MARKED 
 
 
 aste 
 
 H 

 
 
 .S 
 PACIFIC
 
 Jftorg of 
 
 "And therefore as a stranger give it welcome, 
 There are more things in Heaven and earth, 
 Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 
 
 HAMLET, Act i, Scene v. 
 
 ^ NEW YORK : 
 
 TROWS PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING CO., 
 
 201-213 EAST TWELFTH STREET. 
 1883.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1883, BY 
 TROW" s PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING Co.
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF THE 
 KIND FRIEND AND PHILANTHROPIST 
 
 WHO EARLY AIDED AND ENCOURAGED THE AUTHOR, 
 
 THIS SOUVENIR OF HER FIRST YEARS IN PARIS, 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 DEDICATED. 
 
 2212587
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN looking over an old diary, I have stumbled upon 
 some curious notes, odds and ends here and there, 
 relating mostly to the American Colony resident in 
 Paris during the years inclusive of 1874 and 1879. 
 The actors are still living ; why should my notes 
 alone remain in oblivion ? 
 
 The greatest artists study only from nature. How 
 can an humble pen-portraitist hope to succeed other- 
 wise than by following in their footsteps? In a 
 study of real life, creations of imagination are not 
 unlike copies of great originals. Seeming fidelity to 
 nature but distorts the mental vision and accustoms 
 it only to imperfections. 
 
 Without malice, perhaps without art, I have dared 
 to study from " the nude model." Laying aside the 
 hypercritical allusion to Art and great masters, we 
 might say, in more homely English, that one should 
 never spoil a story for relations' sake. 
 
 My chief solicitude has been to present faithful
 
 vi Preface. 
 
 rather than flattering likenesses. As photograph- 
 ers say, " some negatives are so strong that one does 
 not even need sunlight to print clear pictures." 
 
 In speaking of historical places, simple fidelity has 
 been aimed at. Chateau Ferrieres is well known, and 
 to the courtesy of the distinguished Barons Roths- 
 child many owe the pleasure of having seen one of 
 the remarkable palaces of the world. 
 
 The description of the interior of Beaufort Castle, 
 with its superb and unique works of art, is a person- 
 al recollection of the Marquis Pallavicini's country 
 seat, about two hours distant from Cremona, Italy. 
 Count Andre may still retain his incognito. It would 
 not be difficult, however, for the connoisseur to say 
 who had the most beautiful house in Paris, or the 
 most complete private collection of works of art on 
 the continent. 
 
 So the banquet is spread. To those who tire of too 
 much cheer remember that, with Macbeth, "our- 
 self will mingle with society and play the humble 
 host." 
 
 NEW YORK, March, 1883.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lord Beaufort writes to his Cousin, Athol Brandon i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Same to the Same 9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Same to the Same 18 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The Same to the Same 28 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 The Same to the Same 33 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Athol Brandon to Lord Beaufort 38 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Portraits of two Young Men 45
 
 viii Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sunday in Paris 54 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Dining at the " Anglais" 62 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 An Englishman Describes American Cities 71 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 " O the Smell of that Jasmine Flower " 82 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Ethel Leslie 88 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A Moonlight Drive 99 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 America 113 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 " Masks and Faces " 1 32 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Love 149 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Breakfast at the Count's 164
 
 Contents. ix 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Man and Woman 175 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Tea with Mrs. Adrian 190 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Breakfast at Lagny 201 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 The Visit to Ferrieres 210 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 At the Opera 226 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 Brandon's Discovery 241 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Soiree at Mrs. Adrian's 246 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Friendship 260 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 " Marked in Hatte " 272 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 Farewell For Ever 282 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 What came of a " Musicale " 300
 
 x Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 Shanklin-Chine 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 The Old, Old Story ..................................... 33 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Sea-Bathing ............................................ 34 1 
 
 i 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Lord Beaufort to his Mother ............................. 35 2 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 Ethel Beaufort to Mrs. Adrian ............................ 355
 
 MARKED "IN HASTE." 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LORD BEAUFORT TO HIS COUSIN, ATHOL BRANDON. 
 
 November i, 1876. 
 MY DEAR ATHOL : 
 
 You will scarcely expect a letter from me so 
 soon ; but the truth is that I must unburden my 
 heart to some one : to whom better than yourself? 
 Do not take this as an equivocal compliment. You 
 well know that I confide almost everything to you, 
 and I fancy that even the word " almost " is out of 
 place. I am about to make a clean breast of every- 
 thing that has happened since I left dear, perfidious 
 Albion a clean breast, my dear boy, nothing more 
 nor less ; so prepare yourself with copious draughts 
 of the vulgar B. and S. and listen to. my tale. The 
 Tidal from Folkestone brought us in at an unearthly 
 hour, and through some mischance my engagement 
 to dine at the Embassy quite miscarried. (Of course 
 I refer to yesterday.) I took some tea, and decided 
 on a long tramp in the direction of the Bois. 
 
 Dressed in my travelling costume, I scarcely cared
 
 2 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 to meet any of my lady friends. I hear that Paris 
 is full of dames Anglaises ; and who knows but the 
 first rencontre would have been the very one that I 
 wished to avoid ? One feels so seedy and miserable 
 after even a few hours in a railway carriage. Consid- 
 ering that the channel was unusually disagreeable, I 
 had anything but a comfortable trip. Some days one 
 feels all upset, without knowing why ; and I think yes- 
 terday was one of those days. As I say, I started for 
 the Bois, and chose (be it said to my credit) un- 
 conventional paths, so that I saw but few of my 
 countrymen and women. I felt in so savage a mood 
 that, as my American friend Weldon remarked, I 
 " could bite a tenpenny nail in two." After going as 
 far as Longchamps, the last rays of the setting sun 
 decided me upon returning to Paris. 
 
 What a disgusting sight the Bois is, to be sure, 
 with the same old tawdry and painted faces, the same 
 horrid traps, miserable hacks, fagged demi-mondaines 
 and the vulgar equipages of the parvenues who never 
 miss the tour de lac. Back and forth, back and 
 forth : first a grand bow of recognition ; then a 
 malicious little salute ; next a friendly wave of the 
 hand ; and so on. They say that the days of the 
 tour de lac are on the wane, and that the Avenue 
 des Acacias will be the resort for the ladies. Thank 
 God ! Those poor unclassed saints, who have a 
 husband's name but neither his heart nor money, 
 will have some place to promenade where the 
 flaunting liveries of the pro tem.s cannot have right 
 of way. When that day comes my dear mother 
 shall go about in Paris as much as she likes ; but
 
 Marked "In Haste." 3 
 
 for the present, a lady is out of place in an after- 
 noon drive to the Bois de Boulogne. In unfashion- 
 able routes if she likes ; but no tour of the lake ! I 
 had barely reached the Arc du Triomphe when I 
 met Lanesborough. He is as much of a cad as 
 ever, and was about to sicken me with some new 
 tale of his conquests, when I bolted. I suppose he is 
 still at the top of the Avenue, and in a state of com- 
 fortable distress at my sudden apparition and dis- 
 appearance. Heaven bless him ! I was too ill-hu- 
 mored to think of any one but myself. 
 
 Now to unburden myself. I presume you have for-, 
 gotten that I commenced this letter with an object 
 in view an object other than the one of merely 
 writing to my best friend. Said object is to relate a 
 bona fide adventure, and one that promises me the 
 loss of that already blast organ a heart. After 
 leaving Lanesborough, I walked swiftly down the 
 Champs Elysees. Just before reaching the Round 
 Point I stumbled on a letter, or evidently a package 
 of letters, enclosed in a yellow envelope and ad- 
 dressed to Mile. Ethel Leslie, Avenue Matignon, 
 No. 406. The envelope was stamped with the seal 
 of the United States Legation, and marked " In 
 Haste" or as it read in French, "Press/." Nat- 
 urally, I looked at the package several times, and, 
 as it was about twilight, I decided on leaving it my- 
 self at the given address. You know, my dear fel- 
 low, I am scrupulous with regard to letters. Who 
 knew the value of this one, or the distress its loss 
 might occasion ? I found myself re-reading the 
 name, " Ethel Leslie," and wondering who could be
 
 4 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 the owner of so romantic a cognomen. Was she 
 young ? Was she handsome ? Was she maid or 
 widow ? Was she in fact, what was she ? And how 
 on earth did a package of letters come to be lying 
 unnoticed at this hour of the day in so favorite a 
 walk as the Champs Elysees ? 
 
 Thus ruminating I reached Avenue Matignon. 
 These October days are already so short, that when I 
 arrived at the house it was time to light the street 
 lamps. The enormous porte cochere was closed, but 
 in answer to my ring it was opened, and I found 
 myself face to face with madam the concierge. I 
 inquired for Mademoiselle Leslie, said I had a letter 
 for her (showing the envelope), and was about to 
 give it to the woman, when she smilingly refused to 
 take it, saying : 
 
 " Go right up. Monsieur is expected." 
 
 I expostulated ; she remained firm. " I was to go 
 up ; Mademoiselle was waiting," she added, as she 
 deliberately put two fat paws behind her, and with a 
 coquettish, seventy-odd-years giggle (great heavens ! 
 when will these French daughters of Eve cease to 
 be giddy !), refused to touch the parcel, and turned 
 away with a knowing look, saying : 
 
 " Entresol to the left." 
 
 Entresol to the left be hanged ! I had not bar- 
 gained for so much. The words "Expected," "go 
 right up," and the last tuppenny-ha'penny mali- 
 cious look was too much for my curiosity. What 
 could the woman mean ? Evidently some one was 
 expected with letters ; and I might as well represent 
 that some one as anybody else. Determined to leave
 
 Marked "In Haste." 5 
 
 that envelope, if possible, in responsible hands, I 
 mounted and rang at the entresol to the left. 
 
 A smiling maid opened the door. Before I could 
 speak she gave me a look all intelligence, and said 
 quickly : 
 
 " Follow me," at the same time dragging me in- 
 side the entrance and closing the door softly and 
 rapidly. I seized her shoulder. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," I said determinedly, "I am not 
 the person you think. I have some letters for a Miss 
 Ethel Leslie, which I found " 
 
 "Yes, yes," she interrupted vivaciously. " I know 
 all you would say, but it is useless talking with 
 me. My mistress has been waiting new nearly a 
 quarter of an hour, and she gave orders that the let- 
 ters were to be delivered into her own hands by the 
 person who brought them. It's as much as my place 
 is worth to disobey her, so follow me." 
 
 My dear boy, what could I do ? I had to fol- 
 low her, of course, and at the same time I felt a bit 
 curious to see the lady in question. " Ethel Leslie ; " 
 a deuced pretty name ; and why not owned by a 
 deuced pretty woman ? I was in a way soon to know. 
 The maid (who tried to touch my hand as we came 
 to an obscure passage) was as lively as an Italian 
 lizard. What did she take me for, I wonder ? We 
 finally stopped before an open portiere of gobelin, 
 and I was told to enter. 
 
 A slight figure in gray was bending over some 
 papers at a writing-desk, and, without raising her 
 eyes at the maid's explanation, she extended her 
 hand to take the letters. At last I commenced to
 
 6 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 breathe freely. I had gotten rid of my unexpected 
 encumbrance. Thinking this a good time to slip off, 
 I hastily said : 
 
 "A votre disposition, mademoiselle ! " and started to 
 go. Her words paralyzed me. 
 
 "You may as well wait here," she said with a 
 soft voice. " I shall be ready in two minutes^ and the 
 carriage is already announced. Let me put away 
 these papers and finish reading the letter you just 
 brought me." 
 
 Oh, fatal chance ! That was the moment in which 
 I should have explained my position, and how I 
 happened to find myself in her house the bearer of a 
 parcel evidently of some value, and to offer my 
 excuses for being unable to serve her further. Can 
 you imagine why I did not ? Read back and stop at 
 the line where I tell you that " without raising her 
 eyes she extended her hand," etc., etc. Those words 
 explain all my weakness. I could not go without 
 seeing her face, and I felt that she must be beauti- 
 ful. The 'room, or boudoir, was rich in harmonious 
 colors, but it was so dark that one could scarcely 
 distinguish any object. While I was thinking on my 
 strange situation, the lady spoke. Her voice was 
 still charming, but the words were more authorita- 
 tive. 
 
 "The reference you bring," said she, "is perfect ; 
 and above all am I pleased to learn that your cir- 
 cumstances have thrown you among people of posi- 
 tion. You will better understand a lady, and the 
 delicate service she may require at your hands. It 
 is understood that the greatest secrecy is exacted ;
 
 Marked "In Haste." 7 
 
 and twice a week I shall expect you here at this 
 hour." Abruptly, " Do you speak English ? " 
 
 At these words she raised her eyes. The maid 
 had gone out, and we were alone in the room. 
 Before she finished I turned the collar of my coat 
 up. I had drawn from my pocket a tourist's pair 
 of smoked glasses, and was deliberately adjusting 
 them when she looked at me. You will wonder at 
 these precautions. I was evidently mistaken for a 
 guide or confidential attendant to a young and 
 charming woman. The circumstances were full of 
 mystery, and I longed to fill my empty life with some 
 real excitement. I would be the guide I would be 
 a valet, if necessary, two evenings in the week ; and 
 I would, in short, forget Jthat I was Francis, Earl 
 of Beaufort, while following up an adventure that 
 promised its disentanglement in some delightful Pa- 
 risian love affair. Was it a love affair ? of course. 
 Was it Parisian ? something whispered, " No." The 
 letters came from the United States Legation, the 
 
 name was Leslie, and the lady was an American. 
 
 Of that I was now quite certain. 
 
 While these thoughts flashed through my mind, 
 the maid entered with a lamp, and I saw fully for 
 the first time my new mistress. Her beauty was so 
 much more than I had anticipated, that my eyes 
 riveted to her countenance. I had hoped to see a 
 pretty woman, but scarcely expected to find myself 
 in the presence of the most beautiful one that I or 
 anybody else had ever seen. I cannot describe her to 
 you at present ; but I know that no face could be more 
 lovely than hers. She must have thought me stupid,
 
 8 Marked "fn Haste" 
 
 for she hastily repeated her question, asking if I 
 spoke English, the while looking me over quite de- 
 liberately. Fortunately my costume, my glasses, and 
 the half-shadow that obscured my person were more 
 than enough to mask my real identity (I feared I 
 might look like a gentleman even in an uncertain 
 light), and she must have been satisfied with her 
 scrutiny, for as I answered " Yes " she uttered a little 
 "Ah!" and coldly turned away her head, giving 
 some order, in an undertone, to the maid. 
 
 I breathed freely when her splendid eyes were 
 no longer scanning my face, and, instead of feeling 
 ashamed of my false position, was more determined 
 than ever to see the end of so curious an adventure. 
 She arose with a graceful movement of the body that 
 an Andalusian herself might have envied. Taking 
 the letters, a small parcel, and some keys, she an- 
 nounced her readiness to start. Start ? yes ; but 
 where to go ? She passed in front of me, the maid 
 at her heels, and I followed. At the foot of the 
 staircase a decent valet stood waiting. He opened 
 the door, and I saw a brougham with a capital pair 
 of thoroughbreds evidently awaiting the lady's 
 pleasure. I handed her in, she motioned me to the 
 small seat vis-a-vis, and we drove off.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 November 2d. 
 
 Other than the first few words she had not ad- 
 dressed me ; and I wondered what was the delicate 
 service so regularly to be required. She leaned back 
 in a corner of the carriage with her hands firmly clasp- 
 ing the letter. Her face was so clouded with thought 
 that she seemed to ignore even my presence. We 
 rolled along in silence. Night was fast falling upon 
 Paris. I saw the Place de la Concorde already aglow 
 with its myriad lights. The gardens of the Tuileries, 
 with the orange trees whose blossoms fair fiancees 
 covet, lay a dark mass to the left. Passing swiftly 
 by, we turned into the quay that flanks the right of 
 the famous Palace. The Seine, with here and there 
 an illuminated wave, glided on in enchanting soft- 
 ness. The skies gave promise of a night of starry 
 splendor. The low rumble of the carriage on the 
 asphalt harmonized at will with the gentleness sur- 
 rounding the hour. At that time few, if any, vehicles 
 were visible. Paris was dining, and I I had had 
 no dinner. Imagine, my dear Athol, how great an 
 Englishman's distraction must be when he absolutely
 
 10 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 ignores the object of one of Owen Meredith's finest 
 outbursts ! What are the lines ? Let me see : 
 
 " We may live without poetry, music, and art, 
 We may live without conscience, we may live without heart ; 
 We may live without friends, we may live without books 
 But civilized man may not live without cooks. 
 He may live without books what is knowledge but grieving ? 
 He may live without hope what is hope but deceiving ? 
 He may live without love what is passion but pining? 
 But where is the man who may live without dining ! " 
 
 Well, in spite of Meredith, I thought of anything 
 else at that moment. I was alone in a carriage 
 with an unknown and beautiful girl when the busy 
 world was occupied, for once, with its own affairs. 
 This was the one thought that possessed me. I tried 
 to feel a reasonable sense of shame at my equivocal 
 position, but alas ! I could only realize the one fact 
 that the charm of my position was undeniable. I 
 adore beauty, and was drawn toward Miss Leslie. 
 Her face was one of incomparable innocence, with a 
 tone of sadness and mystery that would have in- 
 terested the most insensible ; and even with all of my 
 habitual indifference, I yielded at once to the fas- 
 cination of her presence. At last she spoke. We 
 had crossed the bridge Henri Quatre, and were on 
 the other side of the Seine. As the carriage went 
 swiftly on, I recognized the students', or Latin 
 Quarter, and could not but wonder where we were 
 going. She said : 
 
 " I am obliged to visit in secret one who is very 
 dear to me, and whose existence in Paris is un- 
 known even to my best friends. I may not need
 
 Marked "In Haste." II 
 
 your assistance, but it is not well for a young lady 
 to go about the streets alone. Your only duty will 
 be to accompany me back and forth in these noc- 
 turnal visits. Your arm must be ready for my de- 
 fence should I need it ; you will yield a blind obe- 
 dience to anything I ask in reason, and beyond the 
 days devoted to my service you will not only be 
 at liberty, but will please forget your employment. 
 Should we meet, never under any circumstances 
 recognize your employer. I cannot tell how long I 
 may need you I trust a short time, but certainly for 
 several weeks. Be silent and unobserving, and your 
 remuneration shall be satisfactory." 
 
 She looked me in the face with such intelligence 
 and fearlessness that it seemed as if she must read 
 me through and through. God forbid ! She ceased 
 speaking, and I felt a momentary impulse to tell 
 her who I was and the mistaken position that my 
 curiosity had placed me in. It was not too late. 
 She might forgive me. I was a gentleman, and ready 
 to serve her well aye, a thousand times better than 
 any hireling, and to shiver a lance in her defence 
 with all the fervor of a medieval knight. Then I 
 thought, " How will she receive my apology and 
 explanation ? Will she believe me ? and has my con- 
 duct aught in common with knight or gentleman?" 
 A little good common sense at this moment came 
 to my aid. Then it was impossible to recede. I 
 might frighten her, and I might become entangled 
 in some legal scandal. The thing was to play my 
 part through to the end that evening, and on the 
 morrow to write any excuse, withdrawing my accept-
 
 12 Marked "fn Haste" 
 
 ance of the position she offered. I would decide 
 that night whether I should leave her in ignorance 
 of the real state of things and plead sudden depar- 
 ture as the cause of my absence, or, putting aside 
 my own feelings, make a clean breast of my con- 
 nection with her affairs how I found the letter, 
 and how, thinking to innocently discover some 
 French affaire de cotur, I had become the sharer of 
 a secret of no little gravity. Fate decided that I 
 should keep silence. 
 
 By this time we had gotten far beyond the river, 
 and while I was still thinking and turning over in my 
 mind what the evening would bring forth, we drew 
 up quite abruptly, in Rue des Sts. Peres, before an old- 
 fashioned stone house. My companion lowered her 
 veil, said " We get out here," and motioned me to 
 alight. I was already in the act, and offering my 
 hand ; she w r as soon standing beside me. I turned to 
 ring at the door in front of us, when she took my 
 arm hastily. 
 
 "It is not here," she explained ; "we must now 
 turn into another street." And we walked on. After 
 leaving the house in Rue des Sts. Peres, she suddenly 
 stopped at the second crossing and turned to the 
 right. I felt her hand tremble on my arm ; but a 
 moment later, abruptly disengaging it, she rang at 
 No. 7, passage des Sts. Peres. The door opened, and 
 she passed quickly in and ascended a flight of dirty 
 stone stairs, I, of course, following. The janitress, 
 a grim woman about as ancient as the house, nod- 
 ded a little "good evening" as we passed, and be- 
 yond that nothing. Mile. Leslie kept going up
 
 Marked "In Haste." 13 
 
 one, two, three, four yes, five flights, before she 
 stopped. 
 
 As she stood with her foot on the last step she 
 turned to me, and I was amazed at the expression of 
 her face. It was hard, determined, and pale, while 
 her eyes blazed with a steady flame. She placed her 
 hand on my arm a la rJgence, bidding me wait for 
 her in the passage, at the same time pointing out 
 to me an old chair that stood against the musty 
 wall. She then rapped at a door to the left of the 
 staircase. It opened quickly. A dark -browed young 
 man eagerly seized her hand, and the words, " Ah, 
 darling, thank heaven you have come ! " were fol- 
 lowed by a hasty embrace as the door closed upon 
 their retreating forms. 
 
 Can you imagine my surprise ? I think not. 
 Who was the young man ? In what relation did she 
 stand toward him ? Why a secret visit at night ? And 
 why all this mystery ? I am no fool, Athol, but you 
 will surely think me one when I tell you that I 
 waited two mortal hours in the vile passage of a 
 sixth floor Parisian tenement and all for what ? 
 To see a beautiful woman throw herself into the 
 arms of a dark young man ; to hear half-whispered 
 words of love, with incessant murmurings, coming 
 through the illy closed door, and to find myself get- 
 ting each moment more desperately interested in a 
 pair of heavenly eyes that beamed from a face the 
 Virgin Mary herself might have envied. I could 
 think of nothing but the strangeness of my position, 
 and, man of the world as I am, I did not yet wholly 
 consider the enormous triviality of my conduct.
 
 14 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 Prying into other's secrets is one thing, becoming 
 enamoured of a woman who has a secret is another. 
 I was doing the one, I was in a fair way of accom- 
 plishing the other I, who have sworn never to love 
 a woman with a secret ! 
 
 Love ! I was far from being in love, but I was 
 far from feeling wholly indifferent to this girl's fate. 
 I am nearly at the end of this long letter. My two 
 hours ended, she came forth from the chamber, her 
 face tear-stained and pale. " We return to Avenue 
 Matignon," she said, quietly. "You have waited 
 long. Let us go at once." 
 
 Impossible to tell you my feelings as we wended 
 our way homeward. The sky was resplendent with 
 stars, the soft night air crept into the carriage, and 
 my lady, a pale, inert figure in her robe of carmelite 
 gray, lay back against the carriage cushions. She 
 never spoke, and I well, little thought had I of 
 breaking the stillness. She is beautiful, and I am 
 very unhappy. To-morrow she shall know all. I will 
 write, and she can read what I dare not tell her. I 
 feel that she is my fate, and that, innocently or not, 
 
 I am bound to follow her lead. 
 ******** 
 
 What have I written ? Of course I shall do noth- 
 ing of the sort. I have just read over these last 
 lines. Pray forgive me ! Quite useless my erasing 
 it would blot my page, and the words have no earthly 
 value. I say, " I shall write to-morrow." The to- 
 morrow has already passed, and I have not written. 
 Perhaps later I may mind, I am not sure, but I may 
 indite the explanatory letter. We reached the Avenue
 
 Marked "/ Haste," 1 15 
 
 Matignori. She never spoke until just as we left the 
 brougham. 
 
 " Good night," said she, " and thanks. Thursday, 
 at the same hour, I shall await you." That was all. I 
 took my last look at her face (for I hope I shall never 
 see her again) and and so far this is the end of my 
 adventure. No, I have forgotten something. As she 
 left she turned and asked my name. I was stag- 
 gered, but quickly gave her the first one that came 
 into my mind, which I prefixed with my own " Fran- 
 cois Feiden." " And the address ? I may need you." 
 " Maurice's Hotel, Rue de Rivoli," I responded, lift- 
 ing my hat. She stopped short, as if considering 
 how a poor devil of a guide could live in so swell an 
 hotel, then said, " It is well," and vanished. Now, 
 you see, I am quite compromised. Heaven knows 
 how it will all end. I have already taken some pre- 
 cautions. Anything sent to Francois Feiden will be 
 brought to my room. I have explained that he is a 
 confidential servant of the family, and in Paris at 
 present. I am haunted by Miss Leslie's face, but 
 hope I shall have the courage not to go again to the 
 Avenue Matignon. Still, if I should attempt to see 
 her, and the real bearer of the letter in the meantime 
 had turned up ! I will simply explain that, being 
 in need of employment, I accepted what a kind for- 
 tune threw in my way ! The more I think of it, the 
 more I am convinced that I must not disclose my 
 real name, as at this cold-blooded hour (four P.M.) 
 I am amazed at what I have done. Without night's 
 entrancing and mysterious charm, I find that day- 
 light cools my late enthusiasm. Were it always
 
 1 6 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 high noon, not one man in a million would make an 
 ass of himself. It is to be hoped that the order of 
 things will change. I had already a great grudge 
 against night, yet would not for worlds blot yester- 
 een out of existence. 
 
 By Jove ! do you know what yesterday was ? 
 The thirty-first of October, and last night All Hal- 
 lows' Eve. Surely it was to meet my fate I came to 
 Paris ; and although anything but superstitious, I 
 bow to mystic destiny. Pray think of me as belong- 
 ing to another, for the fact of my adventure having 
 taken place on that date, of all days in the year, 
 knocks all other calculations on the head. No Eng- 
 lishman in his right mind could deliberately ignore 
 the most potent of all legends in the Scottish calen- 
 dar. The hardest heart softens in memory of de- 
 lightful moments passed waiting to see your "future 
 fate " on the cellar stairs, or groping about an unfre- 
 quented portrait gallery with a lighted candle your 
 companion, and a' hand-mirror the sole sharer of 
 the secret. My " future fate " has been seen in 
 my late adventure. The cellar stairs had a decided 
 upward, instead of a downward, tendency five 
 flights, each one harder to climb than the other. But 
 let me leave the subject, otherwise I shall recapitu- 
 late the whole, and even your great patience might 
 rebel. Bell has just told Lanesborough that he will 
 "see if I am at home." For pure asinine qualities 
 recommend to me the ordinary valet. Of all things, 
 to be disturbed at this moment ! However, I suppose 
 I must see him. To-morrow I shall write you again, 
 but do not think (even if the idea come into your
 
 Marked "In Haste" 17 
 
 mind) to dissuade me from seeing the legitimate end 
 of my adventure. This is the first of November, 
 1876, and I met my fate last night All Hallows' 
 Eve, the thirty-first of October. Not a word to 
 any one of this ; above all, do not let my lady mother 
 know I have written. 
 
 Always the same, 
 
 BEAUFORT.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 X 
 
 November 4th midnight. 
 
 I returned from Rue des Sts. Peres two hours since, 
 so you see that I have followed my first and ulti- 
 mate inspiration. I went at the usual hour to the 
 house and was told to call at eight instead. Punc- 
 tual to the moment I found myself ringing at the 
 entresol. The same lizard opened the door. I was 
 shown into the identical boudoir, and at the pretty 
 table sat the lady. Nothing was changed. She was 
 dressed in gray as before, letters and papers were 
 still strewn about, and it was with difficulty that I 
 could imagine my adventure to be forty-eight hours 
 old. She greeted me with simple grace, and look- 
 ing up said with an irresistible smile : 
 
 " I have a favor to ask. Would you mind not 
 wearing glasses ? I have a fancy to always see the 
 eyes of those who are about me." 
 
 Could any request have been more startling ? Im- 
 possible to dispense with them she would surely 
 recognize me in future (for I now intend to be pre- 
 sented in my proper position). Yet, what excuse 
 to make ? Putting on a bold front, I said : 
 
 " I don't mind taking them off now and then, but in
 
 Marked "In Haste." 19 
 
 my last Swiss expedition [I haven't seen Chamounix 
 for years] the glare of the glaciers weakened my eyes, 
 and the period ordered for wearing dark glasses 
 expires in a month. I could [regretfully] do with- 
 out them if you think I must, but it might undo all 
 that has been done. Eyesight is so delicate a thing 
 
 I " But in spite of stammering I commenced 
 
 taking them off. She looked up and said apologeti- 
 cally : 
 
 " Don't think of it ; I did not imagine the cause 
 for wearing them to be so serious. It is foolish, 
 perhaps, but I always fancy that people wear dark 
 glasses only when they wish to disguise themselves." 
 I started : she continued "although in your case I 
 might have known better. Shall we go ?" rising. I 
 took off the horrid lunettes, and, as if to give coun- 
 tenance to my story, the sudden change from dark to 
 light caused a nervous movement, which she noticed. 
 I faintly attempted to shade my eyes with my hand ; 
 she expostulated : " Put them back directly ; no one 
 should suffer for a caprice of mine," and she arose. 
 
 It seems useless telling you of the drive to Rue 
 des Sts. Peres, still I cannot forbear. As the first 
 time, we passed the Place de la Concorde, we turned 
 into Quai des Tuileries, and bowled along the Seine. 
 The night has been lovely. Rarely does one see 
 such weather in Paris. Of course St. Martin's sum- 
 mer is the finest season of the year ; but can one 
 call this St. Martin's ? You know I am not a very 
 talkative person, still, can you imagine me playing a 
 silent role ? Can you realize that not only do I not 
 open my mouth unless I am spoken to, but that I
 
 20 Marked "fu Haste." 
 
 have discovered that rarer phenomenon a young 
 woman completely wrapped up in herself, uncon- 
 scious of her beauty, and as silent almost as if dumb ? 
 I thought she might ask some question, make some 
 trifling remark about the weather, extend her confi- 
 dences a little further, perhaps ; but no ! she places 
 herself in a corner of the carriage, holding her papers 
 fast in her slender hands ; and her face is an almost 
 impenetrable mask a beautiful mask with lovely 
 eyes peering straight into the night, and the expres- 
 sion habitual to it one of such profound melancholy 
 and sadness that I am touched in spite of myself. 
 Once she leaned forward, as we neared the bridge 
 Henri Quatre, and these words half-escaped her lips : 
 
 " How grand is Notre Dame, with its wondrous 
 towers and massive facade, and how beautiful is all 
 this part of Paris ! I love it." I responded quickly : 
 
 "Yes one can scarcely understand the general 
 mania to live in the new quarter, near the Arc du 
 Triomphe. It is also beautiful ; but this is histor- 
 ical Paris, and dear to the student's heart." 
 
 She looked at me in amazement. Forgetting my 
 position, I had spoken quite naturally as a man of 
 the world would talk with a well-bred woman, and 
 my assurance could not but have astonished her. I 
 also spoke in English, and seemed to follow her 
 thoughts with extraordinary celerity. Hoping she 
 would not make any further remarks, I gathered as 
 much sang froid as possible, and carelessly stared 
 out of the window. She had curiosity enough to ask 
 me how I happened to speak English so well, at the 
 same time gravely ignoring my lack of respect in
 
 Marked "/# Haste" 21 
 
 daring to respond to her half-uttered thoughts. I 
 said : 
 
 " My mother was English, but I have been 
 brought up on the continent, and a great traveller 
 all my life. I suppose I speak English fairly, although 
 I prefer German or French." She nodded, as if to in- 
 dicate that the conversation was at an end, and set- 
 tled back into the old quietness. I should say that 
 we always speak in French, and that her accent is 
 marvellously good. Where could she have acquired it, 
 I wonder ? I know, I feel, that she is an American. 
 We finally reached Rue des Sts. Peres, and the same 
 thing was gone through with as on the previous visit. 
 We said "good evening" to the concierge; we 
 mounted the five flights of mouldy stairs ; she entered 
 the mystic chamber, and I, her paid companion, 
 waited outside, seated in the old chair. Now you 
 shall know all I thought about during my time of 
 waiting. 
 
 That she is a lady, I cannot doubt ; that she is un- 
 fortunate, I am sure of ; and also that a great -mys- 
 tery envelops her strange proceedings. Her house and 
 entourage indicate great wealth. Her dress, although 
 simple, is of the finest material. On her left hand 
 blaze jewels that she wears with natural grace, and 
 her manners not even my own lady mother could find 
 fault with. While counting the passing moments, I 
 decided that I must know more of her ; and knowing 
 more of her, naturally I shall get at the bottom of the 
 mystery. You know me too well to think for a mo- 
 ment that I could be actuated solely by the last idea. 
 She is so young, so beautiful, and so seemingly alone,
 
 22 Marked "/ Haste" 
 
 that I longed to tear off my mask and offer to help 
 her, if I could, or, at least, in some way to share her 
 burden. I am now convinced that she bears a secret 
 load, and a heavy one. She is not bad she cannot 
 be ; and yet meeting a young man alone, in his 
 chamber, at night. I must ignore that part of my 
 thoughts as something unworthy and quite beneath 
 a gentleman. Still I could not help thinking. I must 
 know her ; but how to be introduced how and in 
 what \vay ? I can only think of the Embassy as 
 usual, and to find my way to the American Legation 
 is the next move. I shall leave Maurice's to-morrow 
 and take chambers or a small house ; then I can con- 
 tinue in safety my new role. Bell looked astonished 
 that I did not dress this evening ; but beyond the 
 knowledge that his voice in quality is a light bari- 
 tone I do not think I shall ever go. I have done 
 with talkative valets. An idea ! Do you know any 
 one who has the acquaintance of the American Min- 
 ister in Paris ? He is so distinguished a man that I 
 might naturally wish to make his acquaintance. I 
 could go to his receptions, and might meet Miss 
 Leslie. Yes, that is the thing. Do, like a good fel- 
 low, find out at once, and send me a letter of pre- 
 sentation by the next post. If you knew how anx- 
 ious I am to know her, and to see how she appears 
 in the world, you would fly to aid my effort. Don't 
 ask how I shall keep her from suspecting who Fel- 
 den is. It is impossible that she should ever discover 
 anything in common between her confidential at- 
 tendant and an English gentleman. But supposing 
 that she does not go in society ? That is quite im-
 
 Marked "In Haste." 23 
 
 possible. Few women would hide so pretty a face 
 under a bushel ; and few women have griefs poig- 
 nant and deep-seated enough to hinder their liking 
 admiration, and seeking it wherever it may be 
 found. 
 
 She came out of the attic chamber, and the tear- 
 stained face of last Tuesday was to-night perfectly 
 calm. Motioning to me that she was ready to start, 
 without speaking we descended the stairs. The 
 night was so maliciously seductive that I longed to 
 steal her away and off to the Bois de Boulogne. 
 Going there at this hour is one of my passions. The 
 dr^ve toward the Arc du Triomphe, the hundreds of 
 carriages with lovers and lanterns, the soft charm 
 of moonlight and starry skies, are to me the most 
 potent of the seductions of this gay capital. With 
 the woman one loves bah ! how fast I am going. 
 "With the woman one loves," indeed ! It certainly 
 would be difficult for me to find the woman I love, 
 unless in imagination. I swear to you it is not Miss 
 Leslie ; I am interested in ner, that is all ; and I am so 
 much interested that I think going to the end of this 
 adventure will cure me completely of a passing fancy. 
 By going to the end you know what I must mean 
 I am sure to discover, sooner or later, some quality 
 quite incompatible with what I exact in a lady, and 
 the day of said discovery will be the death-warrant 
 to my unreasonable interest and curiosity. I can 
 see her now coolly leaning back in her brougham. 
 I might be a stone for all she occupies herself with 
 my presence. To be sure, ladies do not keep up a 
 running conversation with their attendants, but once
 
 24 Marked li ln Haste." 
 
 in a while some little word might break the ice. 
 Longing to be my true self, still thinking wildly of 
 carrying her off to the Bois, I trembled. I could 
 not be near so much beauty unmoved. The idea 
 that I might touch something belonging to her per- 
 haps a fold of her soft dress sent a thrill of electric 
 fire through my veins, and I madly wished that the 
 horses might run away, a collision would upset 
 the carriage, that anything, in fact, might happen, 
 to disturb her wondrous nonchalance ; so that, even 
 unwillingly, she might outstretch her arm and place 
 her slender hand on mine. Then I would feel her 
 quite near me. I would take her to my heart, con- 
 fess the deception I had practised, ask her to forgive 
 the dual part I had played and to accept as all her 
 own the life that, without her smile, would be worth- 
 less. All this I thought of. 
 
 Such was the maddening influence of finding my- 
 self alone -with this beautiful young creature at night. 
 Well might I tremble. The colder she was the more 
 ardently I loved her. Trie more statuesque her face 
 the more I longed to see it vivified with the light of 
 love. The quiet expression in her eyes becomes 
 transformed, through the medium of my passion, 
 into a fountain whose liquid depths reflected only 
 amorous lights. Perhaps thi-s might become real in 
 time. I will set myself to win this woman ; I care 
 nabght for her past, I laugh at the future, I only wish 
 for the present. If she be free she shall be mine ; 
 if not, I shall fly Paris and her presence. 
 
 That this fatal charming presence, which makes 
 me forget my manhood, my pride of birth and sta-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 2$ 
 
 tion than which, heretofore, nothing in this world 
 was held so dear that a pale form in nunlike 
 garb can inthrall my senses, is, to me, so wonder- 
 ful that I cannot yet realize it. Yet I do realize it 
 and know exactly why. Pale and nunlike are words 
 that only reveal instead of disguising her beauty. 
 She no, I cannot now describe her to you ; to- 
 morrow, perhaps. To-morrow my imagination will 
 be less heated. Out of her sight I shall be my own 
 old self, and delivered from the influence of this 
 personal fascination, I may recover some of my 
 usual tranquillity of spirit. It must be the night, or, 
 perhaps, have I quaffed too deeply of the generous 
 vine ? No ! Bacchus rarely rules supreme at a hasty 
 dinner ; and, if I remember rightly, this evening's 
 repast was meagre and unsatisfactory. At supper, 
 then, I will remedy the slight to our favorite god. I 
 dare not read this letter I would be sure to put it 
 into the waste-basket ; yet I do not know. You are 
 my dearest friend, my old and only confidant, and I 
 have written just as my heart dictated. 
 
 Where was I in the recital ? Ah ! looking at my 
 cold companion, with the moonlight streaming in on 
 her face, and the carriage rumbling as monotonously 
 as ever. Well, while looking at her refined beauty 
 she suddenly let her eyes fall on my face. With- 
 out knowing why, I remembered that I was her paid 
 companion, certainly in intrigue, perhaps in crime, 
 and the distaste that any honest man might feel at 
 finding himself, for the first time, in an equivocal 
 position took possession of me to such a degree that 
 2
 
 26 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 I longed to see the end of our drive. Perhaps a 
 dread warning of the power such a woman would 
 hold over me cast its shadow over my soul. Then 
 and there I struggled with myself, and the result 
 was a momentary calm. 
 
 Arrived home she stepped daintily out of her car- 
 riage as before ; said "good night " in the old meas- 
 ured tones, and "adieu until Monday;" then I 
 turned away. In her haste she had dropped some- 
 thing. It was her handkerchief, a morsel of linen 
 and lace. I snatched it quickly. It lies beside me 
 as I write. I do not think I shall send it back. Its loss 
 may spoil the dozen ; its gain to me is one chance 
 in a million. There is an odor clinging to it that 
 is delicate and sensuous. It seems to me that in my 
 lifetime I have already inhaled this odor. But where, 
 and when ? Ah ! I recollect. The first time I saw 
 her in the boudoir of Avenue Matignon, when she 
 took up her papers and letters, I noticed the fragrance 
 that exhaled at her touch. I must find out what it 
 is and, henceforth, none other shall ever perfume my 
 life. Heavens, how late it is ! I have been writing 
 furiously, but, in spite of me, time has flown. I shall 
 now sit down and drown this evening's emotions in 
 my favorite Widow Clicquot. I have just found a 
 note from Allani. He has arrived in Paris from 
 America and invites me to sup with him to-night 
 at the Imperial. If not, breakfast to-morrow at 
 Voisin's. I accept the dejeuner. To-night I sup, but 
 alone. In fancy there are three places at the table. 
 The first is mine, the second is occupied by a hand-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 27 
 
 kerchief, and the third, or first, enthrones my ideal 
 woman. Good night, and God bless you. Write 
 me directly if you have not already done so. I ought 
 to have a letter to-morrow. 
 
 Always the same, 
 
 BEAUFORT.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 November gth. 
 MY DEAR ATHOL : 
 
 I almost wish you hadn't written. What kind 
 of a friend do you fancy yourself ? For fear you 
 may not recollect the contents of your letter, I will 
 quote it in toto, omitting, however, the flattering 
 appellation, which commences it : 
 
 " Your rushing off to Paris at this time was incom- 
 prehensible. At the different houses, where you had 
 promised to visit, you have given your best friends 
 the go-by, and what we thought a simple caprice, 
 will culminate in some irremediable folly. In 
 Heaven's name, what can come of your knowing this 
 woman ! I procure you a letter of presentation, in- 
 deed ! rather would I give up my next year's rents 
 and money has some value for me still. Your fair 
 blonde I presume she is a blonde (Eve was, also) 
 is an adventuress. All that idea of a friend in dis- 
 tress in the Latin Quarter is a trumped-up affair, to 
 have its weight with some one not you. She does 
 not know you, but servants talk, and to the one who 
 sent her a confidential guide, she hopes Felden will 
 naturally relate all that takes place, with a glowing
 
 Marked "In Haste." 29 
 
 description of her tear-stained face, resigned, an- 
 gelic character, etc., etc. I cannot imagine how you, 
 who have travelled the wide world over, who can 
 choose between a duchess and a courtesan to either 
 tie you down for life, or amuse you, could for one 
 moment so far forget yourself as to play such a 
 part ! It did well enough for the first night, but 
 after that ! my dear cousin, realize what you are do- 
 ing. If she be an honest woman, you have no right 
 to pry into her secrets. Even honest families some- 
 times have skeletons in their closets, and to please 
 you, she shall have the benefit of the doubt ; but, if 
 she be what I could almost swear she is, then are 
 you running into positive danger, and these nightly 
 escapades must be stopped. The first you know you 
 will be heels over head in love, and then, beware. 
 All that you have ever made any woman suffer will 
 be avenged upon your own head, by your own hand. 
 The one you love has a secret, a mysterious attach- 
 ment, liaison, probably ; she will never care for you, 
 and if you continue caring for her, you will resort to 
 subterfuge, deception, and perhaps even worse. I 
 know your character so well ! Although but a few 
 years older than yourself, my life has been one long 
 experience in reading human nature. You have 
 good stuff in you, the makings of an honest man, 
 and a heart capable of endless affection. Shall I 
 read your horoscope ? Well ; if you will : 
 
 " If you really interest yourself in this woman, like 
 Marc Antony for another Cleopatra, you would con- 
 sider a world well lost for her sake. From the tone 
 of your confidence, I see a gleam of hope that you 
 are not yet wholly in her power ; but, if you have 
 deceived me, and things have gone further than I 
 trust, then, alas ! you will reap much sorrow in their 
 undoing ! Many a man, at the beginning of life, for 
 one fair face, has watched the sun set forever on 
 hope, and the years drag on in a misery that no fu-
 
 30 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 ture could ever mitigate. Tell me that you have 
 been thoughtless, curious, what you will ; but write 
 me that this farce is ended. I have so often heard 
 you say, ' I would commit no matter what bassesse for 
 the woman I love.' Pray Heaven you only said, but 
 were far from really meaning it. Forgive my plain 
 speaking ; but who, since your father's death, has 
 cared for you as I have ? I who had humored your 
 every caprice, who intercedes with your lady mother 
 when the maternal pride is ruffled by some thought- 
 lessness on your part ; and who, in all this world has 
 your welfare more sincerely at heart than I ? I have 
 reread your letters, and alas, cannot look upon them 
 in the light of a practical joke. Hazard plays strange 
 tricks with us mortals ; and even the great Shake- 
 speare did well to bow before " the divinity that 
 shapes our ends." In this case, the hand of a divin- 
 ity is doubtful ; and the end thus far attained rough- 
 hewn enough to startle me. 
 
 " As to All-Hallow Eve, that is pure rot, although 
 the superstition be a popular one. But rather than 
 hurt your credulity, I will even allow that it was 
 strange such a thing should happen the night of the 
 thirty-first of October. It would have appeared 
 quite as strange the thirty-first of November, or 
 the thirty-first of May, and the thirty-first of August. 
 Putting aside the legendary thirty-first, the same 
 thing happening on any night of no particular date, 
 would have been a curious coincidence, and only 
 your following it up, places it in the light of a 
 strange adventure. I beg of you to accept the 
 distraction thrown in your way by charming fate 
 the first night of your stay in Paris. Send the lady 
 a letter announcing the necessary departure of Fel- 
 den ; and if you will not come back to the castle, at 
 least send for your dear mother, sister, and myself to 
 keep you company in that gay vortex of pleasure, 
 called 'The City,of the World.' "
 
 Marked "In Haste" 31 
 
 This, my dear Athol, is your letter almost in its 
 entirety. I had thought the way in which I ex- 
 pressed myself with regard to a certain person could 
 give no man the right to speak harshly of her. Miss 
 Leslie is a lady, and if even one word of mine has 
 led you to think lightly of her, I beg to retract it. 
 I have been sadly distraught since meeting her and 
 writing to you ; and have always followed the exact 
 course of my thoughts. In thus communing with 
 a dear friend I have been honest as with myself. 
 I have told you everything as it was, and all that has 
 happened. Neither more nor less. You may be- 
 lieve me. It is not to my own kinsman that I 
 should utter my first lie, and when I told you that I 
 was only interested in her, I told the truth. I now 
 say that I am more deeply concerned than ever in 
 her welfare, and shall do all in my power to be pre- 
 sented to her in the right way. If love follows my 
 imprudence, love it shall be. I have but one life 
 to live, and at five and twenty I realize that knock- 
 ing about and seeing the world in its every guise 
 cannot take the place of a true and sincere affection. 
 I have always said that men and women should 
 never drive from their hearts an honest love. One 
 such must purify the inner man ; and I welcome with 
 gladness the hope that I shall know that most di- 
 vine of all mortal experiences. She may be un- 
 worthy ; but my love will be sincere. How often in 
 the history of the world have men loved where they 
 could not esteem, and women adored where they 
 could no longer respect ? I shall be brave enough 
 if I find that our lives must lie apart, to never see
 
 32 Marked "/ Haste" 
 
 her, but, alas ! I fear that I should never cease to love 
 her. Perhaps, my ideal woman, with the only part 
 of her that cannot be untrue, her face, shall be my 
 life's companion. At present, it is easy for me to 
 speak thus. 
 
 Nothing on earth could convince me that I am in- 
 terested in an adventuress ; and I would stake my 
 soul on the purity and truthfulness of Miss Leslie. 
 That there is a mystery in her life I cannot doubt ; 
 but that she is aught than the best and loveliest of 
 God's creatures I will never willingly believe. I 
 forgive the tone of your letter, but I shall not return 
 to London ; and at present care little to see my 
 mother and sister, but as to you yourself why not 
 come here if you will, and as I am determined to 
 know her, you shall judge if such a face can mask a 
 bad heart. 
 
 Ever the same, 
 
 BEAUFORT.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE SAME TO THE SAME. 
 
 November nth. 
 DEAR ATHOL. 
 
 Can you imagine what has happened ? Allani 
 called by chance, and took me to the American Le- 
 gation. I was introduced to the American Minister, 
 a charming man, and am already invited to next 
 Tuesday's reception. Allani is a capital fellow, and 
 has told me all about his travels in America. He 
 insists that I shall go there this winter or next sum- 
 mer. I cannot tell you how he is changed, and for 
 the better. He gives such glowing pictures of the 
 New World that I am half tempted to go. I shall 
 then see her country. Of course, you understand my 
 pleasure at the prospect of next Tuesday's "soiree." 
 She will be present ; I shall be introduced ; and will 
 find out all about my incognita. She is too beauti- 
 ful to pass unnoticed in the world, and I will Venture 
 to say that any one in society can tell me all about 
 her. It is because I have not frequented the Ameri- 
 can resorts in Paris that I am not already au fait de 
 tout. I consider my life half thrown away, and all 
 my previous visits to this adorable city completely 
 null. Let us hasten to repair our fault. 
 
 2*
 
 34 Marked u ln Haste" 
 
 In view of what I have undertaken, I found it neces- 
 sary to quit Meurice's. The Due de Dethune, Rue de 
 Bassano, has a jolly little hotel that he rarely inhabits. 
 Arthur has rented it for me, and I am already in- 
 stalled. In fact, I am writing this letter in a quaint 
 little room, with the rusty portrait of a certain 
 Duchess de Dethune smiling down upon me from 
 her carved frame. She does not disturb me in the 
 least. These eyes on canvass that follow one about 
 wherever one goes, may reflect great credit on the 
 painter's art, but I never feel in the slightest degree 
 uncomfortable in their presence. Ah ! what a thing 
 is a clear conscience ! I presume you would like to 
 know some of the gossip circulating in Paris. I am 
 sorry to say that my stock is exceedingly limited. 
 Beyond the fact that " Owen Meredith " received 
 great literary stars, and his Excellency, the British 
 Ambassador, was a very great favorite, I can scarcely 
 go. The usual squabbles are going on between the 
 MacMahonites and the Legitimists ; and the Duke 
 de Magenta is strongly suspected of Bonapartist 
 proclivities. Poor Mr. Thiers, ex-President, passes 
 his time one scarcely knows how. I saw him yester- 
 day in his coupe, drawn up in the corner like an an- 
 cient mummy. Have you been here since the war ? 
 Of course, yes ; what am I thinking of ? we were here 
 together. Can one realize, upon weighing the exact 
 avoirdupois of this nation, what its real character is 
 worth ? 
 
 In looking around I see lamentable landmarks of 
 the recent conflict ; but, from the desinvolture of the 
 people themselves, I should never imagine that they
 
 Marked "In Haste.'' 35 
 
 had known the recent horrors of a great war. Taking 
 them all in all, I think the French a nation to ad- 
 mire. The people are thrifty ; the most careless will 
 still think of turning the penny let us say, an honest, 
 rather than a dishonest one ; while the war debt, 
 though so enormous, will enrich Germany, but will 
 never impoverish France. It will be paid " all hands 
 to the wheel" with as much gaiety as a workman 
 dances at his wedding breakfast. They consider it as 
 something to be done, a loss for the moment, but 
 entailing no serious consequences. I think we have 
 too long held our neighbors in disdain. We are 
 wrong. They present a smiling front to the stranger 
 within their gates ; look upon a national misfor- 
 tune as a family skeleton, to be closeted at home, 
 but not to be exhibited abroad. They never appeared 
 to me a serious race ; no one ever doubted their wits, 
 philosophers or poets ; but the world has doubted, 
 and with some apparent reason, their stability as a 
 nation. Being English, and naturally the quintes- 
 sence of egotism, I am charmed to find so much 
 legerete in so near a vicinity, and as I usually come to 
 Paris to get rid of the spieen, I am delighted to find 
 the city its own old gay self. Why should I refer to, 
 or even think of, their war, when to the veriest Pari- 
 sian the winter of '70-71 might have belonged to any 
 time B.C., or still better, represented the sufferings 
 of those supposed poor people who traversed the Red 
 Sea, on what they now believe to have been a pleasure 
 trip. They take the world as it comes, so will I. 
 They bear their cares lightly, so will I. Everything 
 is treated with the same frothy, delightful indiffer-
 
 36 Marked "/ Haste" 
 
 ence which may well afford an example to even 
 " Perfidious Albion." 
 
 The Tuileries are in ruin. I remarked (wishing to 
 be sympathetic) to a Frenchman, that the ruins 
 little resembled the beautiful palace when twinkling 
 feet hid the mosaics of the tessellated floor, and the 
 light and beauty of Parisian society honored the ca- 
 price of an Empress, or the beck of a Bonaparte, 
 who little resembled Canova's ideal. He looked at 
 me wonderingly, then answered in good faith, with 
 the inevitable shrug of the shoulders : 
 
 " The Tuileries ? Ah, yes ! It was a beautiful 
 palace. It is now a beautiful ruin. What can you 
 expect ? We admire all that is beautiful to admire 
 the ruin you cannot also have the palace ! " 
 
 The civilized Frenchman knows no regret. Yester- 
 day is ' past,' to-morrow not yet come ; the only fact 
 that stares him in the face, an indubitable to-day ! So 
 proud is he that he will not even mourn over his 
 losses, and so malicious that he makes light of all mis- 
 fortunes. I, even I, a stolid Briton, can never think of 
 the burning of such a city as this as otherwise than a 
 universal calamity. The destruction of any work of 
 art is a loss to humanity. The destruction of such 
 buildings as the Tuileries, the Hotel de Ville, and 
 numerous others equally well known, is an irre- 
 parable disaster. The valuable paintings, books, and 
 historic souvenirs, whose contemplation gave nations 
 pleasure, lie in annihilation, trodden under foot 
 among neglected ash-heaps, and powdered along the 
 Parisian Boulevards. 
 
 This letter must stop. Its tone is regretful, and
 
 Marked "In Haste" 37 
 
 I have already told you that what is past is past, but 
 what is to be must be. I know what I wish to hap- 
 pen : it is that to-morrow's post will bring me a 
 letter from England ; that I might close my eyes 
 now to awake Monday night in presence of my ideal ; 
 and that Tuesday I shall have the pleasure of mak- 
 ing my finest bow. Placing my crush-hat over the 
 region of my heart, I will diligently study one figure 
 in the rich Aubusson ; my foot will involuntarily take 
 the " first position " requisite in the ordinary saluta- 
 tion ; my voice will murmur indifferently : "Charmed 
 to make your acquaintance ! " but it will beat like 
 a sledge-hammer, and I shall return to Rue Bassano 
 the happiest man in existence. The happiest, and 
 your ever affectionate kinsman, 
 
 BEAUFORT. '
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ATHOL BRANDON TO LORD BEAUFORT. 
 
 November I2th. 
 MY DEAR FRANCIS : 
 
 I fear expostulation would be in vain. Your 
 letters are certainly interesting ; and I do not know 
 but what you will do well to follow the inclination 
 of your (excuse my smile) heart. I never before 
 knew you to be so determined on having your own 
 way ; and as such is the case, why, what can one do 
 but look on and hope for early disenchantment and 
 a hopeful end. I thought you wrote like a mad- 
 man ; I begin to realize that you wrote, instead, like 
 an Englishman. Perhaps you did not think I would 
 take you at your word, and accept your kind invita- 
 tion to come to Paris ? I leave to-morrow morning 
 in the tidal train, and if nothing better offers, pray 
 come to meet me at the station. I suppose we will 
 get in about five ; however, you can easily ascertain 
 the exact hour, and will do me a tremendous favor 
 by putting in an appearance about that time. Your 
 lady mother quite favors my joining you, and her 
 pleasure at not leaving you alone in a city so rank 
 with temptation, quite obliterated her curiosity at 
 my sudden departure. Lady Beaufort is an angel, 
 and your little sister, Alice, a second Madonna. With 
 a home like yours, how you can have the heart to
 
 Marked "In Haste" 39 
 
 ramble all over creation passes my comprehension. 
 However, let us hope that your travels are ended for 
 a time. 
 
 It is something to know that Paris pleases you. 
 Paris is near home, and the sight of even a postage 
 stamp with a Republican goddess instead of some 
 Palestine disfiguration is a welcome change. Wire 
 me if you wish anything from London. No, it would 
 be too late. I shall be en route when you receive 
 this. My dear boy, all this may seem trivial, and so 
 it is. I am more deeply interested than you think. 
 I am almost alarmed at your strange infatuation, and 
 I can only ponder on what you have told me. You 
 are five and twenty, but one would never imagine it 
 from the knowledge of this last week's manoeuvres. 
 It sounds like one of your college escapades. I will 
 say no more, or you will greet me coldly. Whatever 
 happens, let nothing come between us. Certainly, 
 no strange woman with a pallid face should in one 
 week so fill your heart and mind that no place is left 
 for your own nearest and dearest ! Good-by and 
 Heaven bless you ! 
 
 Always your affectionate 
 
 ATHOL. 
 
 Lord Beaufort sighed as he read the letter. In 
 the last few words, he realized that we retain our 
 allegiance to home affections until we meet the one 
 soul kindred with our own. When that moment 
 comes, farewell simple joys and the dear maternal 
 servitude. The home of our youth becomes a house 
 of bondage. Father, mother, sisters, brothers, are a 
 secondary consideration ; and the face, whose fea- 
 tures are perhaps but twenty-four hours old, is the 
 only one whose lineaments are indelibly stamped
 
 40 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 upon our hearts. Parents must expect this. Long- 
 fellow has said, " There are no birds in last year's 
 nest." The words are poetic and truthful. When 
 the young ones fly to find themselves newer habita- 
 tions, farewell to the ancient boughs that sheltered 
 them ; farewell to the nest where the mother-bird so 
 daintily hovered while caring for her young. 
 
 Lord Beaufort was an only son, descended from 
 a long-lined ancestry. Beaufort lands and castle, in 
 fair Devonshire, were the envy of many an ancient 
 house. The country for miles around smiled on his 
 broad acres and thrifty fields. The Beauforts, father 
 and son, for more than five centuries, had ruled su- 
 preme in their grand old domain. The last lord, 
 Earl of Brandon, and father to the present earl, 
 died in 1872, leaving a wife and two children ; all 
 his rich inheritance going to his only son, Francis. 
 The house was in 'reality a feudal castle. It was 
 built in pure Italian renaissance, .with two square 
 towers at either end, around whose top ran a superb 
 terrace. 
 
 Fair indeed was the domain of Beaufort ; and at 
 five and twenty Lord Francis found himself the pos- 
 sessor of a castle and landed property that few noble- 
 men, even the richest, could boasL His youth had 
 been passed at Cambridge. Graduating with honor 
 at an exceptionally early age, he had spent the time 
 until his majority travelling with his cousin. The 
 cousin was Athol Brandon, the only child of Lord 
 Beaufort's sister, and the loved companion of the 
 young heir. A few years Beaufort's senior, he 
 was in person a fine contrast to Francis, but ready
 
 Marked "In Haste." 41 
 
 to join him in anything, so nearly were they mated 
 in sympathy and habit. They had travelled after 
 his coming of age, and only the sudden demise of 
 Mrs. Brandon had separated them. Athol was called 
 home, and Francis continued his travels alone. In 
 1872 his father's illness recalled the wanderer ; but 
 alas ! the seeds of gentlemanly vagrancy were al- 
 ready sown, and hard was it to the enthusiastic trav- 
 eller to settle down on the paternal estate. 
 
 The eleventh Earl of Beaufort, after a flattering 
 convalescence, died suddenly in relapse, and his son 
 Francis, the present earl, found himself heir to all 
 the broad acres of his father's domain, and head of 
 the house of Beaufort. His mother, ne'e the Lady 
 Helen Vane, had been a fond wife and loving parent. 
 In the second year of wedded life the heir was born, 
 and fifteen years later a second child, a tiny baby- 
 girl with blue eyes and flaxen hair. She was named 
 Alice after a maternal great-aunt, as she had none of 
 the lineaments of the Brandons. A strange little 
 waif who was spoiled by brother Francis, adored by 
 mamma and papa, who ruled in the house and tyran- 
 nized on the estate. 
 
 After the Earl's death, the Countess closed the 
 castle, and spent a year with her parents at Vane 
 Manor, a magnificent property in Yorkshire. The 
 winter of 1873 was spent in Rome, Naples, and Flo- 
 rence ; the next two seasons in London, in quiet, 
 however ; the two following winters in Algiers, for 
 the health of little Alice ; and from that time until 
 the October of 1876, Francis Beaufort had done little 
 else but travel.
 
 42 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 In September Beaufort Castle had been opened 
 to intimate friends, but after five weeks of staying 
 at home, Lord Beaufort was already anxious for 
 change. He would run over to Paris for a week ; 
 after a few days in Brighton, to Paris he went. 
 There we find him, for the first time in his life, 
 with a definite object in view. At. least he thought 
 himself desperately interested and half in love. Ai> 
 adorer of beauty, he had found his ideal woman. 
 Lord Francis was essentially English. He had not 
 arrived at his time of life without having followed 
 in the footsteps of the other noblemen of his time. 
 His scholarly tastes were just pronounced enough 
 to permit him the enjoyment, in a very full sense, 
 of this world's pleasures and pastimes. He might 
 play at the club half the night, consume two-thirds 
 of a bottle of kirchenwasser ; but a return home 
 in the dawn found his senses alert, and, instead of a 
 bacchanalian refrain, some tender operatic fragment 
 would more likely escape his lips. He loved nature 
 and out-door sport, but hunting, fishing, rowing, 
 and driving were not to him the sum total of exis- 
 tence. A beautiful, chivalrous appreciation of 
 men and women was the greatest legacy handed 
 down to him by his ancestors. Although he had 
 seen much to disgust him, he had also seen much 
 to admire. He was in one sense very un-English, as 
 he had a tendency towards optimism. At five and 
 twenty one can be optimist, but at this age, and an 
 Englishman who has lived, it is a very difficult thing 
 to be. 
 
 Lord Beaufort had learned that most essential of
 
 Marked "In Haste" 43 
 
 all the lessons taught Britannia's sons and daughters : 
 To pretend indifference ; to be perfectly cold and 
 undemonstrative ; to pass for an egotist always 
 gentlemanly, but always distant ; to be thought 
 worldly and calculating ; in fact to be recognized and 
 considered English. This outward varnish was ac- 
 cepted as genuine in the eyes of the world, but it 
 could not hide his real nature from his friends, nor 
 the enthusiasm that carried him away when thinking 
 of Miss Leslie, and writing to his well-loved kins- 
 man. With the pride natural to a gentleman, and the 
 calmness that distinguishes his nation, without any 
 seeming display, he attained quietly and deliberately 
 the end sought. He was determined to find out who 
 Miss Leslie was ; he was willing to do it at the cost, if 
 necessary, of his life's happiness. 
 
 What he exacted he would give. He would give all 
 without stint, and he would know the one woman who 
 had such charm, and such power to charm. Never in 
 his life before had he met such individual loveliness ; 
 but under what circumstances ? Here the good in 
 his nature showed itself. The beautiful must be true, 
 for nature rarely misses her handimark ; but it needed 
 much persuasion to satisfy a straightforward man 
 that a woman with a secret was, in nine chances in 
 ten, no matter how beautiful, a woman to be avoided. 
 Beauf ort pere would never have reasoned : he would 
 have left Paris. Beaufort fils not only courted mys- 
 tery and fascination, but he remained in the city ; and, 
 in order to miss none of his habitual comforts, quietly 
 established himself in an hotel, as they call French 
 private houses in France. A bit of a place after
 
 44 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 the castle ; but home, and like most people, Beau- 
 fort liked comfort at the proper time. He hated ho- 
 tels, he could never accustom himself to the espionage 
 of continental servants, and when his mind was made 
 up to resume his proper character after serving with 
 Miss Leslie, he was willing to live in two rooms, if 
 necessary, but by himself.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PORTRAITS OF THE YOUNG MEN. 
 
 THE tidal train from Boulogne was just puffing 
 into the Northern Station. Beaufort, with a special 
 carte, had been allowed to pass the mysterious grating 
 dividing the inner from the outer platform, and 
 stood waiting the arrival of his cousin. In a moment 
 he spied his blond head in one of the carriage win- 
 dows, and in two seconds later he was shaking his 
 outstretched hand. 
 
 " Dear old boy," said Brandon, affectionately, 
 " how jolly of you to meet me ! How well you look, 
 and how glad I am to see you ! " 
 
 Beaufort smiled, and said : 
 
 " Are you quite sure, after " 
 
 Brandon grew serious, but responded heartily: 
 " Of course I am, ' after ' ' after ' what ? Ah ! I see : 
 you wish to take the bull " 
 
 "Would you mind saying that in French?" said 
 Beaufort, half maliciously. " It sounds less brutal." 
 
 " No," said his cousin, sturdily. " I am not afraid, 
 now or ever, of the sound of good Anglo-Saxon ; and 
 I repeat, you seem to want to take the " 
 
 " This way for the baggage !" screamed the guard. 
 " On va ouvrir la salle tout de suite"
 
 46 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 "Curse these frog-eaters!" said Brandon, inter- 
 rupted in the midst of his phrase. " They make 
 more fuss over the arrival of ten people than we 
 would in London over a series of excursion trains, 
 all going and coming at once at Euston Station. 
 Their yells are deafening, and about what ? " 
 
 Beaufort laughed. " All in honor of your ar- 
 rival," said he, gaily. " But what about luggage ? 
 Have you brought any ? " 
 
 Athol placed his hand on his shoulder and said, 
 quietly : " Have I brought any ? My dear Francis, 
 I have come to stay until you turn me out. Am I 
 welcome ? " 
 
 Lord Beaufort reddened, but said quickly: "You 
 are always welcome, and this time the only person 
 in the world that I cared to see." 
 
 Brandon looked pleased. Just then the great 
 doors were opened, and rows of luggage were seen 
 piled on the long benches or tables. 
 
 One of the nuisances of continental travelling is 
 the custom-house. Waked up in the dead of night, 
 at any hour, one is dragged forth, perhaps in the 
 pouring rain, to follow some garnished official, who 
 finishes by asking in a cracked voice, after going to 
 the bottom of even Flora McFlimsey's trunks, " If 
 you have any tobacco, cigarettes, cigars, spirits or 
 perfume to declare." 
 
 The fiend knows perfectly well that you haven't, 
 but he must do his duty. Coming into Paris is less 
 disagreeable than going from there, for instance into 
 Belgium, Holland, or Germany. 
 
 A smoky waiting-room, where the combined odors
 
 Marked "In Haste" 47 
 
 of not overclean travellers greet your nostrils, is the 
 room into which one is shown while awaiting the 
 distribution of the baggage. If one survives this, 
 and "lutteset tu vaincras" one is regaled later on with 
 the sight of a pair of garlic-smelling, puffy paws rum- 
 maging about one's linen. After things are generally 
 disarranged, one of the green-coated officials says in 
 stentorian tones : 
 
 " Put things back again and shut the boxes." This 
 is in order to save himself the trouble. He will 
 probably have the cheek to interpolate a frigid 
 smile with the words : 
 
 11 Madame or Monsieur can do it better than I. 
 He knows where his own belongs." 
 
 It is heartrending to witness the disrespect shown 
 voyagers when they have passed from beneath the 
 Union Jack. One country is scarcely worse than an- 
 other, although the most disagreeable custom-houses 
 are those of the provinces, where the distances are 
 short, the people poor, and the employes dirty and 
 diligent. 
 
 In large cities one can well afford waiting and a 
 little extra inconvenience. The voyage is usually 
 at an end, and one cannot only repose the tired body 
 but rearrange the disordered luggage. The sensible 
 traveller picks out a commissioner (if he has no valet), 
 throws him his keys and some silver, and saying, 
 " Who ^breaks the trunks pays ; but bring the debris 
 to such a place," is off like a shot ; and nine chances 
 in ten his luggage will follow him in good con- 
 dition. 
 
 Athol and Beaufort were just looking up the Eng-
 
 48 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 lish sole-leathers when Beaufort recollected that Bell 
 was somewhere about. 
 
 "We are both idiots," said he, tranquilly. "Give 
 him your keys and we will leave this." 
 
 Brandon handed him a small trousseau, and select- 
 ing those necessary for the boxes, the two cousins 
 strolled out of the great exit. An open victoria, 
 with a capital pair, stood waiting. Beaufort and his 
 companion jumped in, and lighting cigars were 
 soon at their ease. I say " at their ease." One w r as 
 at his ease, the other scarcely. He need not have 
 had any fear, however, as Brandon had not the 
 slightest intention of referring to anything that had 
 passed in their correspondence. He was quite the 
 Athol that Beaufort had left in London, gay, frank, 
 good-humored, and loyal. 
 
 In person he was the typical Englishman. Fair 
 hair, with blue-gray eyes, bronzed skin, and as hand- 
 some a man as one would meet of a morning in the 
 Row. He was very slight, however, and gave one 
 the idea that his health left something to desire. He 
 wore a moustache, but no beard. His brows were 
 heavy and dark ; his lashes curiously curled up in- 
 stead of down, and placed the gray eyes in tantalizing 
 shadow. The expression of his countenance was 
 politely cold ; his voice was hearty and reassuring, 
 quite in contrast with his face, but in spite of its sin- 
 cerity sometimes suggested that he was not in ear- 
 nest. He was a thoroughly well-bred young man and 
 distinguished, as are tens of thousands of England's 
 youth. 
 
 His cousin Francis was almost his opposite in per-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 49 
 
 sonal appearance. He had fine, clear-cut features, 
 an extremely pale face, and beautiful mouth, which, 
 when he speaks, discloses teeth even and white as 
 pearls. A soft, mild expression is his characteristic 
 one, except when in conversation. Then the pallor 
 grows clearer and a faint dash of color breaks into the 
 cheeks. The eyes, strange to say, are truly Spanish 
 deep gray, large, and velvety. The lashes are long 
 and black, and when the Earl looks down they throw 
 a heavy shadow on his cheeks. The eyebrows are 
 finely arched, and the forehead denotes intelligence 
 and great thoughtfulness. The hair is bluish-black 
 and has just the slightest perceptible wave in it. He 
 wears it cut very closely, but occasionally a lock 
 strays over his temple with careless grace. His head 
 is simply beautiful, and he carries it with royal dig- 
 nity and hauteur. His form is slight and his car- 
 riage extremely easy and graceful. While speaking 
 he is usually energetic and impassioned.' His voice, 
 sweet and clear, rings with an enthusiasm that be- 
 longs to his years. An earnest, cultivated young 
 man, he charms all who come in contact with him. 
 
 Personal beauty in man or woman is a gift. The 
 art of pleasing is perhaps a more dangerous charm, 
 and Lord Francis possessed both in an unusual de- 
 gree. 
 
 Lord Beaufort felt anything but gay, but by a 
 supreme effort tried to appear at least indifferent. 
 The young men, by some happy combination, found 
 themselves discussing the breakfast at Voisin's, who 
 was in the city, and the latest scandal a grand duke 
 who had stolen his mother's diamonds, and a frail 
 3'
 
 50 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 American who had the bad taste to wear them. 
 Finally, Beaufort said : 
 
 " My dear Athol, have you no curiosity as to where 
 we dine ? " 
 
 Brandon smiled. " Curiosity," he added, " and an 
 appetite that will honor your menu wherever it be 
 cooked." 
 
 "You are confiding," said my lord gaily, "and 
 evidently hungry ; but console yourself. We dine at 
 the Cafe Anglais not tete-a-tete, as you might have 
 supposed. I have asked Lanesborough and Allani to 
 join us because I had previously asked them to keep 
 me company at dinner this evening. It would per- 
 haps have put them out to make other arrangements ; 
 hence I counted on your friendliness and acqui- 
 escence." 
 
 Brandon said quickly : " Quite right, my dear fel- 
 low, and the idea of the Cafe Anglais could not have 
 been bettered. I shall do undoubted honor to both 
 cellar and kitchen." To himself he thought : " This 
 is a ruse. He asked them to dine, not on account 
 of a previous engagement, but because he feared a 
 tete-a-tete with me. He has not the courage to de- 
 fend himself at six o'clock, but he will have plenty 
 after dinner. In truth, this is a miserable hour, 
 and one that tells upon the stoutest heart." Aloud 
 he added : 
 
 " What do you say to an absinthe at the Neapolitan ? 
 In the midst of the ancient band of decorated topers 
 that usually congregate at this hour, no one will re- 
 mark two solitary Englishmen." 
 
 " Good !" responded Beaufort, ''provided we are
 
 Marked "In Haste" 51 
 
 not taken for two deserters from the ' Cook's tourists.' 
 I am agreed," and they drove to the famous cafe. 
 
 It was just the hour when the "band" was in 
 force, and what a sight ! The habit of drink may be 
 a disputable one, but that of drinking absinthe is in- 
 disputable. The pale green liquor that tastes like 
 simple paragoric is a demon than which any other 
 intoxicant is but the phantom. It drags brain and 
 body to destruction, it breaks up homes, it ruins 
 nations under the seductive guise of "giving one an 
 appetite." The daily habit once formed of taking 
 even the smallest quantity before a repast, in a short 
 time becomes one's bond-master. Even the dread 
 hasheesh is less inexorable, while opium-eating be- 
 comes a secondary vice. One can break off from 
 either of these because one fears the consequences. 
 Absinthe is so seemingly harmless that one never 
 realizes the vital hold that it gains. In an incredibly 
 short time one has the habit of'taking a little before 
 dinner. To-morrow it is forgotten, a second per- 
 haps, and the victim does not miss it. He is so well 
 without it that the idea of his ever becoming an ab- 
 sinthe drinker is ridiculous. Parisians get into this 
 habit for the reason that it assists them to pass their 
 time, get up an appetite, and furnishes an excuse for 
 sitting out on their adorable boulevards to watch 
 the endless number of demi-mondaines who pass in- 
 cessantly. 
 
 Most people have resort to anodynes to relieve 
 suffering. The thousands of victims to morphine, 
 opium, and the like, all began by silencing some 
 obstinate pain with the requisite dose. The persis-
 
 52 Marked "In Haste."' 
 
 tent return of the suffering claimed a double portion 
 for the morrow. The benefit of these narcotics is a 
 divine consolation in incurable maladies, and the 
 excuse of their continuous employment, even after 
 the patient is cured, is admissible while dangerous ; 
 but I repeat, the vice of absinthe-drinking for only the 
 reasons above mentioned is deplorable and utterly sans 
 une raison d'etre. The hapless minnow in the deadly 
 clasp of the devil-fish has more chance to escape 
 from its clutches than the Paris ianflaneur has from 
 this vice, who watches the morn of life fade into 
 night, who knows no law but the one of habitual 
 drink, who has no sense of honor, no sense of loyalty 
 save fidelity to his favorite god absinthe. 
 
 The young men drew up before the cafe. As 
 Brandon had divined, the band were there in force. 
 The little tables, standing far out on the boulevard, 
 were all occupied, and the scene presented the varied 
 picture it always does at that hour. Old heads 
 and young, bearded men and striplings, flowing 
 locks, bald heads, heavily lined faces, countenances 
 as yet unfurrowed by care all, all these in the 
 motley crowd. Nine-tenths sat with hands clasped 
 on the heads of their canes, their eyes dreamily look- 
 ing at the slender glass in whose depths reposed the 
 sea-green liquor. 
 
 Some were chatting gaily, some conversing and 
 gesticulating in the Italian fashion, some seemed 
 drowsy, while others were on the qui vive for all that 
 was going on. As some well-known demi-mondaine 
 would pass every eye was fixed and on the alert. 
 Those grown old in dissipation and vice would leer
 
 Marked "fn Haste" 53 
 
 in an imbecile manner as the person passed, and 
 make some gesture quite comprehensible to the 
 street-walker. The younger men, with delicious 
 impertinence, would speak loudly enough to attract 
 attention ; then, when the lady turned, their words 
 had already assumed the pure boulevard flavor, per- 
 fectly adapted to her understanding. 
 
 Ladies who, by chance, are forced to be alone in 
 the streets at that time, suffer in being obliged to 
 pass the cafes. As they are mostly occupied by in- 
 ebriates and dram-drinkers, it is not at all unlikely 
 one may hear remarks whose meaning no one re- 
 gards ; but t the fact of their being addressed palpably 
 to some one, is in itself annoying. It is a very rare 
 thing, however, to meet real ladies alone at that hour 
 in Paris, as those who are unaccompanied usually 
 choose a more retired promenade. Still, the absurd 
 stories afloat that ladies cannot walk alone in the 
 streets of Paris without being insulted, is one that 
 should, on no account, gain credence, as it is false. 
 A chance word that may escape the lips of some 
 flaneur at a public restaurant should not be laid to 
 the account of the entire male sex of a great city ; 
 and no lady is in danger of having an affront repeated 
 if she keeps on her way apparently unconscious of 
 the slight.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SUNDAY IN PARIS. 
 
 LORD BEAUFORT chose a quiet corner, and it was 
 not long before the surroundings told upon his tem- 
 per. He spoke with Athol, as of old, with the same 
 unconcern, and in the usual spirit. He assured him- 
 self of his mother's well-being, and inquired for lit- 
 tle Alice with real brotherly solicitude. He even 
 broached other topics, but not the topic. In fact he 
 seemed quite at his ease, and sipped a glass of Tu- 
 rinese vermouth, while Brandon toyed with his ab- 
 sinthe. 
 
 When they had finished their refreshment they 
 seemed quite at their ease, without a shadow be- 
 tween them. It was time to dress for dinner when 
 their glasses were emptied. Shortly after they 
 found themselves well started homewards, and Bran- 
 don gave the full rein to his spirits. He remarked 
 upon everything as they passed, recognized well- 
 known Bonapartists at the Cafe de la Paix, smiled 
 significantly when some fair dame saluted Beau- 
 fort or himself, and kept up so lively a conversation 
 that time fairly flew. 
 
 The night promised to be fair, and the sun was
 
 Marked "In Haste." 55 
 
 already hiding itself back of the old Palais Bour- 
 bon. The gilded dome of the tomb of the great Na- 
 poleon shone with a steady splendor, and the mag- 
 nificent buildings that are in the vicinity of the 
 Tuileries and Place de la Concorde were ablaze with 
 the glories of the setting sun. 
 
 The victoria traversed the place and turned into 
 the Champs Elysees. A world was about, but not 
 the world of Paris. The avenue was thronged with 
 carriages, but no one familiar face was visible. Any- 
 body may permit himself -the luxury of a vehicle of 
 some sort on Sunday, as it is a regular fete, but few 
 of the best society in Paris drive on that day. 
 
 It is a pleasure to watch the French people endi- 
 manche. As a nation they seem to have a peculiar 
 appreciation of the meaning of the phrase " a day 
 of rest." Mass in the morning, a family breakfast 
 with all of the family present, a walk in the Champs 
 Elysees in the afternoon with the little ones, and a 
 dinner at any of the numerous cafes that one stum- 
 bles upon in every part of the city. They walk 
 leagues for pleasure during the day, eat continually 
 (for their appetites are insatiable), and dine off ten 
 dishes at night, because it is Sunday and a fete. 
 The evening is spent at the play, and after midnight 
 Morpheus emancipates the tired bodies, and too 
 much feted souls. Looking upon the manner they 
 pass this day, in one sense it becomes anything but 
 a day of rest. It has the greater virtue, however, of 
 satisfying everybody, being national and undeniably 
 French. 
 
 The Champs Elysees was so crowded that Beau-
 
 56 Marked "/ Haste" 
 
 fort turned into the Avenue Cours-la-Reine a beau- 
 tiful street embowered in trees, with a long prome- 
 nade for mounted cavaliers, and lying in full view of 
 the much-vaunted Seine. It is really one of the most 
 beautiful in the city, and many celebrated people 
 live within its aristocratic precincts. 
 
 They passed a fine house and saw a very imposing 
 lady in a window. She was chatting gaily, and 
 looked very " comffy " from the depths of her great 
 chair. It was the celebrated contralto Marietta 
 Alboni, Madame Pepoli, now a countess, and I don't 
 know what else besides in the way of title. She is 
 more honored with her first, however (that of a great 
 contralto), than any of the others. Titles may be 
 bought or bestowed genius is inborn. 
 
 The gentlemen lifted their hats in deference to the 
 near vicinity of so much distinction and drove on. 
 At the corner of the Rue Bayard was Gustave Dore's 
 famous studio. As they neared the house, the ar- 
 tist was just coming down the street, and the Earl 
 stopped to say a little "good day." 
 
 Dore is young, almost handsome, with beautiful 
 brown eyes, and much friendliness of manner. He 
 seemed quite pleased to meet his friends, and imme- 
 diately made a rendezvous for an early day. Beau- 
 fort was careful not to allow it to interfere with 
 another engagement th^t weighed upon his con- 
 science semi-weekly. 
 
 Finally they reached the hotel. The weary trav- 
 eller retired to dress, while his kinsman went to 
 the smoking boudoir to see if there was any one 
 there waiting. Beaufort was not a man that his
 
 Marked "In Haste" 57 
 
 friends made use of, neither had any one full liberty 
 to march into his house at any hour of the day and 
 make himself at home ; which means very plainly, 
 smoking the best cigars, drinking any amount of 
 liquors, and testing the wine-cellar to a capacity not 
 even known to the master of the house. But the 
 Earl was reasonably good-natured, and indifferent 
 enough to pass for a much more amiable man than 
 he really was. He was at home every day between 
 twelve o'clock and two ; and very often the half-hour 
 that preceded dinner found him quite disposed to 
 receive his friends. I will be just enough to say 
 that a welcome from Beaufort was never half-hearted. 
 He was either glad to see one, or he made use of a 
 woman's virtuous subterfuge " not at home." He 
 was thoroughly whole-souled, and happily English. 
 While he was dressing, the bell rang ; a servant 
 brought him a note. Although they were not to sit 
 down thirteen at the table, he half feared excuses. 
 He was not nervous, but any conversation relating 
 to Miss Leslie that evening was out of the question. 
 He desired no tete-a-tete with Athol, and half tremb- 
 lingly opened his letter. It was from an old friend. 
 He read : 
 
 " DEAR MY LORD : 
 
 " You must breakfast with us, if possible, this 
 week. I might let you off, but Countess Isaure is 
 inexorable, and we name Friday, at half-past eleven. 
 We have taken the liberty of inviting two old friends 
 to join us, and hope you will not be engaged for that 
 date. I am sure you will very much ' take to-' one 
 of them. // (mind I do not give the sex) is charm- 
 s'
 
 58 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 ing. I suppose it would be quite as enlightening to 
 say das kind, for it is young, although soit dit entre 
 nous the neuter of a German noun is never a thing 
 one could swear to. What are you doing all of the 
 week, and can we not dine together somewhere before 
 Friday ? This invitation has affair with the Coun- 
 tess, although I am quite as insistent as she that you 
 do not fail us. This has been a busy time ; although 
 early in the season, we have been to two ' hals de 
 contra f, ' four dinners, twice as many soirees, and a 
 fine wedding. The bride w y as lovely and very rich. 
 The last comes first. ' Very rich ' and naturally very 
 lovely. The bride'smaids were charming, the best 
 men all good partis. Let me whisper something in 
 your ear ! Although dressed in the most virginal 
 of virgin white (pray do not think I am writing 
 scandal), they do say that not one of these pretty 
 creatures has a me'daille de rosiere. How sad that the 
 outward sign does not always indicate the inward 
 and spiritual grace. Believe me, however, things 
 are not as bad as people think. 'Tis something to 
 wear white garments. Ah ! man cher, your Shake- 
 speare knew ; assume a virtue, and you have it not, 
 etc. Now I must say adieu, as the hour of dinner 
 approaches, and this will just catch you. Madame's 
 regards, my warmest and sincerest friendship, as I 
 am always yours, 
 
 " L ON VANDALIN. 
 
 "Avenue de Messine, 4 P.M." 
 
 Beaufort laughed and laid down the letter. It was 
 so like the Count, a bit shocking, but not at all un- 
 palatable. It is so satisfactory to know that other 
 people in the world are talked about, for human van- 
 ity always protects the first person singular. His 
 valet iade a note of the engagement, and his lord- 
 ship made a brief response, as follows :
 
 Marked "In Haste" 59 
 
 " DEAR FRIEND : 
 
 "Always delighted to pay my humble duty to 
 your lovely Countess. She is one of the few that 
 cause us reprobate bachelors to regret the state of 
 single blessedness. At half-past eleven then I shall 
 be promptly on hand. Your announcement of das 
 kind half puzzles me. Provided it be not a musical 
 prodigy violin, or piano, I shall be present. Your 
 remarks on the wedding are amusing. I almost take 
 back mine about single blessedness. Why should 
 rosieres flourish only in Neuilly and imagination ? 
 We will try and arrange a dinner for Wednesday. 
 A propos, I am not alone ; my kinsman, Athol Bran- 
 don, has come to Paris to pay me a visit. He is the 
 gentleman you have so often heard me mention, and 
 the one you once missed at Shanklin. Drop in to- 
 morrow for tea, and let me present you. I close 
 with laying my heart ' aux jolis petit s pieds de Ma- 
 dame la Comtesse* You might have cause, but don't 
 be jealous. 
 
 "Yours affectionately ever, 
 
 " BEAUFORT. 
 
 " P.S. When I spoke of musical prodigies, I omit- 
 ted including male singers. I don't wish to insult 
 you, but it's not I hope, it's not an importer of 
 the high C's. One thing I consider more disgrace- 
 ful than all others, and that is to be born a tenor. 
 Tenorism if I may invent a word is a birth-mark 
 which stains through generations. Ages cannot wipe 
 it out. 
 
 " Yours hopefully, 
 
 " B." 
 
 The Earl despatched his answer and proceeded 
 with his toilet. A tap on the door, followed by a 
 head peering half-way into the chamber, disclosed his
 
 60 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 cousin in irreproachable swallow-tail, and looking 
 very handsome and refreshed. 
 
 "Not ready yet," said he, brightly. "The hour 
 nears seven, and we are a long way from the An- 
 glais. I will leave you to yourself and look into 
 some of old Dethune's albums which are in the li- 
 brary ; but you will have to hurry ! " 
 
 Beaufort explained : " I had to read and answer a 
 letter from my old friend, Count Vandalin ; and, by 
 the way, you may as well look at the epistle. It is in 
 Gallic-English and not at all dull. You must know 
 Leon. He's one of the few that render life and so- 
 ciety perfectly delightful. His remarks are some- 
 times a little dc'colletJes, but it is like the fashion the 
 ladies have of dressing for dinner, when a belle 
 drops, not her eyes, but an inch too much of her cor- 
 sage. I will be with you directly." 
 
 Brandon took the letter, and a moment after 
 Beaufort heard a laugh, followed by the words 
 which came through the door-way : "I think he 
 must be awfully jolly, and, without wishing to add to 
 a rolling ball of snow, I think I know who the " 
 
 Beaufort emerged from his dressing-room with a 
 sly expression dimpling the corners of his mouth, and 
 interrupted : 
 
 " You think you know who's who ? As Allani 
 says, ' I guess we all know,' but it's as well to let 
 the sleeping dogs lie. Allans .' " 
 
 They went down the Champs Elysees this time, 
 and turned into the Rue Royale without having met 
 a friendly face. Brandon found Paris her old smil- 
 ing self, and expressed his real pleasure at being back
 
 Marked "In Haste" 61 
 
 there again. Sunday in England has little terror 
 for the orthodox Briton ; but honest folks do say 
 that Sunday, in any other spot in the world, is a little 
 less depressing than in the great " gathering place of 
 souls," London. Even Brandon could not help re- 
 marking the complete emancipation from daily toil 
 indulged in by the gay populace that thronged the 
 streets. The honest, happy faces that beamed on 
 one from every side communicated some of their 
 cheerfulness to him, and each moment he felt his 
 heart growing lighter, without knowing why. They 
 passed the great Church of the Madelaine where 
 priests mumble aves over scoffers' bones. There was 
 a humming in the air, a murmur of hundreds of 
 chattering voices, a satisfaction in the to-day, which, 
 in any nation other than the French, would presage an 
 equal satisfaction for the morrow. It is well under- 
 stood, however, the value of the French endimanchJ. 
 It is like coupons for a theatrical performance 
 marked '"good for this date only," or champagne 
 when the cork first flies out, one should take while 
 effervescing.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DINING AT THE "ANGLAIS." 
 
 THEY reached the Cafe Anglais in ample time, al- 
 though the carriage could move but with difficulty. 
 The habitual loungers at Tortoni were the only 
 ones who lingered at this late hour. Handsome 
 Italians were taking their vermouth and talking 
 politics as usual, while the restaurant of the Maison 
 Dorfo was already filled to its limit' The young men 
 remarked this from the window of their beautiful 
 salon on the first floor, facing the boulevard. The 
 guests not arriving, they remained fora few moments 
 looking out upon the scene. 
 
 The day is pleasant in Paris, but the night is fas- 
 cinating. Especially does one become permeated 
 with a sense of the beautiful when looking upon the 
 witchery of these wonderful Boulevards. Not an 
 occasional cafe is seen, but ten, a dozen, twenty, with 
 their superb furnishing of gold and crystal, and the 
 great mirrors from floor to ceiling, reflecting the 
 inner and outer world. Myriads of gas-jets are re- 
 flected from burnished silver, the crystal of chan- 
 deliers, and the surface of polished mirrors, till the 
 scene is one of indescribable splendor. Every day 
 one is treated to a real tableau vivant that excels
 
 Marked "In Haste" 63 
 
 the finest stage effects. Not even the enchanting 
 fairy pieces at the Chatelet, with their gorgeous trans- 
 formation scenes, can compare with the ensemble of 
 the Parisian boulevards, when the weather is fine and 
 the cafes show forth in all their ravishing splendor. 
 
 In a moment Lanesborough and Allani arrived. 
 There was cordial handshaking and a delightful 
 absence of ceremony. The gaiety of the evening 
 had penetrated everywhere, and four happier-look- 
 ing or more amiable young men would not be met 
 with " in a month of Sundays." It was time to serve 
 the dinner. Conversation was not fairly under way 
 until the coppery bivalves had disappeared. A re- 
 mark from Allani, on American oysters, caused some- 
 thing like the excitement of Orsini's bomb when the 
 Emperor was driving in Rue Lepelletier. 
 
 Neither of the other gentlemen had visited the 
 New World, and they could not realize the fact that 
 any oyster could rival the little coppery insect that 
 is served up with such gusto on the continent. 
 Allani repeated his remark, that the "American 
 oyster is the only one in the world fit to eat. Per- 
 haps," he added, " that is an extraordinary statement. 
 I shall modify it. I 'don't think that after eating 
 oysters in New York, one would ever again care for 
 this," indicating a mottled speck that rested like a 
 stain on its shell. Lanesborough began : 
 
 " It's all well enough for Allani to talk up America. 
 I never imagined one could become so wedded to a 
 savage country, you know. 'Pon my life, it is extra- 
 ordinary ! After three trips there, and four or five 
 years under a stranger flag, he gives up everything
 
 64 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 for the fascination of a New World. I am not much 
 of a traveller," he continued, with unstudied candor, 
 ''and I cannot imagine life out of London or Paris. 
 Vienna is not bad, and the pretty Viennese are 
 really too seductive on a moonlight night at Schon- 
 brunn. Italy ! ah, Como's a funk, Venice a harbor 
 of bad smells, Rome condensed miasmas, and 
 Petersburg a nihilistic camp. One can't speak a word 
 in the club without running afoul of some con- 
 founded socialist, and ten to one you light your 
 cigarette over a concealed factory of dynamite. 
 Thanks, awfully, but no Russia for me. I will eat 
 my caviar in a more civilized country." The ob- 
 sequious waiter standing near heard the word 
 " Caviare " and reddened. He kept getting redder 
 until his finely starched collar seemed to choke him, 
 and there was imminent danger of rupturing some 
 blood-vessel. He advanced, and with an " Ahem ! " 
 with glaring eyes no longer concealing his indigna- 
 tion, he commenced: "Caviare! mi-lor" (with a 
 voice half authoritative, half humble), " caviare ; per- 
 mettez-moi) we have the article. It is even upon the 
 menu, but who, (I beg mi-lor's pardon), who could 
 possibly desire to eat caviare with their oysters ? 
 
 But if mi-lor wishes, I " 
 
 All looked up and laughed. The man's distress 
 was evident and honest. Lanesborough stared at 
 him with calm deliberation, took in the collar inun- 
 dated by too much throat, stuck his glass in his eye, 
 and with ineffable repose, continued his survey of 
 the garcon. Twice the man attempted to go on, to 
 explain. With each fresh effort, the gentleman
 
 Marked "In Haste" 6$ 
 
 looked at him looked at him as only an Englishman 
 can look ; and as the officious servant made one final 
 attempt to speak, Lanesborough held him with his 
 gaze. That last look was too much. He bowed 
 frantically, and walked out of the room with the 
 same dizziness that affects the steps of a man walk- 
 ing on the edge of a precipice. He was already dis- 
 graced in his companions' eyes ; a thousand desperate 
 thoughts flashed through his brain, the most harrow- 
 ing one, that his pourboire would not " materialize " 
 that evening. While Lanesborough was yet looking, 
 the velvet portfire concealed his retreating form with 
 as much kindliness as it could have shown toward an 
 emperor, and the dinner went on. Lanesborough said : 
 
 "What the devil was the fellow trying to get at ? 
 He quite took my breath away with his warmth ! " 
 Beaufort laughed and said : 
 
 " For a man whose breath is taken away, you had 
 every appearance of life, and your coolness was a fine 
 set-off to his 'warmth,' as you call it ; but we must 
 be generous. He thought you wanted a hors-dceuvre 
 with your oysters, and the best self-control in the 
 world is not proof against the despair of an inborn 
 butler when he sees a change in his menu. People 
 must eat in order, live by faith, and never, under any 
 circumstances, take tart when they should try arti- 
 chokes. I remember one second maitre d, hotel we once 
 had, that left the house at Christmas time because 
 I would drink champagne all through my dinner. 
 I have changed now. That was in my salad days, 
 when the midnight oil was burned out at Grosvenor 
 Square germans, and I had a mania for the spark-
 
 66 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 ling drink. Poor man ! did I know where he is, I 
 would send him a letter informing him of the return 
 to reason of his old master. Allani (suddenly turning 
 to him), what's all this talk of Lanesborough about 
 America ? Have you really become a naturalized 
 citizen of the United States ? " 
 
 " Dear me, no ! " said Allani very decidedly, with a 
 laugh. " I like America immensely, but I am still loyal 
 to her Majesty the Queen. I think that Englishmen 
 might adore the country, live there years, be constantly 
 going back and forth, yet never swear citizenship in 
 one of her States. We are English. Why should 
 we become naturalized Americans ? It is like one 
 being one's second self. In an English-speaking 
 country, one cannot feel the great difference in race. 
 Did I not hear my own language spoken, I would 
 not be so much struck with the resemblance between 
 us. Believe me, that is the first consideration when 
 one arrives in the great city of New York. One sees 
 fair English faces, hears strong ringing voices, and, 
 best of all, one hears the mother-tongue in the first 
 sound that greets his ear on landing. That is one rea- 
 son why we are predisposed to like America from the 
 outset. To get there creates almost the feeling one 
 has on returning home after a long absence. In a ten 
 days' trip crossing the ocean, there is time to think a 
 great deal. One expects discomfort, bustle, noise, a 
 new people but a slight remove from the aborigines, 
 and exaggerates the possibility of not being able to 
 ' take to ' them even with time. A trip to America is 
 looked upon as a thing to be done to gratify curios- 
 ity, not to study or appreciate a great people. I "
 
 Marked "In Haste" 67 
 
 " Hear ! hear ! " interrupted Brandon. " My dear 
 boy, what can have converted you, you the acknowl- 
 edged infidel, into the belief that out of London " 
 
 "There is a bank," Beaufort chimed in. "Ten 
 months have certainly made a great difference ; but 
 I'll tell you the reason. He is cured of his extreme 
 youth. The changes each day are not enormous, but 
 the total seems to have been radical, effective, and 
 complete. What is it, my friend, will you explain ? " 
 Allani looked half serious, but simply answered : 
 
 " If it be interesting, I don't mind telling you, 
 only it seems out of place here. The truth is, I 
 found my trip to America one of such novelty and 
 charm, that I began directly to see things in a dif- 
 ferent light. In two days after my arrival, it broke 
 upon me that in England we live in a groove ; and, 
 instead of being the greatest race in the world, we 
 are far less remarkable than Americans as a nation. 
 The effect upon my mind was something overwhelm- 
 ing. I was quite dazed, as I tell you. We are so 
 self-secure in our estimate of Old England, that no 
 amount of talk on this side of the Atlantic can bring 
 before us the tremendous reality of what America 
 is, and after seeing it, even one glance at New York, 
 one's ideas suddenly collapse. The most cherished 
 hobbies become helplessly wooden ; the most exag- 
 gerated idea dwarfs in comparison with what this 
 people and country veritably are. You say I am 
 changed. Possibly. I looked at myself in the glass 
 two months after my first visit, for it seemed to 
 me that my mind would show through my features 
 the colossal transformation it had undergone. I no
 
 68 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 longer saw through the glasses of British prejudice, 
 and although feeling at all times a sense of my own 
 importance as a loyal Englishman, I realized very 
 emphatically that there is a New World and a new 
 people that command our admiration and respect. 
 What the nineteenth century requires are civilization 
 and progress. England harps on the one, and is 
 gaining but little in the other. There are giant in- 
 tellects in the New World, which, if I mistake not, 
 will carry that people through everything. In two 
 hundred years there will be but one nation Ameri- 
 cans. Europe is already rotting. I must say that 
 England has now solid minds and men, and we are 
 a clever people. The reason Americans will get so 
 ahead is that they are just English enough to have 
 all of our egotism and foresightedness, with enough 
 native shrewdness to hold on to what they gain, and 
 to be continually on the lookout to profit by others' 
 failings. Added to this they are advancing, while 
 all other peoples are deteriorating. 
 
 "They are strong in body, and absorb all that 
 comes into their country from any source. The 
 terms ' emigrant ' and ' exile ' sound harshly. They 
 represent the enormous outpour of different blood 
 that flows into the American continent. All races 
 intermarry there, and in that way a people can 
 never become extinct. The entire European conti- 
 nent transplants her sturdiest shoots to American 
 soil. The lavish coffers of the old world are emptied 
 of their choicest gems ; fresh, strong, temperate men 
 go from every part of the earth to found their for- 
 tunes in the New World. Physically, America is
 
 Marked "In Haste" 69 
 
 bound to excel every country. She drains the civil- 
 ized world of its best blood, and this, mingling with 
 the native fluid, makes such a strengthful, life-giv- 
 ing foundation, that this people will have first of 
 all the health to outlive all other races. Europe will 
 be mouldering in silent dust when Columbia will be 
 giving birth to Spartan sons and daughters. But 
 bless my soul ! what a harangue ! Forgive, but don't 
 forget. I am serious in- what I say." 
 
 " My dear boy," said Beaufort, " you talk like a 
 book, and I now insist that when you have eaten 
 something (you have been neglecting the inner man), 
 you tell us more about your new love." A chorus 
 of " Hear ! hear ! " interrupted the Earl, and Allani 
 promised to answer questions, but no detailed ac- 
 count would he go into. They turned to the bill 
 of fare, and the waiters heaved an enormous sigh of 
 relief. The idea of a first-class dinner spoiling while 
 any man talked about any country ! The caviar 
 had been on the table and was already a thing of 
 the past. The lamb chops, with broiled kidneys and 
 mushrooms, were just being deposited on the table 
 by the butler previous to their being served ; and 
 the cheerful sound of opening bottles began to give 
 a certain zest to this little affair. The cellars of the 
 Cafe Anglais are famous, and the choicest vintage 
 was sacrificed to the Earl's taste and means. Chateau 
 Yquem with the oysters for those who liked it ; 
 sparkling Sauterne, Johannisberg that would tempt 
 a king, Lacrime Christi, Rudesheimer, and I don't 
 know how many of the white wines that end in 
 "bergs" and " heimers " priceless in value and
 
 70 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 exquisite in flavor, were set before the guests. The 
 menu was elaborate enough for a royal repast, and 
 nothing went \vrong. 
 
 The cook should have had a V. C., as the kidneys 
 were done to such a turn that the most exacting 
 epicure could find no fault. The mutton was so young, 
 tender, and well bred, that it might have sported as a 
 lambkin at Hampton Court, under the very eyes of 
 Victoria Regina, her most gracious majesty. 
 
 As usual at Parisian cafes, the cooking was so 
 good one could get up an appetite even if not at all 
 hungry, and believe me, the dinner ordered by 
 Beaufort was a very chef-d'auvre of the cordon bleu. 
 The Earl, himself, had been distrait. Brandon was a 
 bit ceremonious, but Allani was charming, and Lanes- 
 borough the very person that makes a delightful ad- 
 dition to any dinner party. The conversation, strange 
 to say, had been thus far on America. Allani ex- 
 pressed himself greatly surprised at Beaufort's sudden 
 interest in the country and everything that pertained 
 to it. He little knew that some of England's bluest 
 blood had throbbed with fierce fervor, only think- 
 ing on a fair face and a gracious woman who owed 
 allegiance to the stars and stripes. Brandon knew 
 full well the reason of his cousin's sudden attention, 
 but coldly ignored Allani's half interrogative remarks. 
 
 " Tell me," said his Lordship, when the first meat 
 dish came on ; " what do you think of American 
 cities, and how about the fair beauties that are said 
 to be as universal and numerous as sands on the sea- 
 shore ? " Allani laughed pleasantly as he said, 
 
 " Not so fast : one thing at a time."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AN ENGLISHMAN DESCRIBES AMERICAN CITIES. 
 
 "THE cities are fine, large, and well populated. 
 New York, the largest, is a world of bustle and con- 
 fusion ; the men look haggard and worked to death ; 
 the women are pretty, overdressed, and ingenious. 
 There is such a noise and racket in the streets that 
 one is almost distracted. The first impression is 
 that the comet has fallen into the sun, or that people 
 have v but one day to live, and in that day everything 
 must be accomplished. A man going to drop a let- 
 ter into the post will tear along as if pursued. Peo- 
 ple are momentarily in danger of their lives, and 
 they risk death to catch an omnibus two seconds 
 sooner, losing an hour perhaps, immediately after, 
 in a block in Broadway. There is no repose, no 
 sense of anything but hurry up, 'time is money.' 
 At seven A.M. the streets are thronged, at nine the 
 ladies are dressed, and at eleven tired nature already 
 begs for surcease. People make visits before lun- 
 cheon, and it is no uncommon thing for calls to 
 commence at ten A.M. New York is a great com- 
 mercial metropolis, and the society mostly consists 
 in the largest bank accounts charitably pronouncing 
 the open sesame to the other medium-sized fortunes.
 
 72 Marked lt ln Haste" 
 
 "Wealth rules the day. No one without a great 
 sufficiency of this world's goods can put a foot 
 .anywhere in what Gotham calls her best society. 
 Another New York institution are the Knickerbock- 
 ers. They exist in Vans and Vinns, Welts, Roses, 
 and Vilts, Hooffers, Hoffers, and I had near said 
 Heiffers, and a quantity of old Holland and Flem- 
 ish, whose ancestors figured in Washington Irving's 
 tales. These people keep generally to themselves, 
 despise the society of filthy lucre, and spend their 
 time at impossible soirees, where they tell, recapi- 
 tulate, and demonstrate the importance of certain 
 mouldering bones in the old city graveyards, and 
 their own special greatness in being the lineal de- 
 scendants of so much bony-fied aristocracy. Most 
 of these famous ancestors by the way were im- 
 porters of laces and tobacco, linens or other dry 
 goods ; and it is really difficult to appreciate the ex- 
 act value of the Knickerbocker heraldry. 
 
 "Brooklyn, the 'City of Churches' and pretty 
 women, is across the river from New York. It is 
 quiet, brown-stone, and as different a town from 
 Gotham as if belonging to another continent. Phila- 
 delphia is Quaker-like, respectable, and filled w r ith 
 people that wear a sanctimonious garb, hiding from 
 the outer world all of their deformities, yet manage 
 to have the best time en cachetic of any city in Amer- 
 ica. Every married man who leaves New York for 
 a spree goes to Philadelphia ' on particular busi- 
 ness.' In Cincinnati they talk pork and support mu- 
 sical societies. It is called ' Porkopolis,' by the way, 
 an uncommonly good name, and somewhat sug-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 73 
 
 gestive. In Chicago, the greatest grain market in 
 the world, there is rivalry about the pork trade. In 
 the Garden City (as Chicago is called) the manipu- 
 lation of the porco is something marvellous. There 
 are great stock-yards near the city, and the cattle 
 come in to meet their fate in thorough-bred fashion. 
 As fine a hog as ever squealed comes to the packing- 
 houses, walks up a flight of marble steps, passes 
 through machines that do anything but resuscitate 
 life, is killed, scraped, cut, packed, and salted in less 
 than two minutes. In short, it goes in a well-to-do 
 live animal, and comes out bacon and tooth-picks. 
 Even the bristles are utilized in this great Western 
 town. They do things quickly in the Garden City. 
 It is a splendid place. Lake Michigan is a lovely 
 sheet of water, bounding the east side; the parks 
 are fine, and there is not left a vestige of the re- 
 cent great fire. The people are whole-souled, hand- 
 some, and the pluckiest on the continent. With- 
 out the Yankee indelicacy, they are very clever in 
 business and make really the most enterprising city 
 in the Union. Chicago is the fastest place outside 
 of New York, as, naturally, where one finds the great- 
 est number of desirable qualities, one finds also the 
 most concesrled vice ; but it certainly, taken all in all, 
 is the most interesting and remarkable city of the 
 New World. 
 
 " Boston ah classic Boston ! The ' Hub ! ' Boston 
 is quite like an English town, and besides being very 
 intellectual, is also very avaricious. It is certainly 
 comme il faut and very clean ; but I found it too un- 
 American to interest me specially. They have 
 4
 
 74 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 great literary lights in Boston, scientific meetings, 
 guilds, women's righters, and pretend to the highest 
 class of education in America. Their afternoon teas 
 are aesthetic and scientific, and their ' evenings ' so 
 classic that Aristotle would have trembled to be 
 there in person. They think nothing of three hours 
 of Homer, another evening ditto Milton, and another 
 of Shakespeare. I was present once on a Dante 
 night. After referring in a modest prologue, of an 
 hour, to the Inferno and Purgatorio, the reading of 
 the evening was the entire cantos of // Paradiso. Of 
 course it was a translation, in good English by-the- 
 way and a very fine effort by a university professor 
 of Cambridge. The expressions that most interested 
 everybody were something like this : ' Dante looked 
 into Beatrice's eyes, and was in the first heaven.' Mur- 
 mured ' oh's, ah's,' etc. After a long harangue Dante 
 ascends into the second heaven, Mercury, and here 
 more, exclamations, applause, Beatrice's beautiful an- 
 swer fully understood, and a general idea prevalent 
 that Mercury would appear in propria persona, with 
 winged heels and caduceus. A little dissatisfaction 
 when Dante ascends into the third heaven. They 
 know little of Venere in Boston, rarely having had any 
 female marked from birth with all that goddess's 
 charms and her peculiar style of beauty. The words 
 ' says I to him,' and ' says he to me ' were of very 
 frequent recurrence. English is a language very 
 easily understood by Americans, but the translation 
 hardly corresponded with the dulcet Italian, ' Jo a 
 lui ed egli a me' The effect, however, I suppose, was 
 quite the same.
 
 Marked "In Haste." 75 
 
 " The triumph of Jesus Christ was received with 
 loud applause. What a thing to be a believer in so 
 highly cultivated a city as the Hub ! It is a sad 
 thing, but great intellects sometimes deny the 
 Christ. Midnight was approaching when the flight 
 into the ninth sphere was finally reached Beatrice 
 still looking into Dante's eyes. The vision of the 
 divine essence and the perfect harmony of the nine 
 celestial choirs reflected the greatest credit on the 
 conductor. Remarks on the creation were found 
 old-fogyish, and there bellion of the angels was se- 
 verely condemned by some fading Venuses. The as- 
 cent into the empyrean realm was a triumph of the 
 reader's art. The description of Beatrice (still an en- 
 chantress) seating herself upon her throne, the manda- 
 tion of St. Bernard to the poet, and the final triumph 
 of everybody (principally that of the audience over 
 the reader) finishes with Dante quietly contemplating 
 God and the continued glory of the heavens, and 
 the new remark that ' Beatrice was still looking into 
 the poet's eyes.' 
 
 " By this time the drawing-room intellects were 
 emancipated from ' // Paradiso,' and I wondered no 
 longer at the lined faces and heads turned prema- 
 turely gray, unquestionably by the sorrows of a 
 night ' with the poets.' " 
 
 Allani drew a long breath. He was tremendously 
 applauded by his convives. Beaufort, in the mean- 
 time, had been quietly replenishing his glass, and a 
 slice of a fine selle de mouton really had disappeared 
 from his plate. By the way, do Englishmen ever 
 dine without their " saddle of mutton ? " Habit is
 
 76 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 so extraordinary a thing ! It reminds me of the 
 Londoner who drove an omnibus, and took a forced 
 holiday at the end of five and twenty years. He 
 woke up the day of his release, and at half-past seven 
 A.M. thought over his resources for enjoying himself. 
 His quick brain devised the means. He went to his 
 brother, who was likewise an omnibus-driver, and 
 said, " George, I 'ave a 'oliday. Let me drive your 
 homnibus to-day ; it goes hin a different part of the 
 city than mine. I am h'out on a 'oliday ! " 
 
 After the mutton there were entremets ; after that 
 game of the season, and thus the dinner went on. 
 All announced themselves as so interested in Al- 
 lani's talk of America that they begged him to con- 
 tinue. He responded that he had nearly finished, 
 but was ashamed to monopolize the conversation. 
 Beaufort insisted that he should continue, and Lanes- 
 borough said, " By Jove, yes. I haven't heard any- 
 thing so good in a long time. That Boston evening 
 was a narrow escape from premature baldness. Ah ! 
 let me congratulate you ! " Allani laughed and an- 
 swered : 
 
 " I see you feel all bound to say you like what I 
 am talking about, but I half believe that you are 
 bored and won't say it." 
 
 " No ! no ! " cried the young men in chorus. " Go 
 on ! go on ! " 
 
 " I left Boston," said he, " a happier and a wiser 
 man, but never repeated my experience of evenings 
 with the classics. Washington, the capital of the 
 United States, is the most delightful city in America. 
 The society is like that in any great European centre.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 77 
 
 The White House is quaint, old, and scarcely suit- 
 able for the residence of the President. I must say 
 that its historical interest is a great charm, and that 
 there is an air of a casa signorile about it that exists 
 in no other house in America. The souvenir of dis- 
 tinguished people has left its impress on everything ; 
 the rooms, with their panelled ceilings and dark 
 wainscoting are, some of them, as beautiful as in 
 any palace. The ' East room,' where Washington 
 held his receptions, is a superb apartment, style em- 
 pire. The only really harrowing things are the in- 
 congruous pieces of furniture and the carpets that 
 have been selected, not from economy, but lack of 
 taste. Washington reminds me of a small duchy 
 where the reigning prince is surrounded by his satel- 
 lites and subjects. There is a great deal of etiquette, 
 and, being the seat of Government, society is brist- 
 ling with foreign dignitaries. There are diplomatic 
 dinners at the White House, diplomatic receptions, 
 army and navy balls, ladies' afternoon teas most cere- 
 monious, and a round of routs, parties, visiting and 
 receptions, that keep up through the whole of the 
 winter. 
 
 " It is a perfectly cosmopolitan city, and I repeat, 
 delightful. It is the only one where real society 
 exists in America. Now I am sure you have had 
 enough of American cities. I must tell you of " 
 
 Beaufort rose and interrupted : " The ladies, God 
 bless them. Of course, you were going to speak of 
 them?" 
 
 Brandon looked at his cousin. He seemed excited. 
 He spoke of the ladies, because he wished to toast
 
 78 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 American women, in his heart, to toast one woman, 
 Miss Leslie. He evidently was deeply smitten, as the 
 whole of the evening had been devoted thus far to 
 America, and it was very evident that there would 
 be cessation of talk concerning the New World. 
 Allani said : 
 
 " Yes, the ladies, God bless them ! but no ! (gravely) 
 first the Queen, the Prince of Wales, and the Royal 
 Family." 
 
 Beaufort bowed, but Lanesborough interrupted : 
 
 " No ! J say no ! decidedly. This is not a political 
 dinner, and some way when one commences that re- 
 gulation toast at this stage of the repast, the carriage 
 is usually ordered only long after midnight, and I 
 find myself still repeating : ' I now propose to her 
 Majesty to propose to the royal family to drink my 
 health as long as they live and prosper,' or words 
 to that effect, No ! no ! let's commence with the 
 ladies." 
 
 "Yes," said Beaufort, "but I propose an amend- 
 ment ; suppose we say, to the American ladies ! " and 
 Allani added, "to American women, the most virtu- 
 ous and beautiful in the world ! " 
 
 They drank standing. Lanesborough, when he 
 had emptied his glass, said : 
 
 " The most beautiful, yes, the most virtuous 
 hem that's an open question and utterly useless 
 any way. If they are so beautiful, their other quali- 
 ties must necessarily be hidden, and if a woman only 
 looks handsome, she is forgiven a multitude of sins." 
 
 Beaufort interrupted with some warmth : 
 
 " Your schooling, my friend, has undoubtedly been
 
 Marked "In Haste." 79 
 
 perfection in its way ; but there are men who like to 
 think their mothers, wives, and sweethearts virtuous 
 as well as beautiful. American women have the re- 
 putation of being virtuous. Let us, at least, give 
 them the benefit of the rumor. But " courteously 
 to Allani, " there is one thing you have not yet told 
 us. Did you lose your heart in America ? " 
 
 Allani was so taken by surprise that he reddened, 
 but did not answer. Brandon noticed the change of 
 feature, and was about to remark it when Beaufort 
 broke in : 
 
 "Ah! ah! blushing! Is it possible? and thereby 
 hangs a tale. Let's have it by all means. Mystery, 
 moonlight, a pretty woman lost a heart, found by 
 Allani ! Pray let us hear the confession. I never 
 thought it of you, but you've stolen a march on us, 
 my dear boy ; and we must have all the why's and 
 wherefore's at once. " 
 
 To the amazement of all, Allani looked up with 
 hauteur and answered shortly : 
 
 " You must excuse me, really. I am quite willing 
 to discuss American women in general, but no wo- 
 man in particular, and certainly no American." 
 
 Lanesborough, with characteristic stupidity, said : 
 
 " It's no use, dear boy ; you've evidently been hard 
 hit by some United States belle, and it's deuced 
 mean not letting us into the jinale of your affaire de 
 cxur. Do ! do be generous. I am dying to hear of 
 a real American flirtation in America. They do 
 that sort of thing in London, Paris, Nice, and the 
 fashionable watering-places ; but, alas ! no sooner 
 does one get acquainted with a beautiful heiress,
 
 8o Marked "In Haste" 
 
 but she catches Roman fever ; her silver mines 
 lose their ore, and her mother wants to take her 
 back to some Wall-street broker, to-whom she's been 
 engaged all of the time of her finishing fti Europe. 
 He has lost his future wife during two years ! she 
 has learned enough of Paris life in that time to give 
 him the full benefit of the French matrimonial sys- 
 tem. Can't tell me any thing about that, my trh 
 cher. I know well several of Columbia's fairest 
 daughters and well, I drink to their good health ! 
 Clever women, d d clever, and handsome enough 
 to have kept even De Stael's tongue a-wagging for 
 another century ; but to your tale." 
 
 Brandon, who hitherto had been the silent one of 
 the party, now interposed. 
 
 " Do not think me ungallant, " said he, " but is 
 there no other topic that is discussable at the pres- 
 ent moment ? America, with all due deference to 
 our dear friend, has provided the means for a charm- 
 ing and highly instructive discourse. We have drunk 
 double bumpers to American women. Pray, if we 
 must still keep on the subject of America, let us 
 hear something of American men." 
 
 Beaufort interrupted : " First of all let us see to 
 the inner man, not American. Here is what ? per- 
 dreau aux choux, and a Chdteau Larose that Hebe 
 might have decanted a thousand years ago ; and 
 nectar is called nectar because Hebe poured it out. 
 I am not exactly a Hebe, but will fill Allani's glass 
 myself as a special reward for the description he has 
 given us of the great New World. Like Lanesbo- 
 rough, however, I still believe that he lost his heart,
 
 Marked "In Haste." 8 1 
 
 and beg him, for the sake of old times, to tell us all 
 about it. Allans ! Here's to Allani's experience in 
 following Ovid's tender advice, in America." 
 
 Allani looked up and spoke quietly, although his 
 voice was as' unsteady as the reed that is bowed by 
 the wind. 
 
 " You are right ! " said he slowly, and the white 
 fingers tightened around the slender glass. " You 
 are right but don't think me unmanly. The heart 
 I lost perhaps was so worthless that, were it to be 
 found, no one would take the trouble to keep it. 
 Speaking of American women brings down upon me 
 a weight of sorrowful recollection. The light of my 
 life has gone out, and I am separated hopelessly and 
 for ever from the ideal of my first love." As he said 
 the words "separated for ever," the slender stem of 
 the wine-glass in the nervous clasp of his strong fin-- 
 gers snapped in twain with an ominous sound, and 
 the sparkling wine leaped with joyous glee into the 
 very faces of the Earl and his guests. 
 
 Allani laughed bitterly: "So," said he, watching 
 the foam as it disappeared, "so do men's hopes end 
 like a broken glass, the wine spilled in other men's 
 faces, perhaps, who care not to inhale even the odor 
 of the smallest drop. He who waits at the fountain 
 to drink of the crystal waters, when his glass is just 
 filled, starts at some shadow reflected in the pool, and 
 with the start his cup falls. He is left alone without 
 drinking. The shattered remnants of a once filled 
 glass are all that remains of his cup of expected 
 happiness."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "O THE SMELL OF THAT JASMINE FLOWER." 
 
 IT would be impossible to imagine the effect of 
 Allani's words. Beaufort, whose fine sensibility had 
 already been awakened by his friend's conversation, 
 found himself strangely touched at the abrupt finale 
 of what promised to be a mock confession of a love 
 affair. He was amazed and exceedingly distressed 
 at the turn matters had taken, yet it was impossible 
 to accuse himself of indelicacy as host. The whole 
 thing had come upon them like an avalanche, and no 
 one seemed to have remarked the first discomfiture of 
 Allani when badgered as to his conquests in America. 
 Happily the servants had withdrawn, only the dis- 
 creet butler stood near the side-board, purposely 
 arranging some dishes of fruit. Allani was soon 
 himself, although the others were still disconcerted. 
 Such a thing happening was quite enough to dampen 
 the rest of the evening. Beaufort, thinking in his 
 heart as he did of one American, felt most uncomfort- 
 ably impressed. He could not rid his mind of the 
 constantly recurring idea that he also was in love, and 
 Allani's unfortunate experience augured something 
 equally unlucky toward himself. It was a bad omen.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 83 
 
 Why had they spoken of America ? why had his un- 
 governable curiosity led him so far as to spoil the 
 whole evening ? He tried to excuse himself ; to say 
 that it was not curiosity, only his deep, desperate in- 
 terest in everything or anything concerning the 
 woman he loved. He no longer denied to himself 
 that he loved her. He felt a maddening, helpless 
 passion taking possession of him. He was drawn 
 into a whirlpool of amorous hopes, each succeeding 
 inrush submerging him more deeply. 
 
 When Allani crushed his glass in his fingers, the 
 wine flew in every direction ; and, perhaps because 
 he was nearest, the greatest quantity splashed in 
 Beaufort's face. He had wiped his cheek with his 
 handkerchief, and as Allani finished speaking, he 
 took it mechanically again in his hand. He put it 
 to his face and half started. Mingled with the faint 
 scent of the white jasmine was the sickening odor 
 of " dead " champagne. The combination of the two 
 was stifling, and affected him in the same way as 
 flowers at the funeral of a friend. For days after, the 
 sight and smell of the same kind of blossom is un- 
 bearable. 
 
 Beaufort thrust his handkerchief into his pocket 
 as if he had been stung by some recollection. The 
 unhappy contretemps of Allani's being in earnest 
 about a love affair had a depressing effect on the 
 dinner. Happily it was near its end. 
 
 Lanesborough, at this critical juncture, came to the 
 rescue. He was a capital diner-out ; and a diner-out is 
 equal to any emergency. He took in the situation 
 fully as far as Allani was concerned, but was some-
 
 84 Marked "/ Haste" 
 
 what puzzled at Beaufort's distraction. With ad- 
 mirable tact, he drew the conversation into a chan- 
 nel just different enough not to startle any one by its 
 abrupt change ; and, in a moment more, the name 
 America had ceased to vibrate on the air. He began 
 about the Opera, and said he had met an artist who 
 had an American wife. " No, by jove ! she was from 
 South America, not the same thing. She's so jealous 
 of him," said he, "that she knocks at the green- 
 room door during rehearsals to know when he will be 
 ready to come home. The other day she interrupted 
 the orchestral prova to call him off the stage, because 
 his arm was a shade too tight around a prima's waist. 
 Her husband says he's sorry he knows how to spell 
 the word 'America.' Speaking of the opera, what 
 do you think of Beaugrand's dancing ? Isn't she 
 just the airiest thing in the world ? What a pity 
 Greece forgot to arrange about one feature in her 
 face when ordering her profile ! otherwise she would 
 be perfection. The young Ophelia Devries is going 
 to leave the stage and marry a dentist ! Just think 
 of it ! Whenever I look at her now, I smell creo- 
 sote. She says she hates opera, but it is a pity ; her 
 voice and singing are charming. Why will she 
 retire so early ? I love music, and the opera here is 
 splendid in its ensemble. Chorus and orchestra are 
 fine, but the dancing, except that done by the/r<?- 
 mieres, is fearful. 
 
 "To tell the truth, after Italy, one can't look at 
 other ballets. They don't know what the word 
 means outside of Warsaw, Milan, and Naples, while as 
 to London well, we won't speak of operatic ballets ;
 
 Marked "fn Haste" 85 
 
 the girls are sexagenarians, have no idea of walk- 
 ing in a straight line, and they wear their skirts too 
 long. I suppose it's because the Queen is so fond of 
 Bal-moral, eh Beaufort ?" 
 
 Lanesborough's attempt at wit was startling, but it 
 took. The earl laughed quite heartily, and said 
 " Man ami, you have always had a serious objection 
 to too long skirts, and no one will quarrel with you 
 as to your little joke about Balmoral. By Jove ! 
 they are a hard-looking lot of virgins." 
 
 " Stop ! stop," interrupted Lanesborough ; "I 
 won't have them traduced. You should call things 
 by their proper names. Strictly speaking, I suppose, 
 only one woman in this world ever bore that title 
 with impunity, and her name was " 
 
 " Mary had a little lamb," put in Brandon jocosely, 
 " why don't you start some nineteenth century sub- 
 ject, my friend? Not but that an oft-told tale is 
 sometimes the truest, and I hope none of us doubt 
 a la Voltaire the story about Bethlehem." 
 
 The tempting appearance of the after vegetables 
 announced the disappearance of meats. A sor- 
 bet was the usual interruption after the roast, and 
 grouse as tender as old England could ship to Paris 
 lay on the silver dish almost untouched. Salad came 
 and went. The hot-house asparagus caused some 
 enthusiasm, and the cheese arriving after an omelette 
 souffle'e, the dinner was supposed to be fairly at an 
 end. The butler here opened some Cortou '64 and 
 Chambertin '72. "I prefer Chambertin," said Bran- 
 don and Allani, while Lanesborough tried the Cortou 
 and the Earl kept him company only to be polite.
 
 86 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 The liqueurs and cigars at last found their moment 
 had come. It was after ten o'clock, and from the win- 
 dow a sight of the glittering Boulevard was most 
 enticing. Brandon proposed that they should leave 
 the liqueurs to take a stroll outside, and after they 
 could drop into the Cafe de la Paix to smoke and 
 take a pousse-caf e. The proposition was received 
 with great applause, and five minutes later the ani- 
 mated couples were walking rapidly toward the Bon- 
 apartist resort. Beaufort, who was beginning to feel 
 the fatigue of playing the amiable host, when his 
 mind was in anything but an agreeable state, pur- 
 posely walked with Allani. He had been most 
 affected by the singular interruption to their amus- 
 ing lecture, as he called Allani's remarks on America, 
 and he could not divest himself of the idea that 
 sooner or later he would hear more of his friend's 
 love affairs. He- had the liveliest regard for Al- 
 lani, and for the first time in his life showed him 
 that he could be all sympathy without intruding him- 
 self on his confidence. 
 
 His manner was soothing, and as they neared a 
 street lamp, they suddenly caught each other's eyes. 
 Beaufort smiled with grave meaning, and showed 
 that he was en rapport with him, for they were un- 
 consciously thinking of the same woman. The Earl 
 looked at him closely, and without saying a word, 
 he slipped the other's hand into his arm. There was 
 a world of meaning in the act. Allani pressed his 
 fingers unconsciously on his friend's hand. From 
 that time forth they would be nearer and dearer, for 
 both felt that the other had suffered. They had been
 
 Marked "In Haste" 87 
 
 acquainted for years, but knew each other only from 
 to-night. Thus quickly the bond of friendship knit 
 itself in the case of these two men. Ordinarily the 
 earl would never have confided in Allani ; the other 
 would never have confided in him ; but, without a 
 question on either side, they understood each other, 
 and in years to come this night's work would never 
 be undone.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ETHEL LESLIE. 
 
 AVENUE MATIGNON is a fashionable street, and it 
 is peopled mostly with foreigners. Russians, Span- 
 iards, Hungarians, and Americans pay fabulous sums 
 for the pretty apartments and hotels, and think 
 themselves lucky to get in such a " swell " part 
 of Paris. The house No. 400 was very deep, and 
 possessed, besides a decent court, a fine garden 
 in the rear. Miss Leslie lived with her aunt, or 
 rather, her aunt lived with her. Miss Leslie had 
 no lack of this world's goods, and the aunt did not 
 at all object to spending her time with her niece, and 
 the money that would otherwise have accumulated 
 with great rapidity at the younger lady's bankers. 
 They suited each other very well, and beyond an 
 episode in their lives that her aunt could never quite 
 recognize as a fortunate one, they were happy, and 
 enjoyed themselves much after the fashion of rich 
 Americans living in Paris. 
 
 It was evening, and the pretty hotel was ablaze 
 with light. Dinner had been finished for an hour, 
 and the ladies were in Ethel's boudoir, just contem- 
 plating a splendid fire that roared in the open chim-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 89 
 
 ney, and Mrs. Adrian (the aunt) was preparing to 
 make the tea. They were alone, and not at all dull, 
 as ladies are supposed to be when they are by them- 
 selves although Ethel was quiet and, as usual lately, 
 very contemplative. Her aunt spoke : 
 
 " Ethel ! " 
 
 "Yes, aunt." 
 
 " Ethel, shall you go to the reception at the Le- 
 gation on Tuesday ? " 
 
 " If nothing happens in the interim," she respon- 
 ded simply ; " you know you know I go to the 
 Latin Quarter to-morrow night." 
 
 Mrs. Adrian's brow clouded. 
 
 " Must you go ? Let me be your substitute for 
 once. I am sure Harry will be glad to see me, and 
 I cannot bear to think of your going alone there so 
 often. Besides, you return with your feelings so 
 harrowed up that you are ill for a day after. In fact, 
 you are scarcely ever your old self now. I would 
 give anything in the world to see you happy and 
 cheerful, if not gay. Come, let me go to see him 
 this time, and you shall see how pleased he will be. 
 We will divide the visits, if you like ; only do not 
 attempt too much yourself. You will break down 
 under this self-inflicted task. Think, if anything 
 happens to you, he will then be totally deprived of 
 even a weekly visit." 
 
 The girl hesitated, looked at her aunt, then said 
 softly : 
 
 " Dear Auntie, I realize the truth of all that you 
 say, but I cannot deprive him of the pleasure of 
 seeing me, nor myself the mournful consolation of
 
 90 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 going to see him. You may accompany me on some 
 occasion, however, if you will, but not to-morrow. 
 Besides, you forget I have Felden." 
 
 " By-the-way," said Mrs. Adrian, " how does he ? 
 Are you content ? I caught a glimpse of him as you 
 went out the other night, and 'pon my soul, he ap- 
 peared quite a gentleman. I was surprised " 
 
 Ethel interposed : " He does seem more than his 
 position, but he has seen better days. He is quite un- 
 presuming, and never talks. I would dislike to have 
 any gossiping attendant, and I am really well pleased 
 with him. I only wish he did not wear dark glasses ; 
 but I suppose he must. He says his eyes were affected 
 by the glaciers in Switzerland. Is tea not ready, dear ? 
 I feel quite thirsty." Her aunt looked wisely into the 
 pot ; a fragrant odor exhaled ; the water was hissing 
 in the samovar. She then brewed the refreshing 
 beverage, and putting a cosey over the urn, said : 
 
 " In one moment, my love ; it must draw a little, 
 and I know just how you like your tea." She clasped 
 her hands, threw her head back a trifle, and looked 
 like a sorceress who was making a magic brew, and 
 awaited the completion of some potent charm. She 
 was making only an innocent cup of tea, yet her 
 face assumed an expression that Hecate might have 
 worn when she said : 
 
 " Great business must be wrought ere noon. 
 Upon a corner of the moon 
 There hangs a vaporous drop profound. 
 I'll catch it ere it come to ground, 
 And that, distilled by magic sleights 
 Shall raise such artificial sprites
 
 Marked "In Haste" 91 
 
 As, by the strength of their illusion 
 Shall draw him on to his confusion ; 
 He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear 
 His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear." 
 
 Was she wishing a happier fate to the mysterious 
 occupant of the sixttme in the Latin Quarter, or was 
 it only preoccupation about a " good cup " to soothe 
 the nerves of her lovely niece ? 
 
 Ethel Leslie was young and beautiful, with every 
 charm that woman may possess. As she sat in front 
 of the fire, the light from the blazing wood shining 
 full in her face, she was a study that Rembrandt him- 
 self might have wishedS;o reproduce. She was slight, 
 of average stature, with a form just budding into 
 womanhood. She sat back in her chair, with her 
 shapely feet poised on the fender, and a dinner robe 
 of amber silk trailed its shining folds on the rich 
 carpet. Her corsage was cut low and was filled in 
 with some lace than which a cobweb seemed less 
 fine. Her features were statuesque in repose, and as 
 clearly cut as a cameo. She resembled the statue of 
 Psych6 in the public garden at Naples, more especi- 
 ally in her low brow and beautifully curved mouth. 
 Her eyes were almond-shaped, a dark hazel, with the 
 deep violet tint. They were often deeper and blacker, 
 but never any lighter. Her hair was a chestnut 
 brown, with a golden glimmer on the locks which 
 waved away from the temples. When loosened it fell 
 in curling masses far below her waist, and was so 
 voluminous in quantity that it was the despair of 
 hairdressers. She rolled it at the back of her dainty 
 head ; yet, in spite of golden pins here and there, a
 
 92 Marked "In Haste' 1 
 
 long lock escaped and curled in beautiful careless- 
 ness on her shoulder. It looked so pretty against the 
 amber of her gown, that one was tempted to caress 
 it, as she did herself when she unconsciously wound 
 it round her fingers. Her complexion was fair and 
 pale ; not the slightest shade of color tinted her 
 cheek ; her dark lashes threw her eyes into still 
 deeper shadow ; her brows were finely arched, but 
 haughty ; and her ears, guiltless of ornament, were 
 like pink shells stranded on a coral reef. Her face 
 was one of perfect beauty, and endowed with the 
 rarer charm of intelligence and heart. It bore the 
 expression of simplicity and innocence that is seen 
 in the Carlo Dolce madonnas. 
 
 Oh, greatest of all gifts, beauty ! Madame de 
 Stael had counted the cost when she offered half 
 her knowledge for a few personal charms, and would 
 consider them cheaply bought. 
 
 Mrs. Adrian, a fine woman of about forty, was one 
 of those whole-souled, good-hearted people who are 
 a legacy to any family. She was sufficiently well- 
 bred to appear well in any society, and being with- 
 out nerves, was a reposeful person to have near. 
 Some people absorb all the vitality one has, others, 
 by their very presence, stimulate and rest one. Ethel 
 loved her aunt, but above all did she feel perfectly at 
 ease and unconstrained when with her. The fine 
 harmony that sometimes exists between instruments 
 of roughest wood and finest finish explains exactly 
 the perfect accord between these two. Miss Leslie 
 was the " finest string on the harp." Mrs. Adrian had 
 so little fineness in her composition that she never
 
 Marked "In Haste" 93 
 
 offended by discord in any way, being a perfectly 
 matter-of-fact woman. She never attempted to ex- 
 plain impossible things, and never jarred on her 
 niece's feelings. 
 
 Mrs. Adrian handed the tea. Ethel took the little 
 Sevres cup in her hand, and was just about to drink 
 as the bell rang. 
 
 "Visitors," said the aunt, tranquilly. 
 
 " Undoubtedly," responded the niece. Then the 
 footman presented some cards. Miss Leslie looked 
 at them languidly, then, on reading the names, said, 
 with more interest than she had hitherto displayed : 
 
 " Yes, we are at home. Show the gentlemen in 
 here." And as he retired she half straightened up and 
 prepared to receive their guests. The door opened, 
 and two young men appeared on the threshold. 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur Gratiot," said Madame, with a 
 warm smile, " and and Mr. Blakeman. Is it pos- 
 sible ? How pleased I am to see you. Ethel," turn- 
 ing to her niece, " Ethel, here is an old friend ; quite 
 a surprise, and you are both just in time for tea." 
 
 Ethel leaned quite forward and prettily held out a 
 hand to each. " So glad to see you," to Mr. Gratiot ; 
 "and you," turning to Blakeman, "when did you 
 arrive from Italy ? " 
 
 " Last night," he responded, pleasantly ; " and 
 you see, my first duty is no duty, but a pleasure t6 
 come and pay my respects. And you, madame," 
 turning to Mrs. Adrian, " how fares the amiable Mrs. 
 Adrian, and has she renewed her threats of leaving 
 Paris ? I hope not. It's really the only city in the 
 world, and although I am a fanatic on the subject of
 
 94 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 Italian sunsets, I still give up anything to live in la 
 ville du monde." 
 
 " I sha'n't answer a question till you have some 
 tea," said Madame, complacently ; " or would you 
 prefer something stronger ? " and, without waiting 
 for his words, she leaned toward Mr. Gratiot. 
 
 "Touch the bell, mon ami" said she, " and we will 
 soon have something more to the taste of young 
 men ! " 
 
 "I will ring," said he, "with pleasure ; but you 
 know I adore tea. In fact, there is only one thing 
 served up as refreshment in Paris, in the evening, 
 that I object to. It is eau de groseille, in battered 
 English currently known as currant-water. I was 
 glad enough to get some when we were with the 
 ambulance ; although Dr. Janeson insists that the 
 Prussian bullet was less fatal. Think of dancing all 
 night and drinking a little poor jelly in lime water ! 
 then, as the cotillon is fairly underway, one has a cup 
 of hot soup stuck under the nose." 
 
 He took his tea, and Ethel interrupted : " Yes, it is 
 funny. I shall never forget my first soiree nor the 
 anxiety with which I waited for midnight. No 
 American suppers, no delicious sandwiches, no iced 
 champagne only weak currant water, fruit from 
 bushes that had never been grafted, some sweet 
 wafers that looked like galvanized cobwebs, and 
 some bouillon, that reminds one of hospital fare for 
 the beggars waiting outside of some orphan asylum. 
 I suppose," with a little sigh, " it is more wholesome, 
 but it never seems to take the place of real supper 
 at a ball, with ices, meats "
 
 Marked "In Haste" ' 95 
 
 " Chicken salad," interrupted Blakeman. 
 
 " And a jolly good lot of champagne punch," broke 
 in Gratiot. 
 
 Ethel laughed. " How American we are, to be 
 sure," said she, simply. "I wonder if we will ever 
 forget the good old times we had in the States ? " 
 
 Mrs. Adrian spoke : 
 
 " Of course we never will forget, but why shouldn't 
 we have some punch in Paris as well as in America ? 
 I am sure of myself, and have not (through a long 
 residence abroad) lost my old art of concocting a de- 
 lectable drink." 
 
 "Punch and tea," said Blakeman, "charming; 
 but who's going to drink punch, and who tea ? I, 
 for one, am in favor of the former, but do not let me 
 be the arbitrator. You know, Mrs. Adrian (slyly), no 
 one could withstand the hope held out to have some 
 of your delicious, old-time " 
 
 The door opened. While the gentleman had been 
 talking, Mrs. Adrian had rung the bell. Henri, the 
 chief footman, stood awaiting orders. Mrs. Adrian 
 said : 
 
 "Light in the salle & manger. Prepare the large 
 punch bowl, and put the usual wines on the side- 
 board. We want some sandwiches, fruit, and " 
 
 "Great heavens," interrupted Blakeman, "but 
 we have just dined, or I have." 
 
 " So have I," said Gratiot. 
 
 Mrs. Adrian interposed : " Not so sure about that ! 
 What time is it now ? " 
 
 " It has just struck ten," said Ethel. 
 
 "Well, you dined at seven," said Mrs. Adrian, "so
 
 96 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 did we ; but Ethel didn't eat a mouthful, while I 
 well ! my appetite is usually fair, but when she 
 makes such a farce of eating, I haven't the heart to 
 dine alone." 
 
 Gratiot went up to the young lady, he took 
 her hand, and looked her seriously in the face : 
 
 " What is this story about not eating ? Do you 
 wish to break down entirely ? Now try and please 
 me. Do make an effort to take food, and don't fret 
 so much." He spoke in an undertone. Blakeman, 
 the while, was talking with the aunt. 
 
 " I am not fretting more than usual," said she, 
 faintly, " but how can I eat when food chokes 
 me?" 
 
 '" Think of some one else," said he quietly. " Re- 
 member you are the only stay to one lonely heart." 
 
 " Is there any news ? " She spoke hurriedly, and 
 looked eagerly in his face. He hesitated. 
 
 " There is no bad news, so that already is good, is 
 it not ? " He looked at her with affectionate solici- 
 tude. She pressed his hand : 
 
 "You are so kind," she murmured ; " what should 
 I do without you ? I will try to keep my spirits up ; 
 and allons ! I will drink some punch and, to please 
 you, take even a sandwich." Blakeman's cheerful 
 voice broke in : 
 
 " Why won't it do ? Of course it will, and we 
 shall feel so much more like taking something after. 
 Miss Ethel, I am just telling Mrs. Adrian that we 
 ought to go out. The evening is perfectly lovely, 
 arid Paris is such a picture. I know your old habit 
 of driving about at night." She started and looked
 
 Marked "In Haste" 97 
 
 at him, but he went on all unconscious. "We might 
 go to see the panorama or hear the end of a sacred 
 concert. It is no, it has been Sunday to-day. Or, 
 better still, we might take a fiacre, and drive as far 
 as the entrance to the Bois and back, or go the Boule- 
 vard way. If you won't drive, why, let us drop into 
 
 Madame L 's, who receives every Sunday night. 
 
 Or " 
 
 " Stop ! stop," cried Ethel, laughing, "you take my 
 breath away. I object not to all, but to some of the 
 programme ; and first look at me." He looked very 
 admiringly, and interrupted, " Charmante, ma belle 
 dame, as usual." 
 
 " No," she smiled, " I did not mean that. I am in 
 evening dress. We are both en toilette. How is it 
 possible to go out? yet the fine night half tempts me. 
 Is there a moon ?" 
 
 " Is there a moon ?" he responded, echoing her 
 voice, "of course there's a moon. There always is 
 a moon when a fair lady requires her, but I am seri- 
 ous ; there hasn't been such a night in Paris, to my 
 knowledge, in an age. Do say you will come, and 
 then after our return we will test the capacity of the 
 punch bowl, the quality of the cellar, the sandwiches, 
 and everything else that Mrs. Adrian so well knows 
 how to provide impromptu" Ethel looked at her 
 aunt. 
 
 " Dear child, " said the latter, interpreting her 
 glance, "certainly, if it will please you. We can 
 soon be ready ; and in the meantime, find your way," 
 turning to the gentlemen, " to the billiard-room, and 
 have some cigars. Henri will get a fiacre, and we 
 5
 
 98 Marked "/ Haste" 
 
 will run away to dress." The footman appeared in 
 answer to her ring. " A carriage," said she, "and 
 call Mademoiselle's maid at once." " Madame seems 
 to have forgotten," said the footman, "that the car- 
 riage is at the door. It was ordered for this even- 
 ing at ten." 
 
 "Of course, I had quite forgotten," said Ethel, 
 " we were going to a dear friend who is always at 
 home on Sunday. Now we will drive instead. I 
 will be with you directly." She arose and was really 
 animated at the thought of going out. Mr. Gratiot 
 was charmed to see her so willing to be diverted. 
 He looked half jealously at Blakeman, who had the 
 happy inspiration to think of anything that would 
 please her. She had ordered the carriage, to be 
 sure ; but it would come and be sent away again. It 
 was what she did almost every day. Make plans for 
 her own diversion, then sit dreamily before the fire, 
 for hours, thinking of her unhappy lot, and brood- 
 ing, brooding ever on what was least pleasant in her 
 existence. One thing she never forgot, her visit to 
 the Latin Quarter. No matter what the weather, 
 she was punctual in there. On other days she ap- 
 peared downcast and irresolute, but when that hour 
 came, she was all firmness and full of woman's beau- 
 tiful courage. Some natures come out strongest 
 in moments of the greatest need. Miss Leslie could 
 " screw her courage to the sticking point," when 
 necessary, and never once would it falter or prove 
 inadequate. %
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A MOONLIGHT DRIVE. 
 
 IN a moment she returned, attired in a walking 
 suit of dark cloth, and Mrs. Adrian being ready, the 
 party soon set out. 
 
 " Where shall we go ? " said Madame. 
 
 " Do you wish to please me ? " said Ethel quickly. 
 
 "Yes," her aunt replied, "if you will be reason- 
 able." 
 
 " Reasonable ! " said Mr. Blakeman ; " as if our 
 dear friend could ever be aught else. But what is it 
 to be, panorama or promenade ? " 
 
 "Promenade, by all means," she answered. " Let 
 us drive to the Place de la Concorde, then over the 
 other side, and drive up and down by the Seine on 
 the route to Auteuil and back. Nothing could be 
 more lovely on a moonlight night ; and it will not 
 be too far. The carriage will be open, and " 
 
 "We shall freeze," interrupted Mrs. Adrian. 
 " How can you think of going so far ? I fear only 
 for your health, my love," she added amiably, "for 
 you see the air is already a little chill, and coming out 
 of a warm room. However, what pleases you will 
 charni me, and I know the gentlemen won't object."
 
 ioo Marked "In Haste." 
 
 " Object ! " said Gratiot, "I should think not ; only 
 don't let us stop at Auteuil." 
 
 Blakeman spoke up significantly : " You see, dear 
 Mrs. Adrian, he is afraid of the water-cure. But don't 
 be alarmed," turning toward him, " I will see that 
 we have very little water-cure to-night. I am not so 
 ungallant as to wish our drive over, but I know of 
 one who will do ample justice to the punch when we 
 return." 
 
 " I hope you will all do justice to it," said Mrs. 
 Adrian ; " I should take it as a personal affront if 
 every drop does not disappear when once I take the 
 trouble to brew it my best and 
 
 "And, auntie dear," broke in Ethel, "to pay you 
 for good-humoredly allowing my caprice, I will drink 
 my share, and not forget how kind you are to your 
 little niece ; also, that no one in this world can brew 
 punch as you can." 
 
 By this time they were well started toward Place 
 de la Concorde. 
 
 "Oh! the heavenly beauty of this night !" said 
 Blakeman. "Why can painters never reproduce, 
 with any fidelity, the most majestic of all sights. The 
 queen of night riding high in the heavens, her light 
 silvering terrestrial objects with an attenuated, ghost- 
 ly, yet warm radiance. Everything in painting has 
 reached some degree of perfection, but art has utterly 
 failed to reproduce the reality of a moonlight night." 
 
 Ethel said after pausing a moment : " I do not 
 know but you are right ; still the young Italian 
 artist in London, de Nittis, paints night-scenes with 
 fair skill."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 101 
 
 "Yes," said Blakeman, " more than fair ; but no 
 matter how fine the picture, the charm of real moon- 
 light is lacking. He paints smoke and fog, dull 
 lights on the Thames, and shows London as it is in 
 some places, with real truthfulness ; but the glori- 
 ous splendor of such a night as this, for instance, I 
 fear me will never be transferred to canvas." 
 
 "My dear friend," said Mr. Gratiot, "who wants 
 this night on canvas ? Is it not much better here ? 
 I would not have it transferred for anything." 
 
 " Scoffer," said Miss Leslie, playfully; " it is such 
 natures as thine that hold us down to everyday 
 life ; and, indeed, it is delightful to enjoy things ex- 
 actly as they are. Now, with all due deference to 
 both of you, gentlemen, I can imagine no greater 
 trial than to be born without artistic instinct, but 
 with an artistic mania. An ordinary worm travelling 
 its contented pace under foot, is by the poet trans- 
 formed, first, into a fire-fly, then into a lamp, then 
 into a meteor, and next " 
 
 "Into an electric light," laughed Mr. Blakeman. 
 
 "Exactly so," said she. "A good sign-painter 
 leaves his native country to study art here at Les 
 Beaux Arts, or in Italy. , After a year of drawing 
 blocks, he takes up the nude model and is amazed to 
 find that the limbs will get out of shape, that the 
 head is badly poised, that the fingers are too long, 
 and the joints very badly made. Instead of regret- 
 ting that he ever attempted more than his first 
 ambition, the longer he works and the worse he 
 does, the more is he fired by fame's delusive beacon. 
 He finds the models all bad they move at their sit-
 
 IO2 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 tings, their drapery is wrong, and their feet large. 
 He next tries interiors, with no better luck. After 
 that portraits, of course ; and when ten or twenty 
 years have fled, he finds that he has never enjoyed 
 himself so much as in America, where his dancing 
 Bacchantes illuminate some lager-bier signs, or his 
 fine panel portraits showed to advantage in the horse- 
 cars or the omnibus. He has made Christs ; but the 
 strict Romish churches have already been provided. 
 There are so many masterly Murillos, tender Tinto- 
 rettos, gentle Guides, beautiful Bellinis, and vic- 
 torious Vincis about, that an honest, hard-working 
 sign-painter cannot get a chance to do even a back 
 altar in a country town cathedral." 
 
 "Peace, peace, woman," said Blakeman, holding 
 up his hands ; " remember I belong to the craft, and 
 my last " 
 
 "Your last," she interrupted, "is unfinished, not 
 unhandsome, and the very, very thing that I have 
 saved a corner in my boudoir for. But as to other 
 branches of art, really," and turning to Mrs. Adrian 
 with a laughing face, " you must let me continue. 
 You started me on the subject, and if I don't have 
 my say out you will all regret it, as in after years I 
 am quite capable of taking up the same theme, and 
 just where I now leave off. To return " 
 
 "Then," said the gentlemen in a breath, "we will 
 permit you now to proceed. Such a fate to look 
 forward to would be horrible, and we may be in 
 New York taking stock in the proposed elevated 
 roads." 
 
 " It would not surprise me," she said simply; " you
 
 Marked "In Haste." 103 
 
 always take to anything ' elevated.' But to resume : 
 Where was I ? oh, yes " 
 
 " I am a capital hand at prompting," said the ar- 
 tist ; " when your breath gives out, or you stop from 
 any unknown cause, I will unobtrusively murmur the 
 cues. The last word was ' cathedral.' " 
 
 " Cathedral," she repeated with emphasis. 
 
 " Period," said Gratiot. 
 
 " How can you be so absurd ? " said she ; " but I 
 will go on in spite of these interruptions. The next 
 mania is music. We will leave out violin and piano, 
 as failures in either case are hopeless ; but the 
 voice " 
 
 "My love," said her aunt, "you mention voice; 
 pray think of your own ; you will be hoarse, not to- 
 morrow, but to-night, and you will need, at this rate, 
 to say a few words at supper." 
 
 "At least," said Mr. Gratiot, "we hope to hear a 
 few words whenever Mademoiselle is good enough 
 to talk ; but she must go on now, the subject of mu- 
 sic is inexhaustible. We can go to Auteuil and back 
 again, and she will only have commenced the pre- 
 lude." 
 
 "Music," said Miss Leslie "no, a voice is the su- 
 premest of all of nature's gifts. I " she shivered. 
 
 "My dear," said her aunt with firmness, "it is 
 getting too chill to drive, and I insist on our going 
 in. We are far past the Champ de Mars, it is eleven 
 o'clock. Let us return and finish the discussion 
 there. While I brew the champagne cup, you may 
 have full opportunity of uttering your heresies at 
 your own ease and that of everybody else. Gentle-
 
 104 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 men," appealing to her companions, "am I not 
 right ? " 
 
 "Certainly," they made answer, "quite right, now 
 and ever, Mrs. Adrian. I think even your poor sign- 
 painter's most despised interior would not be at all 
 unappreciated at the present moment. It is cold, 
 by George, and the Seine, although frozen over with 
 moonlight, looks uncommonly chilly, and there is a 
 wind coming up strong enough to blow away even 
 my prejudices against my native country." 
 
 "That," said Mr. Gratiot, "would be quite impos- 
 sible. I will allow exaggeration, but not ruthless 
 blasphemy. It would be a sin to judge your own 
 firmness so lightly ; and this wind, on the contrary, is 
 limited ; your prejudices are not." 
 
 " Let us go as far as poor Marie Antoinette's tower, 
 and then I will return willingly," said Mademoiselle. 
 " I promise not to speak one word in the meantime? 
 and you know that that is a great sacrifice on my 
 part, considering I have so eloquent a lecture on 
 voice cut and dried, and ready 
 
 " Like the sweetest herbs," interrupted Mr. Blake- 
 man, " to be hung up in the garret for winter." 
 
 They drove along the quay and reached the old 
 Palais, or Conciergerie, where the lovely Austrian 
 spent her last night on earth. The view from this 
 point is very splendid, and especially at night. The 
 place is invested with a mournful charm. The wa- 
 ters of the Seine glide on peaceably, without a hint 
 as to the time when boats flew across their dull cur- 
 rent , bearing human beings whose life-blood was 
 so soon to redden the old Place de la Grcve. The
 
 Marked "In Haste" 105 
 
 little round tower of the Conciergerie is lighted up by 
 two grated windows, one on each floor, and from be- 
 hind these upper bars Marie Antoinette watched the 
 ebb and flow of the tide that would go on when she 
 was gone and forgotten. Her voice at night was 
 lost in the murmurs of the mysterious waters, and 
 her sad last communings on earth were with the 
 heartless Seine. Water the most merciless of all 
 elements, but not then so merciless as the maddened 
 mob who foresaw not its own dissolution, when the 
 guillotine first groaned beneath the Revolution's vic- 
 tims. 
 
 The carriage stopped, and Miss Leslie looked long 
 at the old tower. 
 
 " I can half fancy," said she, "on a night like this, 
 that we shall see the Queen come through one of 
 the windows ; that her fair hair will float on the 
 wind a veil to hide her from her enemies ; that 
 her face will be illumined by her martyrdom ; that 
 her eyes will burn like the stars of Bethlehem ; and 
 that her raiment will be wafted through the arched 
 vault of heaven, as a bird whose wings may cleave 
 empyrean space. Her hands will bear an olive- 
 branch ; her feet will spurn the gloomy tower where 
 her days and nights and miseries were long synony-. 
 mous, and her tortured body, clothed with eternal 
 peace and light, shall vanish before the eyes of the 
 faithful the fairest lily that ever left a field crim- 
 soned with the best blood of France." 
 
 " Amen ! " said Blakeman, heartily. " Indeed, one 
 can well understand your illusions. Every inch of 
 this part of Paris is mystically historic. It is impos- 
 5*
 
 106 Marked "ftt Haste" 
 
 sible, even in the most prosaic of every-day life, not 
 to be overcome with the charm and memory of the 
 past. From the Place de la Concorde to the furthest 
 quay of the Seine, the very stones are souvenirs. 
 Think that where we are now looking, the noblest 
 eyes of France have oft and fondly gazed ; where our 
 feet tread, other feet have gone to meet a terrible and 
 unmerited death their forward footsteps steeped in 
 the freshly-flowing blood of their best loved friends. 
 These massive buildings, with arabesques and coro- 
 netted stones, have hidden with cold unscrupulous- 
 ness, scenes of the direst misery aud horror. This 
 river, that seems a lak'e of crystal silver, hides bones 
 whose dust should have been sacred, and keeps se- 
 crets that the greatest of all alchemists would give a 
 life-time to unravel. Every tree, every bit of green, 
 of moss, or sea- weed, still lives in the past, and the 
 grim buildings whose stones gather rot and mildew, 
 speak of the millions of human lives that have con- 
 secrated this great city." 
 
 "Enough," said Mrs. Adrian, "of too touching 
 reminiscences. Paris is, and always will be, the most 
 interesting city in the world, with London historic- 
 ally the richest. Let us look at the other side of the 
 picture. What," turning to Mr. Gratiot, "do you 
 see on looking at the Palais des Tuileries ? " 
 
 They were just opposite the ruins of the once 
 beautiful castle. 
 
 " I see," said Gratiot, shading his eyes with a 
 hand, as if looking on a mental panorama, " I see a 
 ball-room with myriads of lights, thousands of peo- 
 ple, and at one end a raised dais or throne. A lovely,
 
 Marked "In Haste" 107 
 
 fair woman stands beside her imperial lord, and at 
 their right a young lad, whose face reflects the fa- 
 ther's blood and the mother's image. The lady comes 
 forward, her person aglow with jewels. Diamonds 
 of the purest water gleam in her crown ; emeralds, 
 rubies, and sapphires emit a thousand prismatic lights, 
 and the front of her stomacher is studded with more 
 gems. Her blonde hair falls in ringlets to her slen- 
 der waist ; her violet, almond-shaped eyes beam with 
 mild radiance on her guests ; her complexion glows 
 with health ; her bare arms and bosom shame the 
 Parian marble in their whiteness, and her robe of 
 emerald-green velvet, with ermined train, sweeps over 
 the mosaic with the soft undulations of an Andalu- 
 sian zephyr. Yes, I see the Empress Eugenie, as 
 one rarely saw her, although her eyes' clear depths 
 were already half troubled with the too studied polite- 
 ness of the German Ambassador, and the radiant 
 Princess Metternich seemed a trifle trap au courant 
 with politics to hide from her speaking face the 
 knowledge of an imminent catastrophe. The Em- 
 peror 'looks to right and left with perfect equanimity. 
 The little Prince Imperial talks with charming naivett 
 to the surrounding courtiers, and the Empress still 
 walks and mingles with her guests with her rare 
 grace of manner. I see the end of the ball ; the lights 
 burning in the glittering banquet-hall reflect grim 
 shadows in the mirrors ; the tables groan less with 
 their load of viands and ices ; and I see the flowers 
 drooping their heads, scorched and withered un- 
 timely by a feverish heat. Then one by one the 
 guests depart. The Empress still smiles from her
 
 io8 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 dais, her weary head still royally bears her crown, 
 and the diamonds flash from her stomacher with the 
 same radiance. Then the scene changes. The guests 
 become vampires, the lights incendiate the palace, 
 the wine flows in poison and blood. The Emperor 
 flies from his apartment, the Empress is clothed 
 in black, the little Prince has grown years older in 
 a single night. I see a royal lady escape from the 
 burning Tuileries. I hear the rush and roar of the 
 maddened Commune three months later, and I live 
 over again the horrible nights of January, 1871." 
 
 He ceased speaking. Mrs. Adrian looked up with 
 a determined countenance, and said : 
 
 " I am quite willing that you should see all of 
 those things, as you were here then, and we not ; but I 
 prohibit you both from calling up such sad memories. 
 Why, on a night like this, one should think of nothing 
 but a joyous and beautiful present. I believe in en- 
 joying that, and obliterating from the mind all things 
 that have a tendency to make us mournful." 
 
 This perfectly matter-of-fact lady was not far in 
 the wrong, but her niece, who was penetrated with 
 sadness, spoke thus : 
 
 " Permit me to remark, dear relative, that all do 
 not find the present joyous. Natures differ very 
 much. You, with terrible exactitude, insist on a 
 minute having sixty, seconds. I, on the contrary 
 (so humor my illusion, than which I hold naught else 
 in this world so worthy of cherishing), would find it 
 had only forty ; or, to stretch a point, unblushingly 
 give any pleasurable moment not sixty, but thrice 
 sixty beats, or sixty times thrice sixty pulsations."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 109 
 
 Blakeman interrupted " Which means," said he, 
 " that, in a little matter, such as going back a hun- 
 dred years or so, you would have no difficulty in 
 putting yourself immediately on the spot ; and at 
 this moment, can, at will, see decapitated queens fly- 
 ing through barred windows, empresses escaping with 
 a large bag of jewels (do not let us forget the col- 
 lateral) through an underground passage, a palace 
 burning, a city blockaded, all because why ? Because 
 a night is fair, your poetic temperament allows it- 
 self to run wild, and the fairy boonlight (I have 
 already a cold in my head) falls on everything 
 we are looking at at this moment, even ourselves." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Ethel, laughing ; "you 
 are falling upon me at the present moment, and I 
 consider you anything but boonlight although you 
 are unscrupulous. How many stones, please ? 
 
 " Only one," said he gaily, " and that is " 
 
 "That," said Mr. Gratiot, "we all know is his 
 heart." 
 
 " Perhaps you all think," said Mrs. Adrian, com- 
 placently, " that I don't see anything poetic because 
 I don't rave. Well, to show you that I can fall a 
 victim as easily as another to a prevailing epidemic, 
 listen." 
 
 They all assumed an attentive air. " We now see 
 before us the ruined ruins of what was once a 
 beautiful palace ; a palace where kings, emperors, 
 queens, and empresses have lived ; where crowned 
 heads have spurned uncrowned ones ; where balls 
 were given at which princes and dukes walked 
 alone ; where doctors and dentists have mingled their
 
 no Marked "In Haste." 
 
 sentiments ; where the rich and poor came into the 
 front door of the' palace ; and where the butcher and 
 baker left unguarded the back. I see," holding up 
 her well-gloved number seven, " a garden where the 
 limes and lindens hide the weekly wash ; where the 
 orange and citron could never furnish the royal table, 
 but furnished scandal enough for a whole community ; 
 where fine gravelled walks cut the Louis Quinze heels, 
 and finer ladies cut their too rich neighbors. I walk 
 through this garden, leaving behind me this much 
 ruined, once palatial palace. The glaring gutted 
 windows let in the merry moonlight, and ominous 
 shadows fall upon my back. These shadows are 
 also borne by the stiff night wind and become a 
 reality a rigid rheumatic reality. They are no 
 longer shadows. I stroll through this princely 
 park, I look at these beautiful busts. The morbid 
 marble gleams through the speaking shrubs and 
 oracular orangers. I recognize some old friends, 
 very old friends. Pan and Praxiteles, Venus and 
 Vampire, Psyche and Plutarch, Melpomene and 
 Mercury, Jupiter and Jenner, Milo and Metastasio, 
 Hercules and Homer, Mars and Metternich, Anti- 
 nous and Artemisia, Buffon and Bismarck, Leda 
 and Lazarus, the Divinity and Dante, Cupid and 
 Cleopatra, Prometheus and Plato, Pandora and Plu- 
 
 vio, Xerxes and ." 
 
 " For heaven's sake, dear, dearest aunt, you are 
 going mad. Let us hasten homeward. I will never 
 indulge in a poetical dream again in your presence." 
 Miss Leslie was, with Mr. Blakeman and Mr. Gratiot, 
 so convulsed with laughter she could scarcely speak,
 
 Marked "In Haste." in 
 
 but she managed to stop her aunt's epidemical rhap- 
 sodizing. She turned to the coachman and ordered 
 him to hurry home, and in a moment they had 
 turned their backs on the burned palace of the Tuil- 
 eries, France's latest farce. When they reached 
 home a comfortable scene awaited them. The fire was 
 burning cheerfully, the lamps were lit, the salon and 
 various other rooms were illuminated as for a fete. 
 
 How shall I record the flight of that pleasant even- 
 ing ? Mrs. Adrian's punch was perfection ; even 
 Ethel was hungry, and the cook, a marvel of good 
 nature, had robbed an American hamper of some 
 canvas-backs, which were done to a turn. Miss 
 Leslie had forgotten her threat on the musical ques- 
 tion and was the life of the party. Mr. Blakeman 
 reminded her of what she had promised, but in vain. 
 
 " I am no longer in the humor," she said, persis- 
 tently, " and could not say a word about any voice 
 to-night. I only know that, thanks to you, I have 
 spent a most delightful evening." The young gentle- 
 men said " Good-night," but made a rendezvous for 
 the following Tuesday. Miss Leslie promised to go 
 to the reception, and turned to Mr. Gratiot as he 
 went out. 
 
 " I shall expect news from you to-morrow," said 
 she, " pray heaven it may be propitious. Que Dieu vous 
 btnisse." The young man bowed low over her hand. 
 Mrs. Adrian smiled good humoredly, and said : " It's 
 all right, they do it in Vienna to perfection ; but I 
 always smile when I see Americans so cavalier-like. 
 What would they think in Bloomingdale to see a 
 gentleman kiss a lady's hand before everybody?"
 
 112 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 '' Never having inhabited that charming spot," 
 said Blakeman, " I cannot possibly say ; but if they 
 have such a hand as this there (indicating Miss Les- 
 lie's), I should willingly make a pilgrimage in order 
 to kneel at so sacred a shrine. However, time flies, 
 and we must go. A truce to compliments, madame, 
 but always your obliged humble servant. Bonne 
 nuit." 
 
 The heavy door closed, and the ladies were left 
 alone. Ethel turned to her aunt and (as was her 
 custom before retiring), embraced her affectionately. 
 " Happy dreams, dear friend," said she ; " thanks, a 
 thousand thanks for your goodness ; and may the 
 morrow bring us both cheerful news. I have not 
 been so happy in a long time. Who knows but 
 I may soon realize the truth of the saw, " Tout 
 vient a point a qui sait attendre. The undisturbed 
 pleasure of this evening seems a good omen. Again, 
 good night."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 THE house of the Minister was in Avenue de 
 I'lmperatrice, sufficiently far away to escape the 
 crowd of the city, and near enough to the Bois de 
 Boulogne to enjoy the fine air and the pleasure of 
 living near so beautiful a park. On Tuesday evening, 
 the honorable gentleman, with his charming wife, 
 stood at the entrance of the long salon, receiving 
 their guests ; his sons stood near, and his daughter, 
 Mademoiselle Susie, although very young, was pres- 
 ent on this special occasion. The extraordinary 
 popularity deservedly enjoyed by the representative 
 of the United States and his wife made his soirees 
 something to look forward to. He was, at that time, 
 the oldest resident diplomat in Paris, and had the 
 good fortune to gather around him some of the most 
 distinguished people that ever graced a Parisian 
 soiree after the fall of the Empire. Poets and princes, 
 ambassadors and prime ministers, came and went, 
 and the decorated personages were as numerous as 
 at any bal des Tuileries. Old heads and young, gray 
 beards and brown, youths and maidens, came from 
 every part of Paris to make their bow to the great
 
 114 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 ' statesman. There were more foreigners than were 
 usually seen at an American Minister's reception. 
 The brilliancy of the court and evening toilettes 
 worn by every nation, excepting America, added a 
 picturesqueness to the scene that the orthodox swal- 
 low-tail can never give. The Hungarians, with their 
 rich vesture ; the Austrians, with their white and gold 
 uniform ; the Italians, with glittering medals and 
 badges ; Swedes with their northern costume ; Ger- 
 mans with their military toggery ; Spaniards with 
 Toison d'Or decorations and sashes ; Englishmen, 
 Danes, Poles, Russians, each with their striking 
 national characteristics, flitted back and forth in a 
 kaleidoscopical panorama. 
 
 The ladies were present in force. There was the 
 
 Countess P s, with her classic face and fair hair, 
 
 and on a marvellous costume was a sash of ropes 
 of pearls w r orth a nation's ransom. There was the 
 
 Princess L , with her black eyes and stately figure. 
 
 The Baronne Edmonde, an American, whose beauty 
 had long been a theme in high society. There was 
 
 Madame de R , whose voice and appearance were 
 
 equally lovely. There were Russians, Italians, Eng- 
 lish, Germans, and last, but not least, the fairest of 
 les belles Ame'ricaine, who gave that colony the fame 
 of possessing the handsomest women in the world. 
 
 The Russian women were conspicuous for their 
 fair hair, lovely figures, and rich dresses. Their 
 faces, one and all, express their love of intrigue, 
 and lack of prudery. Their eyes follow one about 
 the room, and their vivacity is remarkable. Beware, 
 if a bewitching Slavonian casts her net ; even a
 
 Marked "In Haste" 115 
 
 devil-fish could not escape. The Italians have a 
 stately suavity of manner that is fascinating while 
 ceremonious. The dressing is original, the decollete'es 
 are courageous, and the languishing eyes of the 
 Roman beauties fall on one with a combined glance 
 of voluptuousness and intense sympathy. Italians 
 have heart, and would throw a world away to gratify 
 one caprice. Men may know moral, but rarely finan- 
 cial ruin at their hands. The modern French woman 
 presents a vivacious picture of grace, perfectly dis- 
 guised embonpoint, meagre corsage, and an endless 
 train. Her complexion shames Sevres painting, her 
 eyes glow with a bella donna brightness, her face is 
 continually rippling over with smiles, her teeth 
 gleam (even her teeth are coquettish). Her tiny 
 feet and high heels constantly escape from beneath 
 her skirts, and her whole person is one lively life- 
 like picture of a Parisian belle. 
 
 The English are tall, stately, very slim, and very 
 fair. What is it the Legend says ? "And the Lady 
 Jane was tall, and the Lady Jane was fair." Well, 
 I am afraid that they were all Lady Janes that even- 
 ing, correct, badly dressed, slim, fair, and more at 
 home in society than any other ladies present. The 
 English girl is still and swan-like, talking with bated 
 breath, never gesturing, and having the peculiar 
 droop of the eyelid that society has evidently pro- 
 scribed for all her highest votaries. It is very sig- 
 nificant, that English raising and suddenly dropping 
 of the eyes. It suggests outward form, inward ease, 
 the latest thing in flirtations, and an admirable com- 
 prehension of that delightful French expression en
 
 ii6 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 cachetic. Albion ! we bow to thy wonderful daugh- 
 ters ! 
 
 Then the Americans ! what a type to be sure ; no 
 special type at all, only they look like Americans, 
 which is all one can say. Such a variety of style 
 is rarely seen. There are blondes, chataignes, bru- 
 nettes, and the shades of all these colors, each one 
 perfect in its own way, each one different ; yet the 
 moment the eye falls on them, one says at once : 
 "Ah! an American, rinebeauti Americaine!" Every 
 race has some distinguishing form of feature, but 
 while these scions of the New World lay claim, man 
 and woman, to great physical beauty, they can claim 
 neither Roman noses nor Greek, Spanish eyes nor 
 Titianze like tresses, nor powerfully built frames like 
 the Russians, nor the graceful, undulating bodies of 
 the Andalusians, or the voluptuous forms of the 
 young Viennese maidens, as their type of race. But 
 they can claim a combination of all these types, which 
 made them what they are American. One can 
 yield the palm to a beauty wholly and completely 
 aboriginal. 
 
 The older ladies have too little appreciation of 
 appropriate dress for state occasions, the younger 
 ones are over-dressed. An English young lady will 
 wear a gold chain on her throat than which the 
 Atlantic cable is slim, and her person will be so over- 
 weighted with a heterogeneous mass of jewelry, that 
 she looks like a walking goldsmith's sign. A young 
 American will wear dresses whose trains an empress 
 would have been ill at ease to carry, the materials of 
 the most elaborate stuffs and brocades that a grand-
 
 Marked "In Haste." 117 
 
 mother could wear with dignity. Diamonds will 
 sparkle in her ears like the headlight to a locomo- 
 tive, her throat will be ablaze with gems, her hair 
 will be powdered with various tinsel dusts, and she 
 usually spends half her pin-money on point-lace so old 
 that the very pattern is out of date. One is surprised, 
 on noting the "get up " of a young American, to see 
 that she is under forty. *An ancient dame, who 
 figured at the mistletoe bough celebration in 1600, 
 could not be more richly and elaborately dressed 
 than one of our pretty belles. She forgets that 
 youth has charm and is in itself a rare adornment, 
 while the added gift of personal comeliness is set off, 
 not by exhausting the looms of their stiffest and 
 highest-priced goods, but by a simple gown of be- 
 coming color and fabric, and, above all, nothing so 
 conspicuous that nature in itself does not first at- 
 tract. 
 
 It is this absurd extravagance in dress that shows 
 off our American beauties to disadvantage. Where 
 the dressmaker is uppermost, the greatest artisan in 
 nature's handicraft is overshadowed by artificial 
 pomp. 
 
 The Minister wore his happiest look ; madame 
 smiled and chatted with her guests. All languages 
 were spoken, but in a little while, English predom- 
 inated. At half-past ten a famous society belle made 
 her entrance with glittering toilette and a train of 
 satellites. Allani stood talking with Gratiot when 
 Lord Beaufort and Athol Brandon came in. After 
 presenting them to the hostess and her liege, they 
 recognized several old acquaintances, and in a short
 
 ii8 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 time were as much at home as in a London drawing- 
 room. The Lady Eleanor Gray was the centre of 
 an admiring crowd. She was an English beauty of 
 much renown, her wealth was fabulous, and the 
 world had already given her to successive dukes, 
 princes, and counts. The latest matrimonial scheme 
 had been to bring about a match between herself 
 and Beaufort. His pleasure on seeing her was not 
 wholly unadulterated, for he was thinking of another 
 and wondering whether or no she would come. He 
 was obliged to say polite nothings to the fair Eleanor, 
 and apparently was bound to her for the evening. 
 He was hemmed in by the worst of all crowds, a 
 going-and-coming mass at a cosmopolitan reception. 
 People jostled him, he was separated from Allani, 
 and Brandon was already flirting w T ith some pink and 
 white perfection ; so his chances of getting away 
 grew each moment more desperate. While he was 
 talking, the door opened. There was a hush and a 
 murmur of admiration, and Mile. Leslie, followed by 
 her aunt, came toward the Minister. Beaufort felt 
 such a shock on seeing her that his heart stood quite 
 still. Yes, it was she ! His beautiful, mysterious 
 ideal, his pale companion on their nocturnal visits 
 to the Latin Quarter. Lady Eleanor looked up, first 
 indifferently, then with curiosity. 
 
 " Who can that pretty woman be ?" said she, frank- 
 ly. " I have never before seen her at any of the Min- 
 ister's soirees, and in fact, I don't remember to have 
 ever seen her face at any time in Paris. She must 
 be a new comer." 
 
 Lord Beaufort looked indifferent and said nothing.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 119 
 
 Lady Eleanor continued, " She seems to be known, 
 and see, everybody is rushing up to be introduced. 
 I suppose (half-jealously) you will soon follow the 
 general lead." Beaufort could with difficulty con- 
 ceal his feelings. He laughed, however, as men can 
 so easily do, no matter how great their preoccupation, 
 and said to her ladyship : 
 
 " I suppose I shall follow the general rule sooner 
 or later, but at present, I stand a poor chance of get- 
 ting anywhere -near the Lady " 
 
 " Dear Lady Eleanor," broke in a very English 
 voice, "pray let me claim you for supper accord- 
 ing to promise. No supper ? Well an ice, some- 
 thing. Really there's a frightful crush. I have been 
 trying to get back to you for half an hour. Lord 
 Beaufort ? Aw, yes, charmed, I'm sure," acknowledg- 
 ing her ladyship's introduction to the Earl. " You 
 are in Paris for some time ?" turning toward him. 
 " Fine city, yes indeed, one always gets back here 
 with pleasure." 
 
 "Colonel Hilson," said Lady Eleanor, "I believe I 
 will take a promenade and an ice. Can you tell me 
 who that young lady is ?" indicating Miss Leslie. 
 The colonel turned his head in the direction her 
 ladyship looked. He started, and said, " Surely I 
 know the face ; yes, I cannot be mistaken. It is Miss 
 Leslie, the daughter of an old friend of mine, and 
 one of the greatest heiresses America has sent over 
 in some time. She is very charming, and I hope your 
 ladyship may meet her. If an opportunity occur, I 
 should like to make you 'acquainted." 
 
 Lady Eleanor bowed stiffly. " Always pleased to
 
 120 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 know your friends, Colonel," she said, with ill-masked 
 cordiality. " Is is she quite American ?" 
 
 " All, that is most American," said he with a little 
 shrug of the shoulder ; "but she is a Southerner and 
 descends really from old English stock. I will tell 
 you all about her some other time. It is so hot, you 
 must be fainting for the want of some refreshments ; 
 allons." 
 
 She took his arm and nodded to Beaufort. He 
 bowed with scrupulous politeness, and for the second 
 time in his life, believed in fate. He could have 
 hugged the colonel for coming to his relief. And 
 he even held the Lady Eleanor in higher apprecia- 
 tion that she had unconsciously left him to himself. 
 The rooms were very crowded and stifling. He 
 made his way toward the Minister, and saw Miss 
 Leslie standing almost beside him. He felt the 
 long-hoped-for moment approaching. She raised 
 her lovely eyes and fixed them on his face. He went 
 nearer and straight toward her as if drawn by an un- 
 seen magnet. The Minister looked pleased. He 
 held out a hand and said : 
 
 " I see you have found friends, as I noticed you 
 were talking with your charming compatriote ; but 
 now," turning to Miss Leslie, "with her permission 
 I shall present you to a compatriote of mine." Then 
 he went through the required formula. The lady 
 bowed coldly, yet looked at the Earl with a peculiar- 
 ly scrutinizing ga/e. He felt as if she must recog- 
 nize him, but no, that was impossible ; yet his heart 
 beat with violence, and it seemed that his brain was 
 turning. Great heaven, was he already so interested
 
 Marked "In Haste." 12 1 
 
 in this woman ? She was looking so calmly on, and 
 he he was so madly in love with her that with diffi- 
 culty could he command his voice. He summoned 
 all his self-will and appeared, at least outwardly, un- 
 perturbed. Miss Leslie said to him : 
 
 " I have been speaking about London to Mr. 
 Brandon." 
 
 "Mr. Brandon ?" he interrupted, with astonish- 
 ment ; " you know my cousin then ?" 
 
 " He has just been presented to me," she answer- 
 ed, " and he said he thought that he had seen me in 
 England. So one thing brought on another, and we 
 spoke of London. To tell the truth, I used not to 
 like it at all, but now that I have friends there, I find 
 it simply delightful." 
 
 "Now that you have friends there," he repeated, 
 echoing her words ; " surely (with gallantry) you 
 must always have had friends everywhere that you 
 have ever been ; and in London we flatter ourselves 
 that we know how to appreciate those who rwho 
 like London." 
 
 She looked half amused and made answer : 
 
 "Oh, you must not think that because I said I 
 find it delightful, I mean that for always. London is 
 a great world, and, of course, with a world must suffer 
 many incongruities. Happily, that which is most 
 distasteful is least seen, and above all, comes least to 
 a lady's attention. I think every part of it perfect 
 after we leave Piccadilly Circus. One goes straight 
 on from there, and by the time one reaches Hyde Park 
 only the gayest part of life is on the surface. London 
 is a city for the extreme rich and poorest poor." 
 6
 
 122 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " Are you moralizing ? " said he, faintly. " I hope 
 not, although what you say must strike a stranger 
 as very incongruous. Yet people are not worse off 
 in London than in other large cities, I assure you." 
 
 She started and looked at him, and he noticed her 
 momentary attention drawn toward himself. With- 
 out waiting for him to speak, she said half-hurriedly 
 and under her breath : 
 
 " You must excuse me. It is very strange, but I 
 fancied when I heard your voice, that we had met 
 before. There is so familiar a cadence in it that I 
 am sure I cannot be mistaken. Frankly, have we 
 met before ? " 
 
 He was staggered, and at a loss to reply. He par- 
 ried her question, however, with consummate skill. 
 
 " I I do not understand you," he said. "Have we 
 met before ? where, how, and when ? I sincerely hope 
 so, for then you might look upon me as an old friend 
 and not a new acquaintance. But do not think me 
 ungallant. I really " 
 
 She looked up reassured and said : 
 
 " It was only a momentary illusion. It is quite 
 impossible that we have met before this evening, yet 
 I have a remarkable memory for voices and half fan- 
 cied on hearing yours that it was familiar to me. I 
 do not think you ungallant, my Lord, but assure you 
 that for the moment it gave me quite a turn. 
 Strangest of all is that I cannot place it, nor say 
 whose voice it so resembles." 
 
 He felt relieved how much she might never 
 know, but he only bowed, as any well-bred man 
 should, and allowed the question to drop. Just then
 
 Marked "fn Haste" 123 
 
 Mrs. Adrian joined them, and Mademoiselle pre- 
 sented him to her aunt. She had Brandon's arm, 
 and he was half amused to see his cousin already 
 sworn into the ranks of an evening escort. 
 
 Mrs. Adrian was all animation, and when the Earl 
 expressed the honor felt at meeting Madame, she 
 said : 
 
 "I am also pleased, my Lord, and perhaps you 
 do not know that I find in your kinsman an old ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 "Yes," said Brandon, "we met in Luchon last 
 year, and you must remember that I spoke to you 
 how agreeable a day I had passed once en route from 
 Biarritz, and of the lady whom I met so frequently 
 with the Danuals. This is she." 
 
 "You must tell me all about it," interrupted the 
 Earl, heartily. " Of course I remember, now that 
 you mention it, but" regretfully, "you never men- 
 tioned that you knew Miss Leslie." 
 
 Mademoiselle laughed and explained : 
 
 " Oh, he never knew me. Aunt was alone, or off 
 on one of her rheumatic expeditions with friends, 
 and I was only a myth to Mr. Brandon, except as 
 he may have heard of me through her." 
 
 Mrs. Adrian interposed : " My dear, I don't think 
 your name was ever mentioned ; however, it might 
 have been. You are spoiled, my child," she added, 
 good humoredly, " and think that I spend my time 
 talking of, when not with, you. But you are mis- 
 taken. My only preoccupation at Luchon was my 
 health " 
 
 "And going over to the Portillion," interrupted
 
 124 Marked "fn Haste" 
 
 Brandon, jocosely. " I remember when our carriage 
 broke down and stopped all the others just as they 
 were going up the first of those continuous hills en 
 route to the gambling place. Why, we had to wait 
 nearly two hours, and had a real pic-nic on the top of 
 a mountain looking down upon gorgeous scenery." 
 
 " I hope," interrupted Beaufort, "that you did not 
 intend your adjective as a deliberate pun about 
 gorges and ravines ? " Ethel laughed. 
 
 "I am afraid any court in England would find Mr. 
 Brandon guilty," said she, "but we will forgive you 
 if the offence be not repeated," turning toward him. 
 '' Oh ! " with a little petulant movement, " some 
 one is coming this way who bores me terribly. How 
 to escape ? " 
 
 " Quick ! " said the Earl, " you say you are dying 
 for an ice. Naturally many have died in a less 
 worthy cause, but take my arm and we will soon be 
 hopelessly lost to the sight of the enemy." 
 
 Admiring eyes followed the lady as she went past. 
 Never had she been so beautiful before, and if he 
 had lost his heart to a figure in carmellite grey, he 
 certainly would lose it again this night. She was 
 dressed in a toilette turquoise, blue faille and crepe 
 that trailed after her like a summer-cloud. Her 
 heavy hair was dressed a I 1 Imperatrice, and was 
 caught with a pearl comb at the back. Her dress 
 was covered with blossoms of the sweet Cape jes- 
 samin, and her hand bouquet was composed of the 
 same rare flowers. She wore no jewels, and her pale 
 complexion had just color enough to save it from 
 its usually marble-like appearance. While dressed
 
 Marked "/ Haste." 125 
 
 with the greatest elegance and simplicity, she looked 
 extremely young, and not entrop grande toilette. She 
 was decollete, of course, and the fine folds of the crepe 
 lying against her skin added a rose tint that always 
 follows that shade of blue. 
 
 They reached the supper-room, and Beaufort 
 thought of the lines, 
 
 " She walks in beauty, like the night 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies." 
 
 Oh ! how fair she was, how lovely, and how he would 
 love her. Then to his soul came another vision a 
 troubled woman courting night's favour, and a mys- 
 tery which seemed, alas! most profound and repellant. 
 He tried in vain to enjoy the pleasure that the pass- 
 ing hour gave. Surely they were destined to know 
 more of each other, and how could he reconcile him- 
 self to this double life ? He would go no more to 
 the Quartier Latin, and then at least he could ignore 
 her daily movements. Fate, who had thrown them 
 in each other's way, would surely unravel the mys- 
 tery. Of one thing he felt assured, her entire and 
 complete innocence. 
 
 Yesterday he had received a note. It was ad- 
 dressed to Francois Felden and ran as follows : 
 "Monsieur, you are at liberty until Thursday. Call 
 that day at nine P.M. sharp. It is unnecessary to say 
 that I do not need you this evening." 
 
 This was last night, and already he was burning 
 with jealous desire to know how she had passed her 
 time. If she had gone to her usual rendezvous, if 
 she had been alone, or perhaps oh, fatal thought !
 
 126 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 she had been accompanied by another. He was 
 racked by conflicting emotions, and the day had been 
 one long agony. He felt that he would meet her that 
 evening, but what the result would be he could not 
 divine. Would he be asked to call, could he find any 
 pretext for presenting his hommage ; would he could 
 he know her better, and how was it all to end ? 
 
 They reached the buffet. He found a chair and 
 struggled to get her something. She looked up 
 amusedly. " I don't really care for anything. Surely 
 you have forgotten why we came to the supper-room. 
 I might take a cup of tea, but beyond that, impossi- 
 ble to touch a thing ! I to tell the truth I don't 
 feel quite well, and the heat is stifling." 
 
 He was at her side in a moment : "You are not 
 well ? Pray what is it ? you are not faint, I hope ? " 
 She looked tired but not ill. He could illy disguise 
 his solicitude, and his voice had the ring of genuine 
 feeling. She seemed scarcely surprised, but an- 
 swered, 
 
 " No, not faint, but a little ' under the weather. ' 
 To tell the truth," half hesitatingly, " I should not 
 have ventured out this evening. I was ill all day 
 yesterday and confined to my room." 
 
 His heart gave a great bound. So she had been ill, 
 and no one had taken his place. To think that he 
 could ever feel joy at the thought that she had been 
 suffering ! She had not gone to the Rue St. Pere, 
 and was well enough to come out to-night. It could 
 not be serious. 
 
 " I fear," said he, " that you are really indisposed. 
 Do not let us stay here. It is hot. I will find a quiet
 
 Marked "In Haste" 127 
 
 corner and bring you some tea; but would not a glass 
 of wine do better ? " 
 
 She smiled a " No," and said, " I am afraid I have 
 a weakness for tea and you may get me some, but I 
 will wait here and then we will go. The soiree has 
 been delightful, as it always is at Mr. Washburne's, 
 and I never like to tear myself away. What charm- 
 ing and distinguished people one always meets at his 
 house ! You know we are very proud of our Minis- 
 ter, and although before the war he was popular, 
 since he became a great lion. He is especially over- 
 powered with attention from foreigners a com- 
 pliment to himself and an honor to the nation he 
 represents. My tea ? Oh, yes, thanks. How lucky 
 to get it so soon; and you, my Lord ? " 
 
 " I will keep you company," said he, at the same 
 time helping her to sugar. " I caught a servant a 
 moment ago, and feel that we are fortunate to have 
 gotten some under an hour. In fact," continued he, 
 gaily, " it is too soon, I thought. I could keep you 
 here all to myself at least ten minutes." 
 
 She smiled brightly. " Ten minutes ! ten whole 
 minutes ! Why, that is a long time ; worlds have 
 been lost in less." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," he responded. " I know of one 
 that I would lose in a good cause in much less time 
 than that ; but," he added, with half-serious badinage, 
 " it was almost impossible to get to you ; you were 
 surrounded by a throng of admirers, men and women, 
 and these ambassadors with their decorations, con- 
 found them ! It is impossible for a young man to 
 get any show at all now-a-days at a soiree"
 
 128 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 "For shame!" she interrupted; "you complain 
 thus ? Why, I saw you for fully half an hour chained 
 fairly enchained to the side of that lovely English 
 lady. You did not seem at all anxious to leave, and 
 I trust you would not be so ungallant as to say now 
 that you longed for liberty." 
 
 She had seen him ; that was something. He was 
 dying to tell her how the moments really dragged 
 until he had met her ; but, on second thought, he 
 spoke as a man of the world : 
 
 " Ah, the Lady Eleanor! yes, she is beautiful, and 
 as charming as handsome. No, I must not say that 
 I longed to leave her, but I suppose I may say that, 
 some way, I longed to know you. Will you accept 
 so paradoxical a view of the case ? " 
 
 " I don't see why I should," she said, half coldly ; 
 " a charming woman is a charming woman ; why one 
 should leave one to 
 
 " To go to another," he interrupted, a little mali- 
 ciously. 
 
 " I did not say that" she remarked, quietly ; "but 
 I mean, why one should leave a person who is all life 
 and vivacity to go to another who is not, naturally 
 surprises one." 
 
 " But I did not leave her," he said, determinedly, 
 " she left me." 
 
 "Well, I suppose she is not the first," retorted 
 Miss Leslie. " I do not think of a better thing to 
 do than to follow her example. Suppose I leave 
 you this moment and beckon to that old gentleman 
 in the corner to come to me ? He would offer me 
 an arm on the score of old friendship. He does not
 
 Marked "In Haste" 129 
 
 look it," she continued, naively, " but he is a king's 
 uncle." 
 
 " What king ? " said Beaufort, haughtily. 
 
 " The King of Spain," said she, calmly. " No 
 apology ; England may never have heard of the 
 country before, but America has. Besides, we owe 
 something to Spain, and little to England." 
 
 He put out his hands humbly. " Don't, pray 
 don't let him supplant me. To please you, I think 
 I would even be uncle to the Tzar and " 
 
 "Father the thought," she interrupted, malicious- 
 ly ; " but it is no use. You have fallen in my bad 
 graces, and besides, you are not speaking truth- 
 fully." 
 
 He looked up. "Well ?" questioningly. 
 
 " Why did you say that the lady left you ? " 
 
 "She did leave me," he persisted. 
 
 " But you wanted her to go ! " 
 
 " That does not alter the fact," he added, calmly. 
 
 " But I mean that, that " 
 
 " You mean," he said, deliberately, " that I sat en- 
 chained, yet my eyes wandered ever in your direc- 
 tion ; that I spent half an hour at her side, longing 
 to be at yours ; that the moment you came in the 
 room, I considered my evening would be incomplete 
 if I could not have the honor of knowing you ; and 
 now that I know you, my 
 
 She laughed coquettishly, and interrupted : 
 
 " That will do. No more confessions, please ; 
 besides, it's time to go. I am not sorry, however, 
 that you told me the truth ; it has redeemed you in 
 my eyes." 
 
 6*
 
 130 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " How do you know I told the truth ? " he asked, 
 persistently. 
 
 She blushed, but answered honestly : 
 
 " I I felt it." 
 
 He spoke eagerly. 
 
 " Then you knew that I was watching you ? " 
 
 " Did I say so ? " she responds, archly. 
 
 "No," he is obliged to confess, "but you must 
 have understood I wanted to know you. A woman 
 always knows those things, and besides, now that 
 we are both confessing " 
 
 " Both confessing, my Lord ? " coldly, " I am do- 
 ing nothing of the sort ! What can / confess ? That 
 you noticed me looking in your direction ?" 
 
 " That I saw you look in my direction." 
 
 " That is another thing," she said. 
 
 " You are right," he replied, stiffly. " It is a vastly 
 different thing." 
 
 She arose deliberately, and took up her bouquet. 
 Her hand had been carelessly lying on the flowers, 
 and as she took them, a lovely blossom snapped from 
 the stem and fell at the Earl's feet. He picked it up 
 instantly. 
 
 " May I keep it," said he softly. 
 
 She looked at him curiously, and answered : 
 
 " If you like," then idly, " I do not care for it." 
 
 He started. 
 
 " It is a poor gift if it have no value in your eyes." 
 
 " What possible value," said she, haughtily, " could 
 one broken rose have in my eyes more than another ? 
 These will all be withered in a little while. I shall 
 throw them away, and to-morrow "
 
 Marked "In Haste" 131 
 
 "To-morrow," he added, calmly, "you will have 
 another." 
 
 "Yes, and the next to-morrow another," she said. 
 
 " And throw them away just the same ? " 
 
 " Indubitably," she responded. 
 
 "But," he added, half unconsciously, "you offer 
 me %.pis-aller. I " 
 
 " I offer you nothing ! You took it," she said. 
 
 " I did that to be polite," he said, matching her 
 sangfroid. "You seemed to expect it. A thing," 
 with biting sarcasm, " that has no value in your eyes, 
 could never possibly have any in mine, so I will 
 throw it away, or better still, drop it where it first 
 fell." 
 
 The flower did not fall at once, but, strange to 
 say, rolled on her dress. It seemed about to stay 
 there, then timidly dropped to the floor. She looked 
 half vexed, half amused, but said nothing. They 
 walked away in silence, and met Mrs. Adrian at the 
 salon door. 
 
 " My dear," said she, with her lively voice, " I was 
 just looking for you. I want you to meet Lady 
 Eleanor Gray, who is perfectly charming and who 
 wants to know you. I have found a little corner and 
 she is waiting. We will go at once."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "MASKS AND FACES." 
 
 LORD BEAUFORT offered his arm. Mrs. Adrian took 
 it as a matter of course, and they walked toward the 
 little corner. Miss Leslie followed, but half stopped 
 on the way. Mr. Gratiot came up and said : 
 
 " I wish to present an old friend, Mr. Allani." 
 
 She turned to recognize the introduction, but 
 started hastily and \vith some confusion. Recover- 
 ing herself as quickly, however, she held out her 
 hand. 
 
 " We have met before," she said, frankly. " I also 
 am pleased to see an old friend." 
 
 So far Mr. Allani had but barely spoken. 
 
 " We meet again," she said, simply. " Really, the 
 world is very small." 
 
 "It is, indeed," he made answer. "Who would 
 have thought that I should see any one to-night that 
 I had ever met before ? " 
 
 " Before in America," she interrupted, " and yet, 
 what is more likely ? " 
 
 "What is more unlikely?" he said. "I rarely go 
 where there are Americans now," hesitatingly. 
 
 "That is unkind," she answered, softly. "Have
 
 Marked "In Haste" 133 
 
 you not been, were were you not always well 
 treated in my country ? " 
 
 He looked up. 
 
 " Yes." I can never complain of the treatment I 
 received while there from one one and all." 
 
 She looked uneasy. 
 
 " Have you been back long ? " she asked. 
 
 " No," he answered, " only about a fortnight." 
 
 " A fortnight ! " raising her eyes. " Why, where 
 have you been ever ever since we last met ? " 
 
 " I have been round the world," quietly, <; and 
 have grown older, wiser, but " 
 
 " But," she interrupted, "you have not changed." 
 
 "In personal appearance perhaps no, but in other 
 things, I ought to hope, yes." 
 
 She reflected before answering, then said with half 
 concealed bitterness : 
 
 " I referred only to your personal appearance. I 
 took it for granted that you had changed otherwise. 
 Any man's heart is like a mirror, capable of reflect- 
 ing any and every woman's image at the same 
 time." 
 
 He laughed. " Pray, Mademoiselle, do not think 
 that women have a monopoly in that very human 
 characteristic change ! Why, change is the current 
 coin of the hour. How would we pay our daily 
 pleasures without it ? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered, conclusively. "Pay daily, 
 then one does not pay so dearly. You may traduce 
 your own sex if you will, but not mine. 'Man's love 
 is of man's life a thing apart, 'tis woman's whole 
 existence,' and Byron knew."
 
 134 Marked <( In Haste" 
 
 " No, but Julia did. I think, on the whole, the 
 poet felt sorry for his own muse," he answered ; "but 
 I am shocked ! Is it possible that you read " 
 
 " Ethel, dear," said her aunt, " let me present you 
 to the Lady Eleanor Gray." 
 
 Miss Leslie came forward. Lady Eleanor could 
 not disguise her look of expectant curiosity. Yes, 
 the lady was indeed charming. Her face was fault- 
 less, her toilette the height of good taste, but her man- 
 ners were strangely posees for so young a woman, and 
 an American too. Americans are usually so gushing. 
 While polite commonplace was going on, the Eng- 
 lish beauty studied her unconscious rival, and finally 
 spoke, saying naturally exactly what she did not 
 mean : 
 
 " I am so glad to know you, and am so fond of 
 Americans." Miss Leslie responded : 
 
 " Thanks, I am charmed to know you, and and 
 I also am fond of the English." 
 
 When she came to a standstill, Lady Eleanor 
 looked at her quite curiously, then ventured : 
 
 "Your face is so familiar. Have I not met you 
 somewhere in London ?" The lady answered this 
 time, with a smile : 
 
 " I think not, your face is not familiar, but had I 
 once seen it I never could forget neither where nor 
 how I had met it." 
 
 Lady Eleanor was pleased. No flattery is so sweet 
 to woman as that which comes from woman. Lord 
 Beaufort broke in upon the conversation : 
 
 " We are all of Miss Leslie's opinion," he said, quite 
 gallantly ; " how could one be otherwise ? " Then he
 
 Marked "In Haste." 135 
 
 thought to himself, " Those two are already sworn 
 enemies." Just then Allani came up to be presented. 
 
 Lady Eleanor was never so delighted as when sur- 
 rounded by a crowd. Her eyes flashed brighter, her 
 color came and went, and her whole manner ex- 
 pressed the liveliest concern. She began saying how 
 charming the evening was, and asked to have every- 
 body pointed out to her, especially the Americans. 
 
 " I hear," said she, " that there is a large number 
 in Paris." 
 
 Mr. Gratiot corrected her : " You mean, my lady, 
 a large colony. That is the word used." 
 
 She laughed pleasantly and said : "Well, a large 
 colony, if you prefer that word. But I must know 
 who is who." Lord Beaufort turned to Miss Leslie : 
 
 " Have you curiosity ? " he said, " or do you know 
 everybody ? " 
 
 "I have some curiosity," she answered, "and I 
 know some of the people present." 
 
 " How guarded your answer," said he, half mock- 
 ingly ; " but let us listen, Mr. Gratiot is going to tell 
 us " 
 
 "Mr. Gratiot is going to tell you what?" said a 
 new voice, and Mr. Blakeman came up to salute the 
 Lady Eleanor, an old acquaintance. He had not no- 
 ticed who was speaking, but thought it Allani, whom 
 he already knew ; but he hastily apologized when 
 he found it was Lord Beaufort who was talking, a 
 gentleman whom he did not know. Miss Leslie in- 
 troduced them. His lordship bowed stiffly, and 
 immediately fixed his eye on Blakeman. Who was 
 he ? and how did he happen to be on such good
 
 136 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 terms with Miss Leslie ? Was he in love with her ? 
 Naturally. He then decided to hate him at once. 
 
 Mr. Gratiot begged oft" when Mr. Blakeman ap- 
 peared. He said : 
 
 " The Lady Eleanor wishes to know the names of 
 some of the Americans present, and you must tell 
 her. I can, but " 
 
 " But," said Blakeman, " but you want to give me 
 a reasonable excuse for joining in the conversation. 
 Well, I don't mind. Shall I tell you outright, alpha- 
 betically, or will you point out those whom you wish 
 to know ?" 
 
 The lady looked up brightly. 
 
 " I wish to know," said she, "who everybody is in 
 that corner," indicating, with a slight movement of 
 her pretty head, a further corner in the long salon. 
 "It looks so American, and they all seem to know 
 each other so well." 
 
 He followed the direction of her ladyship's head, 
 and ejaculated : 
 
 " Ma foi, you have just divined the truth, and I 
 think I can name them all to your ladyship. Those 
 ladies seated " 
 
 She held up her fan, saying : 
 
 " Are all charming ; nay, more, they look so 
 awfully jolly." 
 
 Blakeman smiled warningly. 
 
 " No adverse criticism, or I will yield this task to 
 another." 
 
 She started back with mock dignity, disclaiming 
 by the movement any intention to criticise. He con- 
 tinued :
 
 Marked "In Haste." 137 
 
 " That lady to the extreme left is Mrs. W. E. Pond. 
 She is amiable, hospitable, and adores music. That 
 gentleman near her, with the long beard, is her hus- 
 band. He is a fine musician, and directs the choir 
 in the American chapel." 
 
 " And the fair young man," said her ladyship, " is 
 their son, who sings really divinely." 
 
 Blakeman acquiesced. "You are right," he said. 
 " Thanks for the prompting. The lady next her is 
 Mrs. Heathe. She is a great leader in society, gives 
 superb balls, and is spoken of among the French as 
 ' cette charmante Amtricaine' Her cotillons cost 
 thousands of francs, and her house is most beautiful 
 and hospitable. The lady to her right, in gray satin, 
 de'collete'e, is Mrs. John Harland. She receives every 
 Thursday evening, and has many foreigners at her 
 soirees. Ambassadors, lovely countesses, dukes, 
 ministers, and always the prettiest lot of girls to be 
 seen in the city." 
 
 Lord Beaufort interrupted. " I must make her 
 acquaintance at once, so as to be invited to her 
 evenings." 
 
 " I will present you, my lord," said Miss Leslie. 
 " She is a friend of mine." 
 
 "Thanks," murmured the earl, "you are too kind. 
 I am all impatience. Shall we go now ? " 
 
 "No," said she, calmly, "but some day in the dis- 
 tant future." 
 
 He looked at her with sparkling eyes. 
 
 "Which means" (eagerly) "that I am to see you 
 again ? " 
 
 She bit her lip, but answered frankly :
 
 138 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " Yes, you will see me, you will come to see me. 
 Would you care to ? " raising her eyes. " I imagined 
 you wished me to ask you, and and I do." 
 
 He was half angry and longed to repay her with a 
 refusal to call. She was so sure, this mademoiselle, 
 that every one who saw her only needed one look to 
 throw himself at her feet. He presumed that she 
 had already placed him on her catalogue of victims. 
 If she only knew the truth ! Realizing it himself, 
 he grew more cairn and answered : 
 
 " You are frank. Yes, I did wish you to ask me, 
 and you know that I shall be honored to pay my re- 
 spects to madame your aunt." He could not for- 
 bear this last little cut. She looked up most amu- 
 sedly. 
 
 " Tell the truth. You wish to come also to see 
 me, riest-ce pas ? " 
 
 How could he hold out against such coquetry ? 
 She read him so well ! 
 
 " I told the truth, but not the whole truth. I do 
 wish to pay my respects to Mrs. Adrian, but I wish 
 above all to come to see you. Are you satisfied ? " 
 this half humbly. 
 
 " It is almost a matter of indifference to me," she 
 said, laughingly ; " but I am satisfied satisfied, 
 pleased, rather, that you did not slight me inten- 
 tionally ; and had you insisted that you wished only 
 to see my aunt, I could not but have felt hurt." 
 
 "I see," said he, "that you are fond of badinage. 
 Well, so am I ; but with you one should needs be 
 most serious " 
 
 " That lady to the right," was heard in Mr. Blake-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 139 
 
 man's cheery voice, " is a belle in the colony. She is 
 Miss Robarson, and " 
 
 " I have allowed you to monopolize long enough 
 Mr. Blakeman," said Mrs. Adrian. "You must al- 
 low me to describe her, Lady Eleanor," turning 
 toward her ladyship ; " Miss Robarson is not only a 
 beauty, but has also another distinguishing quality. 
 Her foot is so small that a shoemaker in the Rue 29 
 Juillet has placed a tiny slipper on exhibition, de- 
 claring it to be hers. Gentlemen of title, from far 
 and near, make a pilgrimage to the cobbler's shrine. 
 The owner of this Cinderella-like slipper has refused 
 more wedding rings than any lady in Paris ; but 
 what can be more fascinating to a gentleman than to 
 catch sight of a beautiful face, a beautiful dress for 
 she dresses superbly and a foot peeping from be- 
 neath her robe which would have captivated Prince 
 Charming himself." 
 
 " Mrs. Adrian," said Blakeman, "you are the best 
 woman in this world, and have spoken with great 
 truth." 
 
 Mrs. Adrian smiled knowingly, and the artist re- 
 turned her smile without knowing why. 
 
 " And that fair woman standing by the Psyche," 
 said her ladyship, "who is she ? Her face has a his- 
 tory in it." 
 
 Mr. Blakeman ahemmed : " I can tell you, but my 
 remarks may be in bad form. Yet, as you say, her 
 face bears marks of a history, and I think I can tell 
 you what that history is. Attention, every body." 
 He continued : 
 
 " Her name is Mrs. Kate Dartmore. She came to
 
 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 Paris just before the fall of the empire, and wished, 
 above all things, to be presented. The brain of 
 every dressmaker in the city was taxed to combine, 
 devise, construct, fabricate yes, I think that word 
 fabricate will do a toilette suitable to the lady's 
 position. Her husband was a laboring man who had 
 struck ore in in somebody else's mine ; her yes, 
 his enormous wealth, and her incomparable beauty, 
 and 
 
 " Beauty ! " echoed her ladyship, " that is the first 
 time we have heard the word mentioned. Was she 
 once beautiful ? " 
 
 " As an angel," said he ; " and now, even now 
 where was I ? " 
 
 " There is just where you were," said Mrs. Adrian. 
 "Her beauty " 
 
 He breathed more freely. 
 
 "Her beauty, yes," he said. "Well, never mind 
 about that her dress " 
 
 " Ah ! " said her ladyship, " we are coming to that ; 
 what was it ? but I am not curious." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Mr. Blakeman, " we are none of us 
 that, but, as I said before, her dress was well," des- 
 perately, " her dress finally had to be made in Lon- 
 don." 
 
 " No, impossible f" said the ladies, in a breath. 
 
 " Why, how could that be ? " said Mrs. Adrian. 
 
 " I will explain," said he gravely. " She finally 
 decided that her dress should be made by some 
 American dressmaker. It was to be of violet vel- 
 vet, and her patriotism was so great that she wished 
 even the material of American fabric. The train was
 
 Marked "In Haste" 141 
 
 to be seven yards in length and lined with white kid. 
 The couturier was desperate and refused the order. 
 Her husband, more reasonable, explained why. 
 ' How,' said he, ' can he line it with that ? White 
 kid, indeed ! when there's none but black sheep to 
 be found in the whole American colony in Paris ? ' ' 
 
 He was interrupted with roars of laughter. Her 
 ladyship thought if any husband was as witty as 
 that the woman who was his wife ought to be well 
 content. 
 
 " But the rest of my story," said the artist. " Her 
 grief was real, and she took it so much to heart, not 
 having both her patriotism and ambition gratified 
 by getting what she wanted in Paris, that her beauty 
 began to fade." 
 
 "Where was her dress finally made, or was it ever 
 made ? " said her ladyship. 
 
 "Yes," said the artist, "she was consoled by hav- 
 ing it made in London. The dress was a success as 
 the kid was made from some of Victoria's extra un- 
 fleeced. They had browsed in Hampton Court, had 
 taken ten prizes at the Agricultural shows, and the 
 Princess of Wales had hung a V. C. around the neck 
 of the whitest or the blackest, which was pro- 
 nounced by all to be the fairest. In " 
 
 Mrs. Adrian was convulsed with laughter. 
 
 "You forget, my friend, that you are speaking to 
 an English lady, and I know Lord Beaufort will 
 never forgive you." 
 
 "Indeed, Mrs. Adrian," said the Earl, "I would 
 not have the gentleman spoil his story for my sake 
 for anything. Pray let us hear some more."
 
 142 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 " I am dumb," said the artist, "but if her ladyship 
 has had enough celebrities pointed out, I will stop 
 here." 
 
 "No," said the lady, " I must ask who that distin- 
 gue man is near the heroine of the dress ? " 
 
 "That," said he, "is Mr. Tom Darvis, an indefati- 
 gable society man, and as welcome in a soiree as iced 
 champagne. Do not lose your heart, my lady. He 
 is a woman-hater. Not woman-hater, but a perfect 
 connaisseur des femmes." 
 
 "That," interrupted Miss Leslie "is impossible! 
 No man is a perfect anything." 
 
 The gentlemen bowed. 
 
 "An ungracious speech from Miss Leslie," said 
 the Earl to her, in a low voice, "is more welcome 
 than a compliment from another." 
 
 Mrs. Adrian was then heard to remark : 
 
 " Countess Costanza Gianetti ! Why, certainly, she 
 is most charming, and is the wife of that gentleman 
 who has so many medals. He is first aide-de-camp 
 to the Crown Prince of Italy, and she is one of the 
 amiable Americans who make the Italian capital 
 so agreeable a place of sojourn for her compatriots. 
 The beautiful blonde is Miss Royles, a California 
 millionnaire heiress ; and that slender girl in the cor- 
 ner " 
 
 "She's almost pretty," interrupted her ladyship. 
 
 "So-so," she said, with indifference. "She's nice 
 enough, but wishes to be a singer." 
 
 " An Opera singer ? " said the lady, in horror. 
 
 "Even so," she responded, "but she has many 
 lukewarm friends in Paris. She is not sought after
 
 Marked "In Haste" 143 
 
 at all in society, because she has little or no money. 
 The Minister and his wife are very kind to her. She 
 was recommended to them, and they seem also to 
 like her. Of course, she is not overwhelmed with 
 attention from anybody on account of the fact be- 
 fore mentioned. The fact is, it is impossible to go 
 in good American society in Paris unless one is very 
 rich. One must " 
 
 " Stop," said Gratiot, laughing ; " I have often 
 heard you say that. Many are not wealthy. How 
 do they succeed, Blakeman ? " 
 
 " I," said he, gaily ; " I ? me ? Why, I have expecta- 
 tions, I paint pictures, and I always manage to have 
 rich friends, and never to be seen but with them in 
 their company ! " 
 
 Impossible not to recognize the rare discernment 
 of the artist. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Adrian, "every one in this 
 room is distinguished for something. Those ladies 
 there have an invaluable father. His chemical 
 business is colossal. His chemicals are poor, but 
 the business is good. They claim a descent from 
 something, and the motto on their adopted coat-of- 
 arms is : 'I die, but never change color.' That 
 lady near them," indicating all three, "was a widow, 
 and has married a man once a miner, who has dis- 
 covered a lake of silver in Nevada. She mingles 
 with the throng quite as simply as if her husband 
 did not intend being the richest man in the world." 
 
 " Ah ! what rare intelligence and simplicity ! " said 
 the Lady Eleanor, sweetly. 
 
 "The young ladies," said Mrs. Adrian, "come
 
 144 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 from the Far West. Their social position is now as- 
 sured. The father, on dit, was once a prize-fighter, 
 
 and when he ran for Mayor of C , no one dared 
 
 personally to go against him. He is now editor of a 
 large journal, and having no more political prestige, 
 thinks strongly, it is said, of returning to the profes- 
 sion of his youth. You know, "Ton revient toujours d, 
 ses premieres a?nours." 
 
 Just then the attention of the little gathering was 
 attracted by the appearance of an immensely corpu- 
 lent woman who forced her way through the throng, 
 scattering everybody to the right and left, as a sev- 
 enty-four gun ship under full sail would a fleet of 
 small boats across her bows. She had under her arm 
 a rather pretty girl, whom she dragged along as to 
 continue the figure a big ship would a little tug. 
 Her dull gray eyes were protruding, fishy, and spec- 
 tacled. Her mouth large, coarse, sensual, cruel ; 
 her vast cheek in folds, her neck a series of super- 
 abundant flesh overlaying like the scales of an alli- 
 gator, her walk a waddle, her bust a vast mass that 
 projected like a swell in the side of a mountain. 
 As she thus sailed along, she attracted universal 
 attention from every quarter of the crowded apart- 
 ments. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! who is that an lady ? " ejaculated 
 the Earl, as she swept by him and nearly carried him 
 from his feet. 
 
 "That?" replied Allani, "that is the celebrated 
 Mrs. Sanglier." 
 
 "And what may be her metier?" 
 
 "Oh, the pen."
 
 - Marked "fn Haste" 145 
 
 " Pen ? what kind of a pen ? Not the pen in which 
 are herded certain quadrupeds ? " 
 
 "You are deceived by her appearance. It is not 
 that kind of a pen. It is that pen which is said to be 
 'mightier than the sword.' She writes for the pa- 
 pers, and her pen acts like what veterinary surgeons 
 call a ' seton ' she employs it in drawing off the 
 venom from her system, which would otherwise poi- 
 son her." 
 
 " For shame ! " said the gentle Ethel. 
 
 " Possibly. But true, all the same. I must give 
 you the facts. You would not like me to deceive 
 you, mats allons. She has a slight official connec- 
 tion, which she uses for securing scandals for publi- 
 cation. She hates everybody, but is the toady of a 
 rich resident of the American colony. She hates her 
 as she does all the world, but writes paeans to her, 
 so that she may be invited to her entertainments, 
 and because she has a sympathy for the auriferous 
 yellow (the tint of envy) of the atmosphere which 
 envelops the presence of the millionnaire. Some 
 day she will bite herself, and then the world will 
 hear of another death from blood poisoning. But, ta- 
 ta to this subject. I feel as if I were handling a toad. 
 Let's change it. My mouth is already blistered." 
 
 "You are too cruel ! " said the ladies, and then the 
 subject was dropped. 
 
 What a world of people ! Mrs. Adrian just then 
 bowed to a handsome couple who seemed to carry 
 happiness about with them, their faces were so ani- 
 mated. It was Mrs. Florence Rice, the well known 
 contralto, and her charming husband. There was 
 7
 
 146 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 another lady with two beautiful girls, who walked 
 with the grace of a Braganza. " Spanish- Ameri- 
 can," said Mr. Gratiot ; " Madame Cardoza and her 
 daughters." 
 
 It would be impossible to name every one pres- 
 ent. The "wee sma' hours " of the morning were 
 near at hand, although as fast as one went away, 
 others came. A Minister's reception in Paris is a 
 serious thing. It seems unending. Lady Eleanor 
 came up to say good night. 
 
 " I have just heard such a good thing! Listen," 
 said Mr. Allani. "That young lady in violet moire 
 is Miss Fanny Stanford, of Chicago. She had 
 been ten years in a finishing school in New York, 
 and came home with her education complete. Her 
 friends said that no young lady in America could 
 manage a train as well as she. At her first ball in 
 her native city, some one, speaking of Europe, 
 said that they had seen Minister X. in a box at the 
 Opera. 'A minister,' she shrieked, 'at the theatre ! 
 'Yes.' Her guest (who had travelled) with some 
 surprise explained : ' Yes, Miss Fanny, a Minister, 
 but Plenipotentiary.' That last was a crusher. 
 Turning to her brother, she said in a loud voice : 
 ' Plenipotentiary well, what religion is that ? I am 
 sure I never even heard of it before.' Her brother 
 explained, blushing ; ' Oh you know, Fannie, minis- 
 ter for the penitentiary. You understand me ! ' 
 
 " Stop, stop," said Mrs. Adrian, laughing. " How 
 can you talk so much scandal ? but it is funny." 
 
 " How much money did you say she had ? " inter- 
 rupted Beaufort, with an amused air.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 147 
 
 " I didn't say she had any, responded Allani, but 
 you have taken it for granted. She has ten thou- 
 sand a year. Her father settled up the affairs of a 
 defunct corporation, and now owns a saw-mill on 
 the Mississippi." Mrs. Adrian made a final move. 
 
 "We must go home, Ethel come." Then they said 
 adieu. 
 
 The Earl was happy. The memory of strange 
 events rushed through his brain. He knew her at 
 last, his idol, his beautiful incognita. He had been 
 invited to call, and on the morrow he might see her 
 again. Fate had indeed been kind. When he had 
 said good-night, he returned to the supper-room. It 
 was some time before he could get to the corner where 
 he had been seated with Miss Leslie ; but, patience, a 
 soiree must end some time. Mrs. Washburne was 
 still smiling in the salon, the tall form of the Minis- 
 ter, with his fine honest face, was seen beside her. 
 All took away a pleasant souvenir of their reception, 
 and many American hearts had been gladdened and 
 made happier that evening. We may hate our com- 
 patriots, but no one is so utterly base as not to feel a 
 throb of pleasure on hearing his native tongue spoken 
 in a foreign land. We have all been young. A souv- 
 enir of childhood should be one of tender, even sacred 
 reminiscence. What awakens it so quickly as the 
 sound of one's own language spoken a familiar ac- 
 cent, if not a familiar voice ? Worldliness sometimes 
 gives way to patriotism. Every one likes to be well 
 received by his country's representative. 
 
 Brandon thought it was time to go. " One mo- 
 ment," said Beaufort, " and I will join you."
 
 148 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 He looked cautiously about, then stepped nearer 
 to the place where Miss Leslie had been seated. 
 With the dexterity of Hermann, he stooped and 
 picked up something. It was a jasmin flower with 
 faded petals, trampled heart, and broken at the stem. 
 Yet there was something still attractive about it. To 
 get the fine odor that the Ottoman loves, we must 
 crush the blossom ; but dearer than flower or perfume 
 was the poor once-forsaken thing. She had caressed 
 it. Brandon neared his kinsman and watched him 
 curiously. Just as the Earl thrust it into his bosom 
 their eyes met. 
 
 Beaufort colored almost painfully, but he only 
 made a movement en serrant sa trouvaille more closely. 
 He said softly, " My heart dictated and I followed 
 its lead." 
 
 Brandon looked serious. Not a word was spoken 
 until they were in the carriage, then he said, " Per- 
 haps you were right. What does Owen Meredith 
 think ? 
 
 ' And I think in the lives of most women and men, 
 
 There's a time when all things would go smooth and even, 
 If only the dead knew the moment when 
 To come back and be forgiven.' "
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 WHEN they reached home Beaufort spoke to his 
 kinsman. 
 
 " Come," said he, " let us have a little talk ; not a 
 little but a lengthy, a serious conversation, if you 
 will, unless you are too tired and wish to say good 
 night." 
 
 Athol looked at him affectionately. " I was al- 
 most going to ask it of you," he said, " so you know 
 with what readiness I consent to your suggestion." 
 
 The hotel was not dull as some houses are when 
 the family has gone to a ball, the fires had gone 
 down, and not a servant was to be found for love or 
 money. On the contrary, everything looked most in- 
 viting. Bell, with rare thoughtfulness, had a petit 
 souper arranged on a table in the smoking-room ; 
 there was wine, cigars, and, more comforting than 
 all, some fine old brandy, and bottles of soda water. 
 The curtains were drawn, the fire was blazing in 
 an open grate, and the room had an air of comfort 
 positively inviting. Beaufort hastily drank some of 
 his favorite beverage at that late hour of the morn- 
 ing. It was not very late, however, and the clock had
 
 150 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 but just struck one hour after midnight, or maybe 
 it had passed the half-hour, surely no more than 
 that. Athol also had some brandy and soda water ; 
 then, taking cigars, they drew up before the fire to 
 talk. It is a mistaken idea that only women have 
 this habit. They have dainty feet to place on the 
 fender, slim ankles to peep forth from their lace 
 petticoats, and they bend their forms to the move- 
 ment of an undulating chair, with bright eyes fixed 
 on the glowing embers. Men do all this minus the 
 petticoats, not showing the ankles, and not swaying 
 back and forth in their seats ; but fixing their eyes 
 on the fire and lending themselves with quite as 
 much facility to the charm of having a "good talk." 
 Brandon commenced the conversation. He looked 
 at the Earl and then said, questioningly : 
 
 "Well," as much as to say, " I am ready and lis- 
 tening." 
 
 " What do you think of her ? " said Beaufort, ab- 
 ruptly. 
 
 " By her, you mean, of course, Miss Leslie ? " 
 he answered quietly. 
 
 " Naturally," said the Earl ; "who but she is ever 
 in my thoughts now ? " 
 
 " She is certainly most lovely," said his kinsman, 
 "and I should say also very intelligent. Her man- 
 ners in fact, dear Francis, you have not exagger- 
 ated her appearance in the slightest ; but " 
 
 " But what ?" said the Earl, quickly. 
 
 " I wish you had never met her. I can find noth- 
 ing against her. She seems in every way correct ; 
 but I could scarcely realize," he continued, quickly,
 
 Marked "In Haste" 151 
 
 " on looking at her, that her life holds a secret and 
 that all you have told me has positively taken place. 
 I must say I think her a very dangerous woman to 
 be intimate with ; and I would to God that she had 
 never crossed your path." 
 
 Athol replied seriously and with infinite sweet- 
 ness of tone. " I realize all that you say, yet it is 
 too late to help myself. I confess that I love her as 
 I have never loved before as never man loved be- 
 fore. She has so completely enthralled my being 
 and my senses, that I am scarcely master of either 
 in her presence. I think of her twenty-four hours 
 in the day ; I think of her sixty minutes of the hour ; 
 I think of her sixty seconds of every minute. I 
 would give everything I possess, at this moment, to 
 call her mine, and would consider no sacrifice could 
 it but bring me nearer to her. I would go to the 
 end of the world to serve her, and I would lay down 
 my very life at her feet. What makes me most un- 
 happy, for I cannot call it a felicitous business as yet, 
 is that my mind is torn by conflicting emotions. Do 
 not think," he continued, hastily, "that I can ever 
 love her less ; on the contrary, the light of that pas- 
 sion burns a fixed flame in my heart. But I some- 
 times doubt her, and I sometimes have a bad opinion 
 of her, albeit I never love her less. This to me is tor- 
 ture. I have always worn in my breast an ideal 
 woman whose moral beauty and virtues would equal 
 her physical charms, whose life should be a clean, 
 unsullied page, whose virginal eyes would look their 
 first glance of love into mine. 
 
 " How is my dream realized ? I have found more
 
 152 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 than I had ever hoped as regards personal beauty, 
 but the rest what can I say of the rest ? Her intel- 
 ligence is undoubted, her repartee is the very essence 
 of refinement ; but her life is a double one, her heart 
 holds another image, and a mystery that presents a 
 most unattractive face enslaves her mind as well as 
 body. Is she maid, mistress, or wife ? How often 
 have I asked myself these questions ! how often 
 does only the hollow echo of my own heart make 
 answer ; and yet I love her. I love the soft fascina- 
 tion of her manner when she is tender. I love her 
 shapely head when she throws it up in unconscious 
 hauteur. I love the dark hair that caresses her neck. 
 I love the violet-hazel eyes that imprison so many 
 fires. I love the slender hands that toy with her 
 rings, fan, or her handkerchief. I love her witching 
 gowns that fall in voluptuous harmony about her 
 body. I love her smile, whether grave, gay, or sar- 
 castic. I love every minute particle of herself. I 
 love everything she looks upon, and every object 
 that her hand touches. In short, I love her madly, 
 devotedly, desperately ; and instead of being happy 
 in thus loving, as I once dared to anticipate and 
 hope, I am wretched, I am wretched, and the earth 
 does not hold another so miserable a creature as I am ! 
 " Do you know," continued he, looking at his 
 cousin with almost fierce despair; " do you know the 
 depth of such a passion as mine ? To think, think, 
 think all day upon one object ; to have one name 
 running constantly in your thoughts; to go to bed at 
 night still thinking on the same subject; to watch the 
 stars fade with sleeplessness and, when the long,
 
 Marked "In Haste" 153 
 
 weary hours of the night have worn themselves away, 
 to finally lose one's self only to dream of the fatal sor- 
 ceress ; to dream heavily ; to dream lightly ; to see 
 her in visions of brightness ; to see her in robes of 
 sorrow and night ; to see her with another; then to 
 clasp to one's breast a lovely being ; to live perhaps 
 hours of ecstasy in a single moment ; to feel one's 
 arms about a thing of softest, most sensuous clay ; to 
 see it recede and pale into a vision of amber light ; 
 to call to it ' return ! come back ! ' to awake just as 
 the last hem of a garment has faded into the ob- 
 livion of nothingness; to know that it has been only 
 a dream ; to feel your heart throbbing, a sickening 
 sensation run electric like through the senses ; to 
 feel a choking in your throat; to feel your blood 
 tingling; to hear echo and echo again through your 
 brain one name, one and always the same, that of 
 the loved object; to find one's self alone, yet not 
 alone, tortured yet enthralled, happy yet miserable; 
 to look forward to the coming of another day; to 
 watch the sun rise on one's hopes as it set on them 
 the night before; to be in short, in love, madly, 
 hopelessly in love as I am this is my condition ! " 
 
 The Earl finished, and bowed his head in his 
 hands. Athol rose softly and went toward him. 
 He took his hands from his face, as a mother might 
 have done, with all a mother's tenderness. He 
 smoothed his hair, his fingers touched his shoulder 
 instinctively, then he took both his kinsman's hands 
 in his, and looked him tenderly in the eye. 
 
 "Dear old fellow, dear old boy," said he, sooth- 
 ingly; "has it really come to this? What can 
 7*
 
 154 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 I say to console you ? What can I do to help 
 you ? Will you trust in me ? Remember that since 
 we played together as children, I have known 
 but one friendship, you are that friend. I love 
 you as a brother. Let me be that brother. The 
 dearest feelings of my soul are tuned in accord with 
 yours, and we have grown up together, entwining 
 our affections as young vines do their tendrils, scarce 
 knowing in the end which is the parent stem. I 
 have always thought of you as the best part of 
 myself, and my grief is beyond all words to see you 
 in this state. It is not that one should not love, and 
 that another would not take this to heart as you do. 
 But in your position, with your ideas of honor, and 
 honorable affections, the doubt that you love un- 
 worthily is most terrible. It seems a death-blow to 
 all hope, and yet, what is to be done ? Could you, 
 can you, will you forget her ? " 
 
 " Forget her ! " he started, angrily, then settled 
 back in his chair with a deep sigh. " Forget her ! " 
 he repeated; "you know not what you ask. God 
 knows I believe I would if I could. But, no ; why 
 should I ? Am I not free, free to love ? " 
 
 " Yes," responded his cousin, " you are free ; but 
 is she ? free to love, perhaps, but " 
 
 "If she be free," interrupted Beaufort, "I would 
 marry her to-morrow." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Athol, slowly, " she may be free, 
 might be free to love, but not to marry." 
 
 Beaufort paled. " You mean " he said, faintly. 
 
 "I mean," said Brandon, boldly, "that I think she 
 is married already."
 
 Marked "In Haste." 155 
 
 The Earl started from his chair. 
 
 " It cannot be possible ! " he said, half-doubtingly. 
 
 "After having seen the lady," Brandon answered, 
 slowly, " I do her the justice to say that I think she 
 is a wedded wife. I could not think otherwise, nor 
 can I conceive how you can think other than I do. 
 We may both be deceived she may be as guilty as 
 another, but I cannot find it in my heart to class her 
 with those to whom reputation is a myth, honesty a 
 farce, and intrigue the bread and meat of daily life. 
 Now, my dear boy, let us talk reasonably. Consid- 
 ering, as we do, that the lady is married probably 
 secretly what can be your future course of action 
 in the matter? You certainly cannot count upon 
 keeping up this farce of playing attendant any 
 longer ; you love her too well. Why not bide your 
 time, await the course of events, if you will, meet 
 her meet her in society ; but do commence to tell 
 yourself that you love hopelessly (at least for aught 
 you know at present to the contrary), and struggle 
 to bear it like a man. Believe me, that sooner or 
 later, your own common sense will come to the 
 rescue ; you will be able to look upon her as upon 
 all other women, and gradually this mad passion 
 will wear itself out." 
 
 Beaufort looked at him as he ceased speaking. 
 Then he said, half aloud, as if communing with him- 
 self: 
 
 " And you think this is possible ? You thought 
 you knew me ? I admit that you speak in reason ; 
 but I feel, I know I can never separate my mind 
 from thoughts of her. A man meets many women
 
 156 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 in his day ; he learns the value of their slightest 
 smile ; he knows how to weigh their coquetry to 
 the slightest hair ; he knows, above all, whether he 
 has aught in common with them ; but when he sees 
 the one woman of all the world destined to make 
 him the happiest or most miserable of men, the vul- 
 nerable spot in his heart receives an impression 
 which is indelible. Struggle as he may against it, 
 the fiat of fate has gone forth, and he recognizes in 
 that person his controlling destiny. I tried hard to 
 persuade myself that I was not in love, that I was 
 only puzzled as to the probable outcome of a singu- 
 lar adventure, but in vain. Were I to tell the truth, 
 'tis this : that from the first moment I saw her, I 
 have loved her ; no one else has been in my mind or 
 heart, and I feel that no one else ever will be. Also, 
 you must make great allowances for the way in 
 which I know her. Thinking me a companion or 
 sort of confidential attendant, her manner is sim- 
 plicity itself. She never practises any airs or graces 
 with me ; she does nothing to attract my attention ; 
 she ignores me and my existence in the most abso- 
 lute manner ; and one cannot accuse her of throwing 
 herself at any one's head. She was but civil to- 
 night, at the Legation ; and, although her aunt was 
 amiable, I can scarcely say that mademoiselle cares 
 ever to see me again. Courtesy demands that we 
 leave our cards, and beyond that, who knows what 
 may happen ? We got fairly well acquainted, w T hen 
 I allowed some idiotic sentimentalism to upset me." 
 
 " What was it ? " asked Brandon. 
 
 " I asked her for a flower that fell from her bouquet
 
 Marked "In Haste" 157 
 
 She said I might keep it, as it was perfectly indiffer- 
 ent to her what became of it. She said : ' Why 
 should one broken flower interest me more than an- 
 other ? I will throw these all away when I get 
 home. I will have others to-morrow, and will throw 
 them away likewise ; also the next, and the next.' 
 Strange words, were they not ? They repelled, while 
 fascinating me ; yet I listened to her as if her very 
 breath were honey ; and but to hear her speak, she 
 might say anything. My heart could not but beat 
 faster upon hearing even the sound of her voice. 
 A propos, I had one shock She told me that my 
 voice sounded familiar to her. I must disguise it 
 better the next time I go." 
 
 "The next time!" said Brandon, quickly; "you 
 surely would never dare go again, even should she 
 ask, now that you have met her." 
 
 " I will go again," he said, with firmness, " once at 
 least, and after that we shall see. I shall promise 
 nothing hastily." 
 
 Brandon looked seriously at him. 
 
 "Dear Francis," he said, "have I no influence 
 over you ? Can I not persuade you not to go again ? 
 Pray, pray think of yourself, think of your mother, 
 think of your sister, and think of the terrible risk 
 you run, now that you know her. If she should by 
 any means discover your double dealing, your 
 chances of obtaining her affection seem to me for 
 ever lost. Then should this secret, which now seems 
 doubly secret, be explained away, and to her credit, 
 your own headstrong folly will have lost you all. 
 I am not holding out false hope, but stranger things
 
 158 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 than these have happened ; and God knows I should 
 be glad to prove her the best and most virtuous of 
 women. As Meredith says, 'the world is full of 
 folly and sin.' She may be a victim, but you cannot 
 help her cause by injuring your own, on the con- 
 trary ; and if she be not one, I pray you in God's 
 name to cease these visits to the Latin Quarter. I do 
 not say, see as little of each other as possible in society ; 
 again, on the contrary, through this medium you may 
 best know her. A true woman shows in the world 
 as does a diamond when a strong light is flashed 
 upon it. Darkness may prove it a pure gem ; but it 
 is only under the most penetrating of the noontide 
 rays that just appreciation may be rendered as to its 
 real worth. In the great maelstrom, then, called the 
 world, where false mingle with true, where real 
 worth jostles with artificial, where truth is some- 
 times truth, as falsehood is sometimes less than 
 falsehood, there study, appreciate, and love, if you 
 cannot help yourself, your heart's idol. I can give 
 you no better advice. I only beg you to be reason- 
 able and to spare yourself the shame of learning, by 
 means unbecoming a gentleman, aught of a secret 
 which appears, at present, most unpalatable, but 
 which I trust, in the course of time, must come to an 
 unravelling which will redound to the lady's fame 
 and credit." 
 
 " Do you see how that can be ?" asked Beaufort, 
 abruptly. 
 
 " I have gone well over all that you have told me in 
 my mind," Brandon said, quietly, "and frankly, had 
 I not seen Miss Leslie, I would have thought much
 
 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 worse about the whole affair ; now that I have seen 
 her, that her position in the world is so well defined, 
 I am at a loss to understand it, and I humbly con- 
 fess that the circumstances are no more in her favor 
 than they were before ; but she herself inspires con- 
 fidence, and I hope that some honorable solution of 
 the mystery may yet be made public." 
 
 " You hope," said the Earl, "that she is married." 
 
 " Yes," Brandon answered. 
 
 " Well, and I," said his kinsman, " I hope that she 
 is not. I shall try to win her, and the purity of my 
 soul shall make up for that which is cloudy in her 
 life. My love is noble, it cannot but ennoble her. 
 My love is honorable, it cannot but do her honor. 
 If she but bury her past, my great love will cause me 
 to shut my eyes to it, and the future, which belongs 
 to the poor as well as the rich, shall prove that J 
 am right to give all or nothing to my heart's desire, 
 my passion " 
 
 " Your passion," interrupted Brandon, " is just 
 what I supposed it would be ! I am glad that you 
 give the right name to your caprice. Why should 
 we deny to ourselves what men really are ? we, who 
 have lived and know how the strongest fetters, in 
 the end, wear away the chain ? You say you love 
 her now, very possibly but how can you say what it 
 will be five years hence ? There may still remain 
 some affection, some friendship, unless the final sep- 
 aration is reached by the means of a horrible scan- 
 dal." 
 
 " How can you," said the Earl, half angrily, "be 
 so blast and heartless ? You think, then, that I am
 
 160 Marked "fn Haste" 
 
 not in love, but that I have only a caprice or fleeting 
 passion for Miss Leslie ? " 
 
 " It looks very much like that to me," said his 
 cousin, calmly. 
 
 Beaufort started to his feet angrily and said : " It 
 may look like that to you now, but I will prove the 
 contrary to you. I shall never marry if I cannot marry 
 her, and I am determined to get at the bottom of 
 this mystery. She asked me to call, and although 
 the invitation was not given with empressement, I ac- 
 cepted just the same." He grew less excited and 
 said more humbly to Brandon : " I will give up my 
 visits to the Latin Quarter after Thursday night. I 
 must go once more ; but do not fear, I shall dis- 
 guise myself a little more, and detection will be im- 
 possible. Do not dissuade me from this. I realize 
 the truth of all that you have said, with one excep- 
 tion : My love for Miss Leslie is not a passion, but 
 a pure affection, which can only cease when I cease 
 to be. I am willing to follow any reasonable advice, 
 but do not attempt to counsel me against my heart's 
 dearest sentiments. Good night, dear friend, and 
 thanks. May you never know the misery of a hope- 
 less love like mine, as I sometimes feel mine to be ; 
 for my great and only fear is, that she loves an- 
 other." 
 
 The young men looked each other in the eyes. 
 Beaufort's face was inexpressibly sad, and Brandon's 
 was overcast with painful reflection. He put his 
 hand on his cousin's shoulder and spoke with great 
 tenderness to him : 
 
 " Good night, dearest friend, loved kinsman, and
 
 Marked "In Haste." 161 
 
 may peace gently nestle in your bosom. Love her, 
 if you will, but do not forget that I am near, a friend, 
 counsellor, and brother. I would give my life that 
 this bad business had never come about. I can now 
 only help and comfort you. Forgive me, if I have 
 pained you by my plain speaking. We have had 
 our first, and probably last, conversation on the sub- 
 ject ; but, believe me, that now and ever, I have only 
 your happiness at heart, and God knows, I wish that 
 the future may grow brighter to you. Again, good 
 night ! Let us live in hope." 
 
 He smiled as he spoke and opened his arms. The 
 Earl staggered, so great was his emotion, but like a 
 weary and heart-sick child, he bowed his head on his 
 kinsman's heart. A moment passed, and Brandon 
 could hear the violent throbbing of his heart, the 
 deep breath that came and went, and the laborious 
 pulsations of the life-blood that beat back and forth 
 through the veins. It was loud at first, then gradu- 
 ally grew softer, softer, as the night breeze that 
 loses itself so completely that only silence rests be- 
 tween it and nothing. He remained thus a moment, 
 two, perhaps even three, until his emotion was spent, 
 then, lifting his head, he withdrew from his kins- 
 man's embrace. A silent hand-clasp, a grateful look 
 of truthfulness, a faint " a demain" and he was 
 gone. 
 
 Wednesday passed, and the half engagement to 
 dine with the Count Vandalin was broken. Beau- 
 fort spent the day in his apartment, and when night 
 came, a coiffeur from the Rue St. Honore came to his 
 room. Later, a gentleman in a costume of homespun,
 
 162 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 with glasses, and a foulard about his neck, hastily 
 quitted the house. It was the attendant Felden, a 
 little changed from the preceding days. A beard 
 was slightly perceptible on his cheek, and his dress 
 was of a cut that Poole would have scorned. He was 
 going to his rendezvous at the Avenue Matignon. 
 
 At about midnight Lord Beaufort knocked on the 
 door of Brandon's room. It opened, and he found 
 his kinsman deep in a mass of correspondence, but 
 glad to be interrupted by Beaufort The Earl handed 
 him a letter written on ordinary paper. 
 
 " Read," said he, " and see if this will do." Athol 
 Brandon took the missive in his hand. It ran : 
 
 " MADEMOISELLE LESLIE : 
 
 " Esteemed Madame I am obliged to leave Paris 
 at an hour's notice, owing to a serious illness in my 
 family. It is impossible to say when I return, as I 
 must go to Russia. I am deeply distressed in every 
 way by this contretemps, and trust that Madame will 
 suffer no inconvenience in replacing me. I have 
 been most honored to serve Madame, and would be 
 proud to resume my position if, on my return, 
 Madame needs my services. My address is always 
 the same, Hotel Meurice, and I will have the honor, 
 if Madame will permit me, to notify her about the 
 time that I am likely to return. With expressions 
 of the deepest respect, I beg, Madame, to accept the 
 hommages and devotion of her most faithful and obe- 
 dient servant, 
 
 " FRANCOIS FELDEN." 
 
 Brandon read, then a smile broke over his face. 
 He seized the Earl's hand and said, " God bless you, 
 and thanks ; but do you mean it ? "
 
 Marked "In Haste." 163 
 
 " Do I mean it? " repeated his cousin. " Yes, and 
 to prove to you that I am in earnest, you shall send 
 the note yourself." 
 
 Brandon looked curiously at him, and said, ques- 
 tioningly, " You have been to the Latin Quarter ? " 
 
 " I have been," said Beaufort, briefly, " and I hope 
 I may never go again. Ask me no questions, but 
 this night's experience has decided me. I never dare 
 repeat it." 
 
 Brandon spoke eagerly. " Shall we leave Paris ? " 
 His kinsman looked up doggedly. 
 
 " No," he said, "we do not leave Paris." Then he 
 laughed with bitterness, and repeated, emphatically, 
 "We do not leave Paris, but I go no more to Rue 
 St. Pere. I have now determined to only meet my 
 inamorata in her proper sphere, society. Her mas- 
 querading no longer interests me. She is prob- 
 ably married, and I have found the highways and 
 byways of high life more than appropriate for the 
 propagation of secret passions. There are plenty of 
 Michel Stenos to write, on even a duke's chair, 
 ' Marin falliero dalla bella moglie, Altri la gode ed egli 
 la manttene.' The fault is not in the sentiment, but 
 the indecency lies in making it public. Let us fol- 
 low the ladies' example, and say ' en cachette.' "
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BREAKFAST AT THE COUNT'S. 
 
 COUNT LE"ON VANDALIN was of Hungarian birtli 
 and extraction. A liberal education in England, 
 France, Germany, and Switzerland had made him a 
 complete cosmopolitan. He spoke French, Ger- 
 man, Italian and English with the most extraordi- 
 nary facility ; and his comprehension of the various 
 tongues was so minute and perfect that it was im- 
 possible for a stranger to divine his real nationality. 
 Then, too, his accent helped to the general illusion, 
 and in fact, the French swore he was a Frenchman, 
 Germans avowed him a Teuton, while no one in 
 England ever doubted that he was a British subject. 
 He had recently married Mademoiselle Isaure de 
 M , a scion of one of the oldest families in Nor- 
 mandy, and it would be impossible to meet a more 
 united or happier couple. Their apartment in the 
 Avenue de Messine was as charming as could be 
 found in the Quartier Monceau,; the rooms were 
 large, but the quantity of beautiful tapestry and 
 bric-a-brac made them seem smaller but more " sig- 
 norile" The magnificent paintings were, some of 
 them, family portraits, and others of relatives and
 
 Marked "In Haste" 165 
 
 friends, many painted by Count Leon's father, the 
 Count Andre, one of the greatest talents of the day. 
 From Countess Isaure's boudoir to the husband's 
 "den," as he called his fumoir, the house was per- 
 fect, and a model of good taste. 
 
 The Count also painted en amateur, and always had 
 something on hand. It might be a panel of some 
 fair Gretchen, a Cupid in full undress on a fan, a 
 sketch of the family chateau near Belclairy, a flower, 
 a phantasy, anything in fact, but always something. 
 Leon Vandalin might have passed his thirtieth sum- 
 mer, but certainly not more. He was a fine-grained 
 gentleman, as was his father, and his father's be- 
 fore him. I might save complication by saying his 
 grandfather, but that would look too intimate, so 
 let us leave it in the orthodox fashion. He was 
 blonde, handsome, very handsome, with a face of the 
 Slavonian type. His eyes were blue, his hair chest- 
 nut, and his beard an ashen blonde, almost golden ; 
 and his features were well cut and extremely aristo- 
 cratic. It would be impossible for any one to feel 
 dull in his presence. He had the happiest disposi- 
 tion in the world, a keen sense of humor, besides 
 being a thoroughly good fellow. To tell the truth, 
 I don't think one ever saw him ten minutes with- 
 out hearing a hearty roar, for he laughed easily and 
 contagiously. He is so good-humored and takes 
 life so very lazily, that he is dubbed "Prince de 
 la Mollasse " by all his friends, and the name seems 
 to suit. He is quite au fait in the best of society ; 
 a beau raconteur, and never enters or leaves a room 
 but the nearest will ask, " Who is that gentleman ? "
 
 1 66 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 He carries a perfect train of pleasant association 
 with him, and without ever seeming to accomplish 
 much he is always busy. His occupation may be 
 summed up in the words a "gentlemanly homme du 
 monde." With taste, leisure, and means enough to 
 gratify his ambition, a round of duties that the de- 
 votee to fashion cannot ignore, each hour in the day 
 has its special allotment. 
 
 How could he be otherwise than a busy man ? 
 Yet all this is accomplished in so insouciant a way 
 that he still has oceans of time on his hands, and is 
 called " Prince de la Mollasse " to slightly hint that 
 he is lazy. 
 
 The salon wore its cosiest aspect. A cheerful fire 
 tempered the room to a delightful heat, and made 
 everything look still more cheerful. It was storming 
 without a cold November day, when sleet, rain, and 
 hail struggle for ascendancy, when Paris is as gloomy 
 as any other city, and when nature absolutely belies 
 the almanac as to the seasons. Who could have the 
 audacity to say that there ever, could be spring or 
 summer in the face of such abominable weather ? 
 How disgusting that it should be that of all others 
 when there was to be a dejeuner a la fourchette with 
 four extra covers ! Who could come out in such 
 vile weather ? Yet no regrets had been received. 
 The Count was pacing up and down the salon, when 
 a ring was heard. In another moment, Mademoi- 
 selle Leslie appeared on the threshold. He uttered 
 an exclamation of pleasure, and started forward with 
 eager outstretched hands. 
 
 " How good of you to come ! Isaure has been
 
 Marked "In Haste. 1 ' 167 
 
 fearing an excuse every time we have heard the bell ; 
 but, if you could brave the weather, the gentlemen 
 will surely not fail us." 
 
 She stopped and looked admiringly about. 
 
 " How perfectly charming this is ! ' Come ? ' Of 
 course I would come. You know I never miss an op- 
 portunity to see Isaure." 
 
 " And me ? " he said, with a smile. 
 
 " You will never be ignored," she said, lightly, 
 "while you are even the worst half of so dear a 
 woman as your lovely wife." 
 
 A door opened, and Countess Vandalin appeared. 
 Her first word was to her husband. 
 
 " I must scold, for you were going to keep her 
 with you, when / am waiting. My dear friend (to 
 Ethel), come with me to my room, and we can have 
 a little talk before breakfast." 
 
 The two ladies retired, leaving the Count pacing 
 up and down before the fire. 
 
 A sharp ring at the outer door a few moments 
 later, announced the probable arrival of the other 
 expected guests, and the Countess was relieved. She 
 embraced Ethel, and kissed her upon both cheeks, 
 in French fashion, then they went into her boudoir. 
 Ethel was so much at home, that she knew the ins 
 and outs of the whole house, but she nevertheless 
 permitted the smart maid to take her things, and 
 was as impassive in her hands as any stranger might 
 have been. When she was quite relieved of her 
 wraps, they went into " My lady's chamber," where 
 the polished mirrors reflected the green velvet hang- 
 ings. Fresh flowers bloomed in jardinieres, and the
 
 1 68 Marked "In Haste. 1 ' 
 
 white toilette, with its lace, and satin bows, and num- 
 ber of glittering gold and ivory boxes, reminded one 
 of a virginal beauty's table at a fancy fair. 
 
 " This pretty room ! " said Mademoiselle, looking 
 contentedly about. " I do think, Isaure, that you 
 have the very cosiest home in all Paris. Indeed ! I 
 must love you, to come out such a day as this ! Do 
 you suppose that the fine weather is all finished ? " 
 
 " Finished ? " echoed her friend. " No, certainly 
 not, although one might think to-day a foretaste 
 of winter in good earnest. But how kind of you to 
 come, \\ovf gentille ! I am going to keep you all day. 
 And Madame Adrian ? Is she not well ? Why did 
 she not come too ? " 
 
 " My dear," interrupted Ethel, " she could not, 
 and sends her best excuse. This is Friday, and mail 
 day by the Havre steamer, and there were so many 
 letters to write. She is as American as ever, and 
 would not miss this weekly communing with her 
 dear ones for a great deal. She is so good, and in 
 fact, keeps up my acquaintance for me, otherwise I 
 would not have a friend left. I am a poor letter- 
 writer, and, I suppose, even the most devoted cor- 
 respondent in time gives up one who never answers 
 one's favors. But, dear friend, where were you Tues- 
 day night ? Such a charming reception, such nice 
 people, and your dear presence the only thing lack- 
 ing to make the evening a perfect one in my eyes." 
 
 Countess Isaure answered quickly : " My love, I 
 had a terrible cold, and did not dare go out ; but the 
 next time I shall not fail. Whom did you meet ? 
 Did you look lovely, and how were you dressed ? "
 
 Marked "fn Haste." 169 
 
 "Ma chere" she expostulates, "one thing at a 
 time. I met some old acquaintances and made three 
 new ones. I looked, I suppose, much as usual, and 
 my dress was one of my prettiest." 
 
 " Have I seen it ? " she asked, interestedly. 
 
 " Yes, its counterfeit. It is in turquoise faille, 
 but it's made the very counterpart of your lovely 
 Vienna dress in green satin with the crepe and crush 
 roses." 
 
 " How nice ! And Delannoy made it ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Where," said the lady, walking up and down, 
 " did she put the roses? heavily on the skirt, bottom 
 or top ? Were there many on the corsage ? You 
 were de'colletce, of course (with the accent of a prime 
 minister dictating to his cabinet), and, I hope, love, 
 for your sake, that not the slightest thing was man- 
 que'e. Your toilette was en train, naturally ? " 
 
 Mademoiselle laughed desperately. 
 
 " More en train than I was. In fact, I did not feel 
 a bit like going out, but Aunt insisted, and now 
 that I think of it, am not sorry that we went." 
 
 " Now that you think of it ! What does that 
 mean ?" Ethel spoke frankly. 
 
 " I met some nice people." 
 
 "Americans?" 
 
 "No, English." 
 
 The Countess half started. 
 
 " English ?" then to herself, " how drole si cela se 
 pouvait etre," and then aloud, " any one I know ?" 
 
 " My dearest friend, how can I tell ? Perhaps ! " 
 
 " I have an idea," said the countess, in her liveliest 
 8
 
 I/O Marked "In Haste" 
 
 voice, " and a presentiment that I really do know 
 the one you met " 
 
 " Dear wife !" called out a voice, " everybody is 
 here, myself with everybody, and we are waiting ; 
 then, most important of all, breakfast is waiting." 
 
 They went at once to the salon; and he con- 
 tinued: 
 
 " Yes, waiting, and the only thing I know of gut 
 ne vient pas a point a qui fait attendre, is a hot break- 
 fast, a good dinner, and the rent that indignant ten- 
 ants have a way of keeping back for a late bonne 
 bouche, the following season, say." 
 
 Impossible not to laugh at Count L6on's irre- 
 pressible humor. What a happy way he had of 
 putting everybody en rapport with himself ! Then 
 there were presentations to be gone through with, 
 but to his surprise, one of his guests started with an 
 exclamation of real pleasure. 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! Is it possible ? what good for- 
 tune to meet you here ! How do you feel after the 
 reception ? I remember you complained of having 
 been a little souffrante, an " 
 
 " Mon cher" said the Count, "and you knew our 
 friend all this time without having told me ? What 
 can one say ?" In a moment it was explained how 
 they had met at the house of the American Minis- 
 ter, and only on Tuesday last. 
 
 The butler threw open the door of the salle a man- 
 ger, and the party went in to breakfast. A French 
 dJ/euner is usually an agreeable way of bringing 
 people together, and a not unimportant part is the 
 breakfast itself. A chef with any conscience will
 
 Marked "In Haste. " 171 
 
 put before one the most appetizing nothings in the 
 way of hors-d 'auvre, to tempt the blast palate. He 
 will hide, disguise, and conceal, an ordinary lamb 
 chop with coquettish greens and peas, so young and 
 tender that they look like atoms of the vegetable. 
 His potatoes will be fried to such perfection that 
 each slice could be made to do duty in a guard of 
 honor. His capon will have turned so many times 
 upon the spit, that even the gravy wears a blush; 
 His beefsteak will know neither hard-heartedness 
 nor remorse; his little pinch of radishes will peep out 
 from their nest of cresses ; the sober olive will gar- 
 nish an anchovy pate ; the omelette will look like a 
 golden cow-slip (not egg-plant) in a country mea- 
 dow; his salad of romaine, celery, and sliced tomatoes 
 will be a bowl of perfection, and his dessert, with the 
 various things soiiffl'ees wins him the title of chevalier 
 of the Legion cfhonneur long before his patrons' bank 
 account runs out. Oh, the brains of these French 
 cooks, and the use they make of them to benefit 
 mankind ! What a thing to breakfast or dine off 
 plenty, to feel as if one had eaten nothing, and yet 
 to leave the table satisfied ! That is perhaps one of 
 the secrets of success in life. 
 
 The dejeuner was not hurried through s and only 
 the Countess seemed unable to do justice to her cor- 
 don bleu. She was " not a bit hungry, " she said, and one 
 could readily believe her. Such trifling with toast, 
 such complete indifference toward the choicest dishes, 
 and such a flagrant lack of appetite, almost put a 
 damper upon the others. Beaufort, of course, could 
 not eat for looking at Miss Leslie ; and Brandon felt
 
 1/2 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 himself almost obliged to follow the example of the 
 Countess. But Count Leon did ample justice to 
 the repast. He excused himself by saying that, as 
 Isaure ate nothing, he was obliged to perform the 
 double duty of cup-taster and host, otherwise their 
 guests might suspect a concealed poison in the vi- 
 ands. 
 
 Beaufort assured the Count that he was not yet 
 quite certain that there had been no designs upon 
 them. 
 
 "A propos" he said, "what is the surprise and 
 where is it ? " 
 
 " Ungrateful one ! " said his host, " It is beside 
 you. You are beside yourself, as well as beside it. 
 Who other could it be than Mademoiselle Leslie ? 
 Das Mddchen, meine liebe freunde, etc., etc." Beau- 
 fort breathed anew : 
 
 " I feared," said he, " that the concealed bitter 
 would be some prodigy in the musical line. Heaven 
 be praised ! my fears were groundless. Not but 
 what any one I had the honor to meet at your house 
 it would give me pleasure to see ; but since my last 
 morning to meet a surprise, I have been in mortal 
 terror lest I may again encounter a duenna with her 
 musical prodigy." 
 
 "Yes, yes!" laughed Vandalin, "I know them." 
 And then, mimicking to perfection, he commenced : 
 " ' She could sing,' says the duenna, ' before she 
 could talk. At three years of age she surprised a 
 nightingale in her bedroom, come to ' " 
 
 " For shame, Leon ! " said his wife, " how can you 
 be so shocking ? "
 
 Marked "In Haste" 173 
 
 " I protest," he says stoutly, " and will finish my 
 description. 'At eight, she was put upon a table to 
 sing for royalty. She was decorated by the Lord 
 High Chamberlain of the palace with the order of 
 the garter. Commencing young, you see.' " 
 
 " Leon ! Leon ! " interrupts madam. 
 
 " I will be heard," he said, and continued : " ' Of 
 the garter. At twelve she is called ' the baby prodigy,' 
 at fourteen she has lost her voice. A world waits 
 two years until it returns. She appears again. In 
 the meantime, you understand,' severely, ' that / 
 have been obliged to watch over her, sleeping and 
 waking. Her decorations are in a bonded warehouse, 
 but her reputation is safe. 
 
 " ' At sixteen,' she continues, ' we started out on a 
 tour of the world. I cannot tell you the triumphs 
 that are showered upon us ; nor will you ever ap- 
 preciate the modesty of that child. She scorns 
 applause and attention, and I am obliged, just for ap- 
 pearance's sake, to accept only that which is de rigueur 
 from the highest and richest in the land, and to keep 
 off the others with a red-hot branding iron. 
 
 " ' In England, she sang before the Queen. Her 
 ten-pound note (do not think it a trifle, I beg; 
 Neither Rubenstein, Grisi, Mario, or Patti ever got 
 any more) and a locket with the effigy of music 
 stamped on a star with the Prince Consort, are 
 brilliant and ovenvhelming tributes to her genius 
 and beauty. At the Crystal Palace, the crowds were 
 so great to hear (not on a shilling day) that four 
 ladies fainted, and the police refused any more ad- 
 missions. The Electric Light Photographers' Union
 
 174 Marked "In Haste," 
 
 sent their special artists to catch the varied emotions 
 of her features while singing, and if you care (I do 
 not always do this) to have it ' " 
 
 " ' Oh, madame ! ' I murmur, ' I have not lived until 
 to-day ! ' 
 
 " ' Thanks, so many ! ' she continues, ' I will send 
 it to you. No stay, I think, yes, I am quite sure I 
 have one in my pocket. It was intended ' mys- 
 teriously ' for a private cut in La Vie Parisienne, 
 but you shall have it. Only ' with a giddy, gur- 
 gling giggle 'don't tell any one that I have put you 
 above all the others. Aurelian (or Cornelian, or 
 whatever her name may be) would be so disconcerted. 
 As to ' " 
 
 " Leon, I insist," said his wife, "that you stop 
 traducing prodigies and their duennas. How can 
 you go on so ? " Everybody was shrieking with 
 laughter. 
 
 " No," said Beaufort, " I insist on his going on. 
 It's too jolly, you know, and how inimitably he takes 
 them off." 
 
 The Countess was inexorable. " No, non, and no ; " 
 they would go to the library for black coffee, and, 
 suiting the action to the word, the salle a manger was 
 abandoned.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MAN AND WOMAN. 
 
 ON their way the Countess stopped in the pretty 
 salon. 
 
 " See," she said, " I have a new photograph is it 
 not charming ? and, yes, I believe I have another that 
 you have not seen." 
 
 " And yes," said Count Leon, " that is the way 
 with all women. Why don't you speak out at once. 
 There are fifty new ones that she is dying to show 
 you," turning to Miss Leslie, " and I feel that there 
 are at least ten new albums that she must see. Now 
 that we are on the subject," continued the irrepres- 
 sible Leon, " I may as well tell you that Isaure likes 
 to have a collection of photographs a small se- 
 lect collection of at least five hundred professional 
 beauties and artists, besides minute reflections of 
 her friends' faces. An enemy's face, even, is not 
 despised, provided he present a smiling one to her. 
 These are Vienna albums, and here are the Mora 
 Manias." s 
 
 Count Leon evidently appreciated his wife's love 
 of photographs. Athol Brandon confessed to the 
 same weakness, and Lord Beaufort came to the
 
 176 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 ladies' aid. He also adored them, and announced 
 his collection as a very choice one. Brandon re- 
 marked : 
 
 " Yes, choice, but not varied, as they are all beau- 
 ties ; a dozen pictures of one person with their differ- 
 ent poses, a dozen of another with equally striking 
 attitudes, half a dozen Beaufort protests : 
 
 " You are traducing me," said Beaufort, " but I 
 confess that some of the prettiest are repeated two 
 or three times, and never, no, never have I ever ex- 
 ceeded that triniadial number." 
 
 " It reminds me," said Miss Leslie, laughing, " of 
 our shocking game of poker. Three of a kind is not 
 at all a bad hand, but I suppose one ought not to ob- 
 ject to four, if one can get them." 
 
 " In your case," said Beaufort, " it would be im- 
 possible. You are the only one of the kind I ever 
 saw ; but believe me, you will always play a winning 
 game, no matter what the opposition hand." 
 
 She looked at him : " Do you think me, then, so 
 clever ? " with a half laugh. 
 
 " Both clever and lucky," he responded, " but bet- 
 ter than all that, beauty- 
 
 She stopped him. " Is it then so much to be beau- 
 tiful, my Lord?" 
 
 " Yes, it is the first law of nature ; then, if one be 
 lucky " 
 
 " Do not say that," she interrupted, " I am any- 
 thing but that." 
 
 "You are lucky at the outset," he answered, "in 
 having so perfect an exterior that one should never 
 care to go beyond it"
 
 Marked "/ Haste" 177 
 
 "Then," said she, half ironically, "you care only 
 for external beauty." 
 
 " I am not saying," he answered, sharply, " what / 
 care for ; I am only speaking in a general sense ; 
 but if you should wish to know, yes, I acknowledge 
 it, I should hate a woman to be a blue-stocking, and 
 professional wits of your sex I hold in abhorrence. 
 It may be a dreadful thing to say, but I should never 
 ask too much of any woman. If she only look hand- 
 some I will forgive her a multitude of sins, as I sup- 
 pose " desperately " one would have to. Then, 
 too, I have made up my mind never to be attracted 
 toward any one for her moral or mental worth only, 
 I think one should be satisfied with physical beauty 
 and a reasonable amount of the other qualities. Were 
 one to love combined mental, physical, and moral 
 loveliness, the loss of it in after life Vould be too ter- 
 rible. 
 
 " Such a shock none but the strongest can over- 
 come, and I am anything but strong. Why shock 
 myself unnecessarily ? But," laughing shortly, " I 
 presume there is little danger of one ever coming 
 in contact with such a rara avis. It is a terrible thing 
 to love any one for her intelligence, one gets deeper 
 in as the years go on. Personal beauty may fade, 
 but rarely does the beauty of the mind grow less 
 with advancing years ; whereas one may adore at 
 the shrine of beaute personnelle, and undoubtedly, with 
 the flight of time, if outward charm has become less, 
 association will have begotten some honest feeling, 
 and habit, which they say is stronger than love, will 
 already have secured its sinecure in personal affec- 
 8*
 
 1/8 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 tion. I am afraid," speaking a little uneasily, "that 
 you find my views rather ultra. I once insisted that 
 the object of my passion should possess every de- 
 sirable mental, physical, and moral attribute. I now 
 withdraw so much pretention. Provided I could be 
 happy with a beautiful woman, did I but love her 
 wholly, devotedly, and madly, what more should I 
 ask ? " 
 
 "I am not surprised," she responded, slowly, "at 
 any sentiment a man of the world would utter, 
 but am primitive enough to have imagined that 
 love exacted much more from the object of its ado- 
 ration. I see, that women only take love au sfrieux ; 
 woman only has the hardiesse to look for mental and 
 moral worth in the object of her affection ; to like a 
 few personal charms, perhaps, but never to stake 
 her all upon them." 
 
 " You are right also," he answered, hastily, " but 
 the cases are not at all parallel. Men are rarely 
 beautiful in person ; and those qualities that are ab- 
 solutely necessary to our sex are those which show 
 least, because we are men, and they are expected of 
 us. Man being the natural protector of woman, 
 was born with a certain mental, moral, and physical 
 strength, of which no account must be taken, as 
 merely the accident of birth does not redound to 
 his merit. Men must be honest, as they are the bul- 
 warks of the world. They must have intellect, to 
 appreciate and direct the great heritage of responsi- 
 bility thrust upon them ; and they should be moral 
 enough to live with law, and without license." 
 
 " I am glad," she said, " that you think so much
 
 Marked "In Haste." 179 
 
 of yourselves. You have every reason. Even the 
 most despised, since nature cannot choose its origin, 
 the accident of birth has undoubtedly thus far been 
 in favor of the male portion of humanity." 
 
 " I half divine," said he, with a questioning accent, 
 " that you do not believe all you have said, and that 
 beyond your expressed ideal lurk other ideas and 
 other convictions." 
 
 She looked up and said : " Dear my lord, what I 
 said, undoubtedly I hoped to be the case. If you 
 must know my real opinion, I shall give it. I warn 
 you beforehand, do not be shocked. I think; with 
 yourself," looking steadily at him, "that personal 
 beauty covers a multitude of sins. Woman should be 
 forgiven for everything. You have striven to show 
 me that nature has favored your sex in the great- 
 est of all things, that which no earthly power can 
 bestow. I will now tell you that with woman it is 
 the reverse. Being made of one of Adam's worth- 
 less ribs, her origin must necessarily have been defec- 
 tive. Woman comes into the world so handicapped 
 with original sin that, in after life, whatever she 
 does should not be of moment. Her very vices be- 
 come virtues when compared with the legacy of mis- 
 ery and meanness generously bestowed upon her by 
 mother nature at the outset. I unhesitatingly for- 
 give the frailty of my sex, for in that lies their 
 strength. Women are, and from the first, what 
 what men make them." 
 
 "So," thought the Earl to himself," she does not 
 hesitate to acknowledge her guilt. Oh, the shame 
 of loving so much shamelessness." Aloud, he said :
 
 i8o Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " Your sentiments savor of honesty, and like your- 
 self, nothing that a woman of the world could say 
 would surprise me. You have evidently thought 
 deeply upon the subject to speak so positively." 
 
 "On the contrary, I haven't thought about it at 
 all. The conviction came to me one day, and, hav- 
 ing no opinion, I thought I might as well welcome 
 the new comer. Then, too," with sincerity, " I I 
 believe what I say." 
 
 He added : " I believe that you believe what you 
 say, and as I adore frankness, you must permit me 
 to adore you. You have certainly been frank." 
 
 When this conversation commenced, they were 
 near a small etagere loaded down with counterfeits 
 of the fair sex. Countess Isaure, having so many 
 other pictures to show in every part of the room, 
 had disappeared long before Miss Leslie and the 
 Earl had gotten into the depths of their confab. 
 They found themselves quite alone, while from the 
 inner room, a library, came the sounds of lively 
 voices. She started to go toward "the direction 
 whence the voices came. 
 
 He stopped her : " You have not made me any an- 
 swer yet," he said. 
 
 "You may adore my frankness if you like," she 
 replied, "but not me. Any one may be frank, so 
 there will be no special obligation on my part in 
 permitting what one cannot help ; and the tribute 
 you would pay any other woman it would be wrong 
 to withhold from me, did I also possess the quality 
 that commands it." 
 
 " I cannot cope with your reasoning," he laugh-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 181 
 
 ingly answered, "but I understand one thing: that 
 one may like any quality you may possess, but you 
 yourself are not to be adored. Am I right ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," she replied ; " how well we understand 
 each other." 
 
 " But," he hazards, " suppose I am interested in 
 you, what then ? " 
 
 " It is a supposition," she retorted. 
 
 "No, a fact." 
 
 " Then, my lord, I have nothing to say. Facts are 
 indisputable, and, as I never confine myself to facts, 
 I cannot dispute them." 
 
 " You are incorrigible," he answered ; " but we are 
 just where we were ; that is to say, /am just where 
 I was." 
 
 " Let us hope," she said, " that your stability may 
 also be as fixed, and that years hence you will be 
 just where you are now." 
 
 " Is that your wish ? " he said, curtly. 
 
 " My wish ? " innocently, " those were my words ; 
 you you know you adore frankness, I surely was 
 not too plain ? " . 
 
 "You were not plain," he said, "but positively 
 ugly. I did not know beauty could so transform it- 
 self. I " 
 
 " My dear friends," and Countess Isaure put her 
 head through the library door, "why do you not 
 come ? Coffee is waiting, and almost cold. Besides, 
 I have other photographs to show you." 
 
 "We are coming, dear," said Miss Leslie, and they 
 went immediately to the library. 
 
 Count Leon was showing Brandon some bric-a-
 
 1 82 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 brae, some letters of the little Prince Imperial (he 
 was an ardent Bonapartist), and some magnificently 
 carved frames which held fine portraits of the Im- 
 perial family. The library, like every other room in 
 the house, was homelike and charming. A portrait 
 of the Count attracted much attention. Mademoiselle 
 Leslie asked who made it, and Lord Beaufort an- 
 swered ; " I know from looking at it that it was done 
 by the Count Andre, Leon's father, who is one of the 
 most remarkable portraitists of the day." 
 
 Then ensued a discussion on artists and the differ- 
 ence in the various painters at that time celebrated 
 in Paris." 
 
 In an old-fashioned street in the Quartier Pare 
 Monceau, stands a superb private house, surrounded 
 by a garden, rare to find in the heart of a great city. 
 A high wall encloses the grounds, and in the centre 
 a magnificent arch, with a coronet cut in stone, indi- 
 cates the dwelling of persons of distinction. The 
 house is a grand model of Italian renaissance archi- 
 tecture, the massive squares of stone forming a 
 structure of simple yet solid beauty. Tall trees are 
 in the garden, and in summer time the hedges and 
 walks are rich with flowering vines and verdure. 
 Ivy grows about the ancient boughs, birds build 
 their nests and sing all day in the summer sunshine. 
 The sound of falling water is heard from the Gothic 
 fountain, and strange faces laugh at the leaping 
 waters from out masks of maid or monster. At the 
 end is another alloggia, which is the studio. Within 
 courtiers in broidered, bejewelled robes of state, 
 smile down from the canvas. Those who rejoiced
 
 Marked "In Haste." 183 
 
 in the world and its good things, live in life-like atti- 
 tudes when their eyes have been closed by the great 
 narcotic, Death. The frame that holds the pictures 
 closes, and in the panels are heaped piles of goodly 
 things. Luscious grapes, ripe oranges, the fruit of 
 the kitchen garden, and the more substantial viands, 
 lie heavily on a groaning table. We understand the 
 portrait's well-being and his regret at leaving that 
 which he loved best in life. A curious picture is a 
 Hollander who married four wives. He forms the 
 centre of the group, and in the four corners are. the 
 chosen ones. The last, who outlived him, has her 
 beautiful eyes dimmed with tears. They are so real 
 that the canvas is wet. Leaving the treasures of the 
 studio, one visits the house. Here in one room are 
 some rare Japanese vases bought at Milan, part of the 
 wonderful set whose fame is world-wide. They are 
 marvellous, magnificent, and Count Andre, who is, 
 besides being a wonderful painter, one of the great- 
 est collectioners of the day, knew how to appre- 
 ciate them. The salle-a-manger contains the greatest 
 number of Franz Hals owned by any private indi- 
 vidual. They look at one from their stately panels 
 with most inquisitive and life-like eyes. Some have 
 hats, some are without ; some have ruffs, and others 
 are> a mass of dark color against a still more sombre 
 background. Oh, the wondrous art of painting ! Oh, 
 this living with the dead who are yet alive ; this be- 
 ing in a peopled room where everything demised stirs 
 with life as much as does one's self ! 
 
 Fancy what a time they have when the world 
 sleeps and their counterfeit, man, has drained the last
 
 1 84 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 health at the feast ? I can imagine how they stir in 
 their frames, how one nods to the other, how they 
 talk over the events of the day, and how finally they 
 all descend from their panels living, breathing crea- 
 tures, and together join in the measured minuet. 
 The table is spread anew. Hebe fills each glass 
 with her incomparable nectar, flowers bloom in the 
 faded tapestry, children gambol on the velvet sward, 
 and the revel begins. Stately dames and gartered 
 knights hold courtly converse ; youths tell to maid- 
 ens the old story ; heads silvered by time nod to 
 other heads whose ebon hue already borrows the 
 snow from the mountain of eternity. The b'anquet- 
 ting hall is filled with these revived creatures of the 
 past, and the night wears on. No mystic hand ap- 
 pears on the disembowelled wall, no Mede or Persian 
 comes with retributive fires to blast so much hap- 
 piness. The knights and dames dance their last 
 dance. The jewels of their stomachers fade into a 
 dim light. The bright eyes wear the shimmer of a 
 distant lake, the stiff ruffs soften down to their old 
 softness, the astral burns a quenched fire, there is a 
 hurrying scurrying sound, and into each panel slips 
 the hero of many a midnight revel. Morning comes 
 and sees them all smiling down from the canvas. 
 The immobile mouths tell no tale of the night, the 
 hypocritical eyes look one in the face with the most 
 innocent of regards, the classical heads are immova- 
 ble upon their shoulders, and all knowledge of the 
 past night's revelry is politely ignored. 
 
 And this in the house of Count and Countess Andre, 
 one of the most remarkable of modern times.
 
 Marked "In Haste." 185 
 
 Lord Beaufort, who had often visited them, told 
 Miss Leslie of their charming home. Count Leon 
 tried in vain to check the Earl's enthusiasm, but it 
 finished by Mademoiselle earnestly requesting Isaure 
 to take her to the house. She promised, of course, 
 although modestly disclaiming that it differed vastly 
 from any other. They had their coffee, the gentle- 
 men smoked while the Countess withdrew a moment 
 in answer to a call. Brandon went deep into an ex- 
 amination of some very ancient arms that Count 
 Vandalin had ; there were many swords of mar- 
 vellous lames, and hilts whose jewels would not have 
 shamed a fine lady's eyes. There werfe complete sets 
 of armor, masks, and the usual paraphernalia of 
 poignards, sabres, stilettos, pistols, etc., etc. The 
 Count was reasonably proud of his collection, and 
 principally as they were all weapons that had been 
 handed down from father to son for centuries, and 
 bore the stains of real antiquity. 
 
 While they were away looking at them, Beaufort 
 and Miss Leslie found themselves alone. He spoke: 
 
 " Why did you not see me the other day when I 
 called ? You were at home." 
 
 "Yes," she said, hesitatingly, "but but I was par- 
 ticularly engaged." 
 
 He bit his lip. " And if I call again, would I be 
 more fortunate ? " 
 
 "That depends," she said, "upon -when you call." 
 
 " May I come to-morrow ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " May I come to-morrow evening? " 
 
 " No," she said again.
 
 1 86 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 r "May I come the next day?" 
 
 She thought and answered, " No." 
 
 He looks at her with the most unmoved calm, and 
 said: 
 
 " May I come the next day? " 
 
 " You are so persistent," she said, with a laugh, " I 
 suppose that I must say yes, and I will make a posi- 
 tive engagement for Monday. You must come to 
 tea, and fetch Mr. Brandon. Do you know," look- 
 ing at him suddenly, " that I like your cousin very 
 much ? " 
 
 " Yes," he responded, carelessly, " he's not at all a 
 bad sort. I am glad you like him, but," with half- 
 awakened jealous}-, " I hope you do not prefer him 
 to me ? " 
 
 " What would you think were I to say yes ? " she 
 answered, without looking up. 
 
 " I should say," he replied, with ill-concealed 
 emotion, " that that it cannot be possible. You are 
 jesting. You are saying this to try me." 
 
 " What is there impossible in one's preferringyour 
 kinsman to you ? " she demanded, calmly. 
 
 He seemed ashamed of his outbreak, and answered, 
 humbly : 
 
 "You are right. There is nothing impossible in 
 it; on the contrary, any one must prefer him. Dear, 
 serious old Athol ; but I don't mind what any one 
 thinks but you. In fact, the* whole world might 
 worship him for aught I care ; but I could not en- 
 dure your preferring him to me. I hope, I do 
 hope," anxiously, "that you don't speak in earnest." 
 
 She hesitated, but answered:
 
 Marked "In Haste" 187 
 
 " I I am not quite sure." 
 
 " This is ridiculous ! " he said, angrily ; " but you 
 must be jesting. I refuse to believe what you say. 
 In fact, I refuse to give credence to anything. You 
 said some dreadful things an hour ago about women, 
 but I know you don't believe them yourself. Why 
 do you wish to try me ? Why do you wish to place 
 yourself in a false light in my eyes ? Why " 
 
 She looked up haughtily. 
 
 " I presume, my lord, that I am at liberty to say, 
 do, and like what and whom I choose. I may jest 
 at times, but I certainly mean and have meant all 
 that I have said to-day." 
 
 "Then," he said, rising, "you prefer anyone to 
 me ?" 
 
 " I did not say so." 
 
 "Well, you acknowledge that you said you pre- 
 ferred my cousin ? " 
 
 " I," as she raised her eyes, " I acknowledge that 
 I said nothing of the sort. I remember that I did 
 say that I was not sure." 
 
 He brightened. 
 
 " Forgive me," he pleaded. " I am an idiot, but I 
 feared you might be telling the truth." 
 
 She tried to open her lips, he stopped her : " No, 
 say nothing ! give me the benefit of the doubt. I 
 may fear anything, but until I know to the con- 
 trary I may hope that you like me- at least as well 
 as another." 
 
 Brandon came into the room, followed by the 
 Count. " I should think one would have to use un- 
 common caution," he said, still talking of the arms.
 
 1 88 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " I should not care to scratch myself with that vi- 
 cious little tooth-pick." 
 
 " Rather not," said the Count, following at his 
 heels. " There's enough poison in the blade to dis- 
 pose of a whole family." 
 
 Madame Vandalin came into the room. " Mille par- 
 dons!" she said, "but my dressmaker had just sent 
 me a second corsage to my lemon brocade. I had 
 to try it on. You know one is really at the mercy 
 of Paris couturiers, and one has to try a thing when 
 one can get it. Then, too, I am presste for this dress. 
 I w i s h " 
 
 "She wants," said the Count, with delightful can- 
 dor, "to sit for her photograph to-morrow, if the 
 day be but favorable. Am I not right, dear wife ? " 
 
 " How can you be so silly ? " she answered. " Why 
 did you not let me explain myself ? I really want it 
 for some imperials that you have been at me six 
 months to get taken ; but if you are going to laugh 
 so about it, why, I shall refuse to sit." He apolo- 
 gized. He begged her to reconsider. 
 
 " To show you that I am only jesting, I shall pose 
 with you myself." 
 
 This restored harmony. I had forgotten to men- 
 tion that the Count had an equal fondness with his 
 wife for the camera's productions, and there were at 
 least ten excellent likenesses of himself on different 
 tables and etageres about the room. 
 
 It was still raining, but Mademoiselle's carriage 
 was waiting. She embraced her dearest Isaure most 
 tenderly, and said adieu to the Prince de la Mollasse, 
 who frankly dubbed her "My Flirt." As she
 
 Marked "In Haste" 189 
 
 reached the outer door, the Countess called her 
 back. 
 
 " When shall I see you ? " she asked. 
 
 " Bientot" Mademoiselle responded. 
 
 " I will come a moment on Monday," said Isaure, 
 " and apropos, do not forget to give me the new pho- 
 tograph of yourself that was promised last week." 
 
 Miss Leslie was quite out of the door when Isaure's 
 pretty dark head peeped over the bannisters. " Don't 
 forget, dear," with an earnest voice, " that I want a 
 decolletee posture, also one where I can see the eyes. 
 A bientot sans adieu"
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TEA WITH MRS. ADRIAN. 
 
 " So pleased to see you," said Ethel, holding out 
 her hand, " and Mr. Brandon, too. I feared, my 
 lord, that you had forgotten my invitation. You ar-e 
 late, and very fashionable, and have just missed the 
 great American artist, Mr. Healy, and his charming 
 daughter." 
 
 Beaufort was charmed to be obliged to apologize. 
 It showed that she had thought of him, if she noticed 
 that he was late. 
 
 " We have been to the Grand Hotel," he said, " to 
 see a billiard match between two capital players. 
 I knew time was flying, but could not tear Mr. 
 Brandon away. He is very ungallant." 
 
 " No, indeed," interrupted Brandon, " not at all. 
 I was merely so absorbed in the game that I could 
 not realize how late it really was. I now ask Mad- 
 emoiselle's pardon. Surely we are in the way. Let 
 us say a little ' how do you do,' and leave at once." 
 
 " I cannot admit the possibility of such a thing," 
 she said, gaily. " You take me at my word too 
 quickly. It is not late to come-; it is just the hour, 
 in fact. I am expecting some other friends, also.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 191 
 
 It seemed late, not because I expected you, but be- 
 cause I was hoping that you would come earlier." 
 
 Brandon bowed. What a flirt this woman was ! 
 Or had she been addressing her words to the Earl ? 
 Beaufort took them to himself, at any rate, for his 
 face showed the greatest surprise and pleasure. He 
 went up to her quickly, while Brandon turned to 
 meet Mrs. Adrian, who was coming forward from 
 the boudoir. 
 
 The Earl spoke. " Do you really mean that you 
 were waiting for me ? Are you glad that I have 
 come ? It seems a year since our breakfast at the 
 Count's, a whole year. I have been thinking about 
 you ever since, and yesterday I thought that I saw 
 you." 
 
 She started and looked him in the face anxiously. 
 " You thought you saw me? " she stammered. " When, 
 at what hour, and and where ? " 
 
 He saw the mistake he had made, but answered 
 with perfect nonchalance, wishing to reassure her 
 without seeming to have noticed her emotion : " I 
 saw you," he replied, "-going in the direction of the 
 Bois. You were very swell driving with your aunt. 
 You were lying back in the carriage without appar- 
 ently seeing anything or anybody. It was about 
 three o'clock. I tried hard to make you notice me, 
 and half feared that you intended the cut direct. 
 Was it so ? " 
 
 She was so much relieved at what he had told her 
 that her face unconsciously assumed a friendly ex- 
 pression. She answered him with warmth. " How 
 would it be possible for me to cut you when "
 
 192 Marked "fa Haste" 
 
 " When what ? " he interrupted. 
 
 " When I had met you at a friend's house," she 
 replied, guardedly. 
 
 " Is that what you were going to say at first ?" he 
 asked, persistently. 
 
 " No, it is not exactly what I started out to re- 
 mark." 
 
 " May I beg you," he continued, earnestly, " to say 
 exactly what you at first intended ? " 
 
 " Do you insist ? " nervously. 
 
 " I insist." 
 
 "Then, if you insist, I suppose I must say it, 
 although it is not worth making such a fuss about. 
 I was going to say, ' how could I cut you when 
 when I like you ? ' There ! it's out now ; are you 
 satisfied ? " 
 
 He gave her an eloquent look of thanks. Then 
 he spoke : " Could I believe what you say, I would 
 be a happy man. Is it, can it be true ? " 
 
 She looked surprised, but answered : " Yes, it is 
 true. Why should one not like you ? You are 
 amiable " (he bowed), " good looking " (he bowed 
 again), "and and you are an earl." He inter- 
 rupted, ironically : 
 
 " An earl ! ' oh, yes ! Then I am to be liked for 
 my title. Thanks ! thanks awfully, for reminding 
 me that I have some claim to being noticed by an 
 American ! " 
 
 " American ! ha ! ha ! " She laughed an exasper- 
 ating little cadence. "Not only Americans, but 
 every nation adores titles. Is it possible you can 
 treat lightly so great a blessing ? Think, only think,
 
 Marked "In Haste" 193 
 
 how much nicer it makes you in some people's 
 eyes. Think of how all the world runs after a ' my 
 lord ! ' " 
 
 " This is folly," he said. " Can you not be serious 
 a moment ? " 
 
 " Serious ? Pray, and am I not serious ? Why 
 should I be different from all others ? What the 
 whole world does is unquestionably right. I am not 
 here to reform society." 
 
 " I do not believe," he said, looking at her stead- 
 ily, that you care what any one does in the world, or 
 that you care for what the world calls society. I 
 believe you are different from any other woman, and 
 that you would like any one just as well whether he 
 had a title or not. Will you be serious, and answer 
 me this one question ? " 
 
 " I am so ! Yes, you are right. It would never 
 make any difference to me whether the person I 
 loved had a title or not, as I believe in greater no- 
 bility than that of the accident of birth." 
 
 He looked at her admiringly, and said : 
 
 "The sentiment does you honor, if it be sincere." 
 
 "I am sincere, my lord, in all things, believe me." 
 
 "In all?" 
 
 " In all." 
 
 " Well, if you be so sincere, confess that you know 
 the deep impression you have made upon me." 
 
 She hesitated, but looking at him with frank eyes, 
 responded : 
 
 "In truth, you go too far. I do not know that I 
 have made an impression upon you, and the subject 
 has been far from my thoughts." 
 9
 
 194 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " Do you believe it, or not ? Would you mind 
 speaking the truth ? I came " 
 
 " You came to tea. Will you have some ? " 
 
 " Yes, when you have answered me. Do you be- 
 lieve it, or not ? " 
 
 " To please you, yes. I believe that I have made 
 some impression on you. Most women would ; why 
 not I ? Besides, I am thirsty. I am dying for some 
 tea. Come ! " 
 
 " I do not care for it," he said, bluntly, " I care for 
 but one thing in this world ! Do you know " (des- 
 perately) " that I have fallen in love with you ?" 
 
 She looked up, affrightedly. " Pray, my lord, do 
 not say so. How is it possible ? You know me so 
 little ! " 
 
 " So little," he echoed, bitterly ; " I do not know 
 you at all, but I cannot help telling you that " 
 
 " I must not listen," she said, with dignity ; " you 
 take me by surprise, and I do not believe what you 
 say. Englishmen are great flirts, and American wo- 
 men usually understand the art in no small degree 
 of perfection. I take it for granted that you are 
 flirting ; but I must request you to spare me if I do 
 not reciprocate. Let us be friends if you will, but 
 do not waste any sentiment upon me. I I am 
 not worthy of it. I do not care for it. My mind 
 is filled with many things ; one of them is not love." 
 
 "Why," said he, looking her straight in the face, 
 " do you say you are not worthy ? " 
 
 " Why do I say I am not worthy ? " she echoed, 
 in amazement. " Why, I said it because because I 
 forgot myself. On the contrary, I do not know of
 
 Marked "In Haste" 195 
 
 any gentleman who is worth my little finger." Des- 
 perately, " Do not let us quarrel. Shall we have 
 some tea ? " 
 
 " You are a clever woman," he said, slowly. " As 
 cruel as beautiful, and as strange as cruel." Abrupt- 
 ly, " Do you dislike me ? " 
 
 She held out her hand to him unconsciously. "No, 
 no," she murmured, " far from it." 
 
 " Then," he said, "you like me. Do you like me a 
 little ?" She colored, and murmured softly, "Yes, 
 perhaps." 
 
 Her words brought him to himself. What was he 
 doing ? What saying? He knew nothing, and cared 
 less. He only realized how madly he loved her. 
 He was on the point of declaring this when she spoke 
 calmly, coolly. 
 
 " But I like you quite enough to take you on trial 
 as a friend. I am very capricious, however, and may 
 change my mind at any moment. Does such an idea 
 please you ?" 
 
 " Yes," he said, quickly, " I am content with what- 
 ever you fancy. Do with me what you will." 
 
 Mrs. Adrian came toward them. 
 
 " It is disgraceful," she said to Ethel, " your keep- 
 ing Lord Beaufort so long without tea. Come to 
 the boudoir, it is much more cheerful than here. 
 Mr. Brandon is already there, and we are waiting." 
 
 Beaufort went with her to the room where he had 
 first seen Miss Leslie. There was the little table, or 
 writing-desk in a corner, some dainty flowers bloom- 
 ed in a vase on the e'tagere, the rich furniture was un- 
 changed, and the tapestry that made a curtain to the
 
 196 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 door, fell in graceful folds when they had passed 
 through it. His heart stood still. How vividly he 
 recalled everything that had passed that eventful 
 thirty-first of October ! even the slightest thing that 
 had occurred since was as indelibly stamped upon 
 his memory. 
 
 Ethel saw a paper on her desk and hastily went 
 up to it. She seated herself a moment instinctive- 
 ly, and when she did so, the Earl realized all that 
 was between them. He went toward her quickly. 
 
 " Do not sit there," he said. 
 
 " Why ?" she asked, with simplicity. 
 
 " Because because," he stammered, " it makes 
 you too far away from me." She little dreamed the 
 real intent of his words. 
 
 " How capricious you are, "she said, pleasantly. " I 
 only went to see if there was an unopened letter, but 
 I see there is none. Let us draw near the tea-table. 
 I think I am an angel of good temper to go without 
 so long, and all to please you." 
 
 Mrs. Adrian had the little cups all ready. Athol 
 Brandon came forward to hand one to Miss Leslie. 
 She took it, and remarked that she was quite Eng- 
 lish in her liking for tea. 
 
 " It is an agreeable hour of our lives," she said, 
 "when five o'clock comes, or after dinner, when 
 aunt and I sit alone in the library. We drink quarts 
 of our favorite beverage. I build castles in the air, 
 and when it is finished, I look in the cup to tell my 
 fortune." 
 
 The Earl swallowed his in gulps. " Here, " said 
 he, distractedly, " look in mine and tell me what
 
 Marked "In Haste." 197 
 
 you see there ?" He handed her the empty cup. 
 Mrs. Adrian laughed and Brandon was all interest. 
 " I see," said Miss Leslie, " disappointment, a long 
 road, wealth and bitterness, and in the end " 
 
 " What in the end ?" he asked, eagerly. 
 
 "In the end," she repeated, "after a long time, 
 comes the dearest wish of your heart, with triumph 
 complete." He looked delighted, then asked, du- 
 biously : " Will it be very long ?" 
 
 "Very long," she answered, "very long, and you 
 cross deep water; but keep good courage, your fi- 
 nal days are filled with joy, and everything is charm- 
 ing; only do not lose patience." 
 
 Brandon said: " How can he thank you enough 
 for so lively a fortune ? You speak with such con- 
 viction, that one might think you a prophet. I shall 
 not trouble you to tell mine, as I am not a believer 
 in that sort of thing." 
 
 She laughed : " You might have spared refusing 
 before I offered to tell it; I could not have predicted 
 anything to an unbeliever. In most things that one 
 hopes will come to pass, faith is the first requisite to 
 insure success. Of course, if Lord Beaufort does not 
 believe implicitly all that I have told him, why, ac- 
 cording to the orthodox soothsayer, it will never 
 come to pass." 
 
 " I believe in you," he said, lightly, "and in every- 
 thing that you say. The thing that distresses me, 
 however, is waiting so long for my final triumph, 
 and and the realization of the dearest wish of my 
 heart. Look again, please ; can one not hurry one's 
 fate ?"
 
 198 Marked "Tn Haste." 
 
 She shook her- head wisely and replied : " I dare 
 not look again. One can hurry one's fate, but it 
 brings needless misfortune. I am a fatalist, and 
 believe 'what is to be will be.' Be content with 
 your fortune. It is brighter than mine." 
 
 At that moment visitors were announced. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Squires came in, with Dr. and Mrs. Carlisle, and 
 before they were fairly seated, Countess Vandalin 
 made her appearance. She brought sunshine with her, 
 as usual. Her lovely dark eyes glanced around and 
 fell upon Beaufort and Brandon with a questioning 
 look. "And Leon," she said, "have you seen him?" 
 
 "Yes," said the Earl, "he dropped into the Grand 
 Hotel just as we left. I suppose the brilliant match 
 was the attraction. Is he coming here to-day ? " 
 Just then the bell rang. 
 
 "Talk of an angel," said Mrs. Adrian, "and it 
 appears ! " 
 
 Count Vandalin came forward. He greeted the 
 ladies with his usual heartiness, but turned to Miss 
 Leslie with these words, " Good-day, my dear flirt ! 
 I have come on purpose to say a petit bonjour, and 
 drink some tea." Then he saluted Beaufort and 
 Brandon, and was presented by Miss Leslie to her 
 dear friends the Doctor and wife and the Squires. 
 
 Tea was served directly. Some fruit cake that 
 had been made in America took the place of the airy 
 nothings called plaisirs, desirs, and gateau souffle that 
 accompanies tea in Paris. 
 
 " Apropos" said the Count, " how are you all since 
 last we met ? What a terrible day last Friday was ! 
 and and, please give me some more cake."
 
 Marked "In Haste." 199 
 
 " Leon," said the Countess, "you will die of indi- 
 gestion ! " 
 
 "What an ignoble death!" he said. "Never! 
 never! but I will have some cake just the same." 
 The cake was passed, Beaufort laughed and joined 
 the Count. " It reminds me of England," he said. 
 "We shall none of us dine to-night, but one may as 
 well anticipate dinner when there is such an excuse." 
 
 Mr. Squires was the only reasonable one. " The 
 only thing I ever anticipate is pleasure when I go to 
 the theatre to hear great artists, or when I come to 
 see Miss Leslie." 
 
 " I have something to propose for Wednesday," 
 said Mrs. Adrian. " Let us all breakfast in the 
 country, and go after to visit some neighboring 
 chateau." 
 
 " Capital ! " said Beaufort, and the Countess agreed 
 that it was the very thing. 
 
 " Let us go to see Ferrieres," said Brandon, " I 
 have heard so much of it." 
 
 It was decided to go there. The party was made 
 up for Wednesday, only the doctor and his wife, 
 having a previous engagement, could not come. 
 
 " I must go now," said the Countess. "We have 
 two soirees for to-night, and a dinner. What a busy 
 life." She sighed, but with pleasure. 
 
 The Earl could not go without a last word. " May 
 I come on Friday to see you, in the evening ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," quickly, " we go to the Opera to hear 
 Les Huguenots ; but you may come and see me 
 there." 
 
 " May I sit in your box all of the time ? I adore
 
 '200 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 that opera. I I should like to be near you to to 
 talk it over with you." How he was stammering. 
 
 She laughed. " You adore that opera ; you want 
 to talk it over with me ; you want to sit the whole 
 evening in my box. What am I to say ? Quelle " 
 
 "Say 'yes,'" he pleaded, "yes to everything I 
 ask 
 
 " Au revoir" gaily, extending her pretty hand to 
 be kissed. " We meet on Wednesday ; in the mean- 
 time, I will think it over."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BREAKFAST AT LAGNY. 
 
 " AND so," said Mrs. Adrian, " we are going to see 
 the famous chateau ? Of course we will have a fine 
 time, although it is late in the season to expect to 
 see grass growing by the hedges. I do hope the 
 gardens are not quite dismantled of all their summer 
 loveliness. I dote upon gardens, and upon gardens 
 that are quite green." 
 
 " The only green thing at Ferrieres is the garden, 
 depend upon it," said Blakeman ; " but the out-door 
 look is nothing, the chateau itself is so beautiful." 
 
 They were a very comfortable party ; the weather 
 was fine, and a special compartiment of the ligne du 
 Nord was taking them out of Paris. There were 
 Mrs. Adrian and Miss Leslie, Madame Hortensia, an 
 (7/^/new friend, the Countess, and Mrs. Squires. Then, 
 of gentlemen, the party was most prolific. There 
 were Lord Beaufort and Brandon, Mr. Gratiot and 
 Mr. Blakeman, Mr. Squires and Count Vandalin, with 
 Mr. Costanza, an old friend, who completed the party. 
 
 " Where are we now ? " said Mrs. Adrian. 
 
 "This, Madame," said the Count, leaning out of 
 the window, " is a small station called Creil." 
 
 " Is it important ? " she asked.
 
 202 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " Yes," he answered. 
 
 "In what way ? " 
 
 " It is near Paris. Jove, I thank thee ! " 
 
 " Don't mention it," said Mrs. Adrian, and silence 
 followed. 
 
 "I am inquisitive," said Miss Leslie ; "who can 
 tell me all about Ferrieres ? I am most anxious to 
 learn something." 
 
 " I am happy, Mademoiselle," said Mr. Blakeman, 
 " to be able to tell you much of the place. Will you 
 hear it now, or later ? " 
 
 " Now," said Miss Leslie ; and " now," " now," was 
 repeated by everybody. 
 
 He began : Chateau Ferrieres was bought from 
 the heirs of the Due d'Otrante, and was remodelled 
 by Baron James de Rothschild many years ago. It 
 is about two hours from Paris, and after we reach 
 Lagny-sur-Marne " 
 
 " What's that ? " interrupted Mrs. Squires. 
 
 " A small village, madame," interposed the speaker. 
 " Lagny is the village, and Marne is the muddy, but 
 very useful river upon which it is located. But to 
 proceed. The chateau " 
 
 "Whom does it belong to now ?" asked Ethel. 
 
 " To the Rothschilds," Mr. Gratiot answered. 
 
 " I do not know," said the artist, with dignity, 
 " but who is telling this story I commenced ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Adrian, "but don't tell anything 
 about it ; don't say another word. Let each one find 
 out for himself. Where do we breakfast ? " 
 
 "At Lagny," said Mr. Squires, promptly. " I have 
 an araire, should you wish to see it."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 203 
 
 "Thanks," responded Mrs. Adrian. "The only 
 good I ever found them was to light the fire with 
 when the darkies had had too much camp-meeting. 
 Tracts, almanacs, and railway time-tables are best 
 out of print. When do we get to Lagny ? " she re- 
 iterated. 
 
 " In ten minutes," said the Count ; "it is a charm- 
 ing place." 
 
 " I will get a photograph of it," said the Countess. 
 
 " Let us hope," said Ethel, " that when you will 
 see it in after life you will know what it represents. 
 
 My friend, Katie P , after travelling all over Italy, 
 
 Germany, and Austria, said she would show me the 
 souvenir pictures that she had bought of each place 
 that she liked. In looking over the collection, I re- 
 marked a lovely interior, with a view of gardens in 
 the back. It was familiar, and yet not familiar. 
 Where had I seen it ? Katie looked at the picture 
 and smiled triumphantly. ' Beautiful, isn't it ?' she 
 said. It particularly struck my eye. ' What house, 
 and where is it ? ' I asked. ' Oh,' glibly, ' I'll tell you 
 directly. This ahem,' a long look. ' This is, ah, 
 ahem ! ' another, a longer look. ' Of course, I am 
 coming to it directly, but the name, those barbarous 
 Italian names.' ' It is in Italy ? ' I hazard. ' I should 
 think so,' she answers, scornfully, ' but this place, 
 
 it doesn't slip my mind, but ' A joyous thought 
 
 takes possession of her. She looks at the bottom of 
 the photograph, she looks at its face ; she looks at it 
 reversed. Again she scans it, and an angry light 
 begins to glow in her eyes. She turns the picture. 
 Oh, horror ! Her feelings could no longer be con-
 
 2O4 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 trolled. ' There,' said she, ' look how I have been 
 swindled. These are all souvenirs, and that fool of 
 a photographer has forgotten to write the name of 
 the place on the back of the picture." 1 
 
 Everybody roared. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Blakeman, " that no one would 
 forget Lagny who had once seen it." 
 
 " No," she interrupted, " had they really seen it ; 
 but my young lady acquaintance had not seen any of 
 the places she had bought the photographs of. Like 
 most Americans making a summer trip, each time 
 the train stopped for coal or to take on water, she 
 bought a collection of the chief objects of interest 
 in the town, and declared that each photograph was 
 a personal souvenir. I once knew a lady that re- 
 turned to Paris after a trip. When asked if she had 
 seen Rome, she blushed, but answered courage- 
 ously, ' I might have seen it, but we passed it in the 
 night. I have since regretted our precipitation, but 
 I distinctly remember one of the seven hills.' " 
 
 " Hills ! " said the count, " what Hills are they ? 
 I knew a family 
 
 " Fie, Count," said Miss Leslie ; " you know I am 
 only telling you what somebody said about having 
 seen Rome." 
 
 " Not to interrupt," said Mrs. Adrian, " but is this 
 Lagny ? " They were approaching a village, as the 
 whistle that moment announced. Sure enough, it 
 was Lagny. They descended and made their way 
 from the station to a quaint little restaurant embow- 
 ered in trees, and adjoining the banks of the river. 
 There was some parley about its being good enough
 
 Marked "In Haste" 205 
 
 to furnish them much of a breakfast, but all decided 
 upon trusting to luck. 
 
 The proprietor himself came forward with a smil- 
 ing face, and the weighty question of what could be 
 given them to eat was soon broached. Mr. Squires 
 was spokesman. 
 
 He commenced. " I remember when I was in 
 Australia " 
 
 " What," said his wife, " has that got to do with 
 the subject ?" 
 
 " Well," he answered, " let me continue. When I 
 was in Australia, I saw just such a river as this " 
 
 The proprietor of the inn here interfered. " Mon- 
 sieur must be jesting. In all the world, there is 
 only one Marne. This river is celebrated for its 
 fish. There are " 
 
 " That's just what I was getting at : that in a 
 river like the one I saw in well, in a river like this, 
 that one must be able to get delicious trout. We 
 will have some for the first course. How does that 
 suit ? " making a general appeal to the company. 
 
 " Excellent ! capital ! " they all said ; then the 
 proprietor spoke again. 
 
 " Fish ? fish ? " with a grin. 
 
 " Yes, fish," said the gentleman ; " what is the 
 matter ?" 
 
 " Nothing," said the man, coolly, " except that we 
 never have any fresh fish at Lagny. They are all 
 sold to the city, and the nearest we can come to it 
 would be some salted .herrings that we import from 
 England." 
 
 Mr. Squires groaned. " Do you mean to say," he
 
 206 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 added, indignantly, "that one can never get fresh fish 
 with a river like this in the town ? " 
 
 The man simply nodded. He had told the truth. 
 
 Some chickens were sporting under the trees in 
 the kitchen garden. Mr. Squires breathed more 
 freely, and said : " I suppose we must resign our- 
 selves to do without fish, but we will have some 
 new-laid eggs, and after, some broiled chicken." 
 
 The proprietor bowed grimly, and said : " There 
 are no fresh eggs ; they were all sold this morning ; 
 and the last chicken was sent to Monsieur le curt. 
 He is ill." 
 
 "In Heaven's name!" said Mr. Squires, "what 
 have you got to eat ? A fine river, and no fish ; 
 coops of hens, and no eggs ; chickens, but none to 
 cook ! How does one live in this town, anyway ?" 
 
 The man put on some dignity : " Monsieur for- 
 gets," he said, icily, "that we live here by selling the 
 products of the village, not eating them. The daily 
 commerce may not be interfered with by strangers. 
 One can get things fresh at early morning, and late 
 at night, but never in the middle of the day. The 
 best is sold, and one eats the rest." 
 
 A vague light began to dawn upon the company. 
 Who was this man, who seemed the proprietor, yet 
 who spoke with the language of a magistrate, or a 
 village beadle ? To whom had they been talking ? 
 Was there some mistake ? Mr. Squires continued: 
 
 " Do you know 
 
 " Monsieur must excuse me," said the man, " I do not 
 know ; I am a stranger here myself. Perhaps per- 
 haps " politely, "Monsieur had better see the chef."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 207 
 
 Mr. Squires turned pale. Who, who, in God's 
 name, was this man ? The Count stepped forward, 
 scarcely able to keep his countenance, and managed 
 to say : 
 
 " Monsieur is not the keeper of the inn ? " 
 
 " Yes," the man answered, with a surprised look. 
 
 " And you know nothing about what you have to 
 eat you say you are a stranger here ?" 
 
 " Pardon me," said the man, with dignity. " "Tis 
 true I am the proprietor ; I bought this restaurant 
 yesterday. It is also true that I am a stranger here ; 
 I only arrived this morning. I in fact, Monsieur 
 may not have noticed, but I came in the same train 
 with him from Paris. I can speak with certainty 
 about the place, as I know the habits of the town 
 and the river. There is no river like the Marne. 
 Where would one find such a river ? " with increased 
 dignity. 
 
 " It would be hard," said the Count, " to find a 
 river anywhere that had no fish, to find hens who 
 lay no fresh eggs, and chickens fit only to pick in 
 the grass. However, thanks for your information ; 
 but can we see any one who could get us some 
 breakfast ? " 
 
 The proprietor touched a bell. A slender Alsacian 
 made his appearance. 
 
 "Breakfast," said the new inn-keeper, with dig- 
 nity, " Breakfast for everybody in a propos, would 
 Monsieur like to sit out under the trees, or would 
 he prefer the salle-a-manger ? " 
 
 "-In the garden, by all means," said the ladies, 
 and they passed through the quaint little house to
 
 208 Marked "In Haste," 
 
 the back, where some fine trees wore still their sum- 
 mer dress of green. There were gravelled walks, 
 with grape-vines clinging to trellises. There was a 
 hedge and many late flowers blooming beside it. 
 Round tables were under the trees, and the largest 
 arbor was selected for the party. 
 
 The day was fine and .soft, and the sun poured 
 down as it sometimes does in autumn weather. The 
 muddy Marne glided by to the left, and the murmur 
 of the waters was soothing as it reached the ear. 
 All seemed perfect and harmonious, when a terrible 
 discovery was made. The ground was damp, too 
 damp to keep one's feet upon ; but rugs were pro- 
 vided, footstools were furnished, and the ladies de- 
 cided to try sitting out of doors, at least for a time. 
 
 What a breakfast it was, to be sure ! Nothing was 
 perfect, but every one was in good humor. Mr. 
 Squires had scarcely recovered his equilibrium over 
 his peculiar d/but. All agreed to accept whatever 
 was offered with a good grace, and the new propri- 
 etor's health was drank in solid bumpers of pure red 
 wine. There was some of that to be had at least. 
 
 An omelette with herbs was the first thing served ; 
 then some radishes that had made the centre bouquet 
 in yesterday's market-place were introduced, with 
 some olives and an anchovy salad, which was very 
 salty, though palatable, for our travellers were hun- 
 gry and did not mind so trifling a thing as too salt 
 anchovies and radishes whose color had fled. 
 
 Then there was a tough bif steak, some fried pota- 
 toes that looked as if blown up, and were really filled 
 with wind ; then came dessert cheese that could
 
 Marked "In Haste" 209 
 
 not keep to itself, and some fruit that had untimely 
 fled the parent bough during the first hurricane that 
 had swept through the village in early summer. 
 
 The coffee was a success ; a little pale, perhaps, 
 but it had a clear conscience and no chiccory. 
 
 " Mine," said the Count, " is so weak that I must 
 set it on the table. " Then there was a general laugh. 
 Thus chatting gaily, the dejeuner was seasoned with 
 the most savory of all appetizers, good temper and 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 When the bill was being settled, the virginal pro- 
 prietor came forward and saluted his first guests. 
 
 "Let me," said he, "offer you, as a souvenir of 
 Lagny-sur-Marne, a photograph of my restaurant, 
 V Ange Gardien." 
 
 Countess Vandalin stepped forward : "Adieu, 
 monsieur," she said, with her sweet voice. " I ac- 
 cept it with pleasure ! " Then wishing him prosperity, 
 they took their leave.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE VISIT TO FERRIERES. 
 
 CARRIAGES were in waiting to take them to Fer- 
 rieres, and the Earl managed to sit with Miss Leslie 
 and her aunt. After an hour's drive along a charm- 
 ing route they reached the Chateau. 
 
 It was bought from the heirs of the Duke d'O- 
 trante, and remodelled by Baron James de Roths- 
 child. Ferrieres is a most magnificent property, 
 and even the restoring of it by the Baron has not 
 been able to entirely disguise its original beauty. 
 The park and gardens remain in all their old loveli- 
 ness, and the great trees form a perfect forest of 
 green. The house is restored and modernized, but 
 its shape remains as when first built. The grounds 
 are laid out with rare taste, and many trees have the 
 branches cut and covered with the flowering sweet- 
 briar rose. 
 
 The effect is beautiful. It seems as if freshly 
 culled gigantic bouquets were daily placed in the 
 garden. Statues gleam from behind and through 
 the great oaks, and sounds of falling water mai-k 
 the locality of fountains, where nymphs and golden 
 fishes sport in the marble basins.
 
 Marked "In Haste." 211 
 
 When they reached the great entrance door, it was 
 opened by a pompous footman. He was so magnifi- 
 cent that one's voice died to a whisper when trying 
 to address him. A special invitation to visit the 
 Chateau ought to command some respect, and, in 
 truth, the lordly personage felt that his visitors were 
 not to be despised, although he could not come down 
 from his grand pedestal all at once. 
 
 The inmates not being at home, the whole house 
 could be seen, and it really merited a visit. The 
 party went in after the fashion of sightseers. 
 
 "This will never do," said Mr. Gratiot. "We are 
 quite like the Cook tourists. Let us disperse." 
 
 One looked at one thing, and another at another ; 
 but, in spite of not wishing to do the Chateau in real 
 voyage-fashion, they finished by all fetching up to- 
 gether and following the imposing footman, who 
 acted as guide. 
 
 The rarest things at Ferrieres are the great paint- 
 ings on leather by Cordova ; a room has been made 
 expressly for them, which is called " le salon des 
 cuirs." Baron James found them in Spain, and 
 bought them for a mere song eight thousand francs. 
 He had them restored at a cost of one hundred thou- 
 sand, and, to-day, would not sell them for a million 
 which affords a good idea of the modest per cent, 
 that falls imperceptibly into the coffers of the great 
 financiers. 
 
 The footman preceded the party, and droned out 
 a guide-book explanation of the various objects. 
 After examining the Cordova's with undisguised ad- 
 miration, they turned into a long room with a gal-
 
 212 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 lery running around it at the top. Various objects, 
 scattered about on convenient tables, were com- 
 mented upon by the party. The man always smiled 
 frigidly, and explained : "Yes, madame, or monsieur 
 is quite right. It is rich, but extremely simple. The 
 Rothschilds do not need to make a display of their 
 wealth." 
 
 He had said this when they looked at the paint- 
 ings on leather, he repeated it each time that the eye 
 fell upon any object in the room ; and in fact, one 
 began unconsciously to wait for this remark. 
 
 In this room were some fine paintings. Henriette, 
 of England, by Joshua Reynolds, a superb Velas- 
 quez, a Rubens, two Bordones, a Rembrandt, Van 
 Moll, a Tiziano, and others too numerous to mention 
 There was Henriette's writing-desk with fleurs de 
 lys carved on the wings, and with a flat top. There 
 was a marvellous cabinet made in Rome in the tenth 
 century, with incrusted ivory and inlaid woods. On 
 a centre-table, beside some albums, was Madame de 
 Pompadour's mirror. 
 
 It was in a gilded bronze frame, incrusted with 
 entire shells of mother-of-pearl. The Earl came 
 nearer to look at it, and Mademoiselle Leslie also 
 went closer and turned to peep at herself in the fa- 
 mous glass. Beaufort looked as she gazed. 
 
 " This mirror," said he, " is the only one I ever 
 saw worthy to reflect your image. Do you not find 
 yourself more beautiful in it than in any other ?" 
 
 " I was thinking," she said, quickly, " not of my- 
 self, but wondering how many faces had been re- 
 flected in it. Could it only talk, how strange the
 
 Marked "In Haste." 213 
 
 * 
 
 history it would relate ; and yet how fortunate that 
 these emblems of the past are not speaking ones in 
 a certain sense. Narrations of sorrow might oftener 
 be related than tales of joy, and certainly Madame 
 de Pompadour's mirror must have looked out on a 
 varied life. I I am afraid I should not care to have 
 it in the room with me. It might start up and talk." 
 
 " How odd are your fancies, and what a chameleon- 
 like nature you have ! Do you know that I have 
 never seen you twice the same 7 ? " 
 
 She laughed. " Why should a nature not be 
 changeable ? It is very monotonous being always 
 in the same mood, and, confess : Do you not prefer 
 a character capable of transforming itself ? To-day, 
 gay ; to-morrow, sad ; the next day neither one nor 
 the other ? " 
 
 " Why do you not ask me plainly if I do not pre- 
 fer you, in all your moods and tenses ? It would be 
 franker than foisting an imaginary person's charac- 
 ter on me, and pretending that it is not your own. 
 I answer blindly no, advisedly : I prefer you, and 
 all that appertains to you." 
 
 " All ? " she said, gaily. 
 
 He started, and looked into her fair face. Did he 
 like all that pertained to her ? Unquestionably not, 
 but he had spoken too hastily. He looked into her 
 eyes with fervor a look that said " yes " to her 
 question ; but, like many seemingly honest glances, 
 combined a little truth and much deception. How- 
 ever, so long as she did not know, it was all right. 
 
 " When we have done the Chateau," he said, " I 
 have something to tell you. May I ? "
 
 214 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " if it is something very nice, 
 j " 
 
 " Ethel ! " her aunt's voice broke in, " we must all 
 keep together now, as things are to be generally 
 explained, and you know how interesting this house 
 is." 
 
 The footman led the way to the tate dining- 
 room, to a Louis Seize salon, then into a smaller 
 apartment, where he stopped. His eyes watered, 
 his gait was unsteady, and one immediately was led 
 to expect something out of the usual description of 
 the house. 
 
 " This room," said he, " is the one Jules Favre 
 came to weep in. He sat on that sofa there " (all 
 looked at the sofa), " and buried his head in his 
 hands. He had frequent interviews here with M. de 
 Bismarck. A propos, of him I cannot speak with 
 much respect, " c'est un " 
 
 " Do not distress yourself," said Miss Leslie, kindly, 
 "but speak your mind. We are none of us Ger- 
 mans." 
 
 The man's face brightened, and he explained : 
 
 " The word I would have used, one cannot mention 
 in France before ladies, but you call it " 
 
 " Pig, in English, I suppose," ejaculated Mr. 
 Squires, very gravely. 
 
 " Yes," he said, very much relieved, " but still the 
 name doesn't sound quite right." 
 
 " I am constrained," said the Count, " if this august 
 company will excuse me, to pronounce the real word, 
 Hog. Ah ! hog the same, but allowable only in Eng- 
 lish."
 
 Marked "In Haste." 215 
 
 All acquiesced, and a genuine smile broke over the 
 footman's face. 
 
 "Yes," lie said, delightedly, "that sounds right 
 now." Then he continued : 
 
 " Since the Baron James de Rothschild's death, his 
 rooms have always been closed. When the Prus- 
 sians came to Paris, they took possession of 
 Ferrieres. Mr. de Bismarck inspected all of the 
 rooms and selected one for himself. We explained 
 that Baron James's apartment was closed, and asked 
 him to respect it. He said ; ' I will see it first." Of 
 course, his chambers were the richest. As soon as 
 Bismarck cast his eye upon them, he cried out with 
 joy : ' What, leave the best rooms in the house unoc- 
 cupied ? Never me voila. Here is where I shall in- 
 stall myself.' And would you believe it ?" continued 
 the man, with awful solemnity ; " the wretched Ger- 
 man took possession that moment, and slept like a 
 hog every night in the bed where the poor dear 
 master died. This rich counterpane that you see 
 was once stolen by the Prussians, and found days 
 after in the woods, miles from the house, torn and 
 ruined as one sees." 
 
 Some epithets not altogether complimentary to 
 Bismarck, this prince of successful court buffoons, 
 then followed. The footman seemed delighted, and 
 began showing some of the rare objects that adorned 
 the chamber. Some Russian ware of great value 
 was on a table. He tapped a vase with a significant 
 smile. 
 
 " Who would think," said he, " to find objects of 
 such worth hidden in a bed-chamber? This," touch-
 
 216 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 ing one, " is worth a hundred thousand francs. It 
 would be unnoticed, did I not point it out ; but," 
 with a shrug of the shoulders, " the Rothschilds never 
 make a show of their money." 
 
 The man was getting more lordly. He grew con- 
 fidential and continued : 
 
 " Being in this room reminds me of our late 
 master. He was so witty ! A friend of Madame la 
 Baronne once tried to tell him that his son, Mr. 
 Gustave, was ruining himself. He said : ' Baron, he 
 is fast, he runs in debt, he is too extravagant ! ' 
 The baron replied sharply : ' M. Gustave is no fool, 
 he knows he can spend what he likes, for he has a 
 rich father to pay his debts; but I cannot, alas !' sob- 
 bing, ' I am an orphan ! ' ' 
 
 All laughed at the gentleman's wit. " I could re- 
 late," said the footman, " dozens of similar things, 
 but forbear." 
 
 They passed into a smoking-room, fumoir, restored 
 and decorated by Eugene Lami. The painter was 
 there at that moment, and was showing some friends 
 the room. He was a small, white-headed man, French 
 in precision, with a sort of half-ceremonious air, not 
 at all unbecoming to a great artist. 
 
 The fumoir is shaped like a horseshoe, and in 
 each panel running around, is painted a scene 
 from the carnival of Venice. The work is life-like, 
 and beautiful in sentiment and color. To Mr. 
 Lami is due the restoration of the entire chateau. 
 Near the fumoir are some handsome rooms, and 
 in each and every one the rarest objets d'art met 
 the eye at every turn. There are sixty of these
 
 Marked "In Haste" 2 1/ 
 
 rooms in the house. Imagine the enormous wealth 
 represented ! 
 
 They ascended to the second story. Everything 
 was spotlessly clean, and Mrs. Adrian inquired how 
 many servants it took to keep the rooms in such 
 order. The footman swelled with importance. 
 
 "We are two, madame," he answered, modestly. 
 
 " Two for each room," hazarded she. 
 
 " No, madame," he answered, sharply ; " M. le 
 Baron Rothschild does not need to make a display. 
 We are two for the entire house, when the family is 
 not here. There are besides the out-door gardeners. 
 I have an aide. One young man attends to every- 
 thing indoors and you see how clean he keeps it. 
 He is very careful. Faithful servants look upon 
 their master's things as their own." 
 
 " Most servants do," remarked Miss Leslie, quiet- 
 ly, " but he is indeed a model youth. I should like 
 to carry him off, to commence the breed in Amer- 
 ica." 
 
 The footman then explained that the house was 
 once good enough, but that now it was perfection. 
 He said : 
 
 " There are all modern conveniencies, hot and cold 
 water, and and a bath. I must show that." Then 
 he led the way through some beautiful apartments 
 toward the salon des bains. Before they reached it, 
 speculation was rife as to what it might be. Visions 
 of Eugenie's bath at the Tuileries, with its mirrored 
 walls, mosaic floor, and silver tub shaped like a sea- 
 shell, flashed upon them. Of course that was poor 
 compared to this. They would soon see.
 
 2i8 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 They reached a small square chamber, and, on one 
 side, was a massive door in carved maple. The foot- 
 man directed them toward this door. It swung upon 
 its hinges with a ponderous movement. 
 
 "Here," said the man, "is the bath." Curiosity 
 was so great that good manners were forgotten. 
 Every one crowded forward. Imagine the surprise 
 to see only a dingy tub in ordinary zinc. The foot- 
 man explained. 
 
 " This bath, the only one in the house, is, as you 
 see, very simple, but it is all that is necessary. There 
 is hot and cold water, and, to make no mistake, 
 printed labels are placed under each faucet. I pre- 
 sume," said he, wishing to appear gallant, "you have 
 recognized the fact that this is an English bath, 
 and I hear that there is one in every house in Eng- 
 land and America. Are they just like this ?" appeal- 
 ing to Mrs. Adrian. 
 
 She hesitated. " Let me answer," said Miss Les- 
 lie. " This is not unlike the American bath-room." 
 
 " Have you," said the footman, proudly, " printed 
 labels to tell which is hot and which is cold water ?" 
 
 "Well, no," she admitted, with rare frankness. 
 " The fact is, we are so used to washing ourselves 
 in America, that we know by habit which is which ; 
 but of course, under the circumstances, one is quite 
 right to be on the safe side, and " 
 
 " And," he interrupted, " madame will excuse me, 
 but has she remarked the simplicity of this tub ? 
 It is like M. le Baron himself, modest, and quite as 
 unostentatious. He, is rich, but he does not make a 
 show of his money, and this is quite in his style."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 219 
 
 " Is it not a little too poor ? " suggests Mrs. Squires. 
 " Just a little too well, a trifle too simple ? " 
 
 The footman straightened himself up two inches. 
 "Not at all, madame ;" then grandly, "why should 
 too much wealth come together ? This door," patting 
 the superb mass affectionately, " is worth ten times 
 the price of the tub, and it is placed here for the en- 
 trance to a bath ; but M. de Rothschild never makes 
 a display of his riches, and no one would suspect 
 from this grand exterior the extreme simplicity of 
 the inner room." 
 
 "No," said Allani, quietly, "no one would suspect 
 it, but every one should. The Baron cannot be 
 blamed for wishing that which is the richest to be 
 placed on the outside, where it will make the most 
 show. It is a peculiarity of some people ! " 
 
 The honored servant bowed delightedly. How 
 well he had understood Allani's remark. They 
 passed through the salon des cuirs again, and had to 
 stop to admire the paintings. By-the-way, the sub- 
 ject is David and his Suite. He is returning in tri- 
 umph after the death of Goliath, and is holding the 
 giant's head by the hair, while it swings from the 
 pommel of the saddle. 
 
 The paintings are so remarkably restored, that 
 only a practiced eye can detect where. In the lower 
 limbs of some of the figures, one sees a vein like a 
 swollen cord or muscle. It is the seam where the 
 leather has been sewn together, as when the Baron 
 found them they had been cut in hundreds of pieces. 
 What a triumph to have restored such great and in- 
 valuable works of art !
 
 22O Marked "In Haste" 
 
 It is impossible to describe all of the beautiful 
 things in the chateau. Mrs. Adrian retired half-sob- 
 bing to a corner of the room. When the ladies gath- 
 ered around her, they remarked her distress. She ex- 
 plained : 
 
 " This footman is so lordly, we can never give him 
 any money. I think that the only thing that I dare 
 offer him would be my diamond solitaires, and natur- 
 ally I was grieved at the thought of parting with old 
 mine stones ; mine in truth, but it must be done, 
 they will be mine no longer." 
 
 Ethel was choking with laughter. " Dear aunt," 
 she said, softly, "how funny you are, and what a 
 thing for you to think of. Of course he will accept 
 Zipourboire. They do it in the best of families." Then 
 Mrs. Adrian's fears were explained to the gentlemen. 
 The Count came to the rescue. 
 
 "I will sell all of mine first," he said. "Do not 
 fear, while my purse holds out. At present we are 
 in no danger." 
 
 They had inspected the whole house, and were 
 just going toward the exit when the footman called 
 them back to look at something that had escaped 
 their eyes. 
 
 " To prove to you," he said, " that the Messieurs 
 Rothschild do not vulgarly display their wealth, just 
 cast one look at the wall on each side of the grand 
 staircase. What does one see there ? Oh, nothing 
 much ! only two plaques in bronze, each one worth 
 twenty thousand francs, imbedded in the solid stone ; 
 and they are put in so ordinary a place that no one 
 would think of remarking their value. They are
 
 Marked "In Haste." 221 
 
 there, simply, unostentatiously, comme si rien rittait, 
 that is just like the Rothschilds. They never " The 
 Earl approached him and interrupted. He made a 
 movement which was not shaking hands, but some- 
 thing like it. His fingers plosed over the modest 
 palm of the faithful follower. The Earl smiled and 
 said : 
 
 " How much we thank you I never can tell." 
 
 The man reddened with pleasure, and his eyes 
 were dancing in his head as his lordship turned to 
 go. He was more important than ever before, as he 
 said to a gardener who approached : 
 
 " Show the ladies the grounds," then he bowed 
 stiffly and stood watching then* out of sight. As 
 they left the door, Miss Leslie stopped suddenly. 
 
 " Look ! " said she to the Earl, " What are those 
 two objects beyond the gates ? " 
 
 At the end of a long and lovely promenade, there 
 were the great entrance doors to the park, and near 
 each on the outer side were two tall white posts. A 
 piece of wood was placed horizontally near the top, 
 evidently to mark the direction of the road. From 
 the distance, it appeared that two great crosses 
 flanked each of the gates. The Earl followed her 
 glance. 
 
 " Every one has their crosses," he said ; " it looks 
 strange to see one near the house of the Rothschilds. 
 A Christian might have them, but scarcely an Israel- 
 ite." She answered : 
 
 " Yes, all of the world has his own to bear ; but 
 only the chosen race are clever enough to put theirs 
 on the outside of their hearts, and houses."
 
 222 Marked "/ Haste." 
 
 Then they turned to look more closely at the 
 grounds. 
 
 It costs three hundred thousand dollars a year to 
 keep up Ferrieres ; and about half the sum is spent 
 on the garden and hot-houses. The flowers are 
 rare and beautiful, and the conservatories seem un- 
 ending. The grapes hang from their vines, a mass of 
 green, purple, and claret color. They are abundant 
 enough to supply the table of generations of Roths- 
 childs ; while oranges, lemons, and other fruits thrive 
 in exotic abundance. 
 
 As they were strolling under the great trees, Lord 
 Beaufort turned to Miss Leslie. 
 
 " Now is the time," he said. " May I tell you what 
 I had in my mind ? " 
 
 She looked up coldly. " I I had forgotten ; but 
 what was it ? " 
 
 He bit his lip. " You said you cared to hear a 
 moment since." 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, gaily, " a moment since is not 
 now. Perhaps I have changed my mind." 
 
 "Yes," he said, curtly, "and perhaps I have also 
 changed mine. There is nothing to tell." 
 
 She looked amused, but said, coquettishly : "I am 
 sure you had something to tell me. What was it ? " 
 
 " That I leave Paris to-morrow," he replied, 
 simply. 
 
 She started and grew suddenly pale. He watched 
 her closely, but said nothing. His eyes deepened as 
 they fell on her face, and an intense expression came 
 into them which, had she read at the moment, would 
 have gratified her vanity ; but she was thinking of
 
 Marked "In Haste." ^ 223 
 
 what he had said that he was going away. Could it 
 be possible ? Her eyes were covered with a film. 
 She was furious with herself. What could it matter 
 to her whether he went or stayed ; and why did she 
 permit herself to seem interested perhaps agitated ? 
 She could not tell, but felt uncomfortable as one 
 does when taken by surprise, and a long-hidden 
 feeling finally bursts the bounds of restraint. Trying 
 to appear quite indifferent, she looked him full in 
 the face and spoke. Her eyes were tender, her face 
 still pale, but her features were composed and her 
 voice quite steady : 
 
 " Indeed you are leaving Paris to-morrow ? Is 
 this not a sudden move ? And and how long shall 
 you be away ? or do you intend coming back ? And if 
 one might be curious, where are you going ? " He 
 said : 
 
 " I am going to Sevres to buy some porcelain for 
 my mother. I start early in the morning. I shall 
 not be gone long, as I return the next day." Then 
 he laughed. Le miserable ! To think that for one 
 moment she had betrayed herself, and how sure a 
 proof it was that she cared for him. He was so de- 
 lighted at the success of his ruse that it was impossible 
 for her not to notice it by his manner. She reddened, 
 commenced to get angry, and finally laughed. 
 
 " I suppose you think," she said, " that it makes 
 some difference to me whether you go or stay. The 
 announcement startled me, not because you are go- 
 ing, but because I think of going myself; and who 
 knows but that we might accidentally have chosen 
 the same direction ?"
 
 224 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 It was now his turn to pale. He was too much 
 in love to think for a moment that she was paying 
 him back his own. His voice was really troubled, 
 as he said quickly : 
 
 " You are not in earnest ! It cannot be ! Leave 
 Paris ! Tell me where you are going, that that I 
 may choose the same direction. Shall you be away 
 long ? when will I see you ? how shall I know where 
 you. are ? may I come ?" desperately, "let us make 
 up a pleasure party, let " 
 
 She interrupted. " You take my breath away 
 with so many questions. Well ! if you must know, 
 I leave early in the morning ; I am going to Sevres 
 to buy some china for myself, and I return to-mor- 
 row night. " f He looked at her and then they both 
 laughed. He seized her hand, and kissed it. She 
 tried to withdraw it, but he said, pleadingly : 
 
 " No, let me keep it. Do you know that I " 
 
 " No," she said, shortly, " I know nothing of the 
 sort. How can you be so silly ? Why will you 
 spoil what promised to be a nice friendship, by mak- 
 ing love to me. Why " 
 
 Steps were heard directly behind them. The 
 Countess came up and said, with her sweet voice: 
 
 " My dear friends, the carriages are waiting, and 
 we are all ready to go. Here are some grapes for 
 you, which are perfectly "elegant" and a rose for my 
 lord, who loves flowers. Have you amused your- 
 selves ? of course, been flirting ? naturally. Be care- 
 ful," to the Earl, " or Leon will be jealous. But let 
 us go," and they joined the party already gathered, 
 and waiting for them in the roadway.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 225 
 
 They finally reached Paris ; night had fallen, and 
 the weather had changed. Clouds were hurrying 
 through the sky, the wind blew fiercely, and the day 
 that had been so lovely was the last of the fine au- 
 tumn weather of 1876. 
 
 The Earl said a last word as he lifted his hat to 
 Miss Leslie : 
 
 " This has been my red-letter day. How can I 
 thank you enough ?" 
 
 She smiled.. " By not thanking me at all. We 
 shall see you Friday at the Opera, or have you for- 
 gotten the engagement?" 
 
 "Forgotten!" There was a world of meaning in 
 his voice. " I shall not live till then. Forty-eight 
 hours will seem as many years. A u revoir until 
 Friday."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AT THE OPERA. 
 
 THE Grand Opera House, as is usual on Friday 
 night, was crowded. The wealth, beauty, and fashion 
 of gay Paris filled boxes, parquette, and amphitheatre. 
 In one of the first of the proscenium boxes sat the 
 Duchess de Montpensier with her family and suite; in 
 the one almost vis-a-vis sat a Baronne de Rothschild. 
 In the third to the right sat one of the Faubourg St. 
 Germain grandes dames, the amiable Baronne de 
 Parilly. Near by was the family Montferrand, with 
 the charming youngest daughter, who resembles the 
 most beautiful portraits of Marie Antoinette. All 
 of the grand tier was besprinkled with fair dames, 
 noble titles, exquisite toilettes, and flashing jewels. 
 
 Mrs. Adrian and her niece had a fine box in the 
 curve of the horseshoe. They were visible to all eyes, 
 as everybody was seen by them. Miss Leslie was 
 radiant in a pale canary silk trimmed with old Valen- 
 ciennes and trailing vines of the scarlet coqueliquot or 
 poppy. Her gloves were the color of her dress, a 
 little deeper, perhaps ; her fan had stolen the gayest 
 plumage of a tropical bird, and the carved stick of 
 sandal imprisoned at the same time the faint odor
 
 Marked "In Haste" 227 
 
 that Orientalists love so well. Mrs. Adrian wore a 
 Marie Louise blue velvet, the corsage cut heart- 
 shaped and trimmed with cream roses and old point. 
 She was handsome enough to attract any eye ; and 
 although both ladies were dressed with the greatest 
 richness, the rare modesty and taste with which they 
 wore such toilettes, evidenced much good breeding, 
 and an utter lack of wishing to be conspicuous. 
 
 The opera was "Les Huguenots," Me*yerbeer's great 
 work great ! rather his greatest work. Strange to 
 say, the house was fairly filled before the end of the 
 first act. At the beginning of the second, there was 
 a tap on the door of Mrs. Adrian's box. It opened, 
 and Lord Beaufort appeared. He took Mrs. Adrian's 
 hand and kissed it in true cavalier fashion, then he 
 turned to Miss Leslie with a cheery bonsoir. She 
 glanced quickly though coldly at him, and extended 
 her hand, saying : 
 
 " What I am to be neglected ! Do you wish me 
 to be jealous ? I prefer Vienna, as there every lady's 
 hand is kissed ; but here bah," with a shrug of the 
 shoulders, " the young are neglected (with a sly 
 glance at her aunt) for the the less young." 
 Mrs. Adrian smiled good humoredly, and said : 
 " Go on, my dear ! No reference to my years can 
 possibly annoy me. Thank heaven ! we are in a 
 country where old age " (with a complacent settling 
 back in her chair) " is respected. In other places 
 beauty receives the first attention ; but in France 
 etiquette demands the chivalry of even a Beau Brum- 
 mel for those who have passed the zenith of life. I 
 hope we shall always live in France."
 
 228 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 While she was talking, Lord Beaufort had taken 
 Miss Leslie's hand. He imprinted a kiss on it. There 
 was little ardor, and much hesitation as he stooped to 
 do her bidding. Her slight fingers seemed cold and 
 listless. She cared nothing for him, that was evident. 
 Her very remark about being jealous was made in a 
 tone of utter indifference; and yet, but two days before 
 he had thought that she cared for him. A vision of 
 the gardens afFerrieres rose before his mind. A fair 
 woman's emotion at the thought of his going away, 
 and the continual badinage that always marked every 
 moment of their intercourse, these came back to him 
 with irresistible fascination. To-night he was again 
 in her presence. She was lovely as she only could be, 
 yet he felt she was cold. The violet eyes were veil- 
 ed in a mocking sheen, the pale face was a shade 
 paler from the contrast to her gown, and her whole 
 presence seemed to breathe the most complete un- 
 concern. 
 
 The orchestra w r as still playing the prelude to the 
 second act. The approach of Queen Marguerite de 
 Valois signalled some applause. A favorite was 
 cast for this ungrateful role, and while the limpid 
 notes of " Oh beau pays de la Touraine .' " rang out on 
 the air, the half murmur of indifferent spectators 
 was hushed. They love this scene in Paris, and 
 much is made of it. The voice soared higher and 
 higher, the flutes and cellos ran on in a continuous 
 accompaniment of melodious softness, and even the 
 most uncultivated could enjoy such sweet music. 
 
 The end of the air called forth wildest applause. 
 Beaufort joined in most heartily, and only when the
 
 Marked "In Haste" 229 
 
 Maids of Honor were singing the famous chorus, 
 did he speak to Miss Leslie. 
 
 " Although I love every note that Meyerbeer has 
 ever written," said he, " I must now neglect him to 
 talk with you. Are you well ? yes, you are looking 
 charming. How have you passed the time since 
 Ferrieres? and did you buy any porcelain at Sevres ?" 
 
 He sat in shadow, but near enough to see her 
 dress sweeping back of his chair. He was not vis- 
 ible to all of the house, nor did he care to see 
 anything or anybody but Miss Leslie'; so he en- 
 sconced himself there, evidently bent on staying 
 the rest of the evening. He laughed as he asked her 
 about the Sevres porcelain. The thing was a ridicu- 
 lous and palpable farce, yet she answered: 
 
 " I am very well ; I have passed my time less hap- 
 pily than usual, and," with forced gaiety, "I bought a 
 toilet set that Du Barry herself might have longed 
 for." 
 
 " Why," said he, softly, ignoring her other remarks; 
 " why has your time passed unhappily ?" 
 
 Her face grew troubled. " Do you wish me to an- 
 swer ?" she said, looking seriously at him. 
 
 An eager " yes" escaped his lips. 
 
 " I regret, but I cannot," she responded, then 
 sighed, and her hands idly fell across her lap. He 
 took up her fan, saying, " Permit me," and seemed 
 intent on examining the plumage of the dead tropi- 
 cal bird. As he stroked the feathers, he pondered 
 whether or no he dared ask her more. She had been 
 indifferent when he first came into the box, but one 
 question of his had changed all of that, and now she
 
 230 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 sat before him with a sad, preoccupied face. He 
 decided to attempt wresting from her some confi- 
 dence, knowing as he did that she had been to the 
 Latin Quarter even more frequently than before. 
 He thought perhaps that something had occurred 
 which might render further concealment unnecessary. 
 How far he was from divining the real truth ! He 
 said to her, with strange earnestness : 
 
 " You interest me beyond any woman I have ever 
 known." 
 
 She looked up quickly. He continued : " I some- 
 times imagine that your life is not as happy as you 
 would lead the world to imagine. I wish," with in- 
 creasing seriousness, " that you would disclose your 
 real nature to me and treat me less coldly. You are 
 such an enigma. One moment grave, the next gay ; 
 one moment friendly, the next distant ; one moment 
 half-tender, the next cold ; with a glacial frigidity 
 that congeals me. What have I done to merit such 
 poor favor ? " 
 
 She spoke frankly : " You have done nothing, my 
 lord, to merit disfavor ; believe me. It is not you 
 who are at fault, but I, myself. I suppose few in 
 this world are really happy, and I am like the gene- 
 ral run of people. In fact, I am an orthodox young 
 woman " (he thought to himself, " yes," with a ven- 
 geance), " and must, of necessity, be like all others. 
 You remember Lord Beaconsfield was once accosted 
 as he was going into Parliament : ' Good morning, 
 my lord ! ' ' Good morning ! ' 'I hope you are 
 quite well, my lord.' The great Premier pondered, 
 stroked his forehead thoughtfully, and put back
 
 Marked "In Haste" 231 
 
 a stray lock that fell across his temple ; then, still 
 reflecting, he answered : ' I think we are none of us 
 ever quite well ; oh ! good morning ! ' " 
 
 The Earl laughed. " There you are again," he said ; 
 " how is it possible to ever take you au serieux ? " 
 
 " Do not try," she answered, " t'would be too hard 
 a task." 
 
 " I am not to be discouraged at the outset," he 
 said, boldly, " so with your permission, I shall try, 
 
 and The finale of act second crashed -on the 
 
 air. Valentine is refused by Raoul, St. Bris receives 
 his daughter, Queen Marguerite straightens herself in- 
 dignantly, and curtain falls on the grand tableau. 
 
 Miss Leslie looked half offended. " Here," said 
 she, " have we been talking all through this lovely 
 music. It is your fault, not mine. How can you be 
 so inattentive to Meyerbeer ?" 
 
 " I can worship but at one shrine at a time, 
 although his music was written for gods and lov- 
 ers." She began to look uneasy. He continued: 
 "I am not a god, but you are a goddess, and I 
 am your " 
 
 " You are nothing of the sort," she interrupted, 
 hastily. 
 
 " Pray, mademoiselle," he said, with perfect com- 
 placence, " allow me to finish. How do you know 
 what I was going to say ? " 
 
 She blushed, did not answer, and commenced 
 toying with her fan, when a snap was heard. " Poor 
 fan," he said, pityingly, taking it and smoothing a 
 second time the soft plumage. " I will take it my- 
 self, and and keep it."
 
 232 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 She looked curiously at him. " Oh," he explained, 
 " if you permit me, I will send you another." 
 
 " I should send it back," she said, quickly. 
 
 "I supposed you would," he replied, with utter un- 
 concern, "so I will not humiliate myself with the 
 refusal of a simple gift. I could stand due mortifi- 
 cation were a great one rejected, but never, no, never 
 so trifling a one as that of a worthless fan." 
 
 She laughed sarcastically, saying : " You seem to, 
 realize beforehand that what you send me would be 
 worthless " 
 
 "Worthless in your eyes," he interrupted, calmly. 
 "Well, I will not send 2cny gifts when I have any to 
 offer ; I will bring them myself. But this talk is idle, 
 and a long way from Meyerbeer. As I said, his 
 music was written for gods and lovers. When the 
 fourth act comes on, I will not say a word. This 
 duet, the greatest and most passionate that ever 
 was, is to me the climax of all operatic composition. 
 I love it. I could hear it every hour in the day and 
 every day in the week, and " 
 
 "And," she interrupted, "like myself, hear it 
 every week in the year. Yes, nothing is more beau- 
 tiful ; and, do you know, in your dear London I have 
 seen many leave the theatre just as that act com- 
 mences ? I always pity any one who has so little 
 soul ! " 
 
 " He looked a world of tenderness as he answered : 
 
 " Are you aware that you are of my opinion ? Do 
 you really love what I love, or have you forgotten 
 yourself?" 
 
 " I might have done that," she replied, honestly,
 
 Marked "In Haste." 233 
 
 "but I am in earnest, this time we agree. I really 
 love what you love." 
 
 He could no longer contain himself, and said, des- 
 perately : 
 
 " Yes, and I I love you ! " 
 
 " That just makes it," she replies, calmly, "because 
 I love myself. That is a proof of what I said. I " 
 
 Mrs. Adrian had been neglected all of this time. 
 She now spoke. Beaufort was getting furious. He 
 realized that he really had made himself conspicu- 
 ous with talking so much to Miss Leslie, only to be 
 laughed at, and he had quite neglected Mrs. Adrian. 
 He turned immediately as she addressed them : 
 
 "What a charming cast," she said, sweetly, "and 
 how good of you to come to our box. Where is 
 Mr. Brandon this evening ? Is he ill, does he not like 
 " Les Huguenots" or perhaps we will see him later ? " 
 
 "No," said the Earl. "He had a 'stag' party on 
 hand for this evening and sent his regrets to you. The 
 dinner wa's sure to be interminable, and I excused 
 myself." Then, half to Miss Leslie, " How could I 
 neglect any opportunity of seeing you, and how 
 could I miss a performance of my favorite opera ? " 
 
 Mrs. Adrian's voice broke in. 
 
 " There is Baronne de Parilly. What a lovely an- 
 tique necklace ! What balls she gives ! Why, her 
 salon is one of the most famous in Paris ; Madame 
 de Larenaton is with her. How exquisitely she sings ! 
 There is that lovely Russian, Madame Bernadotti. She 
 is certainly the most beautiful woman I have ever 
 seen. And there is Queen Isabella just seating 
 herself. What beautiful jewels ! what a superb toi-
 
 234 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 lette ! and how stout she is getting ! Is it, yes, it 
 must be the Girghenti, now Princess d'Asturia. 
 How kind of Alfonso to step into a throne, just to 
 give her his title ! " 
 
 " I suppose," said Beaufort, idly, " that was his 
 only reason. A very accommodating brother, to be 
 sure. By the way, he isn't at all a bad sort. I used 
 to see him in Heidelberg, and he was quite sans fa$on 
 with some college students. He makes a capital 
 king. He is very fond of the Opera, and, while in 
 Germany, went nearly every night." 
 
 Mrs. Adrian's voice again. " Why, I have never 
 seen so many celebrities at the Opera before. There 
 is Madame Viardot with her lovely family " 
 
 " Viardot ! " broke in Beaufort ; " What an artist ! 
 what a woman ! She is a second Hypatia for knowl- 
 edge. What a pity she no longer sings in public. 
 We shall never hear her like in this century again." 
 
 " Never," said Miss Leslie. " She is great, great !" 
 
 Mrs. Adrian continued : " There is her lovely 
 cousin, Madame Leonard di Mendi. What a violinist 
 Leonard is, and what charming hours we have passed 
 under their roof ! What a pity Louis Blanc is so 
 small ! Everybody comes here Friday night. Look 
 at Gambetta ! They say he has the evil eye, but, of 
 course, no one believes it. On dit that he fascinates 
 everyone, particularly women. Fancy calling a 
 man lecharmeur. And there is De Beriot, Malibran's 
 son," with a little explanatory nod to Beaufort. " To 
 my mind he is one of the most delicious pianists in 
 the world. There is Sardou. What a cynical look. 
 He is in that stage baignoire. Upon my word, he will
 
 Marked "In Haste" 235 
 
 fall out of the box if he stares any harder at that 
 blonde in the right proscenium. There ! there's the 
 Consul General and his lovely wife. Ethel, I think 
 I will have my next evening toilette made precisely 
 like hers. Only those red geraniums discolor every- 
 thing they touch. What a pity ! ruins satin, posi- 
 tively ruins it. Ah ! " a little sigh, " what heavenly 
 music in this last act. What a number of Ameri- 
 cans," still running on with her chatter. "Wall 
 Street is well represented." She bows to some one. 
 " Mr. W. Marrs, dear," explaining, " and his charm- 
 ing wife. He is one of the most perfect gentlemen 
 that I have ever met. Do look at the swells in the 
 parterre ! " She might well say, " Do look." Always 
 during an entracte at the Opera the gentlemen turn 
 with the greatest deliberation, stand and stare at 
 the house. Considering that no ladies are allowed 
 in the orchestra chairs, a startling array of men, 
 swallow tails, and opera glasses is disclosed. This 
 goes on during each stage-wait. 
 
 While Mrs. Adrian was talking, the third act be- 
 gan. Miss Leslie, who was calmly using her glass, 
 dropped it and smiled at some one near. " Look !" 
 said she to her aunt, " there is Isaure and Count 
 Leon, and, up a tier higher, are Enrico and Lucia. 
 How glad I am to see any one I know, when I come to 
 the theatre ! It makes the evening more agreeable. 
 Their faces are always a welcome sight." 
 
 The Earl thought himself, they know everybody. 
 He listened to her curiously. She was evidently 
 honest in her likes and dislikes. She was also con- 
 stant a virtue in man or woman.
 
 236 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 Krauss, one of the great dramatic sopranos of the 
 day, finally came on the stage. Her Valentine is al- 
 ways a superb performance. The Earl, at the end 
 of the lovely duo with Marcel, said : 
 
 " She never has done better than to-night ! Her 
 voice sounds as well as in Italian opera. I antici- 
 pate a treat in the fourth act. I will listen to the 
 music ; envy, as I always have done, Valentine and 
 JRaoul, and will think of the woman that I love " 
 
 " As you always have done ? " Miss Leslie's voice 
 was deliciously insouciante, as she asked this ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Not 'as I always have done,'" he answered, 
 slowly repeating her words, " because the last time 
 I heard this opera, I was not in love, but as I always 
 will from this night forth." 
 
 It was impossible not to understand such plain 
 speaking as this. The Earl looked at her as he pro- 
 nounced these words. She never changed color, 
 but she could scarcely pretend not to comprehend 
 his meaning. While he was speaking, the conscious- 
 ness again came over her that he was not indifferent 
 to her. Was she interested deeply, perhaps irresist- 
 ibly ? No ! her reason answered that that must 
 not be, at least not now ; still her heart throbbed 
 strangely, and the lace of the corsage on her bosom 
 was agitated by her emotions. An indefinite sen- 
 sation stole over her. If it should be did she love 
 him ? did he love her ? She raised her eyes, think- 
 ing, thinking on so sweet a possibility. He was gaz- 
 ing into her face with a deep, searching look, that 
 caused her to drop them instantly. How could she
 
 Marked "In Haste." 237 
 
 stand such a glance ? and dared she really compre- 
 hend his meaning ? 
 
 She could not help reading this intense passion, 
 but she must not let him know that she understood. 
 Oh, the misery of the terrible consciousness that was 
 dawning upon her ! 
 
 His voice, tender, impassioned, broke upon her 
 thoughts. He said simply, " We will listen to the 
 fourth act together." Yes ; she had understood 
 aright. 
 
 The opera went on. When the wonderful con- 
 spiration scene was given, the house rose with en- 
 thusiasm. Valentine, pale and terror-stricken, sits 
 beside her husband. De Nevers refuses part in the 
 conspiracy, and breaks his sword with energetic 
 fervor. He throws the blade that never has known 
 dishonor at St. Bris's feet. Even Miss Leslie started. 
 
 " I like him for that ! " she said, simply, " and Val- 
 entine should have loved him better." 
 
 The Earl made answer : " She probably liked him 
 better, but F amour ne se commande pas" 
 
 Mrs. Adrian was enjoying the opera. She thought 
 the music fine. She remarked on the intensity of 
 Meyerbeer. 
 
 "It is quite wearing on one's nerves," she said, 
 "and I would not care to hear the Huguenots every 
 night. However, I suppose one can stand it occa- 
 sionally. What a curious thing," continuing her 
 monologue, " that this opera succeeded so well the 
 first night. This great duet, really the scene of the 
 piece, was not composed until after. My lord," 
 suddenly, " I had forgotten to say something. It is
 
 238 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 not a propos, but has just come into my mind. Do 
 not make any engagement for the tenth of December, 
 unless you have already done so. We have our first 
 soiree, and I count upon you and your cousin both 
 being present. Ethel, add your powers of persua- 
 sion. I am anticipating such a pleasant time." 
 
 Just then the lovely strains of "Ah, say again" 
 hushed even Mrs. Adrian. " What heavenly music ! " 
 she said. " You will come ? " The Earl bowed a 
 yes, and Ethel put her fingers to her lips in sign of 
 silence. The gratified lady smiled contentedly, and 
 said no more. 
 
 The sweet, sensuous strains continued. The fine 
 melodious cantabile was breathed forth from RaouFs 
 lips. The music, surcharged with all that is most 
 appealing to human passion, floated on the air with 
 its intoxicating charm. At first soft and pleading, 
 then stronger, and more replete with love and 
 pathos. 
 
 The scene continues. Raoul, overcome by love and 
 the seductive charm of Valentine's presence, clasps 
 her in his arms. He whispers the tender avowal of 
 his passion ; he begs her to fly with him, anywhere, 
 anywhere out into the night ; away from false sur- 
 roundings, away from the man to whom she is yet 
 bound in honor. Valentine hesitates. To give her- 
 self up to him ? No, that is done already. Is the 
 deed worse than the thought ? Yet she is still torn 
 by conflicting emotions. Raoul drops on his knees, 
 his voice pleading with all a strong man's power 
 " Come, ah come ! " Can she, will she resist ? Again 
 the words, and yet again, "Wens, ah viens /" Oh, the
 
 Marked "In Haste" 239 
 
 subtlety and charm of that maddening duet, the in- 
 spiration of such music ! 
 
 Miss Leslie clasped her hands on the ledge of the 
 box, her face the incarnation of rapt attention. Lord 
 Beaufort sat quite away from her in shadow. He 
 was listening to Raoul's pleading, also he was think- 
 ing to himself of the agony of being obliged to leave 
 the woman one loves. 
 
 Ever and anon he looked at Miss Leslie. Never 
 again could he say that her face was always cold. 
 She, like himself, was moved, and a warmth of feeling 
 stole over her features that he had often dreamed of, 
 but had never yet seen. 
 
 The duet continues. Valentine begs Raoul to stay, 
 confessing that she loves him. She repeated the 
 tender phrase "ah dis encore que tit m'atmes." Follow- 
 ing the finale, the sound of booming cannon rings 
 on the air. Raoul, desperate, imprints one kiss on 
 her pale brow and leaves her fainting, stretched ap- 
 parently lifeless at his feet. Leaping from the win- 
 dow, he goes to join his comrades. At the moment 
 when the realization of his life's 1 dream approaches, 
 he leaves the woman he loves, knowing full well that 
 perhaps he may never see her face again. The 
 hoarse cry of the mob rends the night ; blood flows 
 in torrents, the apartment is illumined with a terrible 
 glare, the cannonading grows louder, the awful mas- 
 sacre of the night of St. Bartholomew cries for more 
 victims. As he leaps to the ground, Valentine rushes 
 to the window. An agonized scream escapes her, 
 and feeling that one sentiment is stronger than even 
 the greatest of all passions, she sinks to the floor.
 
 240 Marked "Sn Haste" 
 
 Beaufort was trembling with excitement. He 
 turned to Miss Leslie and spoke in tones of deepest 
 feeling. 
 
 " Tell me could you can you understand such a 
 love as Valentine's ? " 
 
 She looked up with a resolute face, v "Yes," she 
 answered, slowly, weighing every word. "Yes, I can 
 understand Valentine, but I best understand Raoul. 
 His passion was as great, perhaps greater, but he 
 knew how to sacrifice his love to his honor."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 BRANDON'S DISCOVERY. 
 
 LORD BEAUFORT was disheartened ; after the Opera 
 he saw little, in fact, nothing of Miss Leslie. It was 
 a long time until the tenth of December ; but there 
 was nothing for it but to wait. He pondered over 
 her words after the fourth act of Les Huguenots, and 
 saw in them a distinct although covert allusion to 
 herself and her secret. 
 
 One thing he felt almost sure of, she was not in- 
 different, and she surely liked him. " Like " was a 
 poor word compared with the great love he had for 
 her. When would this mystery cease ? When could 
 he know all ? and could he ever hope to be more to 
 her than he was at present ? It seemed a distant and 
 unrealizable wish, yet he nourished a desperate hope 
 that sooner or later she would be his. 
 
 He called at Avenue Matignon several times. Miss 
 Leslie was never in. Once he saw Mrs. Adrian 
 just as she was going out. She was delighted to 
 meet him, and expressed the liveliest regret that 
 they had always been so unfortunate as not to be 
 at home when he called. The day for the ball 
 was approaching, and he longed for it as eagerly 
 ii
 
 242 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 as a thirsty traveller watches for an oasis in a 
 desert. 
 
 His love developed in him a trait hitherto un- 
 known to a Beaufort. He basely watched the wo- 
 man he adored ; he followed her carriage in secret ; 
 he saw that her visits to the Latin Quarter, instead 
 of becoming rarer, were growing more frequent. 
 She was often alone, and as often accompanied by 
 her aunt. 
 
 Thank heaven, no man was ever with her. That 
 was at least a consolation. 
 
 Sometimes he caught a glimpse of her face. Oh, 
 how pale it was and how sad ! But one night, to his 
 amazement, he saw Mr. Gratiot with her. They had 
 a bundle of papers and were talking excitedly to- 
 gether. That was the one preceding the set'rSe, and 
 the next she would smile upon her guests with all 
 the innocence of a young maiden whose life was 
 clear and unsullied. 
 
 What was the mystery ? What did Mr. Gratiot have 
 to do with it, and who was the occupant of No. 7 
 Passage St. Pere ? His head turned, his brain seemed 
 on fire, his heart throbbed, his nights were sleep- 
 less, his health was being undermined. Yet his part 
 must be played to the end as well as hers. " Oh, 
 what a tangled web we weave, when first tempted 
 to deceive ! " 
 
 The morning of the tenth broke clear and cloud- 
 less. He felt cheered by the sunlight. He inhaled 
 the sweet air, and blessed nature that she smiled 
 upon him. He mounted his favorite steed, and with 
 his kinsman went to the Bois. There were many
 
 Marked "In Haste" 243 
 
 riding at that hour. The sound of iron hoofs rang 
 over the pavement, and when he reached the woods 
 the alle'e reserved for riding was already crowded. 
 The fine dry weather was aught but wintry. It 
 seemed a special dispensation. He was to see his 
 love that day, and even nature turned her sweetest 
 face toward him. 
 
 When they returned, Mr. Brandon left him en 
 route. He was to breakfast at an old cafe near the 
 Palais du Luxembourg, and they would not meet 
 until afternoon. The cousins exchanged a few af- 
 fectionate words of farewell. 
 
 At half-past two he returned. The Earl was writ- 
 ing to his mother. He seemed surprised that his 
 cousin had gotten back so soon. His surprise 
 changed to anxiety when Brandon told him that he 
 must confer with him immediately. 
 
 The Earl instinctively thought of Miss Leslie. He 
 stretched out his hand, and said : 
 
 " You wish to speak of her ? Quick ! Do not 
 keep me in suspense. My God, has anything hap- 
 pened ? " 
 
 " Something has happened," said Brandon, " but 
 not to her ; that is to say, she is well, but 
 
 "But," impatiently. Brandon approached nearer. 
 
 "I. have news," he said. "Listen. First deny 
 yourself to every one we must talk in secret." 
 
 The Earl gave the order and closed the door. 
 They remained closeted for over an hour ; then they 
 came forth from the chamber. Beaufort was pale, 
 and his face glowed with suppressed passion. 
 
 " I will never believe it," he said. " Never ! and
 
 244 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 to-night " wildly, " to-night, who knows if the soi- 
 ree will take place ? " 
 
 " There seems nothing to hinder," said Brandon, 
 coolly ; " we will go to-night, the same as if I had 
 heard nothing. Her position is not changed ; the 
 only question is, whether or not your own remains 
 the same. If you care to go 
 
 " If I care ! " Beaufort said, desperately, "you know 
 I care. I love her. I shall never miss an opportu- 
 nity of seeing her." 
 
 "Knowing what you do ?" hazarded Brandon. 
 
 " I know nothing," doggedly, " and and I believe 
 nothing. I love her ! " 
 
 " Will you reason ? " 
 
 " No, I love her." 
 
 " How will you act toward her this evening? " 
 
 " The same as of old. The same as if you had 
 told me nothing. I love her ! " 
 
 " Promise me one thing," said his cousin, earn- 
 estly ; " that you will not propose to her, that you 
 will make no professions to her." 
 
 "That," said the Earl, bitterly, "is very easy to do. 
 She never gives me a chance to make love to her. 
 Why should I be more favored to-night than any 
 other ? " 
 
 Brandon was in despair. He was near losing his 
 patience. He prayed God that he might never fall 
 in love. His prayer was unuttered, but perhaps, like 
 many that have no words, it reached the throne of 
 Grace quite the same. 
 
 "Will you promise ? " he began. 
 
 " No," said the Earl, " I will not. I promise on
 
 Marked "In Haste." 245 
 
 the contrary to tell her all. If chance favors me, 
 and I feel as I do now, she shall decide for me what 
 the future is to be." 
 
 " And the past ? " said Brandon. 
 
 " It no longer exists," he said proudly. " My love 
 is great. It is a bridge that will span all time. If 
 she but trust to it, it will carry us both safely over. 
 Adieu ! we meet this evening."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SOIREE AT MRS. ADRIAN'S. 
 
 THE ball was at its height ; the pretty hotel had 
 never looked more charmingly. Mrs. Adrian, very 
 magnificent in a violet moire antique, did the honors 
 with her hospitable American simplicity. In ad- 
 dition to the many foreigners present, there were 
 the cr$me de la crhne of the colony in Paris. With a 
 few exceptions, all was cream. It will not do to 
 be too select in a cosmopolitan city, while heaven 
 preserve us from the salon des de'dasse's ; but Mrs. 
 Adrian, with her usual tact, managed to bring to- 
 gether the rich and the poor, the titled and the com- 
 moner, without much respect for rank, and very 
 little more for station provided one was highly re- 
 spectable. 
 
 It was a real American soiree in Paris. There were 
 poets in embryo, singers en amateur, doctors, den- 
 tists, wits, fools, millions, and half-hidden misery, 
 lawyers, bankers, aye even brokers, ambassadors, 
 lords and ladies, dames and demoiselles, with the usual 
 run of high-life hangers on, whose escutcheons had 
 the palatable flavor of beefsteak au champignon (not a 
 battle-field), and whose money, strange to say, posi-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 247 
 
 lively diminished their brains. Oh, the luxury of 
 being so rich that all natural talent is dwarfed before 
 the better inherited benefits of Mammon ! When 
 one is a reputed archi-millionnaire, how is it possible 
 to also have the reputation of great intelligence ? 
 Mammon outbids Minerva in this nineteenth century. 
 The world at large will never insult a rich man by 
 inquiry into his brain rather than his bank account. 
 
 Miss Leslie was almost obliged to divide her 
 honors this evening. Her dear friend, Countess 
 Isaure, was resplendent in a marvellous toilette of 
 emerald satin and filmy lace ; her jewels exhausted 
 the Hungarian husband's coffers; but, best of all, her 
 lovely form was grace's very exponent, and the dark 
 eyes flashed with pleasure and curiosity. This was 
 one of her first American soirees, and being very fond 
 of Mademoiselle Leslie's compatriots, she found 
 everything they did agreeable, everything they said 
 witty, and every new face most interesting. Count 
 Leon Vandalin was at her side, and, with the hostess, 
 they were really the most admired. His bright wit 
 flashed out continually, and his laugh rang out so 
 unaffectedly that his lady often admonished him: 
 "Leon,/> fenprie! we are not at home." 
 
 " That," said he, coolly, "is the reason I laugh so." 
 Miss Fanny Read, one of the greatest amateurs 
 America has ever produced, was going to sing. There 
 was a hush, and her beautiful voice rang out with a 
 touching pathos. She began a romance of " Merca- 
 dante," and sang as few Italians can. Her pronun- 
 ciation of the soft labials disguising her American 
 birth. When she had finished, there was a storm of
 
 248 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 applause, and just as the last words of Cohen's VAveu 
 were sung (in response to the inevitable encore), 
 Miss Leslie raised her eyes and saw Lord Beaufort 
 standing near the singer, spell-bound. Athol Bran- 
 don was just making his way toward Mrs. Adrian, 
 and the Earl, on catching Miss Leslie's eye, smiled 
 and came forward. She offered her hand mechani- 
 cally, and said : 
 
 " I thought you were too enchanted to even think 
 of saying good evening; but," quickly, " I will for- 
 give you, the charm of certain voices none could or 
 should withstand." 
 
 He looked at her seriously. "Are you jesting or 
 in earnest ?" 
 
 " I am in earnest, and, on the contrary, would 
 never have forgiven you had you come to me and in- 
 terrupted the music." 
 
 " I enjoyed the singing," he said, calmly, "but was 
 thinking more particularly of the words. Sempre io 
 famero, che vien la morte, che vien la vita da te ." He 
 looked in her eyes, " Da tc." 
 
 She interrupted. " Oh, I understand all of that, 
 every Italian song is the same, and most " 
 
 "Most English ones," he added. "Mine is, I know; 
 but you will not seem to appreciate it." 
 
 "That's just my mechancete. You explain my sen- 
 timents by the word, seem," she said, playfully, "and 
 of course, if I don't appear to appreciate, that means 
 that I do !" 
 
 " How kind," he said. "Are we to have the walk you 
 promised me an age ago? But permit me, you are 
 looking uncommonly well this evening, and not a
 
 Marked "In Haste" 249 
 
 bit older." She raised her eyes. " It is so long 
 since I have seen you that I fully expected to find 
 you changed. Where have you been all of these 
 days, and why have I been so unfortunate as never 
 to see you ? You had no reason," earnestly, " it 
 was only my ill-luck, that I never found you when 
 I have called?" 
 
 " I I have been much occupied and not always 
 well; however, I have never denied myself to you, 
 I have really been out at those times. I am so glad 
 to see you this evening." 
 
 " But," persisted the Earl, " what has become 
 
 She evidently wished to change the subject, and 
 said, quickly : "You say I do not look a bit older 
 that is not strange, I never intend to grow old." Then 
 she assumed her usual tone of badinage. "One old 
 thing in the house at a time is enough ; and aunt 
 just bought an aloe yesterday; we have put it beside 
 the new century plant called American Freedom." 
 
 He looked at her with secret amazement. After 
 what he had heard that afternoon ! How was it 
 possible for any woman to lead such a double life ? 
 What an extraordinary nature ! Brandon could not 
 have been in the wrong ! Well, it was none of his 
 affair. She could play a part, so must he ; but, 
 where would it all end ? Why had fate entangled 
 him into so hopeless a web of mystery and love ? 
 Why was he destined to desire that which to many 
 would seem undesirable to adore where his love 
 might never be returned ? She was looking at him, 
 and expected some response. He thought all this ;
 
 250 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 his mind was half distraught, yet he answered, try- 
 ing to appreciate her surprising pleasantry. 
 
 " How gay you are this evening ! but, when 
 when the promenade ? " 
 
 " I cannot leave my guests," she says, airily ; " be- 
 sides, I don't need to take a walk now." 
 
 " Mrs. Adrian," said the Earl, going deliberately 
 toward the lady, " I am persuading your niece to 
 show me the new plant, but she insists that she is 
 too busy. Will you not plead my cause ? " 
 
 Madame laughed. " Your arrival is late, my lord, 
 but the cause is a good one. Assuredly you have 
 my help nay, more, I insist on Ethel's showing you 
 some attention and some aloes." 
 
 She took his arm. " How persistent you are ! " 
 she said, when they had reached the inner salon. She 
 stopped on half seeing a white image in the mirror. 
 He looked at her with deep admiration. 
 
 " How beautiful you are ! " said he. " What must 
 you think of yourself when you look in the glass ? " 
 
 " Think ! " she answered, brightly ; " why, a great 
 deal. In fact, it is one of the few serious reflections 
 I make in life that gives me pleasure." 
 
 " One must pardon the vanity," he laughed, " for 
 the wit ; but how vain you are, to be sure ! " 
 
 She looked puzzled. " I do not understand, my 
 lord. Vain ? am I not a woman ? " 
 
 "Yes," he responded, very readily, "but," with 
 marked ungallantry, " I do not see why that is so 
 great a reason for being proud." 
 
 " Proud ? " she said, quickly. " Do you then call 
 vanity pride ? "
 
 Marked "In Haste." 251 
 
 " No," he retorted, " but I call some pride, false 
 pride, vanity. Why then, if you so prefer it, should 
 the mere fact of being a woman be a cause for van- 
 ity ? " 
 
 "Because," simply, "proud of not being a man. 
 What can be lower than that part of the human 
 tree ? " 
 
 " The root ; and the root is " 
 
 " Underground, thank heaven ! " she interrupted, 
 with levity. " Do not let us disinter what society 
 plants 
 
 " And nature elevates." 
 
 " I suppose that you think I am in the same 
 humor that I was the day of Isaure's breakfast ? Per- 
 haps. Your British phlegm has come to the rescue ? 
 Nature, undoubtedly, elevated one man, once upon 
 a time ; but, believe me, no one except an English- 
 man could give Eden the modern name of Lon- 
 don." 
 
 " I can give it a better name still," he said, slowly. 
 " Now that you are here, I unhesitatingly call it 
 Paris." 
 
 They walked on, with murmured good evenings 
 here and there. It seemed as if they never would 
 reach the conservatory. Part of the rear was de- 
 voted to flowers, and the other part to a beautiful 
 balcony or terrace, looking out on the garden. There 
 were steps leading down, and from the iron railing, 
 although seemingly a few yards, the descent was really 
 a long one. The night was wondrously soft and 
 beautiful. The winter shrubs of the garden wore a 
 summer green, and the little statuettes, gleaming
 
 252 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 here and there through the verdure, looked like 
 mocking sprites and conscious tale-bearers. 
 
 Miss Leslie approached the terrace, but half shiv- 
 ered. She was attired in a dress of lace, creamy 
 point (T applique ; so well suited to youth and loveli- 
 ness, that its priceless value never strikes the be- 
 holder. The hot air of the conservatory was tem- 
 pered by the open door leading to the terrace ; the 
 rlowers were in brightest bloom, and fairest of all, 
 was the awakened "sleeping beauty" heroine of a 
 hundred years of sommeil. The pale flowers looked 
 strangely upon their less new companions, but felt 
 not at all out of place. How shall we feel to awaken 
 after sleeping for a century ? 
 
 " Here," said she, " is the wondrous plant." 
 
 He looked at it, then at her. 
 
 " I am more pretentious, yet more modest. Why 
 will you speak of century plants ? I only came to 
 look at it, an excuse to be alone with you." 
 
 "You are brave," she said, gaily ; "this is my night 
 for showing off everything and everybody. How 
 dare you go into, not extremis, but exile with me ? " 
 
 " I would go anywhere with you," he answered, 
 regardless of her mocking tone, "but I suppose 
 there are a dozen here to-night who are all anxious 
 to show their devotion, and who would " 
 
 " Upon provocation," she interrupted. 
 
 " Without provocation," he continued, sturdily, 
 "offer to do as much or go as far as myself. A propos, 
 who are here this evening ? I never before knew that 
 Americans were so titled and scientific. There are 
 no less than nine distinguished physicians."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 253 
 
 " They are not all doctors in medicine," she broke 
 in; " some are " 
 
 " What ? In music ? piano ? " 
 
 "No, not piano, but something that covers piano 
 keys." 
 
 " What can you mean ? " he said, wonderingly. 
 
 " Ivory," she remarked, sententiously, and smiled. 
 
 " Ivory ? " then seeing her gleaming white teeth, 
 "Ah bless me, you mean dentists." 
 
 "You have divined their profession." 
 
 He shuddered. " I am amazed ! In society ! " 
 
 " Dear my lord," she interrupted, " one may have 
 more or less sympathy for a calling, but no Ameri- 
 can looks down upon any gentleman who earns an 
 honest and and courageous living. Besides, look 
 at the wealth that it commands ! One of the most 
 beautiful residences in this city is called Palais des 
 Mac/wires. Its owner is really most charming and 
 distinguished." 
 
 " Yes," he added, " I remark the distinction. These 
 gentlemen are all decorated ! " 
 
 She laughs sarcastically : 
 
 "Is the Victoria cross more worthily bestowed 
 upon an Englishman who jumps down a Rus- 
 sian's throat, than the grand cross of the Legion 
 of Honor upon an American who goes down that 
 of his Empress to extract glory, and her imperial 
 tooth ? " 
 
 " Both," he added, decidedly, " are the reward of 
 valor and merit, but " 
 
 " It undoubtedly takes courage for any man to 
 face a Russian bullet, but confess it takes much
 
 254 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 more to extract one under the circumstances. For 
 shame, my lord ! You are chary of your praise. 
 You do not appreciate my compatriots, the decorated 
 ones." 
 
 " I appreciate them all," he said, calmly, "but you 
 have not done with the the doctors. Who comes 
 next ? " 
 
 " That dark man," she said, " standing against a 
 Cupid. He does not pull teeth out dead he puts 
 them in alive, extracted from one person's mouth, 
 and in twelve seconds they are transplanted and 
 flourish in the bouche (Tun autre a most marvellous 
 but satisfactory process. He came here poor and 
 honest ; he will leave, or will never leave, Paris 
 rich and honest." 
 
 " Stop, stop ! which do you mean ? that he will 
 never leave Paris, or that he will never leave it " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," she laughed in turn, " I 
 spoke so hastily that one might gather a wrong im- 
 pression from my words. I mean that he will never 
 leave Paris, but will live here to gather in the rents 
 from his blocks of buildings, to enjoy his money as 
 an honest, clever man should, who has earned it all 
 honestly." 
 
 " That sounds more amiable. Next " 
 
 " Ah, next ! Some live glowing with ambitious 
 fires, others die to be cremated. That young M.D. 
 speaking to that gentleman," indicating another doc- 
 tor whose craft is similar, and whose wife was study- 
 ing for the stage "that youth is ambitious. My 
 aunt met him yesterday on the Boulevard, and, after 
 a hasty bonjour, he said : ' I haven't seen you in an
 
 Marked "In Haste." 255 
 
 age, madame (they had never met but twice previ- 
 ously). I hope you are in good health.' ' Yes,' re- 
 sponded aunt, ' and you no need to ask ! Let me 
 congratulate you. I hear you are married and to 
 a countess.' He looked up composedly. 'Yes, to 
 tell the truth, I have done well. I married a lady of 
 title. I suppose,' desperately, ' that you know she 
 is much older than I am ; but then,' looking seriously 
 at aunt, ' I always preferred the society of ladies 
 much my superior in age. Yes I have done well. 
 It looks like boasting, but I must say that my wife 
 comes of a most distinguished stock. Her father 
 was a marquis, her first husband a baron, and her 
 second a count. She is very well off, and her child 
 by her first husband makes a delightful companion 
 for me. He is a baron, of course, enormously wealthy 
 and and nearly my own age. Funny, isn't it ? ' with 
 a little laugh. ' I should say,' interrupted aunt, with 
 icy politeness, ' that it would make your home life 
 extremely agreeable to get on so well with your pre- 
 decessors' offspring, not to speak of the worldly ad- 
 vantage accruing from so brilliant a match.' He 
 smiled broadly and raised his head. ' My business 
 has improved,' boastingly. ' Our firm, you know, D. 
 and Co., Baltimore, had no cause to complain before, 
 but I clear now, for my share, from two to three hun- 
 dred francs a day. All of her distinguished friends 
 
 ' Aunt bowed and held out her hand. ' Let 
 
 me congratulate you doubly,' she said. ' Au revoir ! 
 so charmed to have met you.' When she came home 
 an invitation was immediately despatched to M. le 
 Comte and Madame la Comtesse."
 
 256 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 " The count ? " Beaufort said, inquiringly. 
 
 " Naturally," she answered, " he has become that 
 by courtesy. This is not England, where a friendly 
 sovereign leaves home to marry a Queen and be- 
 comes only Prince Consort. They do things much 
 better in France, and with the usual politeness. He 
 is also decorated," she added, naively, " Order ' Lion ' 
 and ' Scimitar ' clime, Persia." 
 
 " I suppose," said the Earl, to represent his own 
 bravery and sharpness." 
 
 "Yes," she answered, honestly, "and his wife's el- 
 bows. I am glad to see you so appreciative. Aunt 
 explained her reason for sending an immediate in- 
 vitation. 'We should always respect those who get 
 on in the world," she said, ' I must hasten to repair 
 my thoughtlessness. It is thus,' half unconsciously, 
 ' that true enterprise is often under a cloud, and 
 real merit overlooked. We owe all possible recog- 
 nition to those who succeed in life, and above all to 
 those who are so contented and satisfied with them- 
 selves and their own success.' " 
 
 Beaufort was convulsed with laughter, but said : 
 
 " No one could too heartily commend Mrs. Adrian's 
 discretion and knowledge of what this world requires ; 
 but I am afraid, dear Miss Leslie, that under all this 
 show of appreciation you are quietly having your 
 bit of fun at every body else's expense." 
 
 "Ma parole, no," she said; "but come, we have 
 been away so long that aunt will expect to see 
 another cactus in full bloom by the time I reach 
 the salon." He looked up half tenderly. 
 
 " Have we been away so long ? You^/z*/ it long ? "
 
 Marked "In Haste" 257 
 
 "I never found anything," she said, "but a horse- 
 shoe once upon a time, and that I keep in my bou- 
 doir to support a certain picture." 
 
 "Whose?" he asked, bluntly; "man or woman?" 
 
 "Man." 
 
 " Do you care so much for any man that his pic- 
 ture is in your boudoir? And the horseshoe, I 
 suppose that is for luck ? " 
 
 "Yes, luck for the picture's original." 
 
 "And you think a great deal of him?" 
 
 " His counterfeit is on my mantel, but his original 
 is in my heart." 
 
 "Ah!" coldly, " that means that you love him." 
 
 " Precisely, that I love him." He started up an- 
 grily. 
 
 "May I presume, may I ask who is the happy indi- 
 vidual?" 
 
 "You are presuming," she said, calmly, "and you 
 may ask ; but but I won't answer." 
 
 "A thousand thanks," he said, stiffly, "I am al- 
 ready answered." Then, half unconsciously, "I have 
 no right to pry into your secrets." 
 
 She paled, but made no answer. He was furious. 
 To think that any one of God's creatures could be so 
 heartless, so intriguing, and seemingly so innocent, 
 when her life was one living lie ; but withal, to think 
 that he, heretofore an honest man, could be so en- 
 thralled by her fatal beauty as to follow her slightest 
 nod ! day after day to allow himself to become more 
 and more her slave ; to be almost a co-partner in a 
 miserable secret, yet not caring or daring to do other- 
 wise than honor the woman to whom a whole world
 
 258 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 did honor. He was amazed that he could not think 
 less of her ; but he was not society's reformer, far 
 be it from his self-imposed task to enlighten the 
 world on any subject ; but worst of all, he began to 
 doubt the woman he loved, although in his heart he 
 could not say that he loved her less. Until to-day 
 and this evening, he had hoped any solving of the 
 mystery but this one. She had allowed him to think 
 that she cared for him, but to-night he realized that' 
 she loved some one else. 
 
 Her half-unconscious glances of tenderness were 
 the usual outcome of the coquette's training; her 
 sometimes sincerely expressed pleasure at meeting 
 him, was naught but polite fiction ; when she played 
 and trifled with his feelings, she could not but see 
 that he was in love with her. Why did he seek every 
 opportunity of being near? Why did he pass one 
 day thinking how he could see her the next ? Why, 
 knowing the woman, as he thought he did, had he 
 ever allowed one sentiment to escape his lips that was 
 not the merest nothing tolerated in polite society ? 
 Enough, he would no longer be the plaything of 
 heartless guilt. After to-night, he would never see 
 her again. Never again ! Brandon would be happy. 
 Ah ! he drew a deep breath ; but oh ! the agony of 
 those words ! Never again to look into her face, 
 never to be near her, never even to satisfy his heart 
 with the poor happiness of looking upon so much 
 loveliness. Well, it was better so. After to-night 
 she \vould never see him ; but until this ball was 
 over, let him at least be a man, and play his part to 
 the end. He was excited and troubled, but the mo-
 
 Marked "In Haste" 259 
 
 mentary anger died away. Perhaps he had hoped 
 too much. " L amour ne se eommande pas" that was 
 what he had told her about Valentine. Could she 
 help loving the original of the picture ? and, after 
 all, was there not something honest in thus avowing 
 such a love at a time, too, when he might have gone 
 farther ? 
 
 On how many occasions had he been near throw- 
 ing himself at her feet, when some wretched contre- 
 temps would change all his tenderness into quasi-in- 
 difference ? But now well, she had never gone so 
 far as this before. Any idiot could understand her 
 words ; and as to her meaning, that seemed still 
 more plain.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 WHILE he had been communing thus uncon- 
 sciously with himself, she had approached the win- 
 dow. One arm leaned against the heavy framework, 
 her white drapery floated about her, against the 
 vines and flowers ; her face was upturned, and the 
 light from a waxen candelabra shone full upon it. 
 She was in herself a picture to touch any one's heart. 
 The face which but a moment since had worn an 
 expression of the liveliest banter, was now pale, 
 troubled, and full of unspeakable sadness. He was 
 touched. She was unhappy, and who could know 
 the cause of her grief? Who could fathom the 
 mystery weighing on her young life ? Who should 
 not but admire the character capable of so much 
 firmness, and the will-power that could present to 
 the world so unflinching a front ? She might love 
 another, but nothing, no, nothing ! she could ever do 
 or be, would prevent his loving her while life lasted. 
 She would never know it, unless her heart divined 
 his passion by some one of those inexpressible indi- 
 cations that love alone can notice. He would never 
 humiliate himself by any declaration of love. He
 
 Marked "In Haste." 261 
 
 was her friend, if she needed one, but how to tell 
 her, how to let her know ? He went toward her. 
 She half started from her revery. 
 
 " Forgive my indiscretion," he said, simply, tend- 
 ering his hand with humble grace, " and only let me 
 wish you first the fullest realization of your dearest de- 
 sire, with life-long happiness. Next to ask a favor. 
 This : That in whatever circumstances of life you 
 may find yourself, you will permit me the happiness 
 of being your friend. You are young, life is long, 
 and the world is wide. One never knows what may 
 happen, but one is never poorer with an honest, 
 sincere, and disinterested friend. I will be, nay, am, 
 that one." 
 
 She started forward with a glow upon her face, 
 and held out both hands : 
 
 "My lord," she made answer, "'tis I who am 
 honored. I accept the offer and thank you with my 
 whole heart; but friendship," suddenly, "how do 
 you understand the word ?" 
 
 "As you do," he said, looking her boldly in the 
 face. " Friendship can have but one meaning to 
 honest folk. It claims the dearest thoughts and the 
 best wishes, is self- abnegating, unselfish. At its call, 
 one goes to the end of the world with blind, un- 
 questioning obedience ; it never doubts, never fears, 
 but is ever ready. A strong arm to lean upon ; " he 
 looked steadily at her, " a true heart to confide in, if 
 ever one feel the need of unburdening the soul ; a 
 human creature so akin to one's self, that any call 
 made upon its sympathy and devotion is answered 
 with instant reciprocity ; but, above all, between
 
 262 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 friends must exist the feeling that offers a blind 
 obedience to the slightest wish ; the power to enter 
 into one's thoughts but not to know them ; to do 
 unhesitatingly, without requiring to ask the why nor 
 the wherefor ; to call upon when needed, to rejoice 
 when one is glad, to be silent when one is sorrow- 
 ful ; to be, in short, the one creature in the world 
 moved by no feeling of interest other than the com- 
 plete well-being of the cherished object ; to be de- 
 voted, self-sacrificing, and, above all, true as the 
 needle to the pole ; to be able to feel that whatever 
 betide, there is one to call upon whose constancy 
 knows no unswerving, whose tenderness no mother 
 could outvie, who forgives and hopes to be forgiven, 
 whose pulse never beats a false emotion, whose life, 
 honor, and protection are at the service of the one 
 who desires it, whose whole being shall be the living 
 example and definition of so honest a sentiment as 
 that of friendship." 
 
 He bent gracefully on one knee and raised her 
 hand to his lips, saying : 
 
 "This, then, lady, is what I understand by the 
 word, and this is what I offer at its heart's shrine." 
 He bowed low over her hand, then arose. She looked 
 into his face with her clear eyes. 
 
 " You honor me, my lord, when you say that I 
 understand the word as you do, and yet I must say 
 that that is also my idea of friendship." 
 
 She seemed so reassured by his earnestness that 
 some of the old playful badinage came involuntarily 
 back. She continued : " But as you express it, the 
 words are strong. Let us be guarded. Although I
 
 Marked "In Haste" 263 
 
 do not believe it wholly, yet they do say, ' 
 
 f amour sans ailes,' and, and be careful. You have, 
 
 or seem to have some heart ; mine is not adamant, 
 
 but 
 
 "But incomprehensible," he added, not unkindly. 
 " Ah, woman, woman, who may know thy caprices ? " 
 
 " Any other woman," she answered, lightly ; " but 
 come," seriously, "we have been here a very long 
 time." 
 
 " Not long," he answered, gaily, " when you realize 
 that we came to study a century plant." And thus 
 conversing they made their way to the inner rooms. 
 They had not been missed, evidently. Could Bran- 
 don but know the truth. All was ended between 
 them. He was her sworn friend, and friend only, for 
 ever more. When they reached the salon, Brandon 
 came toward them. 
 
 "You have missed some delightful music," he 
 said, "a doctor's wife has just sung deliciously. 
 What beautiful voices these Americans have ! I hear 
 there is still another lady present who is a most cul- 
 tivated amateur. She will sing later. But where 
 have you been ? " 
 
 " To the conservatory," she answered, " look- 
 ing - " 
 
 "Looking at a century plant," interrupted Beau- 
 fort. "Mrs. Adrian's latest." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Brandon, " I should have thought not 
 the last but the first; or no, her great -grandmother's 
 first." 
 
 "Naturally," retorted Miss Leslie. "My great- 
 grandmother was first ; my own dear granny came
 
 264 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 next, and my mother was before me, strange to 
 say 
 
 "Mademoiselle," interrupted a voice, "a young 
 American is going to play, but he wishes to make a 
 selection that will please you. What shall it be ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " as she glanced up, " our young friend 
 William Russel. I choose at once the ' Ballade 
 in la bemol.' Chopin is such a favorite composer, 
 and he plays that most charmingly." 
 
 They drew near the piano. The rooms were so 
 crowded that locomotion was very difficult. The 
 pianist saw his hostess approaching, and seated him- 
 self. As usual when one begins to play at a soiree, 
 that moment every body begins to talk. A lady 
 near by looked extremely contented and said, 
 scarcely under her breath : 
 
 " Ah ; now we can chat a little. I can never really 
 collect my thoughts so well as when one is playing 
 some of Chopin's heavenly music." 
 
 Lord Beaufort looked amused, and simultaneously 
 the three he, Brandon, and Mademoiselle looked 
 at each other. They almost laughed aloud at the 
 lady's sincerity. The " Ballade in la bemol " is one 
 of the great composer's most tender inspirations. 
 The pianist played it unusually well, and at its close, 
 in spite of talking, he was greatly applauded. Miss 
 Leslie drew near to thank him. 
 
 " It is so kind of you, and I enjoyed it as I always do 
 your playing, but it is a pity people will talk. How can 
 one have the courage to keep on ! My fingers would 
 be all thumbs, and I should mercilessly interpose flats 
 for sharps, naturals for accidentals, and so on."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 265 
 
 " Frankly," he made answer, " I love to play in 
 my class, for my friends, in a concert hall; but not at 
 soirees. One does not lack the courage, but " laugh- 
 ingly, " to tell the truth, it takes courage 
 
 " To interrupt the general conversation," said the 
 Count Vandalin, who came up at that moment. " I 
 understand you." At which they all laughed, and the 
 artist joined in more heartily than any one. 
 
 " Just what I was about to say," he continued, 
 pleasantly, "but for this evening no more piano." 
 
 " C'est juste ! " said the Count. " Rubenstein him- 
 self would scarcely be appreciated at an ordinary 
 soiree." 
 
 " Ordinary, Count," said Miss Leslie ; " you dare 
 to call our first evening ordinary ? " 
 
 " Yes, more than that, extra-ordinary, and extra- 
 ordinarily delightful. Here comes Isaure. She is 
 on the arm of that charming Mr. Allani, but but I 
 am not jealous. I have already made acquaintance 
 with an extremely pretty woman, and now she's ' my 
 flirt.' " Countess Isaure came up. 
 
 "I have had supper," she said; "sandwiches, 
 champagne, and some ice cream that was perfectly 
 elegant ! " Beaufort laughed and said : 
 
 " Dear Countess, your English is so expressive." 
 
 " That," she retorted, " is not English, it is Ameri- 
 can. I just heard a young belle make use of the ex- 
 pression, and thought at once that I could do so. 
 She said : ' This cake is too lovely ! do give me a bit 
 of wine ! what an exquisite sandwich ! but the ex- 
 pressions I find most drole were the cream being 
 'perfectly elegant,' and ' what heavenly butter ! ' "
 
 266 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 It was impossible to withstand the humor of the 
 Countess. Even Miss Leslie laughed, the Count was 
 in a roar of merriment, and from that time forth 
 everything seemed to take a ludicrous turn. The 
 only exception was when Madame Celarini sang. 
 Her lovely voice, like the measured cadence of the 
 harp, was more than beautiful. She sang a romance 
 of Schira's Sognai, and followed it with Clay's path- 
 etic ballad " She Wandered down the Mountain 
 Side." All seemed to appreciate her exquisite sing- 
 ing, but Lord Beaufort, who was ever a willing lis- 
 tener, on this occasion was preoccupied, and, strange 
 to say, did not speak of the lady's talent Miss Leslie 
 chided him. 
 
 " How can you be so unappreciative," she asked, 
 "as to listen to such singing unmoved ?" 
 
 " Do you like it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Certainly," she responded, "it is a marvel of cul- 
 tivation and sweetness." 
 
 " I am afraid," he responded, sadly, " that I did not 
 half hear. My thoughts were far away." 
 
 " That is nothing ; at least, go and tell the lady how 
 much you enjoyed and appreciated her singing." 
 
 "I?" he asked, with surprise. 
 
 " Yes, you." 
 
 " But what shall I say ? " he queried, desperately. 
 
 " Anything you like. Tell her how pleased you 
 were to hear her, how delightfully she sings." 
 
 " I have not the honor of knowing her." 
 
 " I will present you," she responded. In this he 
 acquiesced with very evident pleasure. They reached 
 the piano. Madame was, as usual, surrounded by a
 
 Marked "In Haste" 267 
 
 score of admirers, and one by one as they withdrew, 
 room was made for others. At last Mademoiselle 
 Leslie saw her way clear. She begged to present 
 Lord Beaufort to madame, at the same time telling in 
 her pretty way, how she had charmed them all with 
 her beautiful singing. Celarini said : 
 
 "All flatter me, but you," indicating her young 
 hostess, " I think, are sincere." 
 
 " Toujours" she responded, then turned to give his 
 lordship an opportunity to speak to the fair prima. 
 He commenced : 
 
 "I cannot tell you how much pleasure you have 
 
 given me. I adore music, and a voice like yours " 
 
 She looked him through and through. Madame C 
 
 was one of the few rich and handsome society ladies 
 who believe in telling the truth on all occasions that 
 is to say, nearly, most, all occasions. And how she 
 " got on " was sometimes rather curious. Those who 
 knew her well admired this peculiar quality ; those 
 who did not, received her extraordinary remarks with 
 perfect quiescence. Most people at evening parties, 
 in polite circles, are so accustomed to utter false com- 
 pliments and hollow nothings, that even the most hon- 
 est take to the routine quite naturally. Nor can 
 we imagine anything more dreadful than to hear ab- 
 solute truth at all times, and especially at a ball ? 
 Could one well tell a lady that her dress was awry, 
 badly made, and unbecoming ; to another that her nose 
 was red, and her husband, at that moment, in a cab- 
 inet particulier with a dancer of the Opera ; to an- 
 other that her maid had disclosed the cause of certain 
 visits to an uncertain portrait painter ; to a young
 
 , 268 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 man that he had taken too much wine, and that his 
 
 liaison with Madame was town talk ; to a singer 
 
 that she had no voice ; to a pianist that he had no 
 technique ; to a poet that he had no talent ; to the 
 lady of the house that her ball was a failure, and so 
 on to the end of the chapter ? Oh, no, society has 
 arranged things much better than that. One is per- 
 fectly justified in saying polite nothings to anybody, 
 to tell a fright that she is beautiful, and to do every- 
 thing exactly in the way modelled by the one who 
 gave the first soiree. One makes elaborate prepara- 
 tion for the evening's enjoyment ; one leaves the 
 cares of the day at home ; the neglected wife finds 
 that another man can see charm in her ; the whole 
 world goes home feeling soothed and flattered by 
 the half-hour of excusable fiction daily enacted in 
 society. Imagine the uproar and discomfort, if 
 every one, at a ball, told only what he thought the 
 truth to his neighbor ! Excuse us, please ; we do not 
 care to dwell on any such catastrophe. Lord Beau- 
 fort continued : 
 
 " A voice like yours is so rare, I really cannot tell 
 the pleasure you have given me." 
 
 " No," she answered, strangely, " no, I suppose you 
 couldn't ! " 
 
 " Qu'est-ce que cela voudrait dire, madame ? " won- 
 deringly, but with studied politeness. 
 
 " It means," she said, naturally, " that I do not be- 
 lieve you care for my voice or my singing. You 
 did not even hear me, and I like to hear the truth 
 sometimes. Why do you come to compliment me ? " 
 
 He looked up and answered : " How delightful.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 269 
 
 You like to hear the truth ! I am occasionally in 
 that mood myself. Well, you shall hear the truth. I 
 only came to compliment you because your friend in- 
 sisted upon it. You are right not to believe me, for 
 I told you a perfect falsehood. I like some voices, 
 but I do not like yours. I could tell you just how much 
 pleasure you gave me none at all ! The little I 
 heard I did not like, and, in fact, I would have paid 
 no further attention, had not my attention been 
 specially called toward you." 
 
 He bowed contentedly, as if he had been uttering 
 the most delicate compliment. Paying her back so 
 promptly in her own coin was so rare, that she sus- 
 pected the presence of counterfeit, and only on see- 
 ing that he did not smile, did she begin to realize that 
 she had had the much longed-for truth told her. She 
 was furious, of course, as we all would be, and red- 
 dened to the roots of her hair. Lord Beaufort at- 
 tempted to say nothing more, and she had to make the 
 best of the situation. She was equal to the emergency,' 
 however, and put out her hand with gentle grace. 
 
 "I owe you my thanks," she said naively, "but 
 excuse me if I seemed not to understand all at once. 
 I could never imagine any Englishman capable of 
 telling the truth, and naturally your frankness stag- 
 gered me a little. Adieu and bonsoir." 
 
 She turned away to receive some more compli- 
 ments. Lord Beaufort, longing to roar with laughter, 
 still half listened to her new admirer. She did not 
 tell him what she told the Earl, and I think that was 
 the last time, in the course of her life at fashionable 
 soirtes, that she exacted the truth from any one.
 
 2/0 Marked "fn Haste" 
 
 The cotillon was about to begin, and the hall was 
 cleared for dancing. Mrs. Adrian had to hear so 
 many compliments for the beautiful evening, that she 
 felt overwhelmed. The musical part of the soiree 
 finished by the loudest and most acclaimed selection. 
 Mr. Henry Squires sang " The Star of Love," Wal- 
 lace's beautiful ballad, with such sweetness of voice 
 and perfection of method, that all were enchanted. 
 His lovely wife then came forward, and they gave 
 the grand duo from Mercadante, " II Bravo" with the 
 superb effect that only such artists know how to pro- 
 duce. The blending of voices that have harmonized 
 for years, the perfect purity of their Italian school- 
 ing, made their singing quite unique and delightful. 
 Madame was such a musician that she accompanied 
 as well as sang, a rare thing for an artist to do, but 
 eminently satisfactory when one realizes that the 
 nicest effects are sometimes ruined by a bungling 
 pianist, who can waltz through a scherzo, finishing it 
 in three " pounds " without a scruple ; yet who 
 could not accompany "My Pretty Jane" with aver- 
 age decency as far as as a demi-semi-quaver, or the 
 Garden Gate. After continuous applause, the ger- 
 man commenced, and soon the ball-room was filled 
 with flying figures. The pretty conceits of the 
 cotillon were more charming than ever, the favors 
 furnished by no names mentioned (I am not ad- 
 vertising any swell fournisseur) were rich and rare, 
 with real enamel on the small bonbon boxes, and 
 real bangles in the way of bracelets. The happy 
 hours sped, and when the " wee sma " ones went 
 timidly out, Aurora was just gilding the heavens.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 271 
 
 Her band of colors outvied the cotillon favors, her 
 rose-colored lights outshone all that was most couleur 
 de rose at the ball. Crowds poured from the hospitable 
 mansion, belles had shone and beaux had conquered, 
 but, above all, had Mrs. Adrian's first At Home been 
 a grand success.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " MARKED IN HASTE." 
 
 THE day following the soiree was a memorable one. 
 Lord Beaufort returned home with conflicting emo- 
 tions. He could not yet relinquish all hope of ever 
 being nearer and dearer to Miss Leslie, and yet 
 he felt that some one stood between them, and he 
 turned over in his mind what Brandon had told him 
 the day before. His heart still cherished a faint 
 espoir. When is this ever completely dead in the 
 breast ? Certainly the Earl had little cause to think 
 that he could ever be aught than a friend perhaps 
 not even that. 
 
 Of his own free will he had offered to be a friend, 
 and she had accepted the offer, should she ever need 
 one. How unhappy he was ! He had every honor 
 that station can covet, everything that money can 
 buy, a world at his feet ; and yet the one woman, in 
 whose smile he lived, was the one earthly creature 
 beyond his reach whom he could ever hope to call 
 his own. 
 
 He went into the library and sat down mechanic- 
 ally at his Escritoire. Some letters were there un- 
 opened, and one, to his amazement, addressed to
 
 Marked "In Haste" 273 
 
 Francois Felden. He seized it with avidity and 
 read : 
 
 " MONSIEUR If you are at liberty, come to Avenue 
 Matignon, at the usual hour, to-morrow (the eleventh 
 of December). I have been daily expecting to hear 
 of your return, and half fear that you may not yet be 
 back. I shall not wait for you, if you are not prompt. 
 In case you can only come later, come direct to No. 
 7 St. Pere. You will find me there. In haste, 
 " Votre de'voue'e, 
 
 " ETHEL LESLIE." 
 
 The envelope was sealed with black wax, and the 
 words " trcs presse'e " were written conspicuously 
 near the name addressed. The Earl's heart stood 
 still. Should he go ? To-day was the eleventh, and 
 this had been written the morni-ng of the tenth. 
 When had it come ? He rang for Bell. The valet 
 explained that it came during the evening, when his 
 lordship was out ; that he had" intended to call his 
 attention to it, but, as his lordship usually went into 
 the library before retiring, he supposed he would 
 already have received it. 
 
 "Another time," said Beaufort, sharply, "put all 
 letters on my dressing-table, especially when marked 
 " in haste." Bell's green eyes looked mildly curious. 
 " It is of little consequence," hastily added the Earl, 
 remembering how it was addressed, and fearing to 
 excite suspicion, " but be more careful in future. 
 Where is Mr. Brandon ? " 
 
 " In his room, my lord." 
 
 " Say that I wish to speak with him' at once." 
 
 Bell withdrew. In a moment Athol appeared.
 
 274 Marked "fn Haste" 
 
 The Earl hurriedly thrust the letter into his hand. 
 
 Brandon read and looked up inquiringly. " Well ?" 
 he said. 
 
 "Well," replied Beaufort, "I shall go to the ren- 
 dez-vous." 
 
 " Are you mad ? " 
 
 "Possibly." 
 
 " Can I persuade you not to 
 
 "No," drily, "you can persuade me in no way 
 contrary to my wishes. Do you see this envel- 
 ope ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It is marked " trls presste" 
 
 " Yes. Well, and what of that ? " 
 
 "A great deal. The letters I found on the eventful 
 thirty-first of October were also marked 'in haste.' 
 This visit will be the turning point of my destiny. I 
 shall go again to the Latin Quarter, and for the last 
 time. This evening shall decide my fate. Do not 
 seek to hinder. I must go ! " 
 
 " Then," said his cousin, firmly, " I go with you." 
 
 "That is impossible." 
 
 "Well, not with you, but I shall be at your heels. 
 I claim this as a right. I shall do nothing' to inter- 
 fere with you, with the lady, nor with your plans, 
 but I must be near. Who knows what may hap- 
 pen ! " 
 
 The Earl was terribly excited. He calmed him- 
 self, or tried to, and succeeded but fairly. He even 
 went so far as to commence telling Brandon of their 
 conversation at her soiree, his and Miss Leslie's. He 
 stopped almost in the middle, however. It was im-
 
 Marked "fu Haste" 27$ 
 
 possible to speak of her and speak rationally. His 
 mind was in chaos. His heart beat, and his pulse 
 ran up to fever quickness. 
 
 " Can one realize," said he to his cousin, " that six 
 weeks can have made such a change in me ? I am 
 another man ; I am a different human being. I must 
 assure you of one thing, now, and, let what may 
 happen in after years, remember my words : I love 
 Miss Leslie. Whatever comes of it, I shall never 
 know regret One must love once in a lifetime, and 
 I am a better man, now that I have loved purely, sin- 
 cerely, and honestly, even if the object of my affec- 
 tion be for ever separated from me. To love, and be 
 loved in turn, must be the acme of earthly happiness, 
 as it is the climax of earthly satisfaction to look back 
 upon a sentiment born only of the purest germs. 
 I have loved her without interest, without calcula- 
 tion, without a thought of any thing or body in this 
 world but herself, and for herself alone. I shall 
 wear one image in my heart ; and I devote my fu- 
 ture to one love and to one ideal. I cannot think ill 
 of her ; I have little hope that she will ever be mine; 
 and yet, none other shall ever have my name or 
 honor in her custody. My beautiful love ! " 
 
 " In all this raving," said Brandon, " I recognize 
 one fact. You are certainly in love, but it seems to 
 me that you are most in love with the woman's out- 
 ward charms. You have seen very little of her in 
 reality. I think you are in love with your own ideal. 
 Because Miss Leslie's life is enveloped in mystery, 
 and she has a lovely face, you have, made a heroine 
 of her, a possible victim, and your probable fate.
 
 276 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 What a pity she is not plain ! ' A homely woman," 
 they say, ' has more moral worth.' Beauty is but a 
 fleeting shadow, and yet, I suppose we are all at- 
 tracted by it." 
 
 " Permit me, if I presume to differ with you when 
 you say that 'beauty is a fleeting shadow." Venus 
 has a wider and more enduring fame than Jupiter, 
 who is remembered only by pedants and school-boys. 
 So much for Olympus. On this dull earth, Laura 
 is as well known as Petrarch, Leonora as Tasso, 
 and Beatrice as Dante. For the truth is, beauty is 
 the rarest gift of Heaven, and therefore is immortal. 
 You say I love only her beauty. Well, I confess that 
 I am attracted by it, but now that you know the 
 value I place upon beauty, you cannot blame me 
 for loving that which I consider immortal. Why all 
 of this talk ! We return to the starting point each 
 time, and now I am only anxious to speak of this 
 evening. It is already late, and in two hours I shall 
 be at her house. How will you do ? Will you go 
 directly to Rue St. Pere, or will you start from 
 Avenue Matignon ? " 
 
 " I will go near to her house, and keep you in sight 
 all of the time. Heaven knows how much I wish 
 this day ended." 
 
 " I promise," said Beaufort, " to end my share in 
 this mysterious business to-night. I cannot tell why 
 I have such a strange presentiment of ill. This let- 
 ter seems to me like a warning, a foreshadowing of 
 something evil to be. I could no more disobey its 
 mandate than I can now tell what it portends. Yet, 
 I must go. What is to be will be."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 277 
 
 Brandon half laughed : 
 
 " You will finish," he said, " by making a fatalist 
 of me. It is a most comforting belief, as one may 
 follow any vagary or caprice, lay it to the door of 
 fate, and calmly ignore the consequences ; place the 
 responsibility on destiny's shoulders, and do as one 
 pleases." 
 
 The Earl looked slightly annoyed. 
 
 " You are at liberty," he said, " to think as you 
 please, but you cannot change my belief. For the 
 first time in my life, I do confess it, I believe in 
 fate." 
 
 " And I believe in you. I will never desert you, 
 and we will know your fate together." 
 
 The valet came to light the candles. The Earl 
 shuddered. 
 
 " Why on earth do they have no gas in Paris, ex- 
 cept in ante-chambers, kitchens, and sewers? Fancy 
 the most cheerful light in the world being considered 
 vulgar, because old women wish to flatter themselves 
 that they are still young and look better with the 
 light from waxen tapers softening the features. 
 When I am in a bad temper, I light the gas. When 
 I am in doubt, I turn on the gas. When I come in 
 late in the morning, disgusted with the whole world, 
 I turn up the gas. When I do not know what in- 
 vitations to accept first, I turn on the gas. When I 
 come to a conclusion, I light the gas. When every- 
 thing goes wrong, I also light the gas. In fact, I 
 hate to live without it. What can be more distress- 
 ing to an irritable man than the soft, hypocritical 
 light of sputtering candles ? Just as one gets used
 
 278 Marked "/ Haste." 
 
 to them they die out, and the only satisfaction is a 
 giggling, gurgling wick, and a grease spot on one's 
 swallow-tail, and a shadow like an Irishman's curse. 
 I do not wonder that even the twelve virgins had 
 lamps." 
 
 Brandon laughed. 
 
 " I quite agree with you about the candles. The 
 light is softer and prettier, no doubt, but there is 
 tremendous satisfaction in turning a tiny key and 
 seeing a beautiful flame burst forth, seemingly from 
 nothing. One is so used to it that one never realizes 
 the great benefit of gas to the civilized world. 
 
 We " He was interrupted. There was a tap at 
 
 the door. Bell stood before them : " My lord dines 
 at home this evening? " 
 
 Beaufort started and looked at his cousin. As 
 their eyes met, a rapid glance of intelligence flashed 
 between them. 
 
 " No," said the Earl, and the valet retired. Beau- 
 fort understood that he must prepare himself for his 
 visit. He went to his room and changed his dress. 
 He put a foulard in his pocket, and with it his 
 smoked glasses. He put on an overcoat, and by 
 chance it was the one he had worn the night of the 
 dinner at the Cafe Anglais. He had to go to the 
 coiffeur of the Rue St. Honore, as he did not have time 
 to send for him to come to the hotel. As he started 
 out, it was already quite dark. Brandon accompa- 
 nied him. They were to dine at some little restau- 
 rant, he was to go to Miss Leslie's, and his cousin 
 was to follow at a reasonable distance. 
 
 At half-past seven, he stood at the door of the
 
 Marked "In Haste" 279 
 
 ladies' house. Just six weeks ago he had been there, 
 ringing at the same bell, and how things, although 
 changed, were still the same. He went into the 
 boudoir, and a pleased look came into Miss Leslie's 
 eyes. She spoke briefly : 
 
 " I am glad you have come. Thanks for your 
 promptness. Let us go away at once." 
 
 As they descended the stair the light from the 
 lamp flared full in her face. He was struck by its 
 dejected air and terrible paleness. Her eyes seemed 
 heavy, as from recent weeping. She was as beauti- 
 ful as ever, but it was a sad loveliness. It was not 
 the brilliant belle of the night before who now stood 
 beside him. 
 
 In silence they left the house and wended their 
 way to the Latin Quarter. As they passed along 
 the street he noticed a coupe" with two horses pass- 
 ing them. It had been stationed in avenue Matig- 
 non opposite her house, and the Earl doubted not 
 that it was Brandon's. His heart smote him as they 
 drove on. They were indeed engaged in a curious 
 adventure. Love ! what extraordinary deeds are 
 done in thy name ! 
 
 Miss Leslie sat back in her carriage in her usual 
 way. She never spoke until they were well started, 
 when, without the slightest warning, she said : 
 
 " I hope you found your brother better ? " 
 
 The Earl started. He was staggered. 
 
 " Better ? I do not understand ! " 
 
 " Or perhaps it was not your brother. Did you 
 not write me that one of your family being ill, you 
 were going to Russia ? "
 
 280 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 Great Heaven ! He had entirely forgotten their 
 former positions, and his letter of excuse. 
 
 To himself he said, "I am a consummate ass." 
 To her : 
 
 " Mille pardons. He is better. It was not my 
 brother, but my uncle, my only uncle, who was ill ; 
 he is better, thank God ! Thanks to madame for re- 
 membering, and and if madame did not mind ex- 
 plaining, how did it happen that she had heard of 
 my return to Paris ? " 
 
 " I did not hear. I thought it was about time that 
 you were back. I ventured to send the letter ; also, 
 you must have expected to hear from me in any 
 case." 
 
 " Expect to hear from her ! " What would those 
 words mean ? Oh, yes. It was her delicate way of 
 saying that she had not forgotten to pay him. That 
 was the last straw. He reddened with a great shame, 
 but night hid his blushes. Money, and from her ! 
 It had come to that. Naturally, when one does a 
 hireling's work, one receives a hireling's wages. He 
 felt as Don Saluste must have felt when denounced 
 by Ruy Bias : " I wear the garments of a slave, but 
 thou, thou, has the soul." Beaufort said to himself, 
 "/wear the garments, and I have also the soul." 
 
 She spoke no more. They reached Rue St. Pere 
 and left the carriage, then turned into the Passage. 
 As before, they rang at No. 7. They went to the 
 attic chamber, and she entered without knocking. 
 He seated himself in the old fauteuil, when she said : 
 
 "I may need you at any moment. Be ready." 
 
 He bowed in acquiescence. He knew Brandon
 
 Marked "In Haste" 281 
 
 was in the street, and that he had followed them 
 there. It had been determined upon between them 
 that, when a certain length of time had passed, he 
 should wait no longer, as all was well, but return to 
 Rue Bassano to await him at home. Beaufort had 
 promised to relate all that which transpired, and he 
 would keep his word. He had been seated ten min- 
 utes, perhaps fifteen, when he heard the name, "Pel- 
 den," and " come at once," called through the open 
 door. He rose "precipitately and went into the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 FAREWELL FOR EVER. 
 
 HE found himself in a vaulted apartment with 
 quaint wainscotting and massive oak beams running 
 across the ceiling. In niches, in out-of-the-way places, 
 were pedestals with saints and various statuettes 
 gleaming down. The room was richly furnished 
 and resembled a chamber of an old palace, as do 
 many of the ancient houses in the part of Paris. 
 The exteriors are absolutely belying. 
 
 Upon a bed lay a young man the dark -haired 
 youth whom he had once before seen. He was ill, 
 and evidently dangerously so. Miss Leslie's face 
 was set with a fixed despair that cut into the Earl's 
 heart. As he approached, the invalid started. In the 
 delirium of fever he raged. " Hold him ! " said she, 
 faintly covering her face with her hands. 
 
 Beaufort went straight to the bed, without a word. 
 How little" had he expected this ! The invalid became 
 more furious. His eyes glared, his laugh alternated 
 with tears, and his movements still indicated strength. 
 No woman could have held him. A stout sick-nurse 
 came from an inner room, and looked as if offering 
 aid, but Miss Leslie motioned her away. Beaufort
 
 Marked "In Haste." 283 
 
 had not before noticed that there was another room 
 adjoining this apartment. v 
 
 The youth, for he seemed very young, was a beauti- 
 ful sight to look upon. His dark hair hung in rings 
 close to his damp forehead ; his head, which Anti- 
 nous might have envied, lay upon the fine pillow, a 
 model of classic form. His eyes, in whose depths 
 no gleam of consciousness came, were as blue as 
 cerulean skies, and the mouth, which quivered with 
 eager speech, was sweetly curved like that of a child. 
 He raised himself in the bed. 
 
 " Tell them," eagerly, " that I never did it ! That 
 is, it was a mistake. Look, he has fallen over the 
 hedge ! My God ! " covering his eyes, " he is fall- 
 ing down, down, and I have killed him ! " His voice 
 rose to a shriek, and Beaufort held his breath. 
 
 " This " said he, " is the secret. A murderer and 
 those white hands are stained with blood." A sick- 
 ening sensation came over him. Up to that day 
 he had never touched the hand of any criminal. 
 To-night he was by the bedside of one, and was in 
 love with Oh, horror ! whither had his mad passion 
 led him ? Was this the result of honest loving ? How 
 would it end ? He was now a co-partner in guilt, in 
 crime, as he once had feared. 
 
 "Tell them," continued the voice, "that time sets 
 all things even. The night was fair, the moon smiled 
 upon me, and in the hurry and scuffle the fatal deed 
 was done." He stopped and seized Beaufort's hand, 
 and his tone was more confidential. 
 
 "We left together. She," looking at Ethel, "has 
 been true. No woman could have been truer." The
 
 284 Marked "/ Haste." 
 
 Earl gasped, as if he had heard something like this 
 before. The invalid continued : 
 
 "We took to the boats, and I screamed for joy when 
 we reached Paris. They can never find me here, and 
 when they do I shall be beyond their reach." 
 
 " Poor Harry ! indeed beyond their reach," said 
 Miss Leslie as she looked up. " I cannot bear it," 
 she murmured. " Go. I will call you in a moment ; 
 he is getting quieter. He but raves. I pray you 
 think nothing of what he says. Who could attach 
 importance to the words of a madman ? " 
 
 "Who, indeed?" said Beaufort; and relinquish- 
 ing his hand, he left the room. 
 
 His mind was now made up. The great love he 
 bore this woman required some sacrifice at his 
 hands. No matter what came of it, he was ready to 
 redeem his promise of being her friend. A thousand 
 wild imaginings tore through his brain. What a 
 position for a young woman ; what a scene to assist 
 at ; and what if the young man should die ! 
 
 This last seemed too horrible. No Fate could 
 not be so unkind. Visions of the ceremony attend- 
 ing a death in Paris came up before him. He saw 
 the officers of the law coming forward ; he saw the 
 seals put upon the dead man's effects ; he imagined 
 them both arrested for helping to conceal a mur- 
 derer, and his blood ran cold. A murderer, a fugi- 
 tive from justice ! above all horrid thought ! the 
 paramour of the woman he loved ! He, the Earl of 
 Beaufort, in such a position ! The scandal, the out- 
 cry ! Oh, what had he done, and all for love ! Love ? 
 Yes, and the one he loved, what of her ?
 
 Marked "fti Haste" 285 
 
 Alas ! he knew nothing. Was she also implicated ? 
 Had her violet eyes shone with the assassin's gleam ? 
 Were her fair, shapely hands crimsoned with blood ? 
 Where was he ? What was happening ? He was 
 going mad himself. Yes, that was it. These sleep- 
 less nights, this daily torture, this mad love for a 
 woman who led a double life, were already telling on 
 his brain. He had one gleam of reason left. He 
 sank into the old fauteuil, and tore off the glasses. 
 Never more should his eyes be hidden from the 
 world ; he dug off the false beard that the Rue St. 
 Honore coiffeur had so naturally put on. He wiped 
 his face with the foulard ; he threw back his hair ; 
 he held his head erect and felt once more his old self. 
 He had done for ever with playing the spy. He was 
 bound in honor not to betray the woman he loved. 
 Her shame was now his ; in her crime he also was an 
 accomplice. He would do anything, be the friend he 
 had promised, but in his own proper person. She 
 should know all : who Felden really was, and how an 
 Earl of Beaufort had happened to play such a role. 
 
 He thought of last night. Last night ! ah, that 
 seemed years ago ! He saw the ball-room, and the 
 fair forms flitting back and forth in the maze of the 
 dance. He saw the glittering favors of the "german," 
 and a beautiful face, the fairest of all, shining amidst 
 the throng as does that of the evening star amongst 
 the firmament's lesser lights ; he saw the lace-robed 
 form standing against the background of flowers in 
 the conservatory ; he remembered their conversa- 
 tion and their talk about the picture. Yes, this was 
 the loved one ; she had spoken truly.
 
 286 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 Strange to say, he could not think of her as sad. 
 The contrast was only greater to-night. They were 
 again in the ball-room. Her head half sank on his 
 shoulder, her hands held a knot of gaily colored 
 ribbons fastened in a rosette with a shimmering star. 
 She had pinned the knot on his breast, and he was 
 the chosen knight. Oh, the farce of these germans ! 
 Who invented them ? What sorrow is sometimes 
 reaped from one hour's forgetfulness and seemingly 
 innocent pleasure ! In spite of all that he had heard, 
 he loved her. Each moment passed in her society 
 was a delirious joy, all the more intoxicating because 
 fleeting. He knew it could not last, and yet he had 
 sworn to be a friend ; that was ridiculous. He would 
 be that, but he would also be 
 
 Hark, again a voice. " Felden, Felden ! " He 
 started and entered the room. Miss Leslie was near 
 the bed, and the invalid was again raving. He 
 glared more wildly, yet his voice was weaker. 
 
 The fever was spending itself. Beaufort could not 
 tell why, but he felt almost in the presence of the 
 great destroyer. He looked intently at the poor 
 victim, when Miss Leslie, catching sight of him, 
 shrieked : 
 
 " Lord Beaufort ! How came you here ? What 
 must you think of me? Where, where, " wildly, " is 
 my attendant, Felden ? How did you get in ? Did 
 he show you up ? Speak ! " 
 
 Beaufort hesitated. He had forgotten that he was 
 no longer disguised, and she still suspected nothing. 
 It would be cruel to tell her the real facts then. 
 Another time he might. At present he would only
 
 Marked "In Haste." 287 
 
 fabricate some plausible explanation which he did. 
 In his heart he was glad that she did not even dream 
 the real truth. He would not have had the courage 
 to face her questioning, her scorn, perhaps. Unwit- 
 tingly^ fate had befriended him. 
 
 " I came over in this quarter to see a friend, a 
 young student. I saw your carriage and recognized 
 the coachman. I asked him what his presence in this 
 quarter meant, and he told me. He said that he 
 feared some harm had befallen his mistress. Follow- 
 ing his directions, here I am. I met a man on the 
 stairs excitedly going away. Perhaps he was your 
 attendant. Can I serve you ? " 
 
 "Oh, my lord, what must you think of this ? Let 
 me tell you 
 
 " Spare yourself," he said, sadly. " I know all." 
 
 She looked at him as one stupefied. " You know 
 all ? " she repeated ; " how, when, where, did you 
 learn ? " 
 
 " That I cannot tell you,-" he said, " but, be as- 
 sured, you are safe in my hands. I know all." 
 
 The nurse came into the room. She held the in- 
 valid with her strong hands, while Miss Leslie still 
 spoke with his lordship. 
 
 A bright light came into her face. " Oh," re- 
 proachfully to herself, " had I -but confided in you ! 
 I remember you promised to be my friend. Do you 
 still respect that promise ? " 
 
 " I am at your command," he said, simply. 
 
 Then together they went to the bedside of the dy- 
 ing man ; for he was dying, no power on earth could 
 save him. The breath came in gasps ; the muttered
 
 288 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 ravings fell on the hushed air like the moans of a lost 
 soul. The blue eyes gleamed with supernatural 
 light ; the sweet lips opened and closed as does a 
 flower kissed by the night-wind, 
 
 A moment came when reason seemed to reassert 
 herself. He called : " Ethel ! Ethel, my love ! " 
 
 "Yes, Harry; yes, darling!" 
 
 " Ethel, let us pray together. Where is mother ? 
 There ! Yes, yes, she comes toward me ! Her hands 
 have a crown, and her raiment floats about her like 
 a summer cloud. And you," turning to Beaufort, " do 
 you forgive me ? God alone knows what I have suf- 
 fered." 
 
 The Earl shuddered. Was this a deathbed of 
 crime ? Was this an eleventh hour repentance, than 
 which a lifetime of purity had less hope of seeing 
 the throne of grace. He could scarcely command 
 his voice, yet he answered : 
 
 " I forgive you, as as I hope to be forgiven." 
 
 Then the invalid commenced a prayer : 
 
 " Oh, Father, look down this night and receive 
 my waiting spirit. I pray Thee, forgive all who lan- 
 guish in misery, in prison, who have committed 
 crime, or who bear the weight of others' sins. I for- 
 give all who have wronged and persecuted me. I 
 pray Thee to bear kindly with them. My life has been 
 a mistake ; from the cradle to the grave I have been 
 marked with nothing but misfortune. Bless my true 
 love, my darling Ethel, my companion in life and exile ; 
 father, mother, sister, brother, everything ; bless 
 
 The voice ceased, and only Ethel's sobs could 
 be heard. .
 
 Marked "In Haste" 289 
 
 She bowed her head on his hand. The tears filled 
 her eyes. She clung to Beaufort. "Look," said she, 
 quickly, " he is going. Hold him, hold him fast. 
 You are a true friend. If he must die let him die in 
 your arms." 
 
 The Earl could scarcely realize the situation. It 
 was indeed unique. The ardent lover of a woman 
 holding the man she adored, that he might die in 
 his arms. It was too painful. Oh, had she asked a 
 lesser sacrifice ! He never flinched, however, but 
 drew nearer the poor sufferer, to do her bidding. 
 
 " So ? " said he, softly. 
 
 "So," she answered, and the raven curls were pil- 
 lowed on Beaufort's breast. The invalid smiled 
 gratefully and seized his hand. " I am forgiven," 
 he murmured, " I can now die. But I was praying ; 
 let us finish. Bless all who love and hate me, and 
 those those who are here this night. Oh, that my 
 vindication had come below. Yet I bow to Thy 
 will. See ! the heavens are ablaze with light ! I am 
 in the garden where we played as children, and I 
 read strange figures in the sky. We walk over a- 
 marsh where odorless flowers bloom with seductive 
 beauty. You leave me Ethel, don't go." 
 
 "No, dear, I am with you !" 
 
 " No, no, I am alone. The sky grows heavy with 
 clouds red, yellow, crimson, and blue. A great rift 
 appears. A bird comes with an olive branch. I 
 must take it," struggling, "there is a crown, and it 
 is mine. I am coming! Yes, forgiven. Ethel, Ethel 
 ah ! " 
 
 The head droops. The white hands are out- 
 13
 
 2QO Marked "In Haste." 
 
 stretched, and the angel has placed the crown on the 
 repentant's brow. At that moment, the shutter to a 
 window blew open. The imprisoned moon, which 
 had been covered, burst forth from the clouds with 
 the majesty of an emancipated soul. The room was 
 flooded with radiance. In the Earl's arms lay the dead 
 man, at his feet knelt a fair woman. Her hair un- 
 bound streamed over her shoulders, her clasped hands 
 were folded on her breast, her eyes were dried in the 
 bitter salt of unshed tears. Her pale face was the 
 picture of despair, but she spoke not. The Earl was 
 a still more striking picture. He was moved as are 
 strong men, and a tear trembled on his lashes. 
 "He is gone," he said, gently. "And and I hope 
 Heaven has received his soul." 
 
 Then the moonlight came brighter and brighter 
 into the room. It was a peaceful token, and it shone 
 lovingly on those two. Miss Leslie arose noise- 
 lessly and disengaged the dead man's hand from 
 that of Beaufort. She placed the poor head on the 
 pillow, and the Earl was free. The awful scene 
 through which they had passed had brought them 
 nearer together. 
 
 " I cannot understand one thing," said the Earl. 
 " How could you have danced last night, and a loved 
 one at death's door ? Where, where is Mrs. Adrian ?" 
 
 Miss Leslie grew calm. " Yesterday he was out of 
 danger. Aunt has been here all of the morning, and 
 you know how little we must have dreamed of this 
 sudden change. We thought of postponing the soi- 
 ree, but how was it possible ? So many questions 
 to ask, and none could be answered satisfactorily.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 291 
 
 His presence here has been a profound secret, and 
 his illness is of so recent a date that we could illy 
 divine so rapid a change for the worse. I do not 
 know how I have lived all of these days, hourly 
 expecting the officers of the law, never coming here 
 but in deadly fear that in the meantime he had been 
 discovered. Now, all is over ; I have only the con- 
 sciousness that I have done my duty. But, alas ! a" 
 terrible one now remains to be performed." 
 
 The Earl looked her full in the face . " Was there 
 crime ? " 
 
 " You said you knew all," wonderingly. 
 
 " Yes, you are right. I should not have asked the 
 question ; pray forgive me." 
 
 " You are forgiven." 
 
 They went to the window. The night had not worn 
 away, and here and there the stars dotted the vault of 
 heaven with their soft silver lights. The moon sailed 
 on in calm serenity. One earthly fire was quenched, 
 but the world moved on the same. They looked out 
 on Paris. In the distance was the dome of the Inva- 
 lides, farther away the towers of Notre Dame, to 
 the right and left a number of world-famous struc- 
 tures. The view was magnificent, as, from their ex- 
 traordinary height, they dominated the city. In the 
 rear of No. 7 was a large garden, seemingly a park. 
 It belonged to a monastery where a religious order 
 lived. Already the dark-robed priests were saying 
 Ave's, and at that very moment a procession passed 
 under a lime-walk toward a chapel at the foot of the 
 garden. They bore missals and candles, their heads 
 were bowed, and in solemn order they went to their
 
 292 Marked "In Haste.'' 
 
 night's devotions. They were to replace others of 
 " The Perpetual Adoration Society " still praying. 
 Behind them followed a confused number of laymen 
 and other priests. What could it mean ? One bore 
 aloft the sacred Host, with a canppy which stirred 
 as it reached the lower branch of a tree. A large 
 white cross swayed back and forth in the half-pal- 
 sied hand of an old monk, and Beaufort started. 
 
 " See," said he, "some one has died in the monas- 
 tery. Their prayers will reach heaven before ours, 
 and holy angels will keep watch over your now-hal- 
 lowed dead." He bowed reverently as he spoke, 
 while Ethel covered her face with her. hands. When 
 the procession had passed, he glanced toward her : 
 
 "I do not forget the solemnity of this hour," he 
 said, " but I must speak with you. I beg you will 
 hear me." 
 
 She looked at him and acquiesced, faintly. 
 
 " What I have to say," he began, " may just now 
 seem out of place. I pray you forgive me, but I 
 have long wished to tell you something. You must 
 have divined it. That I love you with my whole 
 soul ; that without you and your smile I do not care 
 to live. I ask nothing of your past, it is sacred in 
 my eyes. Do not think me ungentlemanly, but in 
 this solemn hour receive the assurance of my love, 
 fidelity, and eternal devotion. I swear to be all to 
 you that you have lost, to make you forget every 
 hour of unhappiness that you have ever known. I 
 swear this in the presence of him you once so dearly 
 loved, and as your life has been dedicated to him, so 
 mine shall now be dedicated to you. Tell me one
 
 Marked "In Haste" 293 
 
 thing : You are free ? Will you be my wife ? Will 
 you, can you forget him ? " 
 
 She started as if stung. " At such a time, my lord, 
 this proposal is most unseemly. Forget him, never." 
 Her voice rang with strange depth, and her tones 
 struck him with a foreboding of ill. He looked 
 anxiously. 
 
 " You will never forget him. I mean, you will in 
 time learn to think less of him." 
 
 "Think less of him? Never!" she said. "His 
 image can never be effaced from my heart. Why do 
 you ask this ? I have been his all. Why should I 
 forget him ? His misfortunes, perhaps ; himself, 
 never" 
 
 " You are now free ? " 
 
 " No," solemnly, " I am not free. I have conse- 
 crated a vow to his memory which must be fulfilled. 
 Until that is accomplished I shall never be free. I 
 cannot neglect my duty. My affection for him re- 
 mains unchanged, and will while time lasts." 
 
 A light seemed to break upon him. The words 
 "duty," "vow," "affection," took a new meaning. 
 Perhaps, oh, perhaps she had acted thus only from a 
 mistaken sense of honor. If that were all, he would 
 yet win her. He fell upon his knees at her feet and 
 looked at her with rarest pleading. 
 
 "Listen," he said again, "to one thing. Forget 
 this night, forget where we are, forget all that has 
 happened. Imagine that we are in the gardens at 
 Ferrieres. Let me say that which my heart then dic- 
 tated, and answer me truly. Do you love me ? " 
 
 He seized her hand, he drew her toward him ;
 
 294 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 he looked into her eyes. Her face flushed, then 
 paled. A- great despair came over her as she an- 
 swered: 
 
 " God help me, I do ! I think that I have always 
 loved you." 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! XOW T that you are free, we will 
 leave Paris. We will go to the ends of the earth, 
 when and where you will. We will forget this night ; 
 you will be happy once more. No more mystery, 
 no more hiding, and I will help you to keep a secret 
 that shall never see the light of day. Oh, say again 
 that you love me." 
 
 "Yes, I love you, but but I cannot be yours." 
 
 He sprang to his feet. " You say you love me, yet 
 you refuse to be mine now that you are free ? " 
 
 " Yes, I refuse ! " 
 
 That was too much. He started up ; he raged 
 like a madman : " No ! I refuse ! If you love me, 
 that is enough. Nothing can excuse such obstinacy 
 and heartlessness. You may never know how I have 
 loved you. You say that you have always loved me ; 
 perhaps that may excuse your double dealing in 
 your own eyes, but it never can in mine. I come of 
 a race that have never known dishonor. I offer to 
 shield you with my name and my love ; I offer all 
 that man can offer, and you refuse it. I cannot un- 
 derstand women. I can do no more. Yes, I can. I 
 once proffered my friendship. If you loved me, 
 why did you not confide in me ? I do not withdraw 
 that. It is yours to call upon now if you need it. 
 My love you have, but I cannot consent to be the 
 plaything of a woman who is all contradiction. If
 
 Marked "In Haste" 295 
 
 you really care for me so much the better. You may 
 know something of what I suffer. Farewell for ever ! 
 Should " 
 
 She looked at him in horror, pointing to the bier. 
 
 "Respect the dead," she said, "and leave me. 
 Cease your raving. I cannot think so little of my- 
 self as to accept your love at such a time as this. We 
 may never meet again. I forgive your passionate 
 words, because I do love you. I will never willingly 
 see you again ; certainly not until my vow has been 
 accomplished, but take away with you a truthful re- 
 membrance of me. I have been guilty of all you 
 say double dealing, perhaps, but I come of as proud 
 a race a you, too proud to ever forfeit my word. 
 Before the face of my dead " 
 
 " Do not speak his name," he said, faintly. " It is 
 he who still comes between us. You are right. 
 This is no time. God forgive me, and help us both. 
 Farewell, farewell for ever ! " 
 
 He left the room, but turning, said : " I cannot 
 leave you alone here, can I serve you ? " 
 
 " Yes, leave me, but go to my aunt and send her 
 to me. Farewell ! " she looked at him with one 
 long, lingering glance, "farewell, if we never meet 
 again. Let us part friends." 
 
 Springing forward, he threw his arms around her, 
 he kissed her face, her hair, her small hands, and 
 yet again her lovely features ; one long, last kiss, then 
 he staggered away drunk with despair and passion. 
 
 " Farewell, I can never forget you ! " 
 
 He went forth into the night. He dragged his 
 coat from the chair where he had left it, and hastily
 
 296 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 put it on. His brain was throbbing, his brow wet 
 with great drops of perspiration. He hastily de- 
 scended the stairs, taking at the time something into 
 his hand. It was a handkerchief. He wiped his 
 brow with the fine linen, and as he did so, he inhaled 
 the faint odor of jasmin and dead champagne. By 
 a strange chance his valet had never taken the hand- 
 kerchief from his pocket after the dinner at the 
 Cafe Anglais. The remembrance of that night came 
 back to him Allani's emotion, and his thinking at 
 the time that the spilling of the wine in his face was 
 a bad omen. As the sickening scent clung to him, a 
 light seemed to break upon him : 
 
 "The world is called great, but it is really small. 
 My presentiment of misfortune was not amiss. We 
 have both loved the same woman." Again he 
 touched the- handkerchief : " Oh, the smell of that 
 jasmin flower ! 
 
 " It smelt so faint, and it smelt so sweet, 
 It made me creep, and it made me cold ; 
 Like the scent that steals from the crumbling-sheet 
 When a mummy is half unroll'd." 
 
 He found Athol still waiting. The Earl stepped 
 into his brougham, but made no explanation of what 
 had taken place. He only said briefly : 
 
 " We must go to Avenue Matignon." 
 
 They drove like mad to Miss Leslie's house, the 
 Earl rang at the porte-cochere and sprang up the 
 flight of steps to the first landing. He asked to see 
 Mrs. Adrian, and disregarding the footman's stares, 
 he went into the house.
 
 Marked "In Haste" 297 
 
 In a moment the lady came in. She was surprised 
 to see him, but quickly comprehended that some 
 matter of great moment had taken place. 
 
 " Go at once to your niece," said he, " she awaits 
 you at 7 Passage St. Pere. Sad news is in store, 
 but Miss Leslie will explain all to you, even my 
 presence here to-night. Take my carriage^ ,God 
 speed you, and farewell. If I can be of any service, 
 address me through my solicitors, Harkness & Hark- 
 ness, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London, or^at Coult's 
 Bank. Adieu, and courage ! " 
 
 When he returned to his cousin, he explained in a 
 few words that Brandon was to accompany Mrs. 
 Adrian to the Latin Quarter, then rejoin him at his 
 hotel. Beaufort walked home, and the chill De- 
 cember air revived his heated brow. What hours of 
 agony, suspense, and happiness he had endured in 
 one short evening ! Now, now, all was over ! 
 
 He ordered Bell to pack everything. The servants 
 were roused and did his will with blind obedience. 
 When Brandon returned, he found all preparations 
 made for departure. 
 
 " I leave Paris to-night," he said, "to be %one a 
 year. I take the first train to Bordeaux, and there 
 I take the steamer to Brazil. I will wire you full 
 particulars." Then he told him all that had passed, 
 making no reservation, changing nothing. 
 
 " I have not the courage to hear her name, or see 
 her again just yet. She is inflexible and will never 
 break her word to the dead." 
 
 " Did I tell you true ? " 
 
 "Yes, true, fatally true ! Poor woman, she has 
 13*
 
 298 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 suffered much. If the mystery ever be cleared up, I 
 may yet call her mine ; if not, why, I must live and 
 bear my sorrow like a man. I shall never love an- 
 other. I shall go through life with one name on my 
 lips, and one image in my heart. You shall hear 
 from me often. I will write from Bordeaux, and 
 should she ever need a friend, you must be that 
 friend until I return. She may address herself to 
 you." 
 
 In the early morning he started for Bordeaux. The 
 following day he stood upon the deck of the great 
 steamer plying between that port and South Amer- 
 ica. The shipping in the harbor was a world of 
 masts, full-rigged vessels and flying colors. The 
 crowd on the docks was terrible. The magnificent 
 quay, over three miles in length, that flanked the 
 river, wore its liveliest aspect. The market stalls 
 were thronged, and people of all nations mingled 
 freely in the long promenade. There were gay 
 dresses, eccentric costumes, pretty peasants, knots 
 of gentlemen, and many a fine lady celebrated as a 
 beaute Bordelaise. There were sailors home from their 
 yearly voyages, with beaming faces, bronzed skins, 
 and full purses, talking with foreign voices and ges- 
 ticulating wildly. 
 
 Only in Bordeaux, on a fine day, could one see such 
 a strange, motley crowd, or such a happy one ! It 
 was a bright, picturesque scene, a marvellous tableau 
 vivant that outrivalled one of Fortuny's most gor- 
 geous canvasses. Everything was animated and 
 wore its cheeriest aspect. How the ringing voices 
 jarred on Beaufort's nerves ! He looked in vain for
 
 Marked "In Haste" 299 
 
 one familiar face, there was none. The great ship 
 went out of port and the Earl looked his last for 
 some time on the shores of France. As he turned 
 yet once again, a hand fell upon his shoulder. 
 
 He started. Allani stood beside him. The Earl 
 with difficulty repressed a scream. 
 
 " You too bound for South America ? What fatal- 
 ity is this ? " 
 
 " I go to seek forgetfulness," said Allani. 
 -"We will seek it together," said Beaufort, "for we 
 have both hopelessly loved the same woman." The 
 ship soon faded from sight.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 WHAT CAME OF A " MUSICALE." 
 
 PRETTY Durham House was ready for its guests. 
 There was to be a grand morning musicale, and every- 
 body was on the qui vive. Even Jack, the handsome 
 pug, had an eye open to the arrival of strangers. He 
 left his rug in the dining-room ; he went in and out of 
 the library, and just at the most mal a propos moment 
 begged Mrs. Darmal to put him up on her sofa in the 
 boudoir. Minnie was horrified. Happily the master 
 of the house had not yet come, or Jack would have 
 had his way. As it was, he sulked and looked like 
 a dog \\\ faience refusing to be comforted, and barked 
 at every carriage that came to the door. 
 
 The Darmals know how to enjoy life. Culture, 
 taste, position, everything, render this family one of 
 the most charming in the world to know, while their 
 pretty teas and delightful musicales live long in the 
 memory of those who enjoy the privilege of passing 
 an hour under their roof. 
 
 Miss Minnie, tall, fair, ckdtaigru, and stately, looked 
 like a blush-rose in her aesthetic dress. Her dark, 
 curling hair clung more saucily than ever to her 
 shapely head ; her magnificent Murillo-like blue
 
 Marked "In Haste." 301 
 
 * 
 
 eyes looked out from beneath their heavy lashes ; 
 and her figure, that no gown could disguise, would 
 have distracted even Mackart, so beautifully was it 
 rounded, and replete with the grace of charming 
 womanhood. 
 
 She flitted to and fro, adjusting a bouquet here, a 
 branch there, until everything was in perfect readi- 
 ness. A great many swells were coming. There 
 was to be music music in all its forms, in all its se- 
 duction, with all its conveniences. For the divine 
 art can be made a convenience of, as well as anything 
 else. It reconciles lovers ; rivets more firmly friend- 
 ship's fetters; furnishes delightful moments in which 
 to discuss the latest scandal ; covers up the furtive 
 rendez-vous that is never lacking in high-life teas ; 
 and, in fact, is a most gracious god, whom even 
 Apollo was not ashamed to be the exponent of. 
 
 All at once the rooms w r ere filled. It is a matter 
 of curiosity, that no one ever arrives first at a musi- 
 cale, especially at a morning entertainment. Mrs. 
 Darmal's voice was heard : 
 
 " I think the piano is right ! yes, it must be. Not 
 , high enough ? Oh, ah ! you mean the stool ? pos- 
 sibly. Put up the cover ? certainly. I know my- 
 self, music sounds better with that up. Of course, 
 all pianists insist on the same thing ; then one 
 must put it down for the singers. Don't mention it ! 
 No trouble at all Chopin ? Oh ! a thousand thanks ! 
 Whichever you prefer what ! Beethoven ? Oh, cer- 
 tainly ! My dear," to Minnie, in an undertone, 
 " come to my relief ! " (aloud) " Permit me, my 
 daughter, Mr. Mr. Slapenofsky. Miss Darmal, Mr.
 
 302 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 Slapenofsky, pupil of Listz " (they are all pupils of 
 Listz), "will give us the 'Moonlight Sonata.' How 
 inexpressibly kind ! " 
 
 The hostess turned. The Slavonian artist seated 
 himself at the piano. There was a confused arpeggio- 
 hysterio movement. Artist and audience were scton 
 in the throes of the M. S. 
 
 " I never hear that snorter," said Mrs. Belden, 
 " but I think of Rubinstein. He does just pound 
 out them chords, don't he ? I wanted him to give 
 Eleanor lessons, but he wouldn't. These high-toned 
 pianner players think a heap of themselves. I hear 
 he sent back the Queen's bank-note. Counterfeit ? 
 Oh, no ! but regulation Royal Palace pay didn't suit 
 Rubinstein. He envied some of the bric-a-brac, and 
 got it." 
 
 Mrs. Belden was from Kentucky. She was of ex- 
 cellent family (all Kentuckians are), and her first 
 season in London was most successful. She had 
 three daughters, each one handsomer than the other. 
 They were all present, looking like tiger lilies a pe- 
 culiar style of beauty, but not without its attractions, 
 when backed up by the more solid material of yellow 
 nuggets ; they had mines in Nevada, sugar planta- 
 tions in the far South, cotton fields, and Mexican 
 railways. Their wealth was principally from the sale 
 of high-proof whiskey ; made in the morning, im- 
 proved at noon, and sold at night, marked " Old 
 XXXXX. Xtra fine Sour-Mash. 34." Antiquity is 
 so quickly arrived at in America. Absorption is a 
 good process also, when time presses. When one 
 wants antiquity in this marvellous country, he manu-
 
 Marked "In Haste." 303 
 
 factures it, buys it, or inherits the contraband relics 
 of some ancestral sale. Things pass the custom- 
 house in the new world, that cannot pass even com- 
 prehension in any other. 
 
 Miss Minnie was asked to sing. She commenced 
 a pretty ballad by Sullivan. 
 
 " Let me accompany you, mon enfant" said a very 
 English voice, and the composer stood before her. 
 "Oh, Mr. Sullivan, how kind, how perfectly lovely !" 
 A train followed the young composer ; his hand was 
 nearly shaken off, and getting to the piano was a 
 serious affair ; but the song was recommenced . 
 
 Miss Darmal sang with rare taste, pathos, and 
 charm ; an enthusiastic encore was demanded. After 
 the "Distant Shore " she gave " My Dearest Heart" 
 with such touching accent^ that all acknowledged 
 themselves her slaves. As the last notes rang out, a 
 terrible howl was heard coming from under an old 
 Gobelin fauteuil. It was the pug, Jack. He could 
 not bear music, was no respecter of art or artists, 
 and howled away in various keys long before one 
 could get him out. He did not spoil the lovely- 
 song, but every one roared. It was too funny ; even 
 the composer had to laugh. 
 
 Then he was taken up, petted, and endless lumps 
 of sugar given to him. What a thing to be born a 
 pet. Race will tell. 
 
 A young lady in black came forward ; she kissed 
 her hostess, with thanks, after the lovely song. 
 
 "Ethel!" said Minnie, with some surprise, "when 
 did you come, and why not sooner to luncheon, as 
 we expected ? "
 
 304 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 " I came from the Isle of Wight, dear, and had to 
 divide myself for the day. I have made two calls 
 already, but am here for the rest of the afternoon. 
 Will you keep me ? " 
 
 A fond look was her answer. Everybody spoiled 
 Miss Leslie, and with the Darmals she was quite a 
 favorite. 'Two charming young ladies came to speak 
 to the hostess. They were accompanied by a tall 
 distingue'e woman, who was immediately recognized 
 as the sister of the " Sage of Chappaqua." 
 
 " What shall I play, dear ? " 
 
 Miss Cleveland's voice was amiable, and sweetly 
 modulated. Mrs. Darmal had just asked the young 
 lady to favor them with some music, and her ques- 
 tion met with an affirmative response. Celia Cleve- 
 land played as do few amateurs. Listz had guided 
 the fairy fingers, and nature dictated that which art 
 had perfected. In a moment all were spell-bound, 
 as " Les murmures de la Seine" one of Chopin's rarest 
 fancies, echoed softly through the room. It is a real 
 pleasure to hear one play the piano at a musicale, 
 when some selection is made that does not require 
 the efforts of a jury of twelve composers to decide 
 whether it be music or mechanism. Beethoven is 
 welcome at an orchestral concert, but the entire pas- 
 toral symphony is decidedly de trop at an afternoon 
 tea or musical. 
 
 Beware of the names ending in " ir," "hoff," 
 "stein," and "ski." It means hours of misery. 
 Great professionals, when they deign to " assist " at 
 private houses, make the fatal mistake of thinking 
 that any one cares about seeing their technique.
 
 Marked* "In Haste" 305 
 
 Whether or no their reputation suffers through in- 
 congruous causes, is absolutely nothing to the aver- 
 age listener. Imagine with what delight the young 
 American's playing was received ! 
 
 She refused to respond to a marked encore. Miss 
 Minnie came to present an admirer. 
 
 " Celia, dear, Lord Beaufort wishes to thank you 
 for the lovely music, and then you must have some 
 tea." 
 
 Lord Beaufort offered his arm. He had returned 
 to London after a long absence, and this was the 
 first time he had accepted an invitation for a musicale. 
 
 They walked to the table. 
 
 " I always think of Paris," said the Earl, ".when I 
 hear that piece. How did you happen to play it ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is a favorite of mine ; and every one seems 
 to like it. But how hard it is to know what to play 
 at an afternoon party." 
 
 He was thinking of a certain October night nearly 
 two years ago. He was in a carriage with a beauti- 
 ful woman, near the Seine, which looked like a sil- 
 ver river. It murmured and murmured on. He 
 could hear it while Miss Cleveland was playing. 
 How every note brought back to him with startling 
 reality the eventful past. Her question interrupted 
 the flow of thought. He answered with his usual 
 gallantry : 
 
 "Any thing you play must be perfect. I hope to 
 hear you again." They neared the buffet. " Straw- 
 berries ? " " Of course ! " " Cream ? " " Yes ; who 
 could refuse Devonshire cream ?" The Earl helped 
 his fair companion.
 
 306 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 There were many Americans present. Mrs. Ber- 
 tram and her charming daughter, the writer ; Hon. 
 Grenville Bedford, talking as usual with the pretti- 
 est girls ; Mr. Len Harte, eagerly sought after by 
 everybody so distingue, so rich, so charming. The 
 Tiger Lilies had already marked both these gentlemen 
 as legitimate prey. What a cosmopolitan gathering. 
 Gay voices here, hushed ones there, but never the 
 dead tea-party silence that is so appalling. Beaufort 
 was most interested. Miss Athalie, the dear worker 
 for charity, was present, her earnest brown eyes 
 smiling from beneath her straw hat. Madame Vere, 
 Mrs. Darmal's sister with her beautiful daughters, 
 and Lord Schalston came in at that moment. Bret 
 Harte was being lionized. What a confusion of 
 voices. 
 
 At this moment another voice broke upon his ear 
 a voice of such fascination and power that his heart 
 stopped beating. Absence had not lessened its mu- 
 sic ; a lifetime could never lessen its charm. It was 
 her voice, and she was near him. He did not make 
 any effort to move, but simply drank in every sound. 
 She was only speaking a few words of commonplace, 
 yet how dear they were to him ! After nearly two 
 years they would meet again. Meet, and how ? 
 
 The voice came nearer. Its owner was approach- 
 ing the table. Mrs. Darmal touched him upon the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "My lord, this is indeed a pleasure ! Minnie told 
 me that you had come. You will see many old 
 friends to-day." She turned to her companion and 
 whispered something : " Yes."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 307 
 
 " With pleasure, considering that that we know 
 each other already." Miss Leslie looked at Lord 
 Beaufort. 
 
 He could scarcely believe his senses. She seemed 
 to wish to recognize him. He eagerly took her hand 
 and kissed it Mrs. Darmal laughed. 
 
 " This is indeed charming ! To think of your be- 
 ing old acquaintances. What a coincidence ! How 
 delightful that two of my favorites should already 
 be friends ! " 
 
 Dear Mrs. Darmal was really pleased. She loved 
 to bring young people together. Without knowing 
 why, she was secretly delighted that so agreeable a 
 rencontre had taken place beneath her roof. They 
 were evidently glad to see each other. 
 
 Miss Cleveland finished her tea. She left the 
 Earl at a nod, to go to her mamma, and he was free. 
 He turned to Miss Leslie, and offered his arm. She 
 hesitated, then finally accepted it. How strange, 
 how prosaic a meeting for two people who had loved 
 each other. He spoke : 
 
 " You are looking well." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I I am most pleased to see you ! " 
 
 "Thanks!" 
 
 " It has been a long time " A peculiar sound 
 
 of fifths being struck, broke upon the ear. A violin 
 was being accorded to the piano. More music. 
 Some Paganini, indubitably. His mantle has fallen 
 upon hundreds of shoulders. The young creature 
 present had the reputation, however, of owning it 
 exclusively. She was a first prize of the Paris Con-
 
 308 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 servatory, and later a pupil of the great Leonard. 
 Voices were hushed, glasses adjusted, and the gen- 
 eral buzz of conversation died to the ordinary whis- 
 per. It was impossible then to talk. The Earl led 
 his companion toward the piano. Led dragged 
 her rather. The crush was great. There was an 
 odor of flowers and summer air coming through 
 the open window which was particularly inviting. 
 They finally reached an adjacent corner. One could 
 only see the little head of the player. Her skirts 
 absolutely seemed to mingle with dozens of others 
 near by, and it seemed impossible that she could 
 even bow. Oh, the crowd that throngs around 
 an artist, a celebrity, a prize from the Paris Con- 
 servatory ! It is certainly flattering, but very ter- 
 rible. 
 
 As soon as the scherzo was finished, Lord Beaufort 
 made an effort to speak. They had neared the back 
 drawing-room, ostensibly to look at a fine Bellini in 
 a quaint frame. The summer breeze still stole in 
 through the window, the odor of countless blossoms 
 perfumed the air, and he really seemed far away from 
 the crowd, heat, and bustle of an afternoon musicale. 
 His mind was so attuned to thoughts of the past, 
 that he took up his words where the sound of the 
 fifths had interrupted them. 
 
 " It has been a long time since we have met. I 
 have thought of you always, a"nd wondered why no 
 word ever came from you. Had you forgotten that 
 I was to be a friend ?" Her face flushed. 
 
 " I had not forgotten, I have never forgotten, but 
 but we cannot talk of those things here."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 309 
 
 " No," said a cheery voice, " I sha'n't allow any 
 flirting in sight of me and the Bellini." 
 
 Sydney Darmal came .up. He was in uniform, 
 and resembled his sister very much. No amount of 
 padding could hide his slender form, and the red 
 coat, with its glittering toggery, looked startling as red 
 coats always do. A handsome, happy lad, a welcome 
 sight at any time, but just then a trial to Beaufort. 
 Could he never get a chance to say a word ? 
 
 " I have brought a chum to introduce," said 
 Sydney, complacently. " You must know him, Ethel " 
 (in an undertone) ; '' he's an awfully good fellow, and 
 my particular friend.' " Ethel smiled : 
 
 "Your friends are always welcome." Then she 
 bowed amiably and extended her hand, American 
 fashion. Sydney's voice was orthodox. 
 
 " Miss Leslie, allow me to present the Hon. 
 Hamilton Lockwood." Then he turned to Beaufort 
 before one could speak. 
 
 "I say, old fellow, when did you get back? 
 Where's Brandon ? The last time I saw him was at 
 the Star and Garter Derby day. He was having a 
 jolly time with three good-looking chaps, tremendous 
 swells. I did not get a chance to speak to him hope 
 he is well. An awful funk, wasn't it, when that beast 
 of a Hungarian's horse took the Derby ? I lost a 
 clean hundred. Ethel," abruptly, " have some tea. 
 You have had some ? Well, I think I'll leave and 
 get a cup." 
 
 " I have had tea, cake, and strawberries," said 
 Ethel, calmly ; "yes, even Sally Lunn." 
 
 " By George ! strawberries, cake, Lunn ! I'll have
 
 3io Marked "In Haste" 
 
 some myself. The fact is, I have been off my feed 
 for several days. Had some good news this morn- 
 ing, and my appetite is just coming back." 
 
 Sydney burst away. He stopped to speak to his 
 two lovely cousins, who had just come in with Mrs. 
 Darmal's sister. He dragged Miss Eleanor off to 
 the table. 
 
 The Hon. Lockwood was talking to Miss Leslie. 
 Beaufort's face was strangely fixed, but he looked 
 less unhappy when Minnie came up and took the 
 young gentleman away. One of the American tiger 
 lilies wanted to know him. He was doomed. 
 
 Beaufort turned quickly to Ethel. " I scarcely 
 know what to say," he began, "nor how to say it. 
 Why are you always called ' Miss ? ' Would not 
 ' Madame ' be more in keeping with the weeds you 
 wear ? " 
 
 She looked amazedly at him. 
 
 "What do you mean, my lord ?" 
 
 His voice trembled. " Are you still masquerad- 
 ing ? Will you always be Mademoiselle Leslie ? " 
 
 "Probably," she said, coldly, "until I am mar- 
 ried." 
 
 " A second time ?" 
 
 " A second time ? no, a first." 
 
 Her assurance staggered him. What could she 
 mean ? Something in her voice said that she was not 
 jesting now. A light seemed to break upon him. 
 
 "Great God !" he said, faintly, "you have never 
 been married ? Who who was the man that died in 
 the Latin Quarter ? " 
 
 She turned very pale. Her slender gloved hands
 
 Marked "In Haste" 311 
 
 trembled as they clasped her fan ; then a blush, deep 
 and beautiful, overspread her countenance. She said, 
 brokenly : 
 
 "You told me you knew all. I thought you did. 
 No, he was not my husband." 
 
 She stopped speaking. His eyes were filled with 
 eagerness and dread. What was she about to 
 confess ? 
 
 " He was " 
 
 "My brother," she responded, brokenly. "I I 
 thought that you knew all. Why did you tell me 
 that you did ? What must you have thought of 
 me ? " 
 
 His face was glorified with the undying love. 
 Then he said : 
 
 " I have made a terrible mistake, but my life 
 shall atone for it. I must speak with you. Where, 
 when ? " 
 
 " I am not in London. I go to the Isle of Wight 
 to-morrow morning. I am visiting Isaure at Shank- 
 lin," she answered. 
 
 " I will go with you. May I come ? Please say 
 yes." 
 
 A new, strange joy was taking possession of her. 
 After all that had passed, all that she had suffered, 
 was she ever to be happy ? He continued : 
 
 "I will explain there what I had heard and 
 thought of you ; and you you shall tell me every- . 
 thing. You know how I must love you, but you 
 cannot know the whole truth. After the musicale is 
 ended " 
 
 " Yes," she interrupted, "we may speak again, but
 
 312 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 no more now. We have already attracted atten- 
 tion." 
 
 A very handsome lady came toward them. She 
 was that rara avis, a well-dressed English woman. 
 She greeted Ethel, and bowed to Beaufort. 
 
 Miss Leslie spoke. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Langley, how sweet of you to say un 
 j)etit bonjour ! Is not this a charming musicale ? " 
 
 Mrs. Langley assented. 
 
 " I am just running away now, my dear. It is 
 getting late, and my worse half will be waiting. 
 When will you lunch with us ? " 
 
 "Very soon. Next week, perhaps. I am off for 
 Shanklin to-morrow, but will not stay long. Why 
 are you going so early ? " 
 
 " Early ? It is nearly six. I have a dinner and 
 theatre party, so haven't another moment to stay. 
 Don't forget to let me hear from you soon. Au 
 revoir." 
 
 " I am coming too," Ethel said, and she walked 
 toward the first entrance. Mrs. Langley knew 
 the Earl by name and reputation. Ethel presented 
 him. It is not the fashion to introduce people in 
 society, but it is sometimes very agreeable to know 
 whom one is talking to. In Europe, it is taken 
 for granted that people who meet at the same house 
 may speak to each other without special introduc- 
 tion. It is a compliment paid and exacted by the 
 host or hostess. In America, pretty women glare 
 at each other and never speak. Should a lady who 
 has lived abroad by any chance address her neigh- 
 bor, she will receive a curt, monosyllabic answer, if
 
 Marked "In Haste" 313 
 
 any at all, and will be made to feel like wishing to 
 , drop through some adjacent cellar-way. The rude- 
 ness of the average American woman and man is 
 proverbial. The women have grace, yes ; beauty, 
 undoubtedly ; manners, none at all, unless very bad. 
 Abroad there is no stiffness at the teas, none at balls, 
 and soirees are absolutely sans ceremonie. In America, 
 young ladies are miserable if their dancing cards are 
 not full ; but perdition seize the gentleman who 
 dares to speak without having been properly intro- 
 duced. 
 
 In Europe, no girl goes supperless to bed, or rests 
 partnerless at a ball. Any gentleman may step up 
 to a lady and speak to her of the weather, ask her 
 to dance, or to have an ice. It is not an affront, no 
 matter whether he knows her or not. The acquain- 
 tance may be kept up afterward, or die a natural 
 death then and there ; it is optional with both par- 
 ties. But the respectability of people meeting under 
 the same roof is taken for granted, and it is a com- 
 pliment paid the hostess to mingle and converse 
 freely with one and all. She has honored you by an 
 invitation to meet her guests, and you must honor 
 her by treating them with proper consideration, at 
 least, during the acceptance of her hospitality. 
 
 The Earl was happy. He was charmed with any 
 of Miss Leslie's friends, and he found Mrs. Langley 
 particularly agreeable. He wished she would ask 
 him also to luncheon, but she didn't. English ladies 
 do not invite people to their houses on such short 
 acquaintance as do Americans. It takes, on an 
 average, two years, or certainly two seasons, to find
 
 3H Marked "In Haste." 
 
 out whether one's, so to speak, dearest friend (Eng- 
 lish, of course) is really more than polite. It is a 
 difficult national problem. Some individuals, how- 
 ever, have solved it to their entire satisfaction. 
 
 It was impossible for the Earl to say a word to 
 Miss Leslie. She could not get away as soon as she 
 expected, however, for some of her friends had just 
 arrived. 
 
 There were the lovely Misses Emily and Florence 
 de Mosenthal, nieces of the great Vienna poet, with 
 their handsome brothers. There were Major Sam- 
 son, with his pretty wife, and Mrs. Laurie, one of 
 the loveliest of American belles who have married 
 Englishmen, and a number of others, all of whom 
 \vere known to Ethel. How happy she seemed, and 
 how happy he was, now that even a slight under- 
 standing existed between them ! 
 
 The mnsica/e was going on. More crowds, more 
 music. Christine Nilsson dropped in, looking lovely 
 in a black Spanish lace dress. Mrs. Fred. Sullivan 
 was helping Bret Harte to some tea when Rizelli, a 
 delightful tenor, commenced to sing one of Tosti's 
 songs. It was, in truth, a charming afternoon, and 
 dear Mrs. Darmal was justifiably proud of her suc- 
 cess. 
 
 Beaufort finally secured an opportunity of saying 
 a word to Miss Leslie. 
 
 " May I accompany you to Shanklin to-morrow ? " 
 
 " No, I fear not ; cela ne serait pas convenable" 
 Then she laughed a low, sweet laugh that glad- 
 dened his heart. How long it had been since he 
 had heard its music !
 
 Marked "fn Haste" 315 
 
 " You are right," thoughtfully. " I will go to the 
 Isle of Wight by the late train to-night. I will ven- 
 ture an impromptu call on Madame la Comtesse, 
 and we will all come to meet you at Cowes to- 
 morrow morning. What do you think of it ? I am 
 a wretch," hastily; "where is Mrs. Adrian?" and 
 again, " what do you think of my plan ? " 
 
 " It is perfect ; nothing could be more delight- 
 ful. And and Mrs. Adrian " (accent on the Mrs.) 
 " is very well. She has gone to-day to the Tower. 
 After having been in London off and on for five 
 years, she decided to accompany some old friends 
 there. Later she was coming here, but I am afraid 
 something has detained her. Your ' love ? ' " with 
 mock surprise ; " of course I will give it to her. 
 She is sure to accept it. You are one of her prime 
 .favorites." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Adrian ! " with an affectionate look at 
 Ethel. " I always knew she was a woman of taste. 
 I think I think she liked me more than you did 
 yourself." 
 
 " Possibly I I never liked you ! " 
 
 " Good-by ! " tenderly, " until to-morrow." Then 
 he made his way toward the door.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 SHANKLIN-CHINE. 
 
 " THERE she is la voilct, ! " said the Countess. 
 
 " There they are," said the Count, as -the little 
 steamer put into Cowes, and he saw Mrs. Adrian 
 and Miss Leslie standing on the deck. The Earl was 
 as impatient as any Englishman dared be. His face 
 wore a most expectant look and his eyes deepened 
 as he saw her approach. It was the work of but a 
 moment, and Mrs. Adrian's hearty " How do you 
 do ?" went quite to Beaufort's heart. 
 
 He took Ethel's hand, looked into her eyes, and 
 murmured one word of love. 
 
 "Hurry! hurry!" said the Count, "or we shall 
 miss the terrible but only tramway to be had at this 
 hour." Then they all hurried and clambered into 
 the convenient, airy vehicle. 
 
 When they reached Shanklin a carriage was wait- 
 ing. They drove to Hollier's Hotel, and in no time 
 were quite at home. Isaure's beautiful rooms on the 
 ground floor were bright with the thousand and one 
 pretty things that a woman of taste always manages 
 to have about her. A bird sang in a golden cage ; 
 flowers decked mantel and ttagtre, and last, but not
 
 Marked "In Haste" 317 
 
 least, in every conceivable spot were her constant 
 companions, the photographs of her friends. A low 
 window opened out on a charming lawn, and to the 
 right was seen a lawn tennis set. An early game 
 had been interrupted to go and meet Miss Leslie. It 
 was just eleven o'clock, the hour when morning 
 brightens into noon, when birds' voices are begin- 
 ning to be tired, when the busy throng of bathers 
 come radiant and hungry from the beach, when 
 horses gallop through the town, table d'hote bells are 
 ringing, the omnibus arrives, and the busy day at a 
 seaside resort is fairly under way. 
 
 The Earl was seen in close conversation with 
 Ethel. 
 
 " What is it ? " said Isaure, " flirting again ? " 
 
 Count Leon looked wise, Mrs. Adrian compla- 
 cent, while Ethel blushed yes, actually blushed. 
 Quite the orthodox thing for a young lady to do 
 under certain circumstances. Beaufort came toward 
 the Countess, half dragging Miss Leslie with him. 
 
 " It's a flirtation," he said, "which shall go on 
 through life. I love Miss Leslie " 
 
 "Nonsense," said Isaure, mockingly. 
 
 Beaufort smiled. " No, not nonsense. I am seri- 
 ous, she is serious, and has promised to marry me." 
 
 "Wedding bells at Shanklin !" The Countess's 
 voice betrayed her great pleasure. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Ethel, "but not mine. Why, I 
 have scarcely yet said that I would " 
 
 " Ethel ! " said Beaufort, severely ; " you are to do 
 exactly as Mrs. Adrian says, and she will plead my 
 cause, I know." Then he rushed up to her aunt. He
 
 3i8 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 talked in an undertone, but with such vehemence 
 that a tempest seemed suddenly to have invaded 
 the apartment. 
 
 "We will talk it over," said Mrs. Adrian ; and that 
 was all the answer she would give. Beaufort had to 
 be satisfied. The Countess Leon and Mrs. Adrian 
 went to have a game of tennis, while the two lovers 
 sought a corner of the garden and sat on a rustic 
 bench under an old tree. Lovers always do that. 
 There is always an old garden, always an old tree, and 
 naturally follows the old story told while sitting on 
 an old rustic bench. After a few words Ethel spoke : 
 
 " I must get in shadow, dear, for what I have to 
 say is too sad to bear the sunlight. Yet, what more 
 appropriate hour than high noon in which to give to 
 the light of day the true story of a long-cherished 
 grief ? I will be brief, as there is much to say. My 
 father was a Southern planter, and married, when 
 very young one of two sisters, daughters of a neigh- 
 boring friend, both heiresses to great wealth. He 
 died shortly after my birth, and my mother in two 
 years married again. She chose wisely, as my step- 
 father filled almost my own father's place. He was 
 indeed dear to us. One child, a son, was born to 
 them, my half-brother, Harry Desmond (that was 
 my step-father's name), the young man whom you 
 knew in Paris. We loved each other with the rarest 
 affection that could exist between brother and 
 sister, and so fond were we that we could not bear to 
 be separated. Harry was always a wild boy, and be- 
 fore he was six years old my mother's second hus- 
 band died. She followed very soon after, leaving us
 
 Marked "fn Haste" 319 
 
 quite alone, and to her sister, Mrs. Adrian, was con- 
 fided her two children. Harry was sent to a boys' 
 school, but finally came back to a very good college 
 near home. I was everything to him, and my mother 
 whom I had always loved so tenderly, begged me 
 never to forsake my brother, and above all, to watch 
 over him most carefully. He was getting wild, run- 
 ning off nights on hair-breadth escapades, and I felt 
 really terribly worried at times. After her death 
 (my dear mother's), Mrs. Adrian came to live with us 
 at the old homestead. My health at this time was so 
 delicate that the doctors ordered me to Europe. Aunt 
 and I came to England, and visited a paternal uncle 
 who was attached to the United States Legation at the 
 Court of St. James. After a pleasant sojourn in 
 London we travelled. I stayed a year in Germany 
 at school. We then went to Spain, then to Italy, 
 and from there came back to Paris. We met many 
 people, and the friends I have now are mostly those 
 I made at that time. We remained abroad two years, 
 returned to America, then came back again, and so 
 on every summer, until the season you met me in 
 Paris. On my return home we always kept open 
 house, and on one of these more recent occasions 
 Mr. Allani came to see us. He had letters from my 
 uncle. Harry was so wild that we scarcely ever dared 
 speak of him. I think Mr. Allani, with many others, 
 never knew that I had a brother ; at least he might 
 have thought of him as a school-boy, and he ignored 
 the fact that his name was different from mine. The 
 
 next time we came we determined to " 
 
 "What about Allani ?" interrupted Beaufort
 
 320 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " I will tell that later. You you are patient ? " 
 He smiled and stroked her hand fondly. She con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " We determined to bring Harry with us. I was 
 again ill and could not stay in America ; besides, his 
 continued escapades made our life there miserable. 
 Why, he once ran away, was gone nearly a year, and 
 reported dead. He was then within two months of 
 his graduating, and six months later would be of 
 age. Although I hated to go, it was decided that we 
 should await him in London or Paris, and every- 
 thing was prepared this time for a lengthened stay 
 in Europe. We started in May, called, I believe, and 
 rightly, the unluckiest month in the year. We had 
 barely arrived in Paris, after a short trip over Eng- 
 land, when one night I received a letter in a strange 
 hand, with another enclosed from Harry. ' Come to 
 me at once,' he said ; ' I am in deep distress. Say 
 nothing to Aunt, and follow the bearer of this.' I 
 had already a presentiment of evil, and imagine how 
 quickly I obeyed his summons." 
 
 " My dear love," said Beaufort, pressing her hand, 
 "could I but have been near you." 
 
 She looked gratefully at him and continued : 
 
 "We went to an old house near the Rue Vaugirard, 
 in the neighborhood of the Catacombs. There I 
 found him. He was disguised and told me a terri- 
 ble tale. My misgivings had not been false. About 
 a week after I left, a party of students started out 
 on a hunting escapade. Of course it was impossi- 
 ble to shoot during that season, but they were de- 
 termined on some fun. After a night of drinking
 
 Marked "In Haste" . 321 
 
 and carousal, they were in the act of going over a 
 hedge into Judge Garden's grounds, when they were 
 detected, taken for poachers, and a frightful scene 
 ensued. One of the keepers was killed, and just as 
 the judge's only son was coming into the fracas, 
 Harry fired. Two shots were heard simultaneously, 
 and young Garden fell. There had been a family 
 feud for years between my father and the judge. 
 Of course the next day the whole thing came out. 
 He declared that Harry had killed his son intention- 
 ally, and as soon as the proper inquest was con- 
 cluded, he had him indicted for murder. 
 
 " In the meantime Harry was told of this. Wild 
 with despair at the result; of what they had thought 
 would be a harmless lark ; losing his head, he ac- 
 cepted unwise counsel and fled the country. A 
 faithful negro, once one of my father's slaves, helped 
 him to fly. Through brake and marsh, through 
 swamp and fen, they made their way to New Or- 
 leans. His escape was so well planned that none 
 had imagined such a step. 
 
 " He took a steamer for Havana, then one for 
 New York, and from there sailed to Havre. He had 
 but just arrived in Paris w r hen I received his letter. 
 I was broken-hearted when I knew all, but I would 
 not abandon my brother, although a fugitive from jus- 
 tice. I got him off to Brussels, when suddenly back 
 he came to Paris. The Southern American papers 
 were filled with accounts of the affair, and I was in 
 daily fear that he would be taken. His coming 
 away was most foolish. Surely he never would 
 have been convicted, but how could he tell that ? 
 '4*
 
 322 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 And another worse thing, he believed himself 
 guilty " 
 
 " He believed himself ? " repeated the Earl ; " was 
 he then not guilty ? " 
 
 " It has been proven since that he was not, but 
 alas, vindication came, as it often does, too late ! " 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears, but she bravely con- 
 tinued. 
 
 The Earl wiped them away. " My own love, what 
 you have suffered ! but in future, there will always 
 be one strong arm to lean upon, one hand to dry 
 your tears, should they ever flow." 
 
 " I have nearly finished, but I can never think of 
 Harry's unfortunate life and early death without 
 losing utter command of myself. 
 
 " He determined to stay in Paris, and it was decided 
 that he should rarely leave the house, if ever, for 
 some time. I was to bring him my letters and news, 
 if any came. I had friends in America, whom we 
 had interested, some for love and others for money 
 (how often have I thanked God that I was not poor), 
 but my dearest and truest aid has been Gratiot. I 
 confided in him as much as I dared, and he helped 
 me all in his power. It was feared that my going 
 alone to the Latin Quarter would attract attention ; 
 also, that in case of an emergency I would need some 
 faithful attendant at hand. A man was found who 
 could fill that place." 
 
 Beaufort groaned and muttered to himself : " Yes, 
 with a vengeance." 
 
 " What did you say, dear ? I thought you spoke ? " 
 
 "Nothing, nothing ; I was only thinking."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 323 
 
 " The day my new attendant was to come, a large 
 package of valuable letters had arrived at the Le- 
 gation. Mr. Gratiot sent them by the man, who 
 was instructed to deliver them into no hands but 
 mine." 
 
 "And you received them ?" The Earl's voice was 
 steady. 
 
 "Yes, but a curious thing happened. The man 
 who was to bring them to me lost them. They were 
 found by some one who, without any cause, volun- 
 tarily accepted the position offered. I presume he 
 was some poor fellow out of employment." 
 
 " Decidedly ! " 
 
 " You said, dear " 
 
 " Nothing nothing ! Pray continue, I am most 
 interested." 
 
 " And I must say he served me extraordinarily 
 well. His name was Felden. Why ! you saw him 
 that night don't you remember him ?" 
 
 "Perfectly!" 
 
 " He disappeared there and then. I felt some way 
 he would never betray me, but his was a strange 
 character. He never asked for any hire, and I sent 
 him a check for five thousand " 
 
 " Where to ? " said Beaufort, eagerly. 
 
 " To Meurice's Hotel. Five thousand francs ! " 
 
 " He never got it," said he, excitedly. 
 
 " Why, how do you know ? " with surprise. 
 
 " I suppose, from your saying that he ' disappeared 
 then and there,' that you had never even heard from 
 him." 
 
 " No, I never have, and stranger still, the check
 
 324 Marked "/ Haste" 
 
 has never been presented for payment. I sent it 
 with instructions to be kept until called for in per- 
 son." 
 
 " How did you know that he was not the one Mr. 
 Gratiot sent with the letters ? " 
 
 " It is curious, but things come about strangely. 
 About two months ago a man called at the Legation. 
 He asked to see Mr. Gratiot, and explained all ; that 
 he had lost the package and did not dare tell them 
 at once, but that the following day, when he went to 
 confess the loss, to his amazement he was informed 
 that it was all right. The lady was well pleased 
 with her attendant, and had received the letters 
 safely. He was too much relieved to think of ex- 
 plaining any further, but got another situation. 
 Curiosity led him to tell the truth at this late day ; 
 also, being out of employment, he wanted another 
 place. He had never been to the Legation since." 
 
 " What kind of a looking man was he ? " 
 
 "Well, that is stranger than all. He looked as 
 much like Fqlden " 
 
 " Oh ! " with a little grimace. 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 " My love, I I stuck a thorn in my finger." 
 
 "Let me take it out. Why, there's none there ! " 
 surprisedly. 
 
 "It was an excuse that you might hold my hand." 
 Who could not forgive so simple an artifice ? 
 
 "He looked as much like Felden as one man could 
 resemble another, except that " 
 
 " That what ? " 
 
 " Some way he did not strike Mr. Gratiot as being
 
 Marked "In Haste" 325 
 
 so much of a gentleman. So he explained to me. 
 I never saw him. But what a long diversion " 
 
 " Of course, how could he look like a gentleman 
 as much like one as as Felden. I you know I re- 
 member Felden. I saw him that night." 
 
 " Yes, that night. Well, we are getting back to 
 it. Harry fretted continually, and finally came down 
 with a sharp attack of fever. I can never tell you 
 of our anxiety, nor how I hated to keep up appear- 
 ances before the world ; still it was the only thing to 
 do. Some old friends in Paris had- heard some tale 
 about Harry and a college escapade many believed 
 him dead but no one could exactly say what it was. 
 My going in the world as if nothing had ever hap- 
 pened, was the only possible thing to do to avert 
 suspicion while taking care of him. When he fell ill 
 we were desperate, but three days before the soiree 
 the doctor pronounced him quite out of danger. To 
 think of my dancing when my only brother lay 
 dying ! It is too horrible. A relapse the very day, 
 the tenth, caused the fatal result. You know all the 
 rest, or nearly all. I thought I would see or hear 
 from you again, but feared that even your love could 
 not stand so fearful a trial. The papers were filled 
 with sensational stories of a mysterious death in the 
 passage St. Pere, and the whole miserable truth 
 came to light ; but only the name of Desmond was 
 prominent. I could not stay in Paris ; we ^have 
 travelled ever since, but I never forgot a vow made 
 the dead, to clear up his memory- By my own 
 efforts, detectives placed on the track soon had the 
 proper clue. About a month ago, the head-keeper
 
 326 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 on the Garden estates confessed that he had taken 
 that opportunity to avenge a slight paid him years 
 before by the judge's son. What a fearful thing is 
 revenge, and how often must the innocent suffer for 
 the guilty ! Only one thing has supported me in 
 peace during these last terrible years. I am a fatal- 
 ist " 
 
 " Ah ! my love, so am I. You will know why 
 later." 
 
 "A firm believer in destiny," she continued. 
 " What is to be will be. I could only reconcile my- 
 self in that way to Harry's premature death. His 
 dreadful misfortunes commenced in early youth. He 
 ended a mistaken life perhaps in the most honest 
 way possible. It is a horrible thing to say or think, 
 but I sometimes imagine that he was taken away to 
 be spared a worse fate." 
 
 " You look at it in the right way, my love. Un- 
 doubtedly a wiser power took into his keeping that 
 which a mother's love could no longer protect" 
 
 " But you, yourself ; now tell me what became of 
 you. Why I never received a word, a line, a token." 
 
 " I started for Bordeaux the next day. I sailed 
 for South America the following one. I went with 
 with Allani." 
 
 " Allani ? " she said, then, blushing, dropped her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Yes, Allani." 
 
 " I once knew him but I told you." 
 
 "Thank God!" said Beaufort, fervently, "that 
 you hid nothing from me. He is an old friend, and 
 told me that he loved you."
 
 Marked "In Haste."' 327 
 
 "Yes, once " 
 
 "Now he loves you still, I fear, but I dare not 
 be jealous, my darling. You you are quite sure 
 that you do not care for him now ? " 
 
 " As a friend, yes. But I have nearly told you all. 
 As I said, I met him at home two years before I came 
 away. I thought him every way charming, perhaps 
 a little original, and I may have allowed him to see 
 it. When I felt convinced, however, that I could 
 never love him, I told him so honestly. He took my 
 decision with such gentlemanliness and such gen- 
 erous feeling, that I always think of him with real 
 friendship. He wrote me a letter which " 
 
 " Have you it still ? " 
 
 " Yes, and if you permit me, I shall always keep 
 it. You may read it. It seems to me the work of 
 an honest, earnest man." 
 
 "Allani is a gentleman, and one of my dearest 
 friends. He is an Englishman of Italian descent. 
 His grandfather was a Piedmontese noble, and one 
 of the greatest writers and philosophers in Italy. 
 We have been for years, as our fathers had been 
 before us, the best of friends. By a strange chance 
 we found ourselves on the same steamer, going to 
 South America. We had an intuitive understanding, 
 a feeling that we both loved the same woman, still 
 your name was never mentioned but on one occasion 
 between us. I felt sorry for him then, I feel more 
 sorry now. His loss is my gain." 
 
 A handful of blossoms were thrown into Ethel's 
 lap. Looking up, they saw the Countess standing 
 near. She laughed, and held up a finger.
 
 328 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 "Do you know what time it is? No? Nearly 
 one o'clock. Everybody is waiting for dejeuner a la 
 fourchette. Only people in love can be so supremely 
 selfish. We have been watching you, and Leon is 
 starved. Come at once." 
 
 Beaufort rose reluctantly, Ethel with alacrity. 
 
 " How thoughtless we have been let us go at 
 once," she said. 
 
 " I have also a confession to make, and beg you" 
 (with much solemnity) "to appoint a rendezvous 
 for this P.M. Make it as early as possible." 
 
 Countess Isaure had neared them, and heard the 
 last few words. She spoke up, gaily : 
 
 " Nothing can be done this afternoon. No pri- 
 vate rendezvous. Ethel must lie down after break- 
 fast. We drive at three, play tennis at five, and 
 have a dinner to-night with the Count and Countess 
 de Fiorani. Do not interrupt " Beaufort is all at- 
 tention "after the dinner we are going to have a 
 long promenade." 
 
 "Just the thing," said the Earl to Ethel. "I will 
 wait until then to make full confession ; I can have 
 you all to myself." 
 
 "Yes, by the seashore ; but it's not at all secret," 
 playfully, "with the wicked eyes of the phosphors 
 looking on. I shall feel most uncomfortable." 
 
 " You are a selfish woman. You' don't want even 
 the fishes to see you. I " 
 
 " Come to breakfast. Venez, je vous en prie." 
 
 "L'on vient, madame la Comtesse" and all walked 
 toward the house. 
 
 Before the Earl would sit down, he begged to send
 
 Marked "fn Haste" 329 
 
 some despatches. He exhausted a handful of blanks, 
 dashed off hasty messages, looked very wise, wholly 
 content, and announced himself as ready at last. 
 He was even hungry. It is strange how the most 
 violent of passions fades into insignificance when 
 one has had no breakfast. Love and chops pre- 
 cisely ! Oh ! greatest panacea to all ills a good 
 digestion !
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE OLD, OLD STORY. 
 
 SHANKLIN-CHINE is one of the prettiest villages on 
 the Isle of Wight. Shanklin has a history, and the 
 word "Chine" means "chink," or something similar 
 in old Saxon. The origin of the Chine was a small 
 stream of limpid water which, falling over the cliff 
 for centuries untold, has worn a peculiar channel 
 some two hundred feet deep, with almost equal 
 width. The sides are covered with almost tropical 
 verdure. Hanging vines, clematis, creeping ivy, 
 and laurel, with the loveliest of flowering shrubs, 
 deck the sides, top, and foot of the cliff. Birds sing 
 at all seasons, water trickles and ripples in and out 
 through the matchless verdure, and in the merry 
 month of June nightingales add their lovely voices 
 to the chorus of sweet-throated warblers. The 
 brushwood is almost too dense, and a deep basin of 
 dark, discolored sandstone holds the clear waters. 
 All kinds of pebbles, shells, and water plants {plantes 
 grasses) lie beneath the surface. They look up with 
 their mocking eyes ; the tiny blossoms with faint, 
 half-hidden bloom, stretch out their tendrils, cling- 
 ing to the old rock ; a myriad of living things creep
 
 Marked "In Haste" 331 
 
 about in their enchanted basin, and life in sweetest 
 nature abounds. 
 
 Some fairy with magic wand must have made the 
 Chine. She struck the rock with her silver sceptre ; 
 she breathed all of her sweet breath upon the dead- 
 ened sandstone ; she looked into the water with her 
 clear eyes hence the mirrored surface of the pool. 
 Or perhaps some mermaid Undine has left her 
 traces, Lorelei her souvenir ; or perhaps a fond mis- 
 tress, sighing for her swain. Whose is the spirit that 
 has bestowed such a heritage of love, romance, and 
 poetry upon this beautiful spot ? Was it, could it 
 have been Juliet ? 
 
 " Her eye in heaven 
 
 Would through the airy region stream so bright, 
 That birds would sing, and think it were not night." 
 
 How many lovers have pledged vows to the mur- 
 mur of the waters of the Chine ! how many Juliets 
 have stood beside its verdant cliff ! 
 
 After dinner it was proposed visiting the Under- 
 cliff or Landslip, also to see the artificial ruins of 
 Cook Castle by night. It is impossible to find a 
 place in the world more beautiful than this cele- 
 brated Undercliff. 
 
 Imagine the picturesqueness of the scene. There 
 are sylvan dells, rocky terraces, deep ravines one 
 continuous and splendid succession of rich and 
 varied nature. The Landslip communicates with the 
 beach, which is most beautiful and safe. Every one 
 goes to see the Undercliff ; every one must see the 
 ruins.
 
 332 Marked "/// Haste" 
 
 Countess de Fiorani and her husband, the Count, 
 were old friends, and a welcome addition to the 
 party. The Countess was fair blonde, blue-eyed, 
 with the slight embonpoint that so well becomes some 
 women. The Count was slender as a young sapling. 
 His eyes were fine and dark, his smile particularly 
 gay, and, together, they were a bright, agreeable, 
 and most charming couple. 
 
 Beaufort, of course, monopolized Miss Leslie. As 
 they were walking on the beach, Countess Isaure 
 came to them. What a pretty woman she was, to be 
 sure. Her eyes were dark, sparkling, yet tender. 
 Her mouth was small and very mobile ; her figure 
 charming ; her waist so small that one's two hands 
 might easily span it. In French she had une taille 
 adorable, and in English well, it's quite the same 
 thing, but no language can exaggerate her sweet 
 naturalness of manner or affectionate solicitude for 
 those she loves. She came toward them, and said in 
 her pretty English : 
 
 "You are certainly two dreadful spoons; but I 
 suppose we must forgive you. Mme. de Fiorani is 
 already au courant de tout, and " 
 
 "Spare my blushes," said the Earl. 
 
 "Permit me to hide myself," said Ethel, "or 
 jump into the sea. It is quite too dreadful. Why," 
 turning to Beaufort, "do you make yourself so con- 
 spicuous?" 
 
 "Why do you make me make myself so conspicu- 
 ous ? It is your fault. How can I help showing 
 that I love you ? " 
 
 This was unanswerable. He took her hand and
 
 Marked "In Haste" 333 
 
 kissed it kissed it many times. She evidently did 
 not object. 
 
 The Countess groaned, and held up her white 
 manina. Her eyes glittered as brightly as the gems 
 on her fingers. The tone of her voice was airy and 
 mocking. 
 
 " Yes, she knows all. We have decided to pay no 
 attention to you two, only our direction now is toward 
 the old ruins. Don't get lost, and follow us if you 
 will ; and, my lord, pray take good care of my 
 guest. A tout-a-F heure ! I am so glad that you have 
 found out that you love each other. I have quite 
 decided on my dress for the wedding, and you must 
 give me your photograph in costume taken together. 
 Sans adieu. I think just as you are would be char- 
 mant. No? Well, I know the exact pose, only you 
 must let me know beforehand. I think " 
 
 " Countess Isaure," said de Fiorani. 
 
 " Man cher Count ? " 
 
 "Do you wish to hear something quite shocking?" 
 
 "Naturally." 
 
 " We all do," said Beaufort ; " what is it ? " 
 
 "Leon has just remembered the following : As we 
 
 passed a little chapel once, in Savoie, we read 
 
 Oh I cannot tell this before a young lady." 
 
 Count de Fiorani ceased speaking. In vain the 
 endeavor to make him go on. " I am a respecter of 
 youth," he said, firmly ; " some other time, when Miss 
 has become Mrs., then you shall hear the very good 
 story." 
 
 Mrs. Adrian was laughing heartily. "Just like 
 the Count," said she ; then she laughed again.
 
 334 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " How provoking ! " 
 
 " My love," Mrs. Adrian's voice was delightfully 
 mellow, "you cannot hear this. It is one of the 
 penalties exacted by your youth." 
 
 " I hope, as madame, I shall hear everything and 
 laugh myself to death." 
 
 " You probably will," said Leon, cheerfully ; " to 
 death or to life. But ta-ta, we must move on." 
 
 Beaufort drew closer to his fiancee. The night was 
 beautiful. Near the shore a long band of fitful light 
 marked the phosphorescent line of the crested waves ; 
 the white pebbles slipped back into the water with a 
 continuous gurgle. The caps were glistening with 
 sparkling foam. Away off as far as eye could reach, 
 a shimmering shaft of light fairly pierced the centre 
 of the sea and bore down through the heart of the 
 ocean straight to the very edge of the beach where 
 they were standing. 
 
 The Earl looked in the face of his dear charge. 
 
 " See ! there is a huge boulder just away from the 
 shore. You will sit there upon it, and I will throw 
 myself on the sand at your feet. You must now 
 hear my confession," He led her to the spot and 
 helped her into place. A furred cloak enveloped 
 her, for even in June there is always a stiff breeze at 
 night at the seaside. Looking into her calm eyes, 
 he commenced the recital of a most curious tale. 
 
 She listened amazed. Before he had finished her 
 heart spoke. The voice was broken by emotion, but 
 her great love found expression in a few words. 
 
 " What you have told me passes comprehension ! 
 I give myself to you freely gladly. I loved you
 
 Marked "In Haste" 335 
 
 from the first moment I saw you, but I dared not 
 permit myself to think of any one but my poor 
 brother. Then, when he died I vowed to find out 
 the real culprit, and at least avenge his memory. 
 Until that vow was accomplished I could never 
 think of love. I hoped, in the meantime, to hear 
 from you ; but I now understand your silence." 
 
 " Remember that I never saw a paper, Allani never 
 spoke of your family, and I had forbidden Brandon 
 to ever speak aught of you. I was waiting for one 
 word from your lips ; so sure that, sooner or later, 
 you would make some sign. Destiny had thrown us 
 together, destiny would reunite us. In nearly two 
 years you never once sent to me." 
 
 She blushed. " Shall I tell you what I thought 
 of doing ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Sending you one little word, saying I am free ; 
 but how should I have dared ? Never to have at- 
 tempted to see me ! Remember you left me in such 
 anger. Besides, how could I know but but that 
 you already loved some one else ? " 
 
 " That you knew was utterly impossible, and 
 highly improbable. In fact, it could not be." 
 
 She shook her head. " I do not know ! Men 
 change ; it might have been possible." 
 
 "Tell me, did you never suspect who Felden 
 was ? " 
 
 " Never ; but a propos, the check I " 
 
 " The five thousand francs belong to me. I shall 
 keep them in a place of honor. Just to think, the 
 first (and perhaps last) money that I have ever
 
 336 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 earned ! I am proud of it, but God knows, my 
 work was hard enough. Once you frightened me. 
 Do you recollect ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " It was at the American Minister's. You told me 
 you thought that you recognized my voice." 
 
 " Well, you see that I did. Thought, indeed." But 
 suddenly : "Why did you cease coming for so long 
 a time ? " 
 
 " That was the reason. I feared recognition. It 
 was impossible always to disguise my feelings as 
 well as my voice. I was burning with jealousy. 
 You do not know, but when I said I knew all, I 
 thought I did. The day of your soiree, Brandon 
 breakfasted in the Luxembourg Quarter, and heard 
 by chance some Americans talking. They spoke of 
 a very young man who had committed forgery and 
 murder, and who had baffled the authorities for a 
 year, and of his flight from San Francisco accom- 
 panied by a beautiful woman supposed to be his 
 wife, but in reality his paramour. There was a 
 rumor that she was living in Paris in fine style, 
 received in the best of society, and deceiving the 
 whole world. Although Brandon had met Mrs. 
 Adrian some time ago, he dreaded knowing more. 
 You might both have been innocent victims, and 
 you yourself might have been implicated " 
 
 " How can you say such things of me ?" 
 
 "My dear love," he answered, "I am a man of 
 the world. Remember that many more extraordi- 
 nary things than that have really happened. I was 
 racked with torment, thinking that you were not
 
 Marked "In Haste" 337 
 
 married. After my conversation with Brandon, and 
 only on the night of the the death, did I realize 
 that, no matter what you were, I loved you enough 
 to ignore the past. Besides what Brandon had 
 heard, he also had a slip (from some vile Parisian 
 correspondent to a Philadelphia paper), hinting at 
 many mysteries, the expected expost of a family in 
 high life, with bits of scandal promised tempting 
 enough to satisfy the taste of the most sensational. 
 How could one but remark the coincidence, and 
 knowing what I did, I feared the worst, with these 
 damning circumstances constantly before me. I 
 never loved you less ; on the contrary, I only felt 
 your position more desperately and more deeply. 
 I had refused to give ear to what Athol told me. 
 Imagine the marvellous denouement of the night fol- 
 lowing the sotre'e. Try* and realize with what grief 
 I felt myself forced to believe in what he had re- 
 lated me ! Were not the circumstances exact in 
 every particular ? I still doubted, until I heard a 
 man raving of crime and blood. Do you remember 
 what I offered all I offered ! My love must have 
 been great to overlook everything. In the very face 
 of the most condemning evidence, I realized that, in 
 spite of all, I could still love you, and protect you 
 with my name. I could not reconcile myself, how- 
 ever, to your hard-heartedness in letting me go, per- 
 haps for ever, without one word of hope. It seemed 
 so unnatural, so extraordinary, when you had con- 
 fessed that you loved me, to be so unbending. I 
 could not understand it." 
 
 " A vision of what I had to accomplish determined
 
 338 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 me," she said. " Also, I dared not accept the sacri- 
 fice of yourself at such a time ; nor could I bear to 
 think of ever bringing a name to an honest home 
 that was not as clear in the world's eyes as your 
 own. If afterward you should come to me, all would 
 be well. If not, we had better separate. I still 
 wished, however, to make one effort to see you, at 
 least to send a line " 
 
 " Send it to-morrow," said the Earl, promptly. 
 " I will answer in person." 
 
 She looked fondly at him. " There is nothing 
 more to explain, dear. Shall we join the party ? " 
 
 "Yes," half reluctantly, "I suppose we must. But 
 you have forgotten something." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 " Yes. Tell me how much you love me." 
 
 She must have given him a satisfactory answer. 
 It is a pity that these little scenes between lovers 
 cannot be quite secret Venus, looking down upon 
 them, laughed, and told it to the other stars. The 
 little waves coming in to the shore carried the news 
 back again out to sea. The pebbles seemed to chat- 
 ter on the sand ; the myriad phosphorescent eyes 
 glowed and glared upon them, then dived under 
 the waves with a most malicious gleam. The night 
 wind stirred in the distant trees, the many thousand 
 voices of nature kept up murmuring sounds that 
 said, as plainly as possible, " We hear you, we un- 
 derstand, we are witnesses." The lovers wandered 
 on. The dense foliage of the Landslip surrounded 
 them with constant and flickering shadows. Like 
 Pandora and Epimetheus in the gardens of ancient
 
 Marked "In Haste" 339 
 
 Hellas, their thoughts were attuned to the mysterious 
 charm of enchanting night. To them the whole 
 world was poetry, and the refrain of its minstrelsy 
 was love. They sang with the chorus of birds : 
 
 " Every flutter of the wing, 
 Every note o song we sing, 
 Every murmur, every tone, 
 Is of love and love alone." 
 
 " Hark ! listen ! Hear how sweetly overhead 
 
 The feathered flute-players pipe their songs of love, 
 And echo answers, love, and only love." 
 
 On, on, through thicket and grove they still wan- 
 dered. There was only a vague idea now of rejoin- 
 ing the others. Where could one find them ? Some 
 people passed, but at great intervals. No one 
 seemed to recognize the Earl and his companion. 
 Perhaps it was because all lovers look alike. Stray- 
 ing couples in deserted woodlands, fair night and 
 starry skies, come home to every heart. Who has 
 not wandered by love's Elysian streams ? Who has 
 not accepted a betrothal witnessed by Saturn's triple 
 circlet ? Who has not heard and repeated vows of 
 love attested to by all the host of Nature's heavenly 
 satellites ? Who has not done this ? who of us, in 
 fact, has never been in love ? " 
 
 The sound of chattering voices broke upon the air ; 
 then like an avalanche, the party came upon them. 
 
 " Naughty creatures," said Isaure, " we are just re- 
 turning home. Where have you been ? " 
 
 "Why, w T hy we have been here, we were just 
 coming to meet you," said Ethel.
 
 340 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 " We have been telling each other something so 
 very interesting," said Beaufort. "Time has flown 
 unawares." Then he whispered to the Countess : 
 
 " Of course, one must forgive you. N'est-ce pas, 
 Leon? we were once flirts ourselves." 
 
 Count Vandalin smiled for reply. He drew 
 Ethel's hand under his arm, and under penalty of a 
 great forfeit, forbade her speaking to Beaufort again 
 that evening. Then they all went toward the house. 
 
 Alone in her room, Ethel threw open her window, 
 and looked out on the night. Again she heard her 
 lover's voice, again she wandered over the enchanted 
 beach. Weariness finally overcame her. She slept. 
 Her lips repeated mechanically again and again his 
 words. Like a goddess she would slumber till dawn, 
 and waking on the morrow, find again her Helios. 
 Added to the voice of nightingales was that of 
 zephyrs, stealing through the room singing softly, 
 ever singing : 
 
 " Come from thy caverns dark and deep, 
 O son of Erebus and Night; 
 All sense of hearing and of sight 
 Enfold in the serene delight 
 And quietude of sleep ! 
 
 " But open wide the gate of Horn 
 Whence, beautiful as plants, rise 
 The dreams of truth ; with starry eyes, 
 And all the wondrous prophecies 
 And visions of the morn."
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 SEA-BATHING. 
 
 IT sometimes rains at Shanklin. The day following 
 Ethel's arrival was one of such memory. It poured 
 so persistently that going out of doors was impossi- 
 ble. The Count and Countess, however, made it 
 very pleasant for everybody. There was parlor cro- 
 quet, cards, fortune telling, and another charming 
 dinner at six with the de Fiorani. As usual at the 
 seashore, the most violent storms come and go in 
 a few short hours, and leave scarcely a trace. Only 
 the green trees are greener, the flowers in the 
 Chine hang their pretty heads, new ravines come 
 to light in the landslip, and the beach is heavy with 
 clogged sand. No bathing, only rest at home. The 
 salt air always smells sweeter after a storm. The 
 waves roll mountain high, the sun comes forth from 
 smoky vapors. 
 
 "Now overhead a rainbow bursting through 
 
 The scattering clouds, shone, spanning the dark sea 
 
 Resting its bright base on the quivering blue ; 
 And all within its arch appeared to be 
 
 Clearer than that without ; and its wide hue 
 Waxed broad and waving like a banner free.
 
 342 Marked "In Haste. 
 
 When four o'clock came it had already cleared up, 
 and at dinner-time the party went to the house of the 
 de Fiorani. The walk along the old country road 
 was long but delightful. Fancy being shut up in 
 the house a whole day at a watering place. 
 
 They had a delightful French dinner. The cottage 
 was a tiny chalet in a perfect bower of verdure. The 
 dining-room looked out upon a lovely garden where 
 the sweetest flowers in Shanklin bloom. The night- 
 ingales commenced singing, the odor of revivified 
 nature embalmed everything about the little place. 
 Isaure had prohibited flirting, and Beaufort behaved 
 admirably. He was happy in being near his love. 
 Many things were talked about at this dinner the 
 last court ball, and a friend's pumps. 
 
 " How did he manage ? " said Leon " man cher, 
 he is not a Hercules he is very thin, au contraire" 
 
 " Oh," briskly, " his costumer ah ! my tailor ar- 
 ranged all that. He had so many orders before, how- 
 ever, that he barely got there in time. What a thing 
 to make up one's mind to go to a court ball." 
 
 " Yes, and one's legs," adds the Count. 
 
 " I saw the Prince day before yesterday ; what a 
 handsome man he is. I think his face is really most 
 agreeable." Mrs. Adrian's voice was calm and quite 
 unamerican. 
 
 Count Leon laughed. " He's a capital good fel- 
 low any way, and no fool. Do you know what he 
 said at Cowes the other day ? " 
 
 "No, what was it? " a chorus of voices. 
 
 "He met Poole, and chatted (as he often does) 
 in a friendly fashion. Then he said, indifferently :
 
 Marked "In Haste" 343 
 
 'Well, how do you find Cowes ?' 'Awh, your Royal 
 Highness, Cowes of course awh, yes, Cowes nice 
 place, your Royal Highness, but the society is rather 
 mixed.' ' Hang it all, Poole,' responded the Prince ; 
 'you can't expect to find us all tailors.' " 
 
 " What a jolly story ! of course it's true ? " 
 
 Beaufort asked the question. 
 
 "Perfectly," said Leon, "and I know several 
 others which " 
 
 "Spare us, dear," said Isaure ; "besides, it's time 
 to return home." The hostess pleaded in vain. 
 Isaure is a slender woman, but when her mind is 
 made up she has quite the determination of a very 
 stout one. 
 
 They walked over to the hotel, along the dark 
 hedges, straight by the roadway. The longest route, 
 but the prettiest. The longest is always the prettiest 
 and the nicest in the country ; when one is return- 
 ing from a pleasant house with one's lady-love on 
 one's arm. The amiable hostess, with her husband, 
 kindly consented to "walk along too ;" then they 
 separated for the evening at the door of the hotel, 
 with the promise of meeting in the morning at an 
 early hour. At nine o'clock Isaure's voice was 
 heard. 
 
 "Fine weather." 
 
 " Glorious," said Ethel. 
 
 "Do come, Leon." 
 
 "Yes, dear." 
 
 "We are all waiting." 
 
 Beaufort was already outside of the hotel gate. A 
 young gentleman stood beside him.
 
 344 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 "Mr. Brandon I" said Ethel, "what a real pleas- 
 ure! This is My lord," turning to the Earl, "was 
 this intended as a surprise ? " 
 
 "A very great one," said Beaufort. "I knew 
 nothing of it myself. This morning Bell handed me 
 a note, saying that Mr. Brandon had arrived. Here 
 he is ; and and," in an undertone, " we have been up 
 since seven talking, and I have explained everything 
 to him. He is delighted. Oh, I knew he would 
 be." 
 
 Ethel blushed. How strange that a constitution- 
 ally pale young woman can always blush just at the 
 right moment. 
 
 Mr. Brandon kissed her hand. "Let me add my 
 sincerest congratulations, and beg you to forgive my 
 once unhappy interference." 
 
 She pardoned him with her sweetest smile. 
 
 "Let the dead past bury its dead." They never 
 referred to that again. 
 
 Mrs. Adrian would bathe. Louise, Isaure's maid, 
 had a Frenchy-looking bundle. Bell was ostensibly 
 walking near her. He had another bundle. His 
 cold, old English-valet eyes were now and then cast 
 half tenderly upon her ; upon Louise. Romances 
 are not always born under silken canopies and cra- 
 dled beneath point (T A I en $ on. Poor people have 
 been known to make love to each other, and to en- 
 joy it. We do not understand how it is possible, but 
 it is so. Do not for one moment think, however, 
 that a well-to-do valet, with a real peer for his mas- 
 ter, can come within that category. No more can- 
 the fine waiting-maid of a countess, who deigns to
 
 Marked "In Haste" 345 
 
 dress her mistress, and to undress her in order 
 dress herself. Louise tripped along. She reached, 
 nay, had the style. The next thing noticed was that 
 Bell had two bundles instead of one. Oh, ensnared 
 valet ! Oh, giddy girl ! where will ye both end ? 
 Probably at a fancy ball, dressed in your master's 
 best clothes. 
 
 At the beach the crowd was animated and mostly 
 old-English. What a lovely promenade is, to be 
 sure, a long sweep of white-sanded shore, dozens of 
 little houses upon wheels drawn up in line just on 
 the edge of the water, and a continual hum of merry 
 voices. The well-seasoned shrieks from many cour- 
 ageous dowagers constantly escaped from the waves. 
 The bathing-teachers, strong, herculean men and 
 women, were leading trembling girls out to sea ; 
 young maidens blushed as their bare ankles grated 
 against the sand. Newly married couples* tenderly 
 made their way among the older salts ; a plunge 
 here a hallo there and the morning's work was 
 fairly under way. 
 
 Count Leon, with the other gentlemen, had already 
 bathed. Mrs. Adrian stepped into No. 10, Isaure 
 into No. u, and Ethel decided not to try it that day. 
 
 They selected a charming bit of white-pebbled 
 sand and threw themselves upon it. Shawls, cush- 
 ions, rugs, everything was provided for comfort, and 
 half-sitting, half-reclining, they watched the merry 
 bathers. A charming, full-bearded Englishman 
 joined them. His name was Grayson he was heir- 
 presumptive to a title and large estates. Naturally 
 he made a delightful addition to the party. He was 
 IS*
 
 346 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 an old friend of Beaufort, and also of Count Leon. 
 Some Americans were talking in a group to the left. 
 To Ethel's surprise, she recognized some old friends 
 in Mr. de Quincey, Mr. Darvies, and Mr. Godwin, 
 of San Francisco, besides a group of well-known 
 American yachtsmen. They recognized Cyril Or- 
 mond, one of the best fellows in the world, a success 
 in every way. His honest, handsome face was quite 
 as welcome a sight on the sands of Shanklin as pac- 
 ing the deck of his piratically named yacht, the 
 " Brigand." Looking out to sea was the well-known 
 Lewis Jansen, who sent some canvas-back ducks to 
 her Majesty. Near him was his aspiring friend, 
 Roger Millien, who expected to go to Osborne to 
 help eat them. Handsome Jean Warden was non- 
 chalantly twirling his blonde moustache. He looked, 
 however, quite the master of the " Undaunted." 
 The " Marquis of Hoboken" was the only one who 
 seemed a little disenchanted. His fine, piercing 
 gray eyes took in the scene. "It's all well enough, 
 boys," he said, " to talk ' Solent ' and ' Isle of Wight,' 
 but give me plain Martha's Vineyard and a bit of 
 American coast." 
 
 More new-comers ! Just then two charming gen- 
 tlemen came up to Miss Leslie, accompanied by Mr. 
 Mars, the Oppenheims. 
 
 " Really," said Ethel, turning to Beaufort, " you 
 must not be jealous, but I have a special admiration 
 for these old friends. One forgets their enormous 
 wealth, they are so amiable. Mr. Gratiot once said," 
 laughing frankly, " that they had all the money that 
 the Rothschilds had not."
 
 Marked "In Haste" 347 
 
 "What a jolly description," said Beaufort ; "and 
 present me to your friends." 
 
 What a series of introductions. Everybody must 
 know everybody else at the seashore. At last places 
 were found for all, and they looked out upon the 
 sea. One noticed that the peculiar costumes of the 
 lady bathers were thrown into bold relief by the in- 
 discreet waves. Why was the sun so bright and 
 hot ? Why were the waters, for miles out, so clear ! 
 Why were those near the shore like pellucid mirrors 
 reflecting and magnifying every living creature be- 
 neath their surface ? Why ? Why ? 
 
 I am sure I don't know. It often happens at the 
 seaside, it very often happens at Shanklin. These 
 traitorous waters betrayed even the most innocent 
 who had confided in them. Perhaps, before trusting 
 so much to the " briny," it would have been as well 
 to look more particularly at one's own precaution 
 for protection from public gaze ; but we do not mor- 
 alize, we are cosmopolitan. 
 
 The French bathing costume is a delightful sugges- 
 tion, the German a petticoat protection, the American 
 an illusion, the English a revelation. At Shanklin 
 (we speak now of Shanklin), the garment then d, la 
 mode was voluminous. It consisted of an enormous 
 circular or cloak with long tabs. It was made of 
 most diaphanous material, not unlike the airy fabric 
 with which the traditional Greek slave is enveloped. 
 The handsome maid, wife, mother, or grandmother, 
 of perfidious Albion, clouds herself with this most 
 intense of all bathing costumes. Underneath, be 
 it understood, nature, in all the grace of her un-
 
 348 Marked "In Haste." 
 
 dulating sweetness, is left in untrammelled plastic 
 nudity. She is amply nay amphi-theatrically pro- 
 tected from the gaze of those who sit upon the shore, 
 those wretched loungers who go to Shanklin for 
 the season ; for the beach, like the theatre, has its 
 bald-headed row, and the proscenium boxes hold the 
 young bloods, the gallery the gods, and patent re- 
 spectability sits in the orchestra stalls. 
 
 Beaufort and his party were naturally near the 
 music. The band just then struck up the can-can 
 from Belle H el cue. 
 
 " Great Heaven ! " said Leon, " look !" 
 
 All looked. Of course, they were seated on what 
 is called the ladies' side. The view was perfect. 
 The scene in (the water) describable. 
 
 One of the Greek slaves was freed from every re- 
 straint. She was disentangled from the strong clasp 
 of the bather, her still youthful blood was leaping in 
 her veins, her limbs felt an undine lightness. She 
 would swim, alone, free, and unconfined. She had 
 cast off prejudice and and her mantel. (Perhaps, 
 after Joseph's rejection of his own it no longer 
 had value in any one's eyes.) She was ambling un- 
 der the limpid waves as woman first came into 
 the world. The treacherous, diaphanous drapery 
 floated on the surface of the water as a cloud 
 floats in the empyrean, or a white pond-lily on the 
 Lake of Lethe. It was floating, floating unconfined 
 above, and my lady was floating, floating uncovered 
 below. 
 
 " They all do it," said the Count ; " we have been 
 here three successive seasons."
 
 Marked "In Haste." 349 
 
 " There goes another," said de Fiorani. " She has 
 uncovered one tab of the circular. She looks like 
 a swan." 
 
 "A propos" said Leon, "I have an impromptu 
 conundrum just ready. 'What was the mission of 
 the swan upon earth ?' Guess ! guess again ! it's so 
 simple. Impossible ! it is so simple no one can but 
 guess it. Answer : ' He came to a young woman to 
 to mis lead her.' Don't you see the simplicity 
 of the thing? Leda " 
 
 " Oh ! never do such a thing again, Leon." 
 Isaure's voice was loudest. She had finished her 
 bath and approached just in time to hear the im- 
 promptu. She was poking her parasol in the sand. 
 All laughed, however. It's so easy to laugh at an- 
 other's folly. 
 
 Bell came and begged to see' his master. He 
 handed him a pile of telegrams and some letters. 
 The Earl had given orders that his mail should be 
 brought down to the beach. He knew what he was 
 expecting. 
 
 Another one of the pleasures at the seashore 
 lying on the white sand, near those one loves ; going 
 over the morning's mail with news of those who 
 love us ; in sight of the bathers, in sound of the 
 sea, content with all the world, and, rarer joy, con- 
 tent with one's self. 
 
 " A propos of letters," said Beaufort, "where is 
 Allani's ? You promised to show it me ? " 
 
 She drew it from her pocket, explaining softly : 
 "You will understand, dear. He he had told me 
 that he loved me. He swore to be my friend, but
 
 350 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 he said farewell. This letter was sent in response to 
 my written refusal to accept his offer." 
 
 " We will read it together going home," and they 
 left the beach. 
 
 As they came to the Chine he stopped. They 
 chose a sheltered spot. "This is the place, dear." 
 Then he read, she looking at him the while. 
 
 " MY DEAR Miss ETHEL : Your letter has given me 
 exquisite pain. I humbly entreat for your pardon, if 
 I have merited your just displeasure. Let me only 
 plead that my language must have been a false echo 
 of my thoughts, if it failed to convey to you their per- 
 fect homage, with some faint expression of the happi- 
 ness and honor I derived from my visit. I have often 
 wondered before, what Lazarus would have felt had 
 Dives given him that one drop of water for which he 
 prayed, and whether it would not have increased his 
 thirst. I know the secret now, and still will have a 
 great longing until I see you again. I cannot deny 
 myself the anticipation of that happiness some day, 
 but I shall see you very seldom. With such beauty 
 and genius for a freight, your ship will sail, with its 
 white canvas spread, to happy islands, while mine 
 is stranded ; and on the uncertain seas of life thus 
 much at least is sure, that the rich galleon upon which 
 your royal standard is displayed will exchange no sig- 
 nals with the poor bark whence flutters my small rag 
 of bunting, faded and wind-tossed. To rne, the loss. 
 
 "A poet only could answer your gentle letter fit- 
 tingly, and I wish that I were a poet high and- noble 
 enough to aspire to your friendship, as I can have 
 only that. A mere versifier might write something, 
 though unworthy to be read, if he remembered how 
 the gladness which your presence brings must al- 
 ways be dashed at the thought of losing it. He 
 would say in rhyme
 
 Marked "In Haste" 351 
 
 " Frown.jiot, sweet maid, if when with thee 
 
 I feel not rapture wholly. 
 For, aye, the heart that's filled with joy 
 Runs o'er with melancholy. 
 
 To streams that .glide in noon the shade 
 
 From summer skies is given ; 
 And if my brow reflect the cloud, 
 
 'Tis but the cloud of Heaven. 
 
 Thine image glassed within my soul 
 
 So well the mirror keepeth. 
 That chide me not, if with the light, 
 
 The shadow also sleepeth. 
 
 " Can I forget the happy hours spent in your so- 
 ciety? Can I forget that you offer me your friend- 
 ship ? Can I forget that, where'er I may- wander, I 
 have the proud right to wear an amulet, your regard, 
 in my bosom ? My heart is torn, but it has known 
 regret. 
 
 " Permit me then to remain, with the deepest ad- 
 miration and respect, dear Miss Ethel, your most 
 faithful and devoted servant, now and ever, 
 
 " ALLANI."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 LORD BEAUFORT TO HIS MOTHER. 
 
 MY DEAREST MOTHER : 
 
 We were married yesterday. As I told you, Ethel 
 would not have a swell wedding, so we went to the 
 little church .in Shanklin and stepped off in real or- 
 thodox fashion. I am glad you find her photograph 
 so handsome, but it doesn't half do her justice. 
 Alice's little letter made us roar with laughter. What 
 a dear child ; I long to give her a good kiss. The 
 Count gave Ethel away, and Mrs. Adrian (by the way, 
 she is a jolly party) nearly broke down at the cere- 
 mony. Everybody was there that is to say, of the 
 intimate friends. Brandon was best man, of course. 
 We missed you. I scarcely expected that you would 
 come, as it was an impromptu, but I know we shall 
 be happy. I am in the seventh heaven already (in- 
 terruption by a pair of arms around my neck. It is 
 bad form, but I suppose young wives all do it). 
 Ethel sends her love here, and adds a thousand 
 thanks for your sweet letter. I knew you'd do the 
 handsome thing by my wife in the end. We shall be 
 at Beaufort by the last of September. How I hope 
 Ethel will like it. Again she interrupts. ' I know I
 
 Marked "In Haste" 353 
 
 shall, dear.' (She has positively been looking over 
 my shoulder.) I hope you won't think by this that 
 we are frightful spoons. I am quite like any other 
 married man, precisely the same as before marriage. 
 Most men are not changed a bit. Heaven knows 
 how we will spend the rest of the summer. Ethel 
 won't yacht. She is already asserting her authority. 
 That is because I have married a woman who has 
 money. You know I always swore never to marry 
 one without. Any girl stepping into wealth from pov- 
 erty would soon break a man up ; but the best wife 
 in the world for any man to have is a woman who 
 has lived in luxury all her life. She knows the exact 
 value to put upon money, and her husband may 
 stand some show of getting a little affection from 
 her. Should the worst ever come to the worst, she 
 could demonstrate that her happiness was in his love, 
 not in his purse, and they'd pull through all right. 
 But a woman who has never known even comfort, 
 bah thinks of titles, settlements (I would give Beau- 
 fort to Ethel outright, although she doesn't want it) 
 swell turn-outs, balls, and society. She thinks that 
 these things bring happiness, and looks upon mar- 
 riage as a patent safety-escape from poverty, and her 
 head is so turned by the novelty of having plenty of 
 money that love is a secondary consideration. 
 
 I am very glad, however, that I am saved from 
 any doubt in the matter. These things are good in 
 theory. Hard cash is a reality that is most agree- 
 able ; still, if Ethel had not had a halfpenny, she would 
 have been my lady all the same. The dear thing ! I 
 must cut this short, as we run up to London in an
 
 354 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 hour. How is your neuralgia ? Don't think I had 
 forgotten it. Of course, you are better ; however, if 
 the beastly rain continues, how can you expect to be 
 quite well ? Ethel says she knows a cure for neuralgia, 
 some patent American stuff. (Those Americans are 
 very fiends for original patents. The only man who 
 ever got ahead was Noah in that Ark business, but 
 they swear the Dove was an original United States 
 invention.) I'll send it from London. She knows a 
 cure for one thing the heart-ache bless her. I am 
 cured. In fact, I wouldn't know I had such a thing 
 as a heart now, since I'm married. I hope you'll get 
 a parcel I just posted off, all right. Ethel has sent 
 some diamond earrings to Alice. She says she is 
 quite old enough to wear them ; all the little girls 
 do in America. But her ladyship isn't a bit of an 
 American except, except in beauty. Good-by, dear, 
 dearest mother. Think of having me all to yourself 
 for the rest of your lifetime, once I get home. I 
 shall not leave it again soon, I can tell you. Kiss 
 Alice for both of us. Just imagine my arms around 
 your dear neck, and all of your children hugging 
 you just as if we were children. God bless you. 
 I will write from London. 
 
 Your own affectionate son, 
 
 FRANCIS. 
 Shanklin, z^th June.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 ETHEL BEAUFORT TO MRS. ADRIAN. 
 
 DEAREST AUNTIE : 
 
 What an idea. Tell you all about Beaufort (of 
 course, if you wish it), and how I like my mother- 
 in-law. I don't like her, I love her, and Alice is 
 a perfect little darling. She is very funny. Fancy 
 her asking me if I had a rich American picked 
 out for her. She told me that she had overheard 
 her governess (an ancient demoiselle Gamier) 
 talking. She had said that nothing was thought 
 of now but wealth, and that when one had station 
 enough, one must exchange one's good blood for 
 American dollars. " I am young now," said Alice 
 (she is not twelve yet), "but I can be a. fiancee at once. 
 I wish to marry a miner or a stockbroker. She 
 (Gamier) says that their wives have the best times." 
 I have called the governess a " demoiselle Garnier." 
 She is very old, straight-laced, and really,- 1 believe 
 in my heart, no more French than I am. But about 
 the castle. Shall I really tell you minutely ? (How 
 I miss you, dear. I hadn't thought to say so before, 
 of course you knew it.) This will be a guide-book 
 description, so beware. I never can do it again, so
 
 356 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 be sure and write Uncle Desmond and all my 
 friends just exactly what it's like. I am so glad 
 that I am home. Yesterday, after luncheon, we went 
 over the house. Oh, it is so beautiful. 
 
 Now imagine you are here, and coming to pay me 
 a visit. You walk up to the front door, and you see 
 something like this. Stop, I will copy the exact des- 
 cription from an old book that lies on my table. 
 Attention ! " Beaufort Castle " (isn't it strange to 
 think that I am reading about my own house from 
 a strange book? I forgot to tell you that I am looking 
 uncommonly well. Devonshire certainly agrees with 
 me) " Beaufort Castle is four stories in height, and 
 the architecture a model of the best workmanship 
 of the fifteenth century." (This point is very clear.) 
 "The square blocks of white stone, that fit so beauti- 
 fully one into the other in the facade, are alternately 
 carved with the bunch of drooping quatrifoglia" (a 
 four-leaf clover, auntie, but it sounds better in Ital- 
 ian). " The principal facade is divided into three 
 panels separated by narrow fluted columns, rising 
 unbroken to the third story. A balcony the entire 
 length of the house is covered with flowering vines 
 and ivy. This balcony is in stone " (we walked 
 there last evening ; the view is perfectly lovely all 
 around well, you will see it later of course), "as are 
 the two terraces surmounting either tower. They 
 are doubly dentellated, as is the fashion in many of 
 the old Italian houses existing since the fourteenth 
 century. In the centre of the front facade is the 
 entrance " (the one that you will come in at, dear). 
 " The doors are of oak, so old and ponderous that one
 
 Marked "fn Haste." 357 
 
 hand alone could scarcely swing them. The coronet 
 and blazonry of the dual house, Beaufort and Bran- 
 don is carved in each door" (the same that is stamped 
 on the paper how do you like it ?). " The work is 
 the handicraft of Munich master carvers, rare in its 
 perfection and design. 
 
 "Entering from the front, one finds one's self in the 
 principal apartment, a room of grand dimensions. 
 It runs straight across the entire extent of the castle, 
 the ceiling reaching almost to the upper terrace. It 
 is a marvel of exquisite wood carving. There are 
 several large panels, these divided into smaller 
 squares, the beams supporting the timbers running 
 crosswise ; carved with a Greek pattern favorite of 
 the time, and beautiful in its simplicity." (I adore 
 Greek patterns, don't you ? And bye the bye, let 
 me thank you here for the box. The dresses are 
 simply lovely. Latreille has outdone herself. The 
 one in heliotrope with the Byzantine trimming is 
 most becoming. I wore it last night at dinner. I 
 think where was I ? telling you about the house, of 
 course ; but I had to mention this fact. It is so im- 
 portant.) " In the centre panel is an original a 
 Madonna with her child " (such a fat little cherub. 
 
 I wonder if I will ever have ). " Four other 
 
 paintings decorate the ceiling in the form of a four- 
 leaf clover. These are all framed in Venetian carv- 
 ings of gold and bronzed woods, uniquely and beau- 
 tifully carved. 
 
 " The alternate panels are without canvasses ; 
 instead, on the wood, in different shades of blue, 
 from the deepest lapis-lazuli to the pale sky blue,
 
 358 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 are bunches of cyclamen and quatrifoglia in the 
 hands of diminutive cupids reposing on clouds." 
 
 Just imagine it, auntie ! The effect is so beautiful 
 and strange in contrast with the gilded Venetian frames 
 and dark colors of the carved wood, it's like looking 
 at a bed of sapphires on a jewelled disk. But you will 
 see it when you come. Now I am reading again. 
 
 " Very few royal dwellings can boast so splendid 
 a ceiling. Two arches are supported on either side 
 by superb cariatids, and to the right is another grand 
 drawing-room, style Empire" (newly furnished and 
 decorated in my honor) ; " to the left is a magnificent 
 salon corresponding with this, with rare paintings 
 and the same lapis-lazuli cupids looking down from 
 the burnished oak. The great beauty of these 
 apartments are some marvellous Gobelins, after 
 those made for Catherine de Medicis. The interior 
 of the castle has been restored and shaped expressly 
 to receive this magnificent series of works of art. 
 
 " To-day money cannot buy their equal ; and to the 
 racing proclivities of a Prince of the blood" (the 
 Duke of G. dear Francis told me his name ; he sac- 
 rificed the whole lot for a stud of thoroughbreds), 
 "the Lords of Beaufort owe one of their greatest 
 treasures " 
 
 Now here is a bit of history Francis told me. 
 It is not in the book, but it may interest you. Cath- 
 erine de Medicis (when her husband, Henry II., 
 was killed by Montgomery) so deplored the loss of 
 her lord and sovereign, that she ordered a lasting 
 monument to his memory in the shape of these 
 Gobelins. A propos, did you know that Gobelins
 
 Marked "In Haste" 359 
 
 used to be called Arras, Arazzi, the name of the city 
 in Flanders where this industry originally flourished 
 in the sixteenth century ? I never did. 
 
 This tribute is constructed from the allegorical 
 subject of the story of Mausole and Artemisia. 
 Catherine ordered a famous artist of the time to 
 copy the works of art from the Chateau d'Annet, and 
 he has faithfully reproduced them in the tapestry." 
 
 Now this, Aunt Adrian, is what follows and is also 
 from the book. No, I'll tell you myself, it is more 
 natural ; you will prefer my simple way without any 
 Latin. There are four enormous curtains, or panels 
 with side pieces, and four others a little smaller in 
 size, that complete the set. One is called the Fountain 
 of Diana. Three graces support a basin in which re- 
 clines the famous Diana de Poitiers. She is com- 
 pletely nude, her arms clasping a stag's head. At her 
 feet lies a dog. (This, auntie, is so funny. It says in 
 Latin that the dog is visible, as though one could 
 see it if it were not visible.) It is an exact likeness 
 of the most celebrated and beautiful woman of her 
 time. It is from the statue made by Jean Goujon. 
 
 That she could enslave a father and son was note- 
 worthy ; that she could also fascinate the wife and 
 mother is strange ; but the most remarkable thing 
 is this : The husband and loyer dead, the widow 
 causes the portrait of his doubly-faithful mistress to 
 be made the principal one in a quartette, when even 
 the three graces appear but secondary in beauty and 
 charm. Their sculptured forms, smaller than this 
 goddess of the bath, are used to throw in bolder relief 
 her extraordinary symmetry and sensuous beauty.
 
 360 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 Now think of it, auntie ; she had lovers at sixty. 
 This portrait must have been made not far from that 
 period of her life. She appears in the flower of her 
 youth and comeliness, which makes us doubt the 
 exactitude of her age. However, a woman, I suppose, 
 best judges and appreciates a woman's beauty. For 
 Catherine de Medicis to find her king's favorite a 
 place in the lasting tribute she designs to his mem- 
 ory a tribute where the most lovely figures are re- 
 produced, and to give preference to that favorite over 
 all the graces, demonstrates that she must have been 
 a wondrously beautiful person. The souvenir so 
 religiously guarded, and zealously exhibited to vis- 
 itors at the Hotel Cluny, in Paris, shows that the 
 lady's modesty was not put to the test early or late 
 in life. Her royal lover evidently did not believe 
 that virtue, which has to be so strictly guarded, was 
 not worth its sentinel. Preferring to run no risk, 
 however, he took his precautions, peculiar precau- 
 tions ; but, for that epoch, they seemed necessary. 
 
 Thanks to Diana's vanity, the world possesses a 
 work of art in her picture. Few ideal Venuses 
 could be more beautiful, few real graces more seduc- 
 tive 
 
 How tired I am ; but you asked me to tell you 
 all about it, and I have. Francis has just brought me 
 a cup of tea. Is there anything more refreshing 
 than a cup of tea ? I believe my head aches a little, 
 but I will finish ; this is from the book : 
 
 " Besides the tapestry are numerous cabinets and 
 wondrous pieces of furniture, each untold in value, 
 with inlaid woods, ivory, or metals, and carvings
 
 Marked "Sn Haste" 361 
 
 imitated from Michael Angelo : these Greek gods 
 and goddesses might have been made yesterday ; 
 the woods are worm-eaten, and some of the ivory 
 is broken off." (As I told Francis, even the most 
 frantic bric-a-brac hunter would at once realize their 
 value and genuine antiquity.) 
 
 It is impossible to describe half the things in these 
 wonderful rooms, but I will try and tell you of a few 
 more (I believe I am a trifle tired) but I know you 
 must be so interested. " There is a superb chande- 
 lier of real rock crystal on a pedestal of bronze and 
 cedar, made at Munich, of course ; but the real 
 treasures are these. 
 
 " There are four pedestals supporting four statues, 
 carved by the great Erasmus Grosser, in 1473. They 
 are in wood that has now the tone of ivory." (They 
 are so life-like that I expect to see them step down 
 from their heights some day .and join in an old- 
 fashioned minuet at an instant's notice.) " They are 
 really four madmen, or court jesters, and dressed 
 in the costume of those times. (So queer.) 
 
 " The autograph of the artist in quaint lettering at 
 the foot of the statue adds to their value and au- 
 thenticity." 
 
 They were sold in Munich eighty years ago for a 
 mere song. At that time valuable works of art 
 were hidden in half the garrets of Europe. Francis 
 would not take ten thousand pounds for them. He 
 has just come in and looks over my shoulder (I am 
 not as tired as I was). He has brought me another 
 cup of tea and has impertinently been reading my 
 letter. What do you think he said ? " Just like a wo- 
 16
 
 362 Marked "In Haste" 
 
 man writing a yard of rot ; when she reads it she'll 
 know you cribbed the whole thing. Just like a woman, 
 by jove! send her the book." "Just like a woman in- 
 deed ! " " Send her the book ! " (I am sure dear aunty, 
 you would much prefer I should tell it you myself ?) 
 Just like a man, I say, and his laziness, not to write. 
 Francis is getting royal in his brevity. It reminds 
 me of the giddy young American in London, who 
 performed through the telephone to show it off for 
 the benefit of her Majesty the Queen, who was sta- 
 tioned at Windsor. Vainly desiring a surcease 
 from "Three old maids of Lee." (Pegg Woffing- 
 ton, Hamlet in the original A. D.) and Forget-me- 
 not I suppose, the line was drawn after the tenth 
 verse of "Nanie, wilt thou gang awa' wi me." Her 
 Majesty was asked, " how she liked it." The Em- 
 press of India replied : " Cut the wire." 
 Your loving niece, 
 
 ETHEL BEAUFORT. 
 
 P. S. Don't fail us for All-Hallow-Eve. Such do- 
 ings, such a ball ! Francis is still superstitious (so 
 like a man), and it will be just two years ago that 
 night since first we met. I hope this will reach you 
 immediately. I shall send it to the old address. Do 
 write soon. E. 
 
 P. P. S. How very funny! I have put " In Haste " 
 on the envelope quite by accident. Of course you 
 will get the letter sooner. Does it not seem strange 
 to sign myself Ethel Beaufort ? 
 
 THE END.
 
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