 
 the darkness with the wet laces. "Now these," said Dodo, 
 and Auburn drew on a pair of boots which would leave no 
 mark of the broad arrow. "Cap and overcoat now," said 
 Dodo, thrusting them into his hands. "Pick up your shoes, 
 we don't want to give away a single fact about you. Now, 
 Lesbia, you go first you can see in the dark." 
 
 That midnight walk was the strangest experience of Au 
 burn's strangely varied life. The sense of hurry, the dark 
 ness, the dread that gained on him every moment of hearing 
 the clang of the prison bell contributed to make up such a 
 blur of impressions that he could get no grasp of his own 
 mind at all, but was simply carried on, as Dodo had planned 
 that he should be, like a straw in the wind. Lesbia walked 
 ahead, not once at fault, though even in the open country 
 where it is never so dark as between trees or houses the 
 gloom was dense. Auburn and Dodo followed hand in hand 
 like children. ' ' How is it you can find your way ? ' ' Auburn
 
 27* AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 murmured once. "We've been here a dozen times before on 
 dark nights," answered Dodo. At first they trod quaking 
 marshlands ; then they came to a low stone wall, which Au 
 burn vaulted and lifted Dodo over : then a hay-meadow, the 
 wintry grass short and sere and dripping with cold dew : 
 then through a gap in a briar-hedge, and so down into the 
 road. Once they heard the sound of wheels coming up in 
 the rear, but there was time for them to slip back through 
 the hedge and lie down in the field behind it. The trap a 
 gig went racketing by, the farmer on the box-seat lustily 
 carolling a country song : and Dodo and Auburn crouched 
 side by side in the freezing dew, and felt as though it were 
 warm midsummer. When the gig had gone by they went on 
 again, always hand in hand. 
 
 At length they saw the few lights of Menval scattered in 
 the valley, one here and there in a watcher's casement, and 
 Dodo gave Auburn 's hand a squeeze. ' ' Jeannie 's window, ' ' 
 she breathed, nodding towards the nearest lamp. Auburn 
 heard the low click of a garden gate, and Lesbia 's hands on 
 his shoulders pushed him warily through it : he was marched 
 up the narrow garden path, and smelt the rich night scent 
 of lavender, and felt the bushes brush against his legs. 
 Next followed the creak of an opening door. His foot was 
 on the threshold, when there came chiming between the 
 midnight hills a low, humming tone another another, 
 doubling and redoubling into a loud startled tolling, a clam 
 orous jangle that spoke far and wide over the moor. Dodo 's 
 hand locked itself over Auburn 's : he heard her long, shud 
 dering breath. Even Lesbia stopped dead in terror. But 
 Auburn turned and stood for a moment looking back to 
 wards the great bulk of building, lost in the darkness, which 
 for so long had been his grave. Dodo saw the queer slant of 
 his head, held very high. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Dodo, what a devil of a row ! " he exclaimed. " I'd 
 give anything to see old Topsy in his pyjamas, when they 
 break the news to him!"
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 WIDE open stood the door at the head of the stairs : 
 a flood of light streamed from it and blinded 
 them as they came in. While Lesbia stayed to make fast 
 lock and bar, Dodo led Auburn up to the room that had 
 been Jeannie's, but was now ready for a guest. The shut 
 ters were up and the curtains drawn: a great rosy fire 
 flickered on the hearth : a tall lamp stood on an oaken table 
 which was set out for supper, with white damask and gleam 
 of silver and scent and freshness of flowers. Armchairs 
 and lounges were gay with delicate chintzes, nor had Dodo 
 omitted the laden bookshelves and sober engravings that 
 spoke of civilized life. After four years in a prison cell it 
 was strange to come into this place, which shone like a 
 jewel and smelt of violets. 
 
 Near the fire sat Jeannie, thin and fever-cheeked. She 
 started up as they came in, and held out her hands. "Oh! 
 Mr. Charles, is it you indeed?" 
 
 "Well, old Jeannie, how are you?" 
 
 Battling with the sense of unreality, Auburn bent to 
 touch her forehead with his lips. But Jeannie drew back, 
 looking up at him with great eyes of bewilderment and 
 terror. "What is it, child?" said Auburn. "I'm not a 
 ghost!" She had no answer ready. The color came into 
 Auburn's cheeks and he relinquished his grasp. "Am I so 
 changed ? ' ' 
 
 "Don't touch me," said Jeannie. "You're too like your 
 father." 
 
 "What, isn't he dead yet?" said Auburn. 
 
 His manner was almost as wild as Jeannie's: he had not 
 
 273
 
 274. AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 been prepared for the raising of that ghost. Luckily Lesbia 
 now struck in with her plain prose. "Hark at that child! 
 Leave talking such rubbish to a starved man, and put the 
 soup on the fire, will you? I thought you'd more sense. 
 There's Miss Dodo has twice as much wits about her as you 
 have!" Dodo was cutting bread. "Sit down, you," to 
 Auburn. "Take that overcoat off first, it 's drenching wet. ' ' 
 Auburn hesitated. ' ' Take it off ! D 'you want to sit in wet 
 clothes longer than you need?" 
 
 "Ah! Lesbia . . ." 
 
 "What's wrong now?" 
 
 She saw what was wrong, as Auburn, with a deep flush, 
 threw off his overcoat and sat down by the fire, a convict 
 once more. Dodo came and knelt by him and laid her cheek 
 against his. The iron had gone deep, they all saw it in that 
 moment. Innocent though he knew himself to be, he had 
 been made, in those years, to feel himself degraded by the 
 felon's dress to the level of a felon. He did not even return 
 Dodo's caress, but sat looking moodily into the fire. Lesbia 
 could have slapped Jeannie, whose dark fancy had helped 
 to precipitate a reaction which was perhaps inevitable : but 
 there was nothing to be gained by slapping Jeannie. The 
 wise woman knew what was best to be done. 
 
 "My word! I don't wonder you didn't want to take 
 your coat off. The boy's fair indecent and we three 
 women, and only one of us married! Here, give me the 
 rug, Jean, and you, Miss Dodo, get up and get out of the 
 way. ' ' She caught up a covering from the sofa and threw 
 it over Auburn 's shoulders, which were in point of fact half 
 bare, for his clothes had suffered by window and wall. 
 "You'll get those rags off when you've had your supper. 
 We've got a suit of Mr. Carew's waiting for you." 
 
 ' ' Roland 's ? He 's never in it ? " 
 
 "He? He's a man, and an idiot at that. God forbid I 
 should call men idiots," Lesbia conceded generously: "all 
 I'd ever say is that when the Almighty lays to His hand to
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 275 
 
 create the prince and pink of idiots it's not a woman He 
 turns out. Your sweetheart wrote asking his wife to let us 
 have some of their cast clothes to give to the poor and 
 that's no lie, for you're poor if ever any man was you've 
 not got enough to cover you. Get up, Miss Dodo, I want to 
 come there." She went down on her knees and began to 
 pull off Auburn's muddy boots and wet stockings, and he 
 let her do it as she had done it for him when he was a child : 
 it was good to feel the warmth of the fire on his bare feet. 
 It was four years since Auburn had sat by a fireside. Mean 
 while, Jeannie brought up a small table and Dodo set on it 
 a plate of soup, smoking hot. "Now, then, drink that up," 
 said Lesbia. "Bread, Jeannie." 
 
 "I can't," said Auburn. It was not only the racking, 
 nervous strain and the physical fatigue of his escape, nor 
 the fear of recapture it was the love and devotion of these 
 women that touched him so keenly as to overthrow his self- 
 control. He pushed away the soup and leaned his head on 
 his hand, covering his eyes. Lesbia stood watching him as 
 a doctor watches his patient. She glanced at Dodo, who 
 shook her head. Only a passionless love could serve him 
 now. 
 
 "There now," said Lesbia, grumbling, "all my nice soup 
 wasted ! Drink a little, dear, just to please me. ' ' She drew 
 down Auburn's hand and put the spoon to his lips, coaxing 
 him as she would have coaxed a sick child. "Do you mind 
 how you used to come to me when Sir Charles was in one of 
 his tantrums? You always said you liked my soup better 
 than his dinners. Drink it up now, it'll do you good." 
 
 She spoke with authority, and Auburn yielded because he 
 was too languid to resist : and after the first two or three 
 spoonfuls she had no more trouble. If Auburn 's mind was 
 not hungry, his body was, and had been for years, and the 
 savory taste of Lesbia 's soup and the perfume of her St. 
 Emilion were much too good, after prison fare> to be 
 refused.
 
 270 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Soon he was sufficiently himself again to declare that he 
 would not eat alone, and they drew the table over to the 
 fireside and sat down to the strangest meal they had ever 
 eaten. Stealth and secrecy, dangers half escaped and joy 
 hardly proven, the sense of the dark night pressing on the 
 window panes and of the bell drumming out its great alarm 
 over the sleeping moors, all wrought together into a com 
 plex of impressions where pleasure bordered on pain. It 
 seemed incredible that they should be hungry, and yet they 
 were : the keen night air had given them an appetite. Jean- 
 nie indeed ate next to nothing, but that was Jeannie's way : 
 and the others cleared the board, to Lesbia's deep satisfac 
 tion, for she loved to see people eat of her cookery. When 
 Auburn finally threw out hints in the direction of a cigar 
 ette, she could begin to believe that she had her boy again. 
 She had some for him, of course, of his own special brand, 
 and she could hardly go to clear the table for the joy of 
 watching him smoke. Even Dodo, in spite of a vagrant 
 eense of humor, owned that he did look more like himself 
 with a cigarette between his lips. So she phrased it, but 
 in reality she knew that the change went deeper : his cheeks 
 were no longer paper-white under their sunburn, but 
 healthily brown : his eyes were brilliant but steady, and he 
 carried himself less nervously erect. 
 
 The clock struck twelve. * ' Here's an unchristian hour ! ' ' 
 said Lesbia. "It's time we were all in bed. Get you to 
 yours, Jeannie, you're looking as tired as a wilted lily. 
 Miss Dodo, I'll go down and see all ready. Bide you here 
 and talk to your man. ' ' 
 
 "What are you going to do with me?" Auburn asked; 
 but Lesbia sailed out of the room without a reply, and Au 
 burn and Dodo were left alone for the first time. Auburn 
 was lying back in a big chair by the fire, his long legs 
 stretched out, his bare feet thrust into slippers. He took 
 his cigarette from his lips and puffed out a wreath of smoke. 
 "Ouf I Raleigh, I hope your soul's in heaven. What are
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 277 
 
 you going to do with me, Dodo ? Eh?" Dodo was brush 
 ing the crumbs from the cloth when Auburn's long lean 
 arm shot out, locked round her waist, and drew her to him. 
 "Come here where I can watch you: sit on the arm of my 
 chair. If I had the feelings of a gentleman I should get 
 up and offer you my place: or possibly I should take my 
 arm away and let you go and sit where I could not watch 
 you, as you seemed desperately inclined to do. You ob 
 serve, I do neither. Indomitable child! you've taken ex 
 traordinary pains to get me what do you mean to do with 
 me now you have got me ? ' ' 
 
 "Keep you here till the hue and cry has died down." 
 
 "The hue and cry," repeated Auburn. "What penny 
 dreadfuls call the sleuth-hounds of the law, alias George 
 Robyns, Jan Polperrow, Robert Brown, and so on. How 
 they must be cursing me for sending them out on a night 
 like this ! Last time a man got away by night one of the 
 screws fell into Yes Bog and was as nearly as possible suf 
 focated. I have heard that his language when they got 
 him out rivalled rivalled Jimmy Jones'. Or mine. Have 
 I sworn at you yet, Dodo ? I probably shall. Princetown 
 isn't a good school of manners." 
 
 "Well, yours were never very good," said Dodo. "You 
 were always rather early Victorian on that point." 
 
 "I'd give sixpence to have been a fly on the wall when 
 they told Topsy. It'll kill him if I do get off. I shan't, 
 you know." 
 
 "I believe you're as safe here as you would be in the 
 Desert of Sahara." 
 
 ' ' Ah ! but then I doubt whether an escaped convict would 
 be safe in the Desert of Sahara. The hue and cry, my 
 love " 
 
 He broke off and sprang to his feet. ' ' Talk of an angel ! 
 There it goes, if I'm not much mistaken. Listen to that 
 fellow cantering down the road ! ' ' 
 
 Dodo held her breath, and in the stillness heard plainly
 
 278 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 the clicking triple time of horse-hoofs coming down the side- 
 road from the prison. "On his way to Menval Station," 
 said Auburn. "I say, I wonder who it is! I must find 
 out." He made one step to the table and extinguished the 
 lamp. "Go to the window and ask him what's up!" 
 
 "But, Charles " 
 
 "Go, or I swear I'll go myself!" 
 
 She heard him laugh in the dark and was seized with 
 sudden terror: she knew his reckless ways too well to set 
 any limit to his daring. She dropped the bar of the shutter 
 and threw up the window just as the horseman passed : he 
 drew rein at the noise, and turned in his saddle to flash the 
 light of an electric torch over Dodo as she leaned out. A 
 flash of lightning could not have struck her more unex 
 pectedly, and the fears of a lifetime were crowded into the 
 moment that elapsed before her blinded eyes showed her 
 that Auburn was hidden by the curtain. 
 
 "Who's that?" called out the rider. "What are you 
 doin' there, miss?" 
 
 ("It's Robyns, as I live!" said Auburn.) 
 
 "We heard the bell ringing, and were startled," Dodo 
 answered. "Is anything wrong?" 
 
 "There's no need for you to be frightened, miss. One 
 of our prisoners has got away, but he can 't have gone far. 
 Our men are looking out for him, I expect we'll get him 
 back by morning." 
 
 "Dear, how awful!" Dodo's clear tones floated down 
 with a most natural tremor of alarm. "An escaped con 
 vict quite close to us!" She heard Auburn's stifled laugh 
 at her side, and was ready to believe that Robyns would 
 hear it too. "I hope he's not a very dangerous criminal !" 
 
 "Dangerous? Bless you, no, miss a little bit of a 
 fellow that wouldn't hurt a fly," said Robyns the good- 
 natured. ("Confound your impudence!" interjected Au 
 burn.) "You look out that all your doors are well locked 
 and bolted and you 11 be all right. I must go on now, but
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 279 
 
 there's plenty of us about I'll tell some of our chaps to 
 keep an eye on you." 
 
 He rode on. Dodo could scarcely shut the window for the 
 trembling of her hands, but Auburn had gone off into a fit 
 of laughter. "Oh, Dodo, how rich! I wouldn't have 
 missed that for the world. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, don't Charles!" 
 
 "My darling what is it?" 
 
 He felt her trembling as he took her in his arms. ' ' Little 
 love, what have I done to you?" said Auburn. 
 
 "Oh, how could you?" 
 
 ' ' How could I what ? My dearest, there was no danger ! ' ' 
 
 "If he'd seen you!" 
 
 "Ah! there you have me," said Auburn ruefully. "I 
 hadn 't reckoned on his carrying a torch. I suppose it was a 
 bit risky, if you come to think about it." 
 
 "Risky!" Dodo repeated. "You think so, do you? It 
 dawns on you, in fact, by degrees ? Charles, I believe you 
 like playing with danger." Auburn's impenitent laugh 
 roused her to a passion of impatience. "Oh, how can you 
 be so childish, so cruel ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' I forgot. I 'm very sorry. ' ' 
 
 "Say you won't do it again." 
 
 "Never, never, on my honor! I'll be all that there is of 
 most circumspect!" Auburn assured her. Dodo did not 
 dream of believing him, but she allowed herself to be 
 coaxed into amity, for, after all, the danger was over, and 
 Auburn's mad humor was an essential element of the Au 
 burn she loved. He drew her back to the warm hearth, 
 where the fire had sunk to a glow of coral shot with little 
 flames of smoky blue. " I 'm glad I 'm not out in that pitchy 
 dark," he said. "Poor dear Robyns, I hope he won't 
 tumble into Yes or any other bog, he's a dear fellow. Well, 
 Dodo, I have been a most infernal fool " 
 
 "Amen," said Dodo. 
 
 "And knave," finished Auburn calmly. "Infernal, I
 
 *80 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 repeat it. A fool, because I probably shan't get away: a 
 knave, because if they catch me I shall let you in for an 
 appalling scandal: and lost to all eternity because " he 
 hesitated, even he, for a moment "because I love you 
 better than the vision of God or the dream of heaven. You 
 understand that?" 
 
 "Understand ?" 
 
 "That I love you." 
 
 He had her fast locked in his arm : she could not escape 
 him. What was not fear, but might have been called a fear 
 of fear, traversed Dodo's mind like the gleam of a sword- 
 blade: she turned her steel-clear eyes on Auburn's dark, 
 half -mocking face. ' ' Do you say this to me now, Charles ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes," said Auburn. "No. I dare say you're right. I 
 owe this to Princetown, too, I suppose. You 're half afraid 
 of me, are you?" His features did not change, but she 
 knew by intuition that he had read her thoughts and that 
 they had cut him to the quick. She could find no answer, 
 and Auburn with a queer smile stepped back, took her 
 hand, and raised it to his lips. "It has not made a brute 
 of me, Dodo," he said. "I don't wonder you're nervous, 
 though. It was brutalizing enough : it might have done the 
 trick, if I hadn't had the memory of you to keep me quiet. 
 Still, thanks to you, I 'm not much changed in essentials, so 
 far as I know. My respect for you is undiminished, I as 
 sure you " 
 
 "Oh, don't," said Dodo quickly. "Don't go on explain 
 ing, Charles." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 "But you were half afraid of me?" 
 
 "No, I tell you, no," said Dodo imperiously. "Stay! I 
 won't lie to you. I did have one flash of doubt of you, but 
 it was not because of Princetown. Princetown!" She 
 laughed. "You think so much of that, and I think so 
 little."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 281 
 
 "What was it, then?" 
 
 "Why, you see, all the days I've known you put to 
 gether don't come to much above six weeks! It flashed 
 over me that there might be kinks in you that I knew 
 nothing of, and that one of them might be to think lightly 
 of a woman who had thrown herself into your arms, as I 
 have. Is that frank enough?" 
 
 "Frank enough," Auburn assented. "You don't think 
 it now?" 
 
 "Oh no. Your eyes, my dear, when you saw what I 
 thought, were more considerably more eloquent than 
 your speech. 
 
 "I may tell you that I love you, then? You won't think 
 I'm trading on your frankness ?" Dodo sprang up to 
 silence him, and, as if against his will, again came that long 
 embrace, terrible in its repressed passion, crushing her 
 against his heart, making her feel all the ache and all the 
 sadness of those long intolerable nights when he had lain 
 awake thinking of her. 1 ' Oh, my God, ' ' she heard him say, 
 "this this is heaven." 
 
 "And the other has been hell?" 
 
 "Very like it." 
 
 "All the time?" 
 
 "Yes, all the time." 
 
 "Charles, were you afraid of going madt" 
 
 "Sometimes." 
 
 "At night?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why was it so bad? The humiliation?" 
 
 She felt him shudder from head to foot, but he crushed 
 down the rising wildness and answered quietly: "Yes, the 
 humiliation and the inability to I can't express myself." 
 
 "The feeling that you couldn't get out?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Those insufferable little spy-holes?" 
 
 "Those, too."
 
 282 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Let us have it out between us, Charles." 
 
 "Ican't." 
 
 "To me." 
 
 "Not even to you." 
 
 "Yes, to me, once." 
 
 Again she felt him shudder, but she was ruthless: she 
 read him too profoundly to let him go. She had never seen 
 him in one of his fits of despair, but she knew them to be 
 the inevitable, if rare, complement of his fits of reckless 
 gaiety, and she knew too that dark memories nursed in pri 
 vacy are the stuff of which despair is made. At length he 
 said, "Well, you ought to know how near a man has got 
 to the wild beasts, if you're going to marry him. Look 
 here." He stood away, stretching out his sinewy lean arm, 
 and laid the other hand on certain odd red marks a small 
 double row that disfigured the smooth, brown skin. "Do 
 you know what that is?" 
 
 "No," said Dodo: not without a suspicion that she did. 
 
 "I'll tell you, though I expect it will make you rather 
 sick. It was one night last August : a red-hot night after a 
 red-hot day. . . . The worst that one can go through is to 
 see this life as it is ... so short . . . and such torment. 
 I couldn't sleep ... I didn't want to be marched off to 
 the padded room, so I bit into it like an apple. ' ' 
 
 "And did that cure you?" Dodo asked with a choking 
 gasp of laughter. 
 
 "Clean. What with the pain, by Jove! didn't it sting! 
 and the the general queerness of the flavor, it brought me 
 np with a round turn " 
 
 He broke off. The door had opened to admit Lesbia, 
 candle in hand, her dark, stern eyes softening as they fell 
 on Auburn's face. There were times when Dodo wondered 
 whether even Jeannie, despite the tie of blood, were so dear 
 to Lesbia as this foster son of hers, who had from the first 
 taken the place of the little dead son. 
 
 "What, all in the dark?" said Lesbia. "Ah, it's well
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 288 
 
 to be young. Come to bed, my lad : a night's rest will settle 
 your nerves not to mention that you'll be none the worse 
 of a good wash." 
 
 She led the way down to the hall, where Auburn peered 
 curiously at what he could see of Mr. Carpenter's Eves, and 
 had the imprudence to ask if they were Caron 's doing : and 
 thence by a second flight of stairs into the cellar, where, 
 throwing open a door at the farther end, she ushered Au 
 burn into what had once no doubt been a wine-vault, but 
 was now transformed into a rough but tolerably comfort 
 able bedroom. An oil stove kept it warm, a thick Persian 
 carpet covered the stone floor, and a reading lamp burned 
 brightly on a table littered with books and magazines. Au 
 burn stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets 
 and primmed his mouth to a long, low whistle. "Oh, you 
 women!" he said, "you certainly have done the thing 
 thoroughly." 
 
 "You're to stay here for a night or two," Dodo ex 
 plained, "in case by any wild chance they should want to 
 look over the house. There's no key to the door, it fastens 
 with a spring, and there are two strong bolts on the inside, 
 so that I could truthfully tell them I can't open it. But 
 they won't want to get in : why should they? There's abso 
 lutely nothing to connect me with the affair." 
 
 "There are your clothes for to-morrow," Lesbia said, 
 pointing to a suit of Roland's rough tweeds laid out on the 
 bed. ' ' And hot water for your tub, ' ' she indicated a couple 
 of smoking cans. "Now get to bed and to sleep, my boy, 
 for I do believe you may lie down in safety." 
 
 "For two pins I'd go back and give myself up.' ' 
 
 "What maggot have you got in your head now?" 
 
 "Suppose they did catch me, and that they caught me 
 here, what would that mean, for you two?" 
 
 "I believe two years is the maximum penalty," said 
 Dodo. "I'd risk my life for you with great pleasure, dear
 
 284- AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 boy, but the regulations won't let me also there isn't a 
 shadow of risk." 
 
 "For two pins I'd go back now and give myself up." 
 "Do: and I'll come with you and tell them how you filed 
 the bars." 
 
 "Dodo, you really have very fine eyes," said Auburn 
 irrelevantly. "They flash like steel." He threw his arm 
 round her and dropped a kiss on either eyelid, laughing at 
 Lesbia's Puritan frown. "Come, we'll fight it out, then! 
 and by all that's ironical, we'll swear Hugh Kose over 
 under seal of confession to marry us. He 's a sportsman I 
 believe he'd do it. Good-night, old Lesbia good-night, 
 Lady Auburn!"
 
 XXIX. 
 
 A PRISONER had escaped. The alarm bell was 
 ringing up at the prison: quiet country folk heard 
 it and sat up in bed with scared faces: anxious husbands 
 stole barefoot down to look to bolt and bar. Dartmoor had 
 never grown used to such incidents, although they com 
 monly ended, after a day's manhunt, in the recapture of a 
 starved and whimpering wretch, too broken-spirited to show 
 fight. A thrill of joy, dashed with envy, ran through the 
 prison itself : a prisoner had escaped ! 
 
 In the morning news more definite and more sensational 
 came round with the milk, with the butcher, with the 
 baker. The fugitive was a man to be feared, a ''lifer," a 
 murderer, notorious for one brutal crime and desperate 
 enough to stick at nothing. A strong force of warders 
 were out scouring the moors for a man in prison dress 
 marked with the broad arrow, and the loaded guns of the 
 civil guard commanded the high roads. The news was 
 flashed along the wires up and down the line. It was 
 in London in the small hours, and by breakfast time the 
 newsboys of one enterprising journal were bawling it along 
 the streets: "Escype of a Convick! Escype of the Convick 
 Orburn! All the detiles!" and so on, leather-lunged. 
 
 Three men who had been breakfasting together, when 
 they heard the cries, could not believe their ears. Sir 
 George Trevor, called to town on business, had sent for 
 Caron Carminow from his studio and Roden from his 
 flat to give him news of their doings. They were talking 
 in a group by the window when the harsh cry was raised 
 in the street below, and they were all visibly startled. 
 
 285
 
 286 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Nonsense, it can't be!" said Caron, leaning out to peer 
 at the news-sheet. 
 
 Sir George spoke over his shoulder to a servant. ' ' Get me 
 one of those papers, will you ? ' ' 
 
 When it came, he sent the man out before he opened it. 
 The broad black headlines seized his eye at once: 
 
 ESCAPE OF A CONVICT FROM DARTMOOR. 
 
 THE AUBURN MURDERER AT LARGE. 
 
 WHO FILED THE BARS? 
 
 Extraordinary Details 
 by our Special Correspondent, 
 
 who happened in the present case to be an enterprising local 
 schoolmaster, revised and expanded in Fleet Street. Sir 
 George held up the paper before him, and the others read 
 it leaning over his shoulder. When it was done, all three 
 betrayed an equal indisposition to meet one another's eyes. 
 
 "A most extraordinary story most extraordinary," said 
 Sir George. 
 
 "I say, you know who did file those bars?" said Caron. 
 
 "I must go, Sir George," said Roden. "I'm awfully 
 sorry, but I believe there's an express down that will just 
 give me time to see my chief at Whitehall." 
 
 "I'll come too." 
 
 "And so, if you'll let me, will I," said Sir George very 
 gravely. "I think, my dear boys, it will do our little girl 
 no harm to have some one rather older and more experi 
 enced than yourselves to look after her. If by any 
 chance " 
 
 "If what?" said Caron bluntly. 
 
 "If _if saia K den: "leave it at that, Car. Do 
 
 come, Sir George. It's most good of you to suggest it, and 
 we shall be very glad to have you, if you can spare the time 
 from your business."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 287 
 
 "Your father's daughter is my most urgent business," 
 said Sir George. 
 
 They reached Menval by five o'clock, and the reality of 
 the affair was at once brought home to them by the sight 
 of a warder stationed on the platform with a loaded gun. 
 As they walked up through the village they passed a notice 
 posted on a hoarding, and Caron halted to read it. "Pris 
 oner just escaped! November 3rd, between 9 and 11 p.m. 
 Registered number, L.A., 27, Charles St. Leger Auburn. 
 Convicted of murder at Hillingdon Assizes, penal servitude 
 for life. Born at Auburn, aged thirty-eight years and 
 eight months; dark complexion, reddish hair, brown eyes, 
 height six feet one and a half inches. At time of his es 
 cape he was wearing a brown Glengarry cap, brown cloth 
 jacket, beverteen breeches, blue stockings with red stripes, 
 brown worsted shirt, pair of shoes, forefinger nail of right 
 hand blackened, scar on left wrist. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Good heavens, how cold-blooded ! ' ' said the artist, shiv 
 ering. He was sensitive to such impressions, and the dry, 
 bare, mean record degraded his memory of Auburn to its 
 own level. 
 
 Hurrying on after Sir George and Roden, he turned a 
 corner of the street just as they came to the gate of Heather 
 Cottage. It was a dreary evening, the sky darkened by 
 many folds of cloud and mist, brown over grey: the sun 
 was not long down, however, and had left a few embers to 
 smoulder red on the rim of the horizon, and by that dim 
 half-light Caron distinctly saw the head of a man rise up 
 over the hedge that bordered the opposite side of the road. 
 He had seen that cap and coat in illustrations too often to 
 be mistaken, and they sent a chill to his blood: why in 
 heaven's name should a prison warder be furtively on 
 guard over Heather Cottage? 
 
 They rapped at the door. It was opened to them by 
 Lesbia, singularly pale and set, though not a thread was 
 astray in her dark bands of hair.
 
 288 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "What do you want now ?" she was beginning, when 
 
 she recognized Roden; "Mr. Roden! God bless us all, what 
 brings you down here ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Where 's my sister ? ' ' Roden asked. Before Lesbia could 
 reply Dodo herself, lint-white but cool, appeared on the 
 threshold. 
 
 "Good boys," she said. "I knew you'd come. And, 
 what Sir George Trevor? Oh, how very good of you! 
 But I'm sorry, sorry you should have troubled about me. 
 You've heard the news, then?" 
 
 "Indeed we have," said Sir George gravely. He fol 
 lowed Dodo into the small, prim, white and blue parlor, 
 hung round with water-colors from Stanton Mere, which 
 she had planned to make over to Auburn's masculine dis 
 order. Sir George sat down, erect and soldierly, in an oaken 
 armchair, while Dodo remained standing, her white youth- 
 fulness set off by her heavy black serge dress. "The boys 
 were breakfasting with me when we heard them calling it 
 out in the streets." 
 
 "Oh! surely it's not in London already?" 
 
 "What's not in London?" said Roden quickly. 
 
 "Oh, you haven't heard?" She slipped her hand into 
 Roden 's, and saw that he was paler than herself. "No, no, 
 they haven't caught him they won't, they can't do that! 
 But a most tiresome thing has happened. The prison offi 
 cials have taken it into their heads that Charles came here 
 after he escaped, and sheltered somewhere on the premises. ' ' 
 
 "Good heavens! you don't mean to say they've found 
 out ?" 
 
 "My name? No, they can't have: not a soul here knows 
 it, I'm certain of that. It's a pure coincidence." 
 
 "But what has given them this idea?" asked Sir George. 
 
 "I can't imagine," said Dodo. "The men this morning 
 said something about tracking him by his shoes you know, 
 they all have the broad arrow marked on the sole but 
 that's impossible, because "
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 289 
 
 "Because what?" 
 
 "Oh how could they follow such a track all the way 
 from Provincetown ? It's a mile by the road; besides, it's 
 absurd to suppose he would have come by the road," an 
 swered Dodo. She left on them all the impression that she 
 had not said what she had been going to say, as was indeed 
 the fact: for her real thought was that Auburn could not 
 well have been traced by the shoes that he had carried in 
 his pocket. "It's nothing but a pretext." 
 
 "Have they been over the house, then?" 
 
 "Yes, they would go. It has made poor Jeannie quite 
 ill: she's not at all strong, you know, and nothing could 
 possibly be worse for her than this excitement. And I 
 believe there are warders watching outside now." 
 
 "I saw one as I came in," said Caron. 
 
 "Oh! surely they can't mean to stay all night?" Dodo 
 cried out, clenching her hands together. "It is horrible 
 that we should be so spied on ! " 
 
 ' ' It 's most extraordinary. Are they coming back, do you 
 suppose?" 
 
 "You hear what Caron says : they've never gone." 
 
 "But will they renew the search?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know: how should I know, Sir George? I 
 can't conceive how they can I thought one was safe in 
 one's own house!" 
 
 "It's a thousand pities you ever came down here at all," 
 said Sir George, unable to restrain himself any longer. 
 ' ' Now, my dear, you see if you had taken my advice like 
 a sensible girl " 
 
 "Of course!" Dodo broke in, with a fire-flash of some 
 thing deeper than impatience, "but how could any one 
 foresee what would happen ? Who would ever have thought 
 of this?" 
 
 So the cry of all the hunted and the tracked rose to her 
 lips : who would ever have thought of this ? Guard against 
 all imaginable danger, lay your plans with the most con-
 
 290 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 siderate care, there will always remain, somewhere, the one 
 fatal trifle that damns you. 
 
 ' ' I 'm glad it 's no worse, ' ' said Sir George frankly. ' ' To 
 tell you the truth, my dear, I've had a horrid uncertain 
 feeling about it all. I was sure my old friend's little girl 
 would have too much right principle and delicacy of feeling 
 to mix herself up in an affair of this kind : and yet I felt 
 that it would have been very, very hard for you to know 
 how to act if this wretched fellow had thrown himself on 
 your compassion. I suppose there 's no danger of his trying 
 to come here now ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' What, Charles Auburn ? " It was Caron 's turn to strike 
 in, for neither Dodo nor Eoden could find an answer to their 
 mind. "Look here, sir, that's too bad! He may be a con 
 vict, but he isn 't an outsider. ' ' 
 
 "I'm glad if you think he has enough remains of gen 
 tlemanly feeling "began Sir George : "dear me, who's 
 
 that?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," Dodo said, feeling as if she were 
 living in a nightmare. "More of those awful warders, I 
 suppose. What can they want? they've looked in every 
 room." 
 
 She went with dragging steps to the door, the men crowd 
 ing after her into the narrow hall. A big, well-set-up man 
 of five-and-forty, once a sergeant of Marines, now wearing 
 the trim dark uniform of a prison warder, stood on the 
 threshold. "What do you want?" said Dodo. 
 
 "Miss Chaston, is it, miss?" Dodo bowed. "I'm Chief 
 Warder Wynne, miss, and I'm sorry to say I must ask you 
 to let me have another look over the house. We don 't want 
 to cause you any inconvenience " 
 
 "Then why do you? Your men have been all over the 
 house once before to-day." 
 
 "Very sorry, miss, but it can't be helped " 
 
 "I should be glad to know what authority you have for 
 this search." It was Sir George who came forward, look-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 291 
 
 ing very tall, soldierly, and commanding. "Here's my 
 card, Mr. "Wynne: I'm a justice of the peace, and I don't 
 exactly see what object there can be in twice searching a 
 house the size of this. It's absurd to suppose a man could 
 be hidden here without Miss Chaston 's knowledge. ' ' 
 
 "Is this lady related to you, sir, may I ask?" 
 
 "Not a relation, but a friend of many years' standing. I 
 look on her as my own daughter." 
 
 ' ' Well, then, Sir George I '11 show you my warrant with 
 pleasure ; I 've shown it to this lady once before to-day ; but 
 I reckon you must see for yourself there's good reason for 
 making a pretty thorough search. When ladies come down 
 to places under assumed names " 
 
 "Dodo!" cried Sir George. 
 
 "Yes, sir: Miss Dodo Carminow, isn't it? and not Miss 
 Dorothea Chaston. "Well, naturally, when that comes to 
 light " 
 
 "How did it come to light?" asked Caron. Wynne 
 looked at him thoughtfully. 
 
 "I don't know as there's any objection to my telling you, 
 it's bound to come out pretty soon. Miss Carminow was 
 recognized by one of Auburn's mates, that worked in the 
 same gang along of him. He was a Hampshire man, and 
 he knew Auburn before he came here that is, he'd seen 
 him, I should say, and Miss Carminow too! He was in 
 court the day of Auburn's trial. Yesterday afternoon he 
 saw Miss Carminow walkin' along the road where they 
 was all workin': passed quite close to Auburn, she did on 
 the same side of the road " 
 
 "And on the word of this convicted felon " 
 
 "Pardon me, sir. As soon as the Governor heard the 
 tale which wasn't till the middle of the morning, when 
 Jones got leave to see him he 'phoned to Hillingdon to 
 get Miss Carminow 's description, and they wired up to the 
 police at Stanton Mere, where I understand the young lady 
 comes from. After we'd heard back we felt we could get a
 
 898 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 move on: though I wasn't rightly satisfied in my own mind 
 it being such an unlikely job till I heard what you 
 called her just now." 
 
 "But it's perfectly impossible she should have any 
 thing to do with it" said Sir George, aghast. 
 
 "Ah well, you see, that's what we've got to find out," 
 answered Wynne phlegmatically. 
 
 Meanwhile Dodo, who was not curious of these details had 
 gone back to the parlor. She was standing idle by the 
 window when Koden came in, and came to her side, and 
 threw his arm round her neck. 
 
 "My darling. Is he here ? Let me have the truth, Dodo. ' ' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh, good heavens! Where?" 
 
 "Barred in downstairs. They must break the door down 
 to get in: do you think they will? I'm not sure I can't 
 bluff them even yet I did this morning." 
 
 "They have surer ground to go on now. If they do 
 find him, will there be any chance of denying your con 
 nivance?" 
 
 "Not in that room." 
 
 "It will be an awful scandal." 
 
 "I don't care." 
 
 "Nor I, much. Does he know they're after him?" 
 
 "He knows they searched the house. After they left he 
 wanted to make a dash for it at once and get away across 
 the moors." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "To avoid compromising me, of course: but I forbade 
 him to go before nightfall, at all events. He'd have been 
 caught to a dead certainty." 
 
 "Does he know that the place is watched?" 
 
 "Not unless he has seen or heard the warders through 
 his window. I haven't gone near him since the morning: 
 I daren't. He is quite reckless, you know, quite mad: he 
 thinks of nothing but the risk to me. He'd give himself up
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 293 
 
 like a shot to save me from a breath of suspicion. Luckily 
 he can't that room would ruin me." 
 
 "They'll certainly search it." 
 
 ' ' In the end : but what I want is to gain time. It is going 
 to be a pitch-dark night. If I can keep Wynne off for an 
 hour and lessen the guard round the house, Charles may 
 yet get away by the window. He has clothes and money, 
 he would have a better chance than most of them Come 
 in!" 
 
 Wynne's knock and entry cut short their murmured 
 talk. He had a couple of subordinates at his heels, and it 
 soon appeared that he meditated an exhaustive search. 
 While he was asking preliminary questions of Dodo, Roden 
 took a cursory view of the state of affairs, and found as he 
 had expected, that Heather Cottage was besieged. There 
 was no cover near it, unless a tool shed, a hedge of lavender, 
 and a few stripped shrubs of lilac could be so described : a 
 couple of wardens with loaded guns were enough to com 
 mand every door and window. Until it came night, and 
 unless one warder could be called away, it seemed that 
 Auburn had small chance. It was with no slight astonish 
 ment that Roden came on Lesbia in the garden, digging a 
 border for dear life : she could not bear to bide within four 
 walls when her boy was in danger. Roden had some notion 
 of speaking to her, but finally turned away. He had noth 
 ing to say to Lesbia that could be said within earshot of a 
 listener. 
 
 Returning, he found the search in full swing. A warder 
 was posted at the foot of the stairs, while Wynne, and Dodo 
 with him, went over the ground floor. Caron and Sir 
 George had taken refuge in the kitchen, the latter looking 
 much out of place (he had probably not been in a kitchen 
 for many years) as he leaned against the dresser, the 
 former talking in low tones to Jeannie, who had dragged 
 herself down to her settle beside the fire, but was haggard 
 and white enough for any degree of guilt. Roden, in the
 
 294 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 restlessness of misery, followed Wynne and Dodo from 
 room to room. He was struck and so, he thought, was 
 Wynne by Dodo's ready frankness, her cool unshaken 
 calm. 
 
 Ere long Wynne had satisfied himself that on the ground 
 floor not so much as a contraband mouse was to be found. 
 He came back through the kitchen with Dodo. "We'll go 
 downstairs now, miss, if you please." 
 
 "Into the cellar? One moment while I get a light." 
 
 Jeannie jumped up to fetch a candle, neither she nor 
 Dodo showing any sign of reluctance: and Dodo led the 
 way down, as she had led the way for Auburn not twenty- 
 four hours before. Taking the candle from her, and flash 
 ing it over every corner, Wynne looked about him keenly 
 in the half -dark passage : but there was nothing to be seen 
 except an empty packing-case, some soda-water bottles, and 
 a couple of whitewashed doors. "We'll go in here, please, 
 miss," he said, indicating the first of these. 
 
 "It's the wine-cellar," said Dodo, unlocking it. "We 
 don't use it: we none of us drink anything but water." 
 Wynne looked in and saw a plain square vault, floor and 
 walls of stone, shuttered window high up at one side. He 
 nodded and withdrew. "Now in here," he said, laying his 
 hand on Auburn's door. 
 
 "You must go in there?" 
 
 "Why, yes, miss." 
 
 "I knew you would want to: I'm sorry, you'll have to 
 break the door down. I haven't got the key." 
 
 "Not got the key?" 
 
 "No. I've never had a key to it, and as we didn't use 
 it I've never had one made." 
 
 Wynne turned and looked at her. "Do you mean to say 
 we can't get in?" 
 
 "Only by breaking the door." 
 
 "I must see inside somehow," said Wynne. He held up 
 the candle to the door: it was solidly built, and would
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 295 
 
 cost some pains to break down. Watching Dodo out of 
 the tail of his eye, "Wynne gave it a sounding kick with his 
 heavy foot, but there was no sound from within, nor any 
 sign of fear on Dodo's tranquil face. ''Sure you haven't 
 got a key that will fit it, miss?" 
 
 "No; there are no other locks in the house as big as 
 these." 
 
 "Maybe the key of the other door ?" Wynne sug 
 gested, thrusting it into the lock : but it would not fit, and 
 Wynne drew back grumbling. 
 
 "Can't you get a man to take it off its hinges?" said 
 Dodo. "I don't want Mr. Carpenter's door smashed; I 
 shall have to pay for having it mended. The two rooms are 
 exactly alike." 
 
 "Exactly alike, are they?" 
 
 "Yes: plain square rooms, built of stone." 
 
 "Nothing inside at all?" asked Wynne, again turning 
 to look at her. 
 
 "Not a single bottle." 
 
 "Indeed, miss? I thought you said you'd never been 
 inside?" 
 
 "Oh!" said Dodo, outraged. "Really, Mr. Wynne, if 
 I wanted to tell stories I'd do it better than that ! I did not 
 say I'd never been into it, I said I could not get in now. 
 Mrs. Carpenter took me in when I first came to look over 
 the house. I believe the key was lost in their move." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, miss," said Wynne, relaxing into 
 a smile, "but it did sound a bit queer, you know. Well, 
 look here: I must see inside, but I don't want to give more 
 trouble than what I need. Ill send a message up for on 
 of our men to come down and pick the lock, hell get it 
 open in no time." 
 
 1 ' Why, that 's the very thing ! ' ' exclaimed Dodo. ' ' Why 
 didn't I think of it before?" 
 
 For the sound reason that, if she had, Wynne would have 
 feared a trick, whereas now his doubt of Dodo was hand-
 
 296 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 somely shaken. Meanwhile the dusk was falling fast, and 
 Roden recollected that one warder would be called off to 
 carry Wynne's message: let but night come before that 
 door was opened, and there was a chance a bare chance, 
 and no more that Auburn might get away to the open 
 moor. But what an issue for Dodo! 
 
 "Now, miss, if you please," said "Wynne, "we'll go up 
 stairs and finish off, while we can see our way about a bit. 
 It won't take long, being as it's only a formality: he'd 
 never try to hide in the bedrooms in a little place like 
 this." 
 
 Leaving one warder posted at the stair foot and a second 
 in the hall, they went up. Heather Cottage was but one 
 story high, and the three rooms all opened off the small, 
 square landing, which was in view of Smith below. Dodo 
 threw open her own door, and Wynne soon satisfied him 
 self that her big press contained only dresses, and that her 
 small bedstead masked nothing more dangerous than a 
 bandbox. Lesbia's chamber was even barer than Miss Car- 
 minow's. Finally, he came to the room that had been 
 Jeannie 's, where Auburn had supped that night. 
 
 "This the last room, miss?" he said, trying the 
 handles ''Dear me, why, this is locked, now!" 
 
 "Surely not," said Dodo, surprised. 
 
 She tried it, but it would not open. She called down the 
 stairs, "Jean darling, did you lock your door? We want 
 the key." 
 
 "Eh?" said Jeannie, appearing from the kitchen. "I 
 never locked it!" 
 
 "Then Lesbia must have," said Dodo, perplexed. "Or 
 does it ever stick?" 
 
 "I never knew it," said Jeannie, rattling the handle. 
 She bent down to look at the keyhole. "Why, the key's in 
 it it's locked on the inside!" 
 
 "Locked on the inside!" Wynne repeated sharply. 
 "What's that? Stand away there, if you please, miss."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 297 
 
 "But there's some mistake!" said Dodo, "why, the men 
 were in here this morning!" She looked round and saw 
 that Caron and Sir George had followed Jeannie, and read 
 on every face the same suspicion: and still no realization 
 of the truth came to her, so prepossessed was she with a 
 different danger. "There is some mistake," she said. 
 
 "Let me call Lesbia " Her voice died as she heard 
 
 Wynne's firm, decisive summons to the prisoner whom he 
 believed to be within. 
 
 " All the windows are commanded, so it's no good your 
 trying to escape. You'd better make up your mind to come 
 quietly, it '11 be best for you in the long-run. ' ' 
 
 There was no sound. Wynne put the women aside and 
 called to Smith. Dodo saw that they were both armed and 
 ready to use their weapons. "Now, then, Auburn," said 
 Wynne, "if you're there, d'you mean to give us the job of 
 breaking open this young lady's door?" 
 
 Light firm steps crossed the room : the key turned in the 
 lock, the door opened, and Auburn stood on the threshold. 
 He was dressed in his convict rags, and after the unspeak 
 able strain of twelve hours in hiding he looked as Dodo 
 had never imagined him demoralized, and degraded, and 
 cowed. Wynne raised his revolver and covered him: but 
 that precaution was unnecessary. He walked out into the 
 middle of the waiting group, and held out his hands, crossed 
 at the wrists. "I am willing to come quietly, sir," he said 
 
 "That's sensible of you," said Wynne, slipping the hand 
 cuffs on with a deft professional touch. "You've given 
 enough trouble as it is. I should just like to know how you 
 got into that room, though. Where were you when Mr. 
 Brown came round this morning?" 
 
 "I can't tell you, sir." 
 
 "Oh, you can't, can't you?" 
 
 "No, sir. I shall not give you or any one the details of 
 my escape. But one thing you'll bear me out in, Mr. 
 Wynne, and that is that this lady was not responsible for
 
 298 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 my appearance." He had not once looked at Dodo, who 
 stood motionless, her hands clasped against her breast, 
 where in the dark of the moor fog Auburn's head had lain. 
 "It was a a surprise to her." 
 
 "You infernal scamp !" Sir George burst out, "how dare 
 you come here?" 
 
 Roden struck in to give Auburn his cue. "Miss Car- 
 minow 's was the house of all others you were bound to keep 
 away from." 
 
 "I know that." 
 
 "I'm glad you have the decency to admit it, sir! I con- 
 aider that you've behaved infamously badly. I suppose 
 you meant to try and work on Miss Carminow's pity?" 
 
 "Even so, Sir George." 
 
 "I wonder you're not ashamed " 
 
 "I should have said he was ashamed," said Caron; 
 "rather obviously so." 
 
 Auburn's lips framed "Mercy." He was visibly near to 
 sobbing. Sir George shrugged his shoulders and turned 
 away, true to the British principle that one cannot hit a man 
 when he is down. Roden 's glance for Caron was one of 
 bitter anger, and he was going up to essay a word of en 
 couragement to the beaten man when "Wynne checked him 
 sharply. "That's enough, sir," he said. "We can't stay 
 here all night. This has been a little bit of a surprise all 
 round, but all 'a well that ends " 
 
 The words were cut short by a quick movement from 
 Auburn, who had forgotten his manacled wrists. "Oh! 
 catch her, one of you!" he cried, "the child's dying!" 
 
 Jeannie had sunk quietly down on the floor. Sir George 
 and Roden lifted her between them, and got her into her 
 room just as Lesbia came up the stairs. She stood on the 
 landing, taking in every detail of the scene: Dodo's tragic 
 quiet, Auburn handcuffed between the officers, Jeannie 
 insensible on her bed with the blood flowing from her 
 mouth. There was woe enough in that sight to turn any
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 299 
 
 woman to stone, and like stone Lesbia stood, while Caron 
 ran to get water and Roden loosened Jeannie's clothes. At 
 length Dodo touched Lesbia 's arm. "Jeannie's dying, I 
 think," she said. 
 
 Lesbia 's hands went up to her head, and she stood press 
 ing them against either temple, but still she did not speak. 
 
 "Lucky Jeannie, don't you think?" Dodo added with the 
 travesty of a smile. 
 
 Wynne eyed her doubtfully. "I was going to ask you 
 just to step up to the prison with me, miss, and see the 
 Governor: but I dare say, if you prefer it, he'd wait till 
 till " 
 
 "Till she's dead? Oh, she may not die for a long time, 
 and her sister will be with her. I '11 come with you if you 
 want me," Dodo answered. She stooped to wipe the lips 
 of the sick girl and pressed her own to them. "Good-bye, 
 old Jeannie. I'll send some one for a doctor, Lesbia." 
 
 So in the dark of the November twilight they left Heather 
 Cottage: Auburn handcuffed between warders, Sir George 
 with Dodo's hand drawn through his arm, Roden and 
 Caron together, some little way behind. 
 
 "Events have gone too rapidly for me," said Caron. "I 
 won't ask for details: but tell me this, at all events was 
 Auburn much to blame for coming here ? ' ' 
 
 "Rather: but he's made amends." 
 
 "Gave himself up, in fact?" 
 
 "Virtually." 
 
 "His story will need some patching." 
 
 "They'll suspect Dodo : but I think they can't prove any 
 thing." 
 
 * ' Heaven be praised ! We don 't want a scandal. ' ' Roden 
 shrugged his shoulders. "What's the matter with you?" 
 
 "Are you blind?" 
 
 "To him? No. Running plays the devil with a man, 
 doesn't it?" Roden nodded. "But, after all, he's no 
 worse off than he was before."
 
 800 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "It has broken him." 
 
 Caron winced away from the grim words. "He's had 
 bad luck all through. He'll weather this as he's weathered 
 the rest." 
 
 "I wish to God he were dead," said Roden, " or I 
 were."
 
 XXX. 
 
 IT was New Year's Eve, and the snow lay thick on the 
 ground: a night of frost, so placid that Dodo's candle 
 burned steadily beside her open window. Nearly two 
 months had gone by since the recapture of Auburn : a time 
 as dark and still in Dodo's life as the wintry landscape 
 itself. 
 
 She had escaped scot-free. There was no evidence to 
 prove her implicated, and for Auburn 's sake she took care 
 not to incriminate herself. Auburn swore, and Wynne 
 bore him out, that no one could have been more painfully 
 surprised than Dodo when he opened Jeannie's door. Not 
 another syllable could be wrung from him, and the con 
 clusion to which Major Topham came was that the prisoner, 
 known to be a rich man, had contrived to bribe a warder. 
 Not that the Governor was satisfied, for there were various 
 points, and notably the meeting in the road, that struck him 
 as suspicious: but Wynne stood up for Dodo's innocence 
 (thereby heaping coals of fire on Dodo's head), and in the 
 lack of direct proof Major Topham, after a cross-examina 
 tion in which he was less cool than the suspect, had to let 
 her go. 
 
 Auburn himself was punished, but not severely. He had 
 a spell of solitary confinement on bread and water, lost his 
 remission marks and his fourth year's privileges, and was 
 put into grotesque parti-colored clothes which made him 
 feel like a clown in an ugly pantomime : no undue penalty. 
 That he was transferred to Portland early in December 
 was due to Major Topham 's fear of an outbreak upon 
 Jimmy Jones, who gloried impenitently in what he had 
 
 301
 
 302 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 done. Both Auburn and Dodo, in fact, might be said to 
 have got off cheaply. None the less it seemed to both that 
 the very springs of life were broken. Dodo's lot was the 
 unremitting anguish of pity: while Auburn, losing in the 
 strong gentleness of Hugh Rose his last link with the outer 
 world, heard night by night in the dash of the waves on the 
 rocks under his great sea-prison a summons to despair. At 
 that time he slept as little as he could. Better far to lie 
 awake in the dark, looking death in the face, than to sleep, 
 and dream of open waters, and hills bare to the wind, and 
 the living touch of Dodo's arms about his neck. He who 
 does not sleep does not wake. 
 
 As soon as she was allowed, Dodo left Menval. She 
 parted from Lesbia and Jeannie without a pang, although 
 Jeannie was so ill that no one thought she would live the 
 year out. Dodo's one strong feeling seemed to be a dis 
 taste for Heather Cottage. Sir George insisted on taking 
 her home with him, and she yielded, as she would have 
 yielded if they had ordered her off to prison. Roden was 
 glad, for the air teemed with scandal, and he knew that her 
 name could have no stauncher and no abler champion than 
 Sir George, although, or because, he had heard from 
 Dodo's lips the whole truth. The plain, honest country 
 gentleman had a strain of chivalry in him, which it was 
 Dodo's good luck to set on fire, and by its light he attained 
 to a clearer perception than one would have thought pos 
 sible to a man of middle age and fixed standards. He gave 
 her credit not for love only but for faith "After all, if 
 she thinks the fellow innocent!" he said, and shrugged his 
 shoulders. He saw, as Lesbia had seen, that that was for 
 Dodo the crux of the situation. 
 
 Such a man was not to be deterred by scandal. "We must 
 make the women take her up," he said to Roden. "Get the 
 poor dear child to come back with me, and I'll guarantee 
 there shall be no scandal. I should like to hear anybody 
 say a word against her when she's under Magdalen's
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR SOS 
 
 wing!" Sir George as he said this looked quite unlike the 
 normal Sir George who rode and shot and harried poachers 
 all the year round at Trevor Hall. He was a man of weight 
 in the county, while Lady Trevor, born Magdalen Sele, was 
 related by blood to half the northern aristocracy, so that 
 the plan was a sound one. ' ' Good, ' ' said Dodo when it was 
 laid before her. "I'll go and be whitewashed." So she 
 went back to the grey village ringed by the silence of the 
 Plain, to the tall spired church under whose shadow her 
 father lay asleep : to the gossip of the market-place and the 
 curious sympathy of Mabel Blandford, and Lady Trevor's 
 motherly kindness, and the strong love of Grace. She had 
 not been away six months in all. 
 
 For some while they left her quiet to readjust herself to 
 life: but Dodo was ever a fighter, and the patient accep 
 tance of pain was no part of her plan. From the death-like 
 apathy of Menval, through a time of isolation and the 
 grinding wheels of thought, she struggled painfully back 
 to the living world again. But though it was the old world 
 it was not the old Dodo. 
 
 "Dodo, father wants to have a few people here on New 
 Year 's Eve. Do you mind ? ' ' 
 
 "Why should I?" 
 
 "Only, if we do, you'll have to come down to dinner." 
 
 "Very well," said Dodo after a short silence: "am I to 
 do Samson and the Philistines?" 
 
 "Don't see the point oh yes, I do. No, you shan't make 
 sport for them, though you will be rather coolly received, 
 I'm afraid: most of them think it was awfully wicked of 
 you and awfully mean of Charles. But you'll have to face 
 them some time or other, so can't you buck up and do it 
 now?" 
 
 "Dear, old, diplomatic Gracie!" said Dodo, half smiling. 
 "Very well, I'll come and face them if you want me to." 
 
 After this sort was Dodo encouraged to return to society, 
 and now, on this white New Year's Eve, she was steeling
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 herself to meet the ordeal for Auburn 's sake, and still more 
 for the Trevors'. Dodo had taken pains with her appear 
 ance. Her plentitude of fair hair was drawn up in one 
 silken wave from the nape of her neck to a coronet of 
 braids, and a slender wreath of white lilae was twined in it 
 like a ribbon. Bound her throat she wore a collar of pearl 
 and emerald, Auburn's gift at Caesar's Camp, and the green 
 fire of her betrothal ring glowed on her left hand. Her 
 dress had cost her some thought. Black she had considered 
 and rejected, as too plainly traditional: yet she was de 
 barred by her mourning from wearing colors. There re 
 mained white: and in white accordingly Dodo had clad 
 herself, like a girl going to her first communion or a young 
 bride. "White may, however, be either childlike or mature, 
 and Dodo had chosen the latter type in a French gown, 
 filmy and clinging, with glittering embroideries and long, 
 pale, extravagant lilac-trails. And very fair she looked, and 
 very young! The years had heightened, not lessened, 
 Dodo's charm. To the fine slenderness and pale bloom of 
 her real youth they had added the qualities proper to riper 
 life with its fullness of experience, the marks of character 
 without which a woman 's beauty is but a lifeless mask. 
 
 There is a touch of wizardry in all mirrors. As Dodo 
 stood leaning forward, candle in hand, to peer at the white 
 vision shining out of the dark glass, it needed no strong 
 imagination to conjure up the eyes of her lover watching 
 her from the shadows. But this imagination was so strong 
 that Dodo looked back over her shoulder, and could hardly 
 believe that he was not in the room. The sense of his bodily 
 presence was as vivid as if the very breath of his passion 
 had fanned her cheek. 
 
 She went to the window and drew back the curtain. It 
 was a cloudy night, but not dark: there was a crescent 
 moon, and the snow lying thick and pure and pale over lawn 
 and wood shed its own illumination everywhere. Far off 
 she had a glimpse of a dark, triangular slip of steel which
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 805 
 
 she knew to be the lake : beyond that, vague, formless, cloud- 
 like heights where the snow lay only in crannies rose up in 
 a long curve against the paler obscurity of the clouds. 
 Reckless of her bare shoulders Dodo leaned out of the open 
 window, straining her eyes towards the south. Below her 
 was the porch with its broad steps, and the long dark slope 
 of the avenue where they had all been gathered on the 
 evening of Auburn's arrest. Her last sight of him had been 
 at the gate of the prison, when he was led off to his cell : he 
 had turned and looked back at her then, once, for the last 
 time: what a look! She never could think of his eyes at 
 that moment without the phrase of the old seer rising in 
 her mind, "They shall go down quick into the pit." But 
 his lips moved, and his last words, read by her only, were 
 meant to comfort her: "Remember, it was well worth 
 while. " Not so had those ghostly eyes looked at her from 
 the dark mirror, but with the old fire of passion, the old 
 relentless, merry sense of power. She thought, "What can 
 have brought him back to me, as he used to be, in the old 
 shape, before they broke him? I wonder what he would 
 think of me if he were here in the flesh," and a vivid pre 
 sentiment of what he would have thought, and said, and 
 done, lit the torch in her eyes and made her blush. 
 
 "Are you ready, old girl? I tapped twice, and couldn't 
 make you hear." 
 
 Grace was standing in the doorway, uncertain, apolo 
 getic : Grace tricked out in pink satin, with a skirt that was 
 rather long behind and rather short in front. Why were 
 Gracie's evening gowns always short in front? "Are you, 
 ready?" Dodo retorted, pointing to an unpremeditated pin. 
 "I hope not." 
 
 "Always do feel an idiot in evening dress," Grace 
 acknowledged mournfully, "but that can't be helped, I'm 
 used to it. Besides, you can do pretty-pretty for both of 
 us. Dear, you are rather transcendent to-night do you 
 know ? What have you been doing to yourself ? ' '
 
 806 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "There's my rouge-pot," said Dodo, laying her hand on 
 the Farquhar portrait of Auburn, which stood, framed, on 
 her table. "Do you believe in ghosts, Gracie? I saw him 
 just now." 
 
 "Oh, Dodo!" 
 
 "Do you think it could mean that he is dead? It was a 
 very much alive ghost," said Dodo, smiling queerly. "He 
 came and looked over my shoulder into the looking-glass : 
 not a tragic, beaten Charles, as I last saw him at Prince- 
 town, but the Charles of four years ago with his trick of 
 doing what he liked first and apologizing afterwards or 
 not at all." 
 
 "Oh, Dodo, how can you?" 
 
 "My dear, if I could believe he was dead, I'd sing a 
 Te Deum. Come, we must go down. Has any one arrived 
 yet?" 
 
 "Only Bernard. He politely told me that if he'd known 
 how deep the snow was nothing on earth would have in 
 duced him to stir." 
 
 "Who takes me in to dinner?" 
 
 "Val Attwood: mother and I thought you'd like him, 
 he 's such a dear fellow and so easy to talk to. ' ' 
 
 "How good you all are to me!" Dodo said, as they went 
 down the stairs. "Don't think me ungrateful: I can't 
 thank you now, and I can't play up to you decently, but I 
 will as soon as I can, truly I will! Meanwhile, you can't 
 think what a comfort it is to know you'll honor all my over 
 drafts ! ' ' Grace 's reply was to throw her arm round Dodo 's 
 neck and kiss her with the old boyish tenderness. "It's so 
 nice to have some one to be selfish to." 
 
 "I don't think you're selfish, Dodo." 
 
 Dodo thought of Jeannie, fighting out the end of her life 
 under the grey night sky, and of Lesbia left alone in her 
 anguish to watch the parting soul. "Never mind," she 
 said. " I '11 now be sensible, for a change. ' ' 
 
 She followed Grace into the big drawing-room, lit by a
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 307 
 
 blaze of electric light, which had only recently been laid 
 on, and possessed all the charm of a new toy for Sir George. 
 Mild Lady Trevor, elegant and simple in her flowing grey 
 silk, was lamenting this infatuation in under-tones to Lady 
 Richarda Harewood, for the other guests had arrived during 
 Grace's absence, and it was close on seven. Sir George, on 
 the hearth-rug, held in talk two or three of the men. It 
 was but a small and informal gathering : Mabel Blandf ord 
 and her father (Eric was pre-engaged), Louisine and Val 
 Attwood, Mr. Saltau of the Manor and his pretty French 
 bride, and Bernard Carminow, who had walked up from 
 the Chantry Farm and was more than usually out of tem 
 per as a result: these, with Roden and Caron, who were 
 staying in the house, completed the tale, and all had known 
 one another too long to be at a loss for conversation. Dodo 
 alone, by virtue of her six months' absence and all that had 
 happened in it, ranked as a novelty : and there was a very 
 slight but significant movement in the room as she came in. 
 Many of those present looked up, involuntarily or furtively. 
 Lady Trevor swam across the room and took her hand. ' ' I 
 think you know every one, dear, except Mrs. Saltau, don't 
 you?" she exclaimed. Dodo was led towards Mrs. Saltau, 
 a French Royalist in Dresden china, but had to linger to 
 shake hands with Lady Ricky, and meanwhile Mrs. Saltau 
 jumped up and came to meet her, and with a quaint, caress 
 ing sincerity caught and held Dodo's fingers for a moment. 
 "Oh!" she said, "how charming of you to be last! My 
 husband and I feared never to arrive, the carriage came so 
 slow, so slow! once it was up to the ankles in snow " 
 
 "If Lady Trevor will introduce me to Miss Carminow," 
 this was Mr. Saltau 's pleasant, clear voice as he strolled 
 forward from the fireside group, ' ' I shall have pleasure in 
 explaining that when my wife says ankles it is axles she 
 has in her mind " 
 
 Certainly it was no hard ordeal, this return to society 
 under Lady Trevor's motherly wing. In a few minutes they
 
 308 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 went in to dinner, and Dodo found herself seated between 
 Val Attwood and Mr. Saltau, while Roden and Louisine 
 faced them across the table, which was decorated with a low 
 tracery of pale blooms and dark leaves, so that conversation 
 could be carried on freely over it. And the talk ran with 
 an easy flow. Lady Richarda was telling scandalous 
 legends to Sir George, who lent an obliging ear and an eye 
 that had a twinkle in it. Louisine and Roden, whose rapid 
 intimacy on the night of the Blandfords' dance four years 
 before had run in Grace Trevor's mind when she was 
 drafting her couples, were profiting by her generosity to 
 renew their old flirtation. Mabel Blandford was happy 
 with Caron, better worth her notice since he had blossomed 
 into celebrity, and Caron was no less happy to listen to the 
 lady's views on the Academy, which struck him as idiotic 
 enough to be funny. Handsome Val Attwood, of whom 
 Roden had once said that it was hard to understand how a 
 man could be so very well bred and not a fool, talked with 
 his inimitable lightness of Roden 's Indian career and his 
 own doings in town, and never for one moment let it be seen 
 that he was aware of the need of discretion. It was all so 
 natural and so easy that the youth in Dodo would have been 
 content to drift with the current, but she could not: the 
 isolation of a great sorrow was still on her, and its curse of 
 clear vision. She was no coward: indeed, as Roden re 
 marked to Grace, "Our Dodo can usually face the music." 
 She chatted easily to Val, and laughed over his sketch of an 
 early Territorial field-day. But she listened to her own 
 laughter with a strange sense of duality, which Val, whose 
 own Army career had been cut short by a shameful scandal 
 imperfectly hushed up, alone of the company could have 
 explained to her. Of such irretrievable wounds a few die, 
 many are healed : others, of a harder courage, merely grow 
 familiar with pain. 
 
 "Yes, the Ardennes for me," Amyas Saltau said in his 
 soft voice, tinged with a Devonshire accent and marked by
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 309 
 
 a quaint, slight stammer. "They're a s-sweet spot. All 
 fir-trees, you know, and rivers with stepping-stones, and 
 porters who don't expect to be tipped, and that sort of 
 thing." 
 
 "Idyllic," Dodo nodded. "But I'd really rather go to 
 Paris." 
 
 "See Paris, see the world," said Val: "it is the world, in 
 miniature." 
 
 "Paris is fascinating and wicked: at least so I've always 
 been told," said Dodo. "Don't shake my illusions, please, 
 I want to keep them. ' ' 
 
 "Then she'd better not go, had she?" Grace chimed in 
 across the table. "It's the only way to keep one's illusions, 
 my dear. ' ' 
 
 "I don't agree with you," dissented Amyas Saltau. 
 "When you are a few years younger, Grace, you won't be 
 such a pessimist." 
 
 "I don't see any sense in that," said Grace, disgusted: 
 ' ' do you, Bernard ? ' ' 
 
 "Not much," said Bernard. 
 
 Dodo plunged hurriedly into the slight, surprised pause 
 that followed as it so often used to follow Bernard's 
 reply. "I don't care for illusions that have to be kept in 
 cotton-wool, do you, Mr. Attwood ? ' ' 
 
 "He hasn't had any since the Liberals came in," Mr. 
 Saltau began to explain, but his attention was reclaimed 
 at this point by Lady Ricky, who had been trying to preach 
 Free Trade to Mr. Blandford, and was infuriated by his 
 affability to the fair sex. Val went on, "It really does save 
 trouble to resign oneself to facts. As long as I hoped we 
 weren't going to the dogs, I was harassed by anxiety: now 
 that I know we are, I am agreeably calm, and able to reflect 
 that after all we shall take ages getting there." 
 
 "Isn't that rather a cowardly doctrine?" said Dodo. 
 
 "Possibly," said Val, helping himself to olives. "It's 
 mine. ' '
 
 810 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Sir George leaned forward to ask Lady Richarda whether 
 a date was yet fixed for the hunt ball, a topic in which most 
 of the table joined except Louisine and Roden, who were 
 deep in reminiscence. "I remember your sister so well," 
 Louisine was saying in her low, effective drawl, ' l the night 
 of the Blandfords' dance. She was looking so awfully 
 pretty that evening. ' ' 
 
 "So were< I mean," said Roden, "you were dressed in 
 yellow." 
 
 "Civilized people call it amber," said Louisine, un 
 moved. "It wasn't a bad dance. You behaved awf'ly 
 badly." 
 
 "Yes, didn't we?" said Roden. "Do you remember the 
 Moorish Inglenook in the Mauve Saloon ? ' ' 
 
 "Ridiculous!" murmured Louisine. She left the appli 
 cation vague. "Your sister had a good time too, didn't 
 she?" 
 
 Roden 's brows drew together. "Oh, quite. You mean 
 her engagement?" 
 
 "Of course I do. Only I hadn't the cheek to say it," 
 candidly acknowledged Louisine. "So I thought I'd hint 
 at it instead, which is really much more vulgar. I admire 
 her type, you know, immensely: it's so uncommon. I can't 
 think how she could do it." 
 
 "Do what?" 
 
 "Dig a subterranean passage, or whatever it was she did 
 do. Oh, wasn't it that? Some one told me it was I'm so 
 sorry. But it was awf 'ly noble of her, I 'm sure, whatever 
 
 it was. She's isn't she ?" Louisine hesitated, a rare 
 
 thing with her, for she had been brought up to negotiate the 
 stiffest of conversational fences without faltering: but the 
 light, keen, mocking eyes confused her. 
 
 "She is," said Roden. 
 
 "Is what?" 
 
 "Engaged to him still." 
 
 The unready color sprang to Louisine 's brown cheek:
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 311 
 
 her hand fell for a moment on Roden's arm. "Oh, I am 
 sorry!" she said. "Captain Carminow, will you believe 
 that it wasn't altogether impertinent curiosity what I 
 said?" 
 
 "What was it then?" asked Roden. 
 
 "I aw sorry." 
 
 "For her?" 
 
 "And for you. You're very much changed." 
 
 "Am I? You're the first person that has told me so," 
 said Roden. He leaned hack in his chair, looking so 
 desperately weary, so far out of harmony with the situ 
 ation, that Louisine 's social instinct woke up and she dashed 
 into a lively monologue to cover his deficiencies. 
 
 "You don't think people look dull, do you?" Grace 
 asked confidentially of Bernard Carminow. "I'm not a 
 bit of good at keeping things going, I do wish I were." 
 
 "Dodo's happy anyhow," said Bernard sardonically. 
 "Look at his expression! I fancy she could have him any 
 day if she chose to drop the handkerchief. He's just the 
 sort of sentimental rotter to like her all the better for 
 having made a fool of herself for another man." 
 
 "As if she'd have him!" 
 
 "More fool she. We might have a double wedding," 
 Bernard grinned, inclining his head very slightly towards 
 Roden and Louisine. "That would prosper with a little 
 encouragement what ? ' ' 
 
 "I don't think so. I don't know if he's in earnest: she 
 can hardly be. She'll never marry a poor man." 
 
 "Ah! you don't like that notion." 
 
 "That's hateful of you, Bernard." 
 
 "Dare say: I don't care if it is. It's enough to make 
 any man savage to see a woman he likes chucking herself 
 away over a chap who hasn't got the sense to thank her 
 for it." 
 
 The fierce pain that underlay Bernard's low, impatient 
 tones consoled Grace to some extent for their remarkable
 
 313 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 impropriety. "Well, you needn't talk about it now, any 
 how," she pointed out. "Isn't Roden well to-night? He 
 looks awfully seedy. ' ' 
 
 "There's nothing wrong with him." 
 
 "Oh, nothing except that he's getting as thin as a hop- 
 pole! He's never really been himself since " 
 
 "Since what?" 
 
 "Don't be aggravating! you know what I mean." 
 
 "Good gracious, yes!" said Bernard, leaning back in his 
 chair. "We all know, don't we? It's quite an Auburn 
 dinner, in fact though I'll go bail I'm the first that's said 
 his name. Well, Grace, I 'm not given to humbug ! and all 
 I can say is, I wish the fellow would cut his throat, or catch 
 typhoid " 
 
 "Eh? ? What's that?" Sir George bent his brows im 
 patiently. "Some one to see me? Rubbish, Thompson! 
 how can I see anybody to-night ? ' ' 
 
 Thompson, the discreet butler, whispered into Sir 
 George's ear. 
 
 "Well, tell her to wait, then. I won't see her now, and 
 that's the long and short of it." 
 
 Thompson withdrew dissatisfied, and Sir George turned 
 with an apology to Mrs. Saltau. 
 
 "Says her name's Burnet, and she must speak to me on 
 the spot. Extraordinarily unreasonable these women are, 
 to be sure they always come in the middle of my dinner !" 
 
 "Alas, poor women!" said Mrs. Saltau, with her quaint 
 French shrug and movement of the hands. "And you who 
 are an Englishman!" 
 
 "No, no," Sir George protested, "that's too bad! Eh, 
 what is it now?" 
 
 "If you please, Sir George," Thompson's harassed 
 whisper was rather louder and less confidential in his dis 
 tress, and several at that end of the table looked up in 
 amusement, "we don't know what to do " 
 
 "Which of you here is Sir George Trevor?"
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 313 
 
 Dodo got to her feet, and Val Attwood sprang up to 
 catch her if she fell. Roden leaned back in his chair, color 
 less, lifeless but for his eyes. It was Lesbia. 
 
 She pushed past the servants: no one dared to stop her. 
 She was in black, and had nothing over her shoulders but a 
 black shawl : the snow lay thick on it, and in the folds of 
 her dress. She stood with folded arms, composed, powerful, 
 bearing the brunt of all those eyes that tried to read her 
 pale face, and could not. 
 
 "I came for justice, gentlemen and ladies, and that's a 
 thing that ought not to be kept waiting. It has waited al 
 ready four years and more, but now the time has come 
 when I can speak out. Which of you is Sir George?" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "And you're a magistrate?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Then I give myself into your hands, sir, for the murder 
 of the late Sir Charles Auburn." 
 
 "Good heavens! the woman must be out of her mind." 
 
 "I am not. I have been nearly, though: waiting, wait 
 ing in the dawn for the spirit to pass. Listen, then for 
 I see some here that long for truth as dying men long for 
 water. It was me that killed him. I held my tongue as 
 long as my sister Jean lived, but she died this morning, and 
 now I can tell my tale." 
 
 No one had any idea of interrupting her, and after a 
 short pause Lesbia went on : 
 
 "Long years ago, before I had cried all the beauty out 
 of this face of mine, I was a good-looking girl. I was maid 
 to Lady Auburn then, and Sir Charles took a fancy to me. 
 He used to come sneaking up when her back was turned to 
 make love to me. I cared for that just as much as you'd 
 mind a fly on your face. He never dared meddle with me. 
 
 "When she died, she -left her babe to me to take care of. 
 I lived on at Auburn till he grew to be a man, and then I 
 left it, and settled in a cottage pretty close. It was my
 
 314 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 father's, and his father's before him, and I loved it: and 
 little I thought of the bane in the race, the black stock 
 growing hard by. There my half-sister Jeannie came to 
 me : and there she grew up a bonnier girl than I had ever 
 been. 
 
 "She was too bonny. Sir Charles cast his eye on her. I 
 did not know it, I did not fear it, and God never said a 
 word. Well, He knows His own business best, we must 
 suppose. It was a lonely place, out of earshot of neighbor 
 ing cottages. I'm sorry to trouble ladies' ears with such a 
 tale, but such things do get done in the world, and if God 
 can bear with them so can we, I think. . . . One day, when 
 I came home . . . 
 
 "My Jeannie was a flower as spotless as the lily, and like 
 a lily when you set your foot on it she never lifted up her 
 head again but just faded and faded away. She was never 
 strong: and by and by she sickened and took to her bed. 
 Consumption, they called it : and so it was, but the mind 
 was consumed before the body. I wanted no vengeance 
 yet: I could leave that to God. Eternity is a blessed 
 thought, and I knew there was a bright blazing mansion 
 getting ready for that man in the kingdom of his father. 
 And I was not going to bring down my bonny Jean's pride 
 and lay it in the dust for fools to make a mock of it. 
 
 "But one night, when she was very ill and I sitting beside 
 her and listening to her pitiful talk, there came over me a 
 feeling that I had to speak to him. It was the fifteenth of 
 July, nineteen three. When she dropped asleep I stole out, 
 and went up the avenue, walking on the grass that no one 
 might see my steps. I knew where he 'd be. I came in by 
 the open window and found him sitting over his wine. It 
 was not much I said, but it was well chosen. He got up : 
 but he was too drunk to be angry. What was next ? Why, 
 this mad brute, that had trampled out my Jean's life this 
 dirty dog was on his drunken legs trying to kiss me ! Said 
 he thought I was 'quite handsome in my temper.'
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 315 
 
 "There was a cane lying on the table, I never saw 
 whose. I struck him with it only once. I doubt I never 
 beat carpets so hard as I beat that man over his drunken 
 face. He fell right on the ground at my feet : then I knew 
 what Jael felt like. 
 
 ' ' I turned him over, and made sure he was dead. I went 
 out by the open window and stole back home. But, as I 
 was going in by the garden gate, a young gentleman 
 stepped up to me and asked me had I seen young Mr. 
 Auburn up at the house. That was the first news I had 
 that he was about. I said no: and then seeing he was a 
 gentleman, and looking forward to what was to come, I 
 asked him would he promise not to say he had seen me out 
 of my door that night, for, I said, 'a woman's good name 
 hangs on it.' He gave the promise, and kept it loyally, 
 from which I now release him, that he may witness to my 
 truth. There he sits." She pointed to Roden. 
 
 "You knew this, and did not tell?" 
 
 Roden raised his clear eyes to Dodo's face. "I had 
 promised." 
 
 "Well, now, you can finish for yourself," said Lesbia. 
 ' ' I did what I thought was best for my boy. I fancied no 
 one knew he was down, and so I made an excuse to pack 
 him off by a back way. It was as a snare to his feet. All 
 that I did to help him has been to drag him down. I saw 
 him taken to prison, I heard the death-sentence read over 
 him : the babe that had lain on my breast, the boy I loved 
 better, far better than my own life ; better than Jeannie 's 
 self, I sometimes think. But I held my tongue. The sins 
 of the fathers shall be visited upon the children. My Jean 
 was innocent, and wronged to death : and it was his father 
 did it, I would have seen him hanged, but I never would 
 have spoken. But if they had hanged him, when Jeannie 
 died I would have spoken just the same. ' ' 
 
 She ended as composedly as she had begun, and stood 
 waiting, wrapped in her shawl, from which the snow had
 
 316 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 all melted, and was running down on the floor. Dodo was 
 still on her feet. Roden rose and faced her, white as a 
 dying man, but unshaken. 
 
 "I was sure I could have saved him if I had spoken." 
 
 "Let me alone." 
 
 Roden bowed slightly (an odd thing to do to one's sister, 
 Grace thought), and said no more. Grace glanced round 
 the disordered table, but of what every one was saying or 
 doing she got only a fitful and clouded view. A moment 
 later Sir George stood up. 
 
 ' ' I am sure, ' ' he said in his low, well-bred voice, with the 
 touch of dignity that always made Grace feel proud of him, 
 "you all know us too well to think us inhospitable if we 
 ask you to excuse us to-night. After what has passed, it 
 would be a poor sort of evening that we could invite you to 
 share." 
 
 There followed confusion and a murmur of farewells 
 and much hunting of cloaks and summoning of carriages. 
 In the middle of it all Grace found Roden standing by her, 
 with a glass of wine in his hand. "I wish you would make 
 the child drink this." 
 
 "Thank you, Roddy," Grace answered, "you think of 
 everything." 
 
 She carried the wine to Dodo, who had thrown a window 
 open and was looking far out into the night. 
 
 "Drink it up, darling, it will do you good." 
 
 Dodo put the glass from her. "No: it's Roden 's. I saw 
 him pour it out." 
 
 Grace had to wait a moment to control her indignation. 
 "I think you are mad, Dodo. What Roden saw proved 
 nothing at all." 
 
 "Not enough to hang Lesbia: but ample to have saved 
 Charles." 
 
 "I don't believe it. If it was so, Roden could not break 
 his promise." 
 
 "No, he wanted to save his soul."
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 3lT 
 
 "As if Eoden cared about his soul!" said Grace scorn 
 fully. "You're very unjust, Dodo." 
 
 "Am I?" said Dodo. "Let me alone, Grace." She 
 turned on Grace with her wide level eyes, so like Roden's 
 in their passionless brilliancy. "You don't know Roden, 
 and I never did till now. He is the eternal fanatic, the type 
 that kills men in the name of God. He has broken Charles' 
 life as you break a piece of stick : and he is my brother, and 
 he loves me."
 
 XXXI. 
 
 UNDER an icy blue January sky, Portland, the great 
 stone fortress, rose up foursquare on its stone fore 
 land. Eock and prison were united into one vast mass by 
 the thick pure mantle of the snow. Every crocket, every 
 beading, every sheltered sill stood out black as jet against 
 the dazzling mask. The sea roared against the foot of the 
 prison, the wind raved round it, and the air was rife with 
 stinging flakes of salt. The prisoners shivered in their 
 cramped cubicles of corrugated iron seven feet high, seven 
 long, and four feet wide and were at pains not to set their 
 bare feet on the naked slate floor. At night Auburn lay 
 awake, too cold to sleep, and heard his neighbors all around 
 him grumbling and swearing in their ill-swung hammocks. 
 It was a frozen Inferno. Many years after, the chill of an 
 east wind by a winter seashore used to bring back to him 
 those nights in the iron cells of Portland. 
 
 It was eight in the morning, and the sun was rising red 
 out of a bank of fog. Auburn had eaten his porridge and 
 rolled up his hammock and blankets, and sat idle on his 
 stool, waiting to be let out. His mates had all gone to 
 chapel half an hour ago and were now at work. Why he 
 alone should have been left in his cell he neither knew nor 
 cared. Inaction made him deadly cold, however, and he 
 was not sorry when at length a warder walked in and told 
 him, in the curt Portland manner, that he was to come at 
 once to see the Governor. 
 
 Almost too stiff to walk, Auburn followed his guide down 
 the long flagged corridors, through doors that unlocked and 
 relocked behind him, into homelier regions of carpeted 
 
 318
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 319 
 
 staircase and papered wall: he had forgotten the look of 
 such things. His months at Portland seemed longer than 
 the years at Princetown. A great gap intervened between 
 life in the sea-prison and life before his escape. 
 
 At length he was brought into the Governor 's room, large 
 and comfortably furnished, and brightened by a fire burn 
 ing in the open grate, the warmth of which was reviving. 
 The Governor himself sat in a high chair before a big table. 
 He looked up as Auburn came in, and the prisoner was 
 surprised by the expression of Major White's rather nar 
 row, well-cut face. The stern and cool official had developed 
 inexplicably into a human being whose eyes conveyed in 
 terest and sympathy one might almost say, respect. 
 Auburn, keenly on the defensive, and conscious of the 
 presence of the deputy-governor and of one or two minor 
 officials who eyed him with more of curiosity and less of 
 good-breeding, waited in the prisoner's patience, collecting 
 his manhood to face the unknown ordeal. 
 
 "Will you sit down, Sir Charles?" 
 
 Such a form of address was so unfamiliar and so unlikely 
 that Auburn thought it could not be meant for him. But 
 one of the bystanders, in whom he recognized the prison 
 doctor, a kind though coarse-natured man of the name of 
 Walker, pushed forward a chair near the fire, and taking 
 Auburn by the arm put him into it. Auburn sat down, but 
 he was horribly embarrassed. In prison routine he had got 
 used to the parti-colored clothes, one leg and one arm brown 
 and one mustard-yellow, and he could work, or march, or 
 stand up at ease in them : but to sit down in a civilized room 
 and before gentlemen in this harlequin dress made him 
 wretchedly conscious of his degradation. Nor did it please 
 him to intercept the silent question and answer that flashed 
 over him between Major White and Captain Fanning and 
 the blue-eyed, red-bearded Ezra Walker. 
 
 "I've sent for you this morning, Sir Charles," began 
 Major White slowly, "to break a piece of news to you."
 
 320 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Auburn. 
 
 "You need not call me sir." 
 
 Auburn raised his eyesbrows and simply said nothing. 
 
 "You don't ask what my news is," said White. He had 
 picked up an ivory paper-knife and was bending it about in 
 his fingers, unmistakably nervous, the autocrat of fifty! 
 "You're not very inquisitive, are you?" 
 
 "No," said Auburn dryly. 
 
 "I may tell you that it is good news." 
 
 Auburn replied by a shrug. 
 
 "So good that I'm afraid to tell you without a cer 
 tain amount of preparation. Try to make up your mind 
 to hear something very surprising and, I hope, very 
 agreeable. ' ' 
 
 And still no inkling of the truth dawned on Auburn. 
 White's face was grave and dark as he turned to his second 
 in command. "What's one to say to the fellow?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, let him have it, ' ' said Fanning curtly. Then Major 
 White laid down his paper-knife. 
 
 "The news I have for you is the only news you would 
 probably be able to call good. Circumstances have come to 
 light which prove that you have been the victim of a 
 wretched miscarriage of justice. You have received the 
 formality of a free pardon, and you're at liberty to walk 
 out of my gates as soon as How about a glass of brandy, 
 Walker?" 
 
 ' ' He '11 be all right in ten seconds, ' ' said Walker gruffly. 
 Auburn had risen and caught at Fanning 's arm to steady 
 himself : his hand went up to the throat of his jacket. 
 
 "I'm all right," he said: and reeled, and would have 
 gone down on the floor if Fanning had been less quick or 
 strong. He did not faint outright, but he could not stand, 
 and for some minutes the room was quite dark, and 
 Walker's irritable, "Air give him air," and Fanning 's 
 heretical, ' ' Oh, hang the system ! ' ' came to him from a long 
 way off. When he came to himself he was lying on the sofa,
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 321 
 
 his head supported on Fanning 's arm. Auburn sat up and 
 swung his feet to the ground. 
 
 "What a fool I am! I'm all right now, thanks very 
 much. What's it all about? I don't understand." 
 
 1 'No need," said Fanning curtly. "You had better go 
 into the next room and change your clothes. ' ' 
 
 Auburn got up, but he was still so dazed that Fanning 
 had to grasp his arm. What followed was never very clear 
 to Auburn's mind. He was dimly aware of being taken 
 into another room and helped himself well-nigh helpless 
 into new clothes that sat very loose upon him, and yet felt, 
 after the shapeless convict garb, close and constrained: 
 afterwards came some signing and reading of papers. His 
 next clear memory was that of shaking hands with Fan 
 ning and White, who expressed the traditional valedictory 
 wish that he might never see him again. 
 
 "Thank you," said Auburn mechanically. "Where am 
 I to go? I mean," he corrected himself quickly, "is no one 
 here to meet he ? " 
 
 "Only I." 
 
 It was Roland, who had been ushered up in time to catch 
 the last words. He held out both hands, and Auburn took 
 them. For a moment they stood silent, looking into each 
 other's faces: with anguish of regret on the one side, with 
 unshaken fidelity on the other. 
 
 "I never believed you." 
 
 "Never mind. What's the odds?" 
 
 ' ' I knew you would forgive me, Auburn. ' ' 
 
 "All right, don't bother." 
 
 This was all that ever passed between them on the point. 
 Auburn soon forgot that he had ever had anything to for 
 give: but Roland Carew walked the more humbly all his 
 days because he had failed his friend in need. It was no 
 time to think of that now, however. Auburn had shaken 
 off his faintness and was himself again : very white, very 
 languid, but cool and steady. They went down together
 
 322 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 into the courtyard, where a number of warders pressed 
 forward to shake hands with Auburn and wish him good 
 luck, for there are kindly hearts in as well as out of a con 
 vict prison, and they were all sorry for the innocent man. 
 At the gate a big motor-car was waiting, its steelwork flash 
 ing in the sun. Little more was said till Auburn and 
 Roland were in it side by side, and the great car began to 
 move, slowly at first, but rapidly gathering speed, along 
 the flat road that connected Portland Prison with the main 
 land. Even then it was with trite enough speech that 
 Roland turned to his friend. 
 
 "I brought a fur coat for you, old man: hadn't you 
 better get into it?" 
 
 "It's a cold morning," Auburn assented, obeying: and 
 he added, as he turned up the collar round his throat, "I 
 haven 't been warm for months. ' ' 
 
 "You're looking frightfully ill." 
 
 "I shall get all right in a couple of days. Where are we 
 going?" 
 
 "To Yeovil. I thought you would like to lunch there 
 and get a wash and a shave, and then go on by train in 
 the afternoon." 
 
 "Goon?" 
 
 "To Stanton Mere. Miss Carminow is at the Trevors', 
 and they want you to ge there too." 
 
 "I suppose I can do so, can't I?" 
 
 "Can?" 
 
 "Give me an hour or so to get used to the idea of 
 freedom." 
 
 Roland 's hand clenched like a vice round the rim of the 
 steering wheel : he bit his lip and said nothing. 
 
 "This ain't a bad car," Auburn said presently. "I'll 
 take her over by and by and get your license endorsed." 
 
 Roland smiled. "As you've done before. I'm glad it's 
 a sunny morning." 
 
 "Yes: it's morning still. What's the time?"
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 328 
 
 "Half -past nine." 
 
 "Is that all? An hour and a half ago I was sitting in 
 my cell wondering whether I should live to see another 
 summer. Oh, the longing for wide spaces, Roland ! You 
 didn't happen to bring a bun with you by any chance? 
 I 'm ravenous : you never get enough to eat down there. ' ' 
 
 Roland dragged out a basket and took from it a packet 
 of sandwiches and a silver flask of wine. Auburn seized 
 the former and began to eat, as he had said, ravenously. 
 ' ' Here, drink this, ' ' Roland said, pouring him out a silver 
 cup of wine, while the* car, on first speed, ambled along a 
 broad piece of road. "It won't hurt you, it's Heidsieck 
 '84." 
 
 Auburn held it up to the light and waited a moment, 
 looking all round him at the wide, white countryside, the 
 sparkling blue sky, the sun, still reddened by fog, darting 
 down his bright arrows over a pale blue Arctic sea. "I 
 drink to the health of the good God," he said with perfect 
 gravity. "It's not bad champagne, either. Now tell me 
 how it has all come about, for I am in the dark, you know." 
 
 ' ' Do you want to hear now ? It will be a shock to you. ' ' 
 
 "My good but unimaginative Roland, I'm not a sufferer 
 from heart disease ! ' ' 
 
 "I know, you're much cooler than I thought you would 
 be. To tell you the truth, we were all rather nervous about 
 you, this coming so suddenly after such a long strain : but 
 if it hadn't been kept dark up to the last moment we could 
 never have dodged the reporters, so there's some virtue in 
 red-tape. ' ' 
 
 "If a reporter comes near me I'll brain him," said 
 Auburn. "No, I won't: I'll give 'em all different inter 
 views and let 'em fight it out. How's that, Roley-Poley * " 
 This ancient nickname, which dated from the days of 
 "Pop.," made them both laugh. Small tricks of speech or 
 thought are the last things to be affected by a great mental 
 and moral disturbance : the witty man will coin phrases in
 
 324 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 an earthquake, the sententious man will prose himself into 
 his very grave, and so perhaps Auburn 's careless levity was 
 the straw on the whirlpool, the humor that survives when 
 reflection and feeling break down. He brushed his hand 
 across his forehead. "Your champagne's getting into my 
 head ! Tell me the tale before I 'm too drunk to understand. 
 Who did it?" 
 
 Eoland judged it wiser not to cross him. "It was 
 Lesbia." 
 
 "Whof" 
 
 "Lesbia Burnet." 
 
 "Lesbia Burnet!" 
 
 "There, I knew it would upset you!" 
 
 "No, no," said Auburn impatiently. "Don't be a fool, 
 Roland, I 'm all right ! But this this is horrible. Tell me 
 all about it." 
 
 Roland then told him all the tale. Auburn said nothing 
 while it was unfolding, except for a low exclamation when 
 Roden's share in it came out. Finally he asked, "What 
 will they do to her?" 
 
 "Four or five years at the outside, Maine thinks. There's 
 no evidence against her except her own confession, and the 
 circumstances were not far short of technical justification." 
 
 "I grudge my freedom at such a price, though." 
 
 "You need not say that, Auburn. I'm sure that un 
 happy woman is happier than she has been for years. ' ' 
 
 Auburn nodded. ' ' And Roden Carminow, too, has known 
 all along! He's had rather a poor time of it." 
 
 "I can't pity him. He was not justified in such a con 
 cealment. ' ' 
 
 "But he couldn't prove anything." 
 
 "Not directly: but I suspect Lesbia would have given 
 herself away under cross-examination. In any case, a very 
 slight element of alternative suspicion would have secured 
 your acquittal. Carminow was utterly wrong." 
 
 "I don't know," said Auburn, pondering. "He had
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 325 
 
 given his word : he was told that a woman 's reputation de 
 pended on it: and he conld not be sure that Lesbia was 
 guilty. It is all clear enough to us, but to him it must have 
 been a dark problem. What, after all, was the evidence 
 against her? That she was out of her house at midnight 
 and did not want it known! Do you call that proof? It 
 does not even supply a motive. It is much less than the 
 evidence against me." 
 
 "He doesn't deny that he felt convinced of Lesbia 's 
 guilt. He went to her after the trial and had it out with 
 her face to face." 
 
 "And she denied it, I'll be sworn: I know Lesbia." 
 
 "Yes, she did: but he can't pretend that he believed 
 her." 
 
 ' ' I dare say : but he had no right to break his word and 
 risk a woman 's name, on the strength of a mere intuition. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Sophistry, Auburn ! You defend him because you like 
 him. He knew Lesbia had done it, and he ought to have 
 spoken out. Better break the letter of truth than the spirit : 
 and so I told him." 
 
 "What, have you been down on him? righteous 
 wrath! I wish I'd heard the interview, it was probably 
 funny. What did you say ? ' ' 
 
 Roland's mouth was set, hard and angry. "I gave him 
 my opinion of fanatics who save their own souls at other 
 men's expense." 
 
 "But think," said Auburn, "what a devil-ridden life the 
 man must have led all these four years!" 
 
 "You may forgive him: you've so much to forgive." 
 
 "I see both sides. You wouldn't have had him lie to 
 save me: then why should he break a promise?" 
 
 "A promise so made is invalid." 
 
 "Well, well," said Auburn philosophically, "it's a point 
 on which probably no two people would ever agree, for it 
 turns on the question, not of facts, but of taste. You'll be 
 surprised to reflect, my good Puritan, that you're on the
 
 826 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 side of the Jesuits they hold that the end justifies the 
 means. For me and Roddy, I suspect we've got Paul of 
 Tarsus to back us up: he was one of those who see the 
 infinite unimportance of human happiness." 
 
 Towards noon they ran into Yeovil, and drew up before 
 a quiet inn where Roland had already engaged rooms. So 
 secretly and swiftly had Auburn's release been effected 
 that the journalists were not even now on his track, and 
 they were able to lunch together undisturbed. Auburn 
 tried to read the paper over his mayonnaise and cucumber, 
 but threw it down with an impatient sigh. * ' It 's all Greek 
 to me," he said. "Who's running Crete now, and what are 
 taxies?" Later, on their way to the station (he had ex 
 pressed a wish to go on foot), Roland was startled to find 
 the seasoned Londoner reduced to a babe's nervousness in 
 the moderate traffic of a provincial town. Auburn con 
 cealed it as long as he could, but between a dogcart, two 
 bicycles, and a motor cycle, his nerve gave way altogether, 
 and he clutched at Roland's arm. People stared after the 
 tall man with the ill-cut clothes and the cropped head, who 
 had so nearly got himself run over. Soon, however, they 
 were locked into a reserved carriage and whirling towards 
 the east. The white country fleeted by, and Auburn sat at 
 the window looking out. Roland, sitting opposite and affect 
 ing to read, wondered what thoughts were passing behind 
 the set, hard features, for Auburn's face had lost its gay 
 mobility. That he was thin and pale marked far less 
 vividly the distinction between free man and convict than 
 this change from animation to stillness. At length, turning 
 round, he met Roland's anxious tender eyes, and frowned 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Don't stare at me as if I were a wild beast, man!" 
 
 "I was only wondering how you contrived to live through 
 those years." 
 
 Auburn stretched out his hand and laid one finger on a 
 scar that seamed his wrist. "I got that in the stone quar-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 327 
 
 ries at Princetown. It won't wear away in a day, will it ?" 
 
 "No, nor in a lifetime." 
 
 "Other scars cut deeper than that. Yet they're only 
 flesh wounds after all. I dare say it will be a week or so 
 before I make a pun : but you needn 't look at me as if I 'd 
 been bitten by a mad dog, and you were expecting rabies 
 to develop at any moment ! ' ' 
 
 "You know, old boy, I haven't the least idea what you 
 mean." 
 
 "I'm not very clear myself. I believe I was fishing to 
 
 know whether Look here, I want you to tell me truth. 
 
 Am I much changed ? ' ' 
 
 "You've lost some of your beauty-looks." 
 
 "Confound you for a fool! Do I look like a convict?" 
 
 "Your hair does. What do you mean, Auburn?" 
 
 "Here's what I mean, in plain English. Do I look as 
 if the the degradation the oh God! you don't know 
 what I mean." He stopped, deliberately crushing down 
 the plain truths that rose to his lips. "Wait: don't touch 
 me. Why do you look at me as though I were a wild beast ? 
 I don't feel much changed : but one can't judge oneself. Is 
 there any change in me that people a woman that she 
 would shrink from ? ' ' 
 
 "I think I'll leave her to answer that." 
 
 "Oh, she's loyal: she'd hold on like grim death, if it 
 were like death to hold on. But I've been among such 
 things Brutes and devils ! Ought I to bring the contact 
 with such things into her life? I'm not exaggerating. 
 Those nights! I've never been a saint, and you're not a 
 child: but I could not own to you one tenth part of the 
 things I thought of, the black rottenness of one's mind 
 through those deathly nights at Portland. One could only 
 curse God and die. No, I can 't make you see it, I suppose. 
 Look here: if I had spent these last months in ordinary 
 low sensuality, in drunkenness and riotous living, you 
 would think that changed the case, wouldn 't you ? Say she
 
 328 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 were your sister you wouldn't hand her over to a vicious 
 man?" 
 
 "But you're not vicious, and you never were." 
 
 * ' Oh ! you 're no good. ' ' 
 
 He leaned back and said no more, while Roland, anxious 
 and perplexed, wondered what it was all about. Celt 
 though he was, Roland was incapable of following the 
 erratic movements of Auburn's ill-regulated brain, which 
 dragged him down to the level of the lowest brute in Port 
 land, or up to those heights of the fanatic and fantastic 
 where a man may break his own life on the rack of the 
 ideal. Roland's homely morality knew not how to deal with 
 sins of the imagination. Love sometimes takes the place of 
 tact, however, and the loyal comrade glanced at his watch. 
 
 "Half -past four: we're punctual. The train gets to 
 Stanton Mere at five-fourteen, and Grace Trevor's to meet 
 us at the station, so we shall get to the Hall in easy time 
 for you to have it out with Miss Carminow before dinner. 
 They don't dine till eight in the winter, and you're to be 
 excused from dressing if you don't want to. You'll find 
 Piers ready to valet you, though : he threw up his place at 
 a week's notice to be ready when you came out, so the 
 Trevors said they'd put him up. The Trevors have been 
 awfully nice to Miss Carminow. I was talking to her yes 
 terday in the library you remember what a jolly room it 
 is? She sat on the rug in the firelight and made me tell 
 her details of our prospective journey to-day. She's pret 
 tier than ever, you know : you should have seen her with the 
 light on her hair. After all, though, you will see her in 
 three-quarters of an hour or so . . ." 
 
 Life began to grow familiar, habit to spin its webs of 
 merciful oblivion over Auburn as he listened. 
 
 The train ran into Stanton Mere by the new loop-line at 
 a quarter-past five. They stepped out into the darkness 
 of a frosty winter's night, spangled with stars, which
 
 burned and twinkled in the great arch of heaven. Beyond 
 the gas-lamps of the little station stretched away the milder 
 illumination of unbroken fields of snow. As they stood on 
 the platform, a figure in a short tweed skirt, furs, and big 
 boots came up, holding out a furred hand. 
 
 ' ' Oh, here you are ! Never mind the luggage, Brown will 
 see to it. How d'ye do, Mr. Auburn? Hurry up, please, 
 the mare 's fresh to-night. ' ' 
 
 Grace led the way into the station yard, where Brown 
 stood holding the chestnut mare, his red impassive face and 
 her cloudy breath lit by the glare of the lamps in the dog 
 cart. "You behind, Mr. Carew," sang out Grace, spring 
 ing to the box-seat. "Will you sit by me, Mr. Auburn? 
 One portmanteau and a bag, Brown. All right!" 
 
 Brown let go the mare, and they dashed out over the 
 crisp, frozen snow. Grace was a first-rate whip, but the 
 chestnut taxed her wrists and gave her little chance of 
 talking. Apparently she was not otherwise embarrassed. 
 Once or twice she threw a word to Auburn, or over her 
 shoulder to Eoland. * ' You 're looking thin, ' ' she said, flash 
 ing her keen eyes over Auburn's face as they whirled past 
 the blazing windows of a public-house. "You haven't been 
 seedy, have you ? ' ' 
 
 "Rather not!" 
 
 "I expect they don't give you enough to eat. I say, I 
 hope you like boiled chicken? Dodo said you did, and I 
 thought it had better be something light and digestible." 
 
 "Awfully kind of you, I'm sure," said Auburn politely. 
 "It sounds ambrosial." 
 
 "I didn't want to make you " Grace began, but a 
 
 caprice of the mare diverted her attention, and the rest of 
 the sentence was lost. "I wouldn't let Dodo meet you on 
 the platform. She rather wanted to, but it's so beastly 
 public. What are you laughing at?" 
 
 "Nothing, except the way you haven't changed. My 
 dear Grace, you'll certainly have the gatepost down!"
 
 330 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 They were at the gate of Trevor Hall, and the mare 
 smelled her stable. Her dash into the avenue grazed the 
 near wheel, and nearly threw Roland into the road. Grace 
 perhaps was not so cool, nor her hand so steady, as she 
 pretended. 
 
 "Let me take the reins," Auburn demanded: "you can't 
 hold her, she's bolting." 
 
 "Yes, I can," Grace retorted defiantly. Meanwhile the 
 mare flew on up the avenue. Their approach was heard, 
 for the big doors burst open as they drew up, and the 
 figures of Sir George and his wife appeared silhouetted 
 against a brilliant interior. Sir George came down the steps 
 to help his daughter out, while a footman ran to the mare's 
 head. 
 
 "Ha, Gracie! got 'em all right? That's good. How 
 d'ye do, Sir Charles? I'm very glad indeed to see you." 
 He gave Auburn a firm and steady hand-clasp, then turned 
 to Roland, while Auburn stumbled forward, half dazzled 
 by the glare after such long darkness. Next Lady Trevor 
 held out both hands to the wanderer. Something in his face 
 as he stood on the threshold touched her very heart: she 
 drew him down to her and kissed him. 
 
 "Dear, dear boy," she said, as if she had been his 
 mother, "my poor Charles, how worn you look! Never 
 mind, all's well that ends well." 
 
 Auburn could not trust himself to answer. She patted 
 his shoulder once or twice with a soft, soothing touch. 
 
 "There, there ! I mustn't keep you now, my dear. Dodo 
 is in the library, and of course you want to go to her." 
 
 She held open the door of the big, shadowy, firelit room 
 for him to go in. By the time Roland Carew and Grace 
 had extricated themselves from their rugs and were in the 
 hall, it was closed again, and Lady Trevor was unaffectedly 
 drying her eyes with a lace pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 "Is Charles with Dodo?" Grace asked in her most non 
 chalant way as she pulled off her gloves.
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 331 
 
 "Yes, darling. I couldn't bear to keep him from her for 
 a second. Poor boy, he was nearly crying, I think. ' ' 
 
 Grace stood defiant in the light of the hall lamps. Tears 
 welled up into her eyes and brimmed them: her breast 
 shook with a sudden uncontrollable sob. Lady Trevor was 
 too wise to be sympathetic, and contented herself with tak 
 ing Roland away : but Roden was less wise. 
 
 "I say, is everybody in tears?" he inquired, strolling 
 forward with his hands in his pockets. ' ' Here 's a gay wel 
 come ! What 's the matter, Gracie ? ' ' 
 
 "Nothing," said Grace crossly. "I always cry at a 
 wedding. ' ' 
 
 "You'll weep profusely at your own. May I be there 
 to see!" was Roden 's cheerful aspiration. "I say, 
 shouldn't you like to peep through the keyhole?" 
 
 "No, I shouldn't." 
 
 Roden put up his eyebrows. "Don't be captious! Are 
 your principles opposed to kissing? I've heard it's nice." 
 
 "I'm going to dress for dinner." 
 
 Grace turned on her heel and went off, while Roden won 
 dered why she was so cross. Ultimately he set it down to 
 the effect of emotion on the ill-balanced feminine tempera 
 ment. "She's a good sort Gracie," he reflected. "I'm 
 surprised she hasn't married. She's twenty-seven, and 
 looks every day of it." He glanced at the closed door of 
 the library, and Grace and her whimsicalities vanished 
 from his mind. "I wonder if Auburn will deign to speak 
 to me. He must hate me pretty cordially like that long- 
 legged, stiff-necked descendant of Balaam's ass, Roland 
 Carew. Four years in a convict prison, and eighteen days 
 in a condemned cell and he knows I could have saved him 
 by a word! It's so incredibly, fantastically disproportion 
 ate : I don't wonder Dodo casts me off. Yet, in God's name, 
 if it had to be done over again to-morrow, I'd do it. ... 
 But I doubt I'm not the most popular member of the 
 Canninow family at present."
 
 332 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 Late that night, when Roden was in bed and trying to get 
 to sleep, there came a soft tap on his door and he heard 
 some one enter the room. "Who's there?" 
 
 "Me." 
 
 Roden drew in his breath sharply. "What on earth do 
 you want, Dodo ? ' ' 
 
 She felt her way to the bed and sat down on the foot of 
 it. "I say," she said, after a momentary pause, "we're 
 going to have a swagger wedding." 
 
 "White satin and orange blossoms?" 
 
 "Well, I'm not going to be married in sackcloth and 
 ashes." 
 
 ' ' Too reminiscent of the broad arrow eh ? ' ' 
 
 Dodo wriggled. "Don't be a pig. I say." 
 
 "I know you do. I wish you wouldn't. It's nearly 
 three o'clock." 
 
 "No, don't be a pig, Roddy." 
 
 "Well, what is it!" 
 
 ' ' Oh well : he says you were right, and I believe you were 
 from your own point of view, though not from mine." 
 
 "That's very forgiving of you both," said Roden dryly. 
 "I suppose you feel you can afford to be generous." 
 
 "Don't be rancorous, there's a dear boy." 
 
 "Well " said Roden, yielding. Rancor was, in truth, 
 
 an emotion not foreign to his nature, and Dodo had 
 wounded his very deeply, but he loved her better than any 
 thing else in the world, and could understand her love for 
 Auburn, and the elemental passion which the thought of so 
 intolerable a wrong had fired in her. "Of course women 
 never do appreciate a point of honor. One can't expect it 
 of their limited souls." 
 
 ' ' Oh no all right, ' ' assented Dodo. "Anything you like, 
 only you're to forgive me. We've all suffered so fright 
 fully over this business, I do want to cry quits: I'm tired 
 of pain." 
 
 "None of us comes out of it unscarred, ' ' said Roden. ' ' I
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 338 
 
 dare say we all feel, like the cook in Cwndide, that our scar 
 is the worst." 
 
 "I know: that's what Grace says." 
 
 "What does Grace say?" 
 
 "That you had the hardest time of the lot of us." 
 
 "The dickens she does! Sensible girl, Gracie shrewd 
 eye for character. I wish you'd go to bed." 
 
 "All right, I will," said Dodo, getting down. But when 
 she was halfway to the door she suddenly came back and 
 hugged him. ' ' Oh, Eoden, I could shake you ! what a blind 
 idiot you are ! But I love you all the same. ' ' 
 
 "I'll be shot if I know what this child means!" said 
 Eoden.
 
 XXXII. 
 
 EVENING was coining down over the grassy ledges of 
 the Plain : a warm March evening, one of those windy 
 lavender twilights that set the sap running in branch and 
 bud. Sitting on a heap of stones, Dodo looked out over the 
 fall of the open country between the grey headlands, and 
 watched the lamps lighting in the homes of men below. 
 
 She knew her land so well that she could give the name 
 to many a lamplit home. The Trevors ' house she could not 
 see, it lay too immediately below her: but the Vicarage 
 lights were plain, and one of them marked the gable of her 
 own old room. Much water had flowed under the bridge 
 since Dodo had last slept within those walls. Ah, sunlit 
 days, quiet and careless nights! Much farther off, on the 
 ridge of a hill, sparkled the casements of the Chantry 
 Farm, Bernard's place, where Auburn, a week since, had 
 taken up his lodging. This was the last evening of Dodo's 
 unmarried life. 
 
 "I am going to be married to-morrow," she said to her 
 self, and she drew off her glove and looked at her small 
 hand, on which Auburn's great emerald flashed alone, for 
 she had not allowed him to give her other jewels. Her grey 
 half -mourning dress was shabby after a winter's wear, she 
 had pulled off her astrakhan cap, and the wind was blowing 
 through her fair, loosened hair : she looked less than twenty- 
 two, absurdly childish and immature. So indeed thought 
 Auburn, who had been dispatched to find her, and mounted 
 the steep hill path whistling like a blackbird till he came in 
 sight of her, when his tune fell silent. He threw himself on 
 the stunted turf at her feet, looking up at her with keen, 
 
 334
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 335 
 
 merry eyes. "What are you doing here all alone? Grace 
 sent me to bring you down to dinner. ' ' 
 
 "I was thinking." 
 
 "What about me?" Dodo gave him a demure smile. 
 "You little schoolgirl! Why are you looking sixteen to 
 night, Dodo? It's not decent; a man mayn't marry his 
 granddaughter." She touched his cheek with her gloved 
 forefinger. "That's all very fine, but I want to know what 
 mischief you were hatching. Come, confess ! am I not your 
 lord and master?" 
 
 "Not till to-morrow," Dodo pointed out. "After that 
 I shall do everything you tell me, you may be sure, darling. 
 You are quite sure, aren't you?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, quite, ' ' said Auburn, with a fleeting grimace. 
 "No, my love, I entertain no delusions on that score: I am 
 resigned to your wearing the br I mean, I recognize that 
 the ideal marriage state is one of mutual independence. 
 But you needn't ride me on the curb." He put up his 
 own hand over hers, and drew it to his lips. "I want to 
 know what you were thinking about when I came up." 
 
 * ' I was thinking that I shall probably never wear darned 
 gloves again." 
 
 "Dear me! What a prof ound reflection ! But why?" 
 
 "Because I shall have to be Lady Auburn, with several 
 thousands a year and a duty to my position. Oh, you may 
 laugh, but it's serious! Roland was preaching to me last 
 night. He wants you to stand for Parliament." 
 
 "Wants me to stand for Parliament me! Bless the 
 man! why, what does he suppose I know about politics?" 
 
 "Nothing. He wants me to coach you." 
 
 "I'll clout his head for him!" said Auburn, resentful. 
 "Why, what do you know about politics? a baby of 
 fifteen!" 
 
 "A good deal : and I agree with Roland. I dare say you 
 could get in if you tried You haven't any principles, and 
 Roland says you can speak. He wants you to rent a coun-
 
 386 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 try house, and become a model landlord. You won 't, but I 
 shall be a model landlady, and no one will know the 
 difference." 
 
 "Much obliged! Did you settle whether I was to be a 
 Tory or a Labor member?" 
 
 "Not a Labor member: one must study vraisemblance. 
 I said a Tory, because you and Roland could always pair 
 when you wanted to get off: but he said he thought if you 
 were anything you were a Liberal. Seriously, Charles, 
 you've lived a shamefully idle life up till now. You ought 
 to do something." Auburn was silent, but looked restive. 
 "We can't wander about Europe for ever, and politics is 
 great fun : you would like it if you once took it up." 
 
 "What am I to take up prison reform?" Dodo did not 
 answer, but a drawn look came suddenly about her mouth. 
 "There, I am a brute! My darling, I'll do anything you 
 like. Command me, you and Roland between you : if you '11 
 write my speeches, I'll get 'em up." His shrewd eyes 
 scanned her, dissatisfied. "Still not happy? What's 
 wrong, dearest?" 
 
 "You are, I think." 
 
 "Why, you're hard to content! What more can I do? 
 Haven't I promised to obey orders when you're pleased to 
 issue them?" 
 
 "Did I ever ask you to obey orders?" 
 
 "Don't know, I'm sure: you issue them pretty fre 
 quently. What is it, then do you want me to take it on 
 myself?" 
 
 "I want you to do as you like," Dodo answered warily. 
 
 "And I like to do as you tell me." 
 
 "But I'd rather " 
 
 " Ah ! but we can't have all we want in this life." 
 
 There was silence for a few moments Dodo picking a 
 bent of grass to pieces, Auburn turning his face towards 
 the darkening west. 
 
 "I'll tell you what you want," he said at length, wheel-
 
 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 337 
 
 ing round on her so abruptly that she dropped the broken 
 stem. ' ' You want Lesbia out of prison, and Jeannie out of 
 her grave, and Roden to marry Grace, and that bit of grass 
 to be growing on its stalk again, and these four years to be 
 wiped out as though they'd never been. Eh? You won't 
 have your wish, my love." 
 
 "Shan't I?" 
 
 "Lesbia won't live to come out of prison, Jeannie 's dead 
 and done for, Roden won't marry Grace if he lives to be a 
 hundred, and I " 
 
 "And you, Charles?" 
 
 "I oh, I shall be charmed to go into politics, if you'll 
 fix things up with the wire-pullers." 
 
 "You mean " 
 
 "I mean that I love you," said Auburn passionately. 
 ". . . oh, I'll do my best, Dodo, I swear to you I will!" 
 
 There came back to Dodo's mind the day, less than twelve 
 months ago, when she had first set eyes on Princetown 
 Prison. Auburn's broken words, and still more his look, 
 woke in her the same poignant, irrevocable sorrow, the very 
 anguish that had ended then in tears : but there was no time 
 for tears now. Almost without perceptible pause she bent 
 over him, smiling, and touched his lips with her lips. 
 "Dear darling, I'm sorry. I spoke too soon. We'll talk 
 about it again when you've had six months on the 
 Mediterranean." 
 
 ' ' It won 't make any difference. ' ' 
 
 "Won't it? Then I'll write your speeches and fix up 
 the wire-pullers for you. It won't be bad fun when it 
 comes to the point: there's nothing you'd like better than 
 a contested election." 
 
 "And if I do get in, what am I to do? It isn't even a 
 respectable career ! I shall never make a good party man, 
 and I've no fad of my own." 
 
 "You might do worse than what you said." 
 
 "Eh?"
 
 338 AN ORDEAL OF HONOR 
 
 "Prison reform." 
 
 "I'd sooner be flayed alive." 
 
 Dodo smiled. ' ' You wouldn 't care a snap of the fingers. ' ' 
 
 "No! do you think so?" said Auburn, astonished. "I'm 
 not sure you're not right, it would be so very transpontine. 
 Expert opinion with a vengeance ! It's in the air, too: one 
 really might have a chance of being useful. Heaven knows 
 there's enough wants doing I should die happy if I 
 thought I'd helped to save a few poor brutes from that 
 initial solitary confinement." 
 
 "All things work together for good," said Dodo with a 
 touch of cynicism. 
 
 She jumped up, tossing her cap on her disordered curls. 
 "Br-r-! turn your coat collar up, it's getting very chilly. 
 Let's go down, I shan't have time to dress for dinner." 
 
 "This time to-morrow we shall be on the sea," said 
 Auburn. He stood for a moment bareheaded, looking out 
 over the valley. "All things work for good, do they? Well, 
 the future is on the knees of the gods : but as for the past, 
 taking it all in all, you and Sir Charles, Provincetown and 
 to-morrow, I'm glad I came to Stanton Mere." 
 
 The wind had grown cold, and the night was falling fast. 
 "How misty it grows!" said Dodo. "Give me your hand, 
 Charles, I can hardly see the path." 
 
 THE END
 
 
 AA 000599724 2 
 
 (apwells 
 
 BOOKS. KODAKS 
 
 OAKLAND.' CALIF.