BUBBLE HH 
 REPUTATION 
 
 BY ALFRED BUCHANAN
 
 (^
 
 BUBBLE REPUTATION.
 
 BUBBLE REPUTATION. 
 
 A STORY OF MODERN LIFE. 
 
 BY 
 
 ALFRED BUCHANAN. 
 
 "Though the many h'ghts flwindle lo one light. 
 There is hope il the Heavens have one." 
 
 SECOND IMPRESSION. 
 
 GEORGE ROBERTSON & CO. PROPRIETARY, LTD., 
 
 Melbourne, Sydney, Adelaide, Brisbane. 
 Skeffington & Son, London.
 
 PR 
 
 1904 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 editor's preface - - - vii. 
 
 I. TWO PEOPLE ... - 9 
 
 II. A MAN TO BE ENVIED - - - 1 9 
 
 III. THE woman's point OF VIEW - - 30 
 
 IV. THE EDGE OF THE PIT - - - 40 
 
 V. THE LABOUR MEMBER - - " 5© 
 
 VI. PURSUIT OF THE LAUREL - - 64 
 
 VII. "CREDE EXPERTO" - - - 71 
 
 VIII. INK AND DISHONOUR - - - 82 
 
 IX. THE OPEN HEATH - - - - 99 
 
 X. LAUGHING LIPS - - - IIS 
 
 XI. LE MERCIER - - - - 13O 
 
 XII. A FIGHT WITH SHADOWS - 1 48 
 
 XIII. A TRAGEDY - - - - 1 63 
 V.
 
 ^ Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIV. THE LAWYER AND THE LADY - - 1 79 
 
 XV, SAND - - . - - 197 
 
 XVI, COLOURS ON THE LAWN - - 215 
 
 XVII. THE CLIFF ----- 234 
 
 XVIII, DELIRIUM . - - - 247 
 
 XIX. CHOOSING A CANDIDATE - - - 265 
 
 XX. THE GOAL THAT RECEDES - - 283 
 
 XXI. THE DECLINING SUN - - - 30I 
 
 VI.
 
 EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 My brother, who for the last eleven years has 
 identified himself with Australian Journalism, sent 
 me in MS. from Perth the pages that follow a 
 twelvemonth ago. He left it with me to publish 
 or not to publish. The verdict of the first English 
 publisher to whom I submitted the MS. was : " The 
 scenes and setting are not those of the conventional 
 English novel." I agreed, but maintained that the 
 fact was no whit to their detriment. We in England 
 to-day have a growing desire to see the social life 
 in our Colonies as it is — nothing extenuated, nor 
 aught set down in false glorification. 
 
 The sketches that follow enable us to see — almost 
 feel — the very pulse of those of our own race and 
 language who live and work out their destiny under 
 sub-tropical skies, in other lands and amidst other 
 social environments than our own. John Rayment 
 is a faithful picture of a perverted Labour member, 
 and Edith Grey is a true representation of the 
 
 vii.
 
 •©<; Editor's Preface. 
 
 type of womanhood — not unrare in Australia — that 
 blossoms in the heart of the storm. 
 
 This faithfulness of portraiture is enough reason 
 in itself for giving the book — albeit without the 
 Author's final revision — to the British public. 
 
 E. S. Buchanan. 
 
 vni.
 
 Bubble Reputation* 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TWO PEOPLE. 
 
 'M tired of it," said the girl, leaning back in 
 the chair and folding her arms over her 
 head. " I suppose I ought to admire 
 it. I know it's very Australian, and all that, but my 
 limited intelligence isn't equal to it ; I'm sick of it. 
 Why can't you say something ? " 
 
 The man standing next to her — he had been 
 leaning his arms on the balcony-rail and looking 
 out across the descending vista of bush and mountain 
 to the reddening sky-line — turned his head. Then 
 he picked up the book that lay open on her lap, and 
 looked at the cover reflectively. 
 
 " I'm afraid you're not patriotic," he said. 
 
 "Perhaps not. And yet I don't know — I think I 
 am patriotic — only I must have something to be 
 patriotic about. I don't think they treat us fairly." 
 
 " Who are ' they ' ? " 
 
 " Oh, authors, critics, writers — that kind of people 
 — especially English critics. They seem to think 
 
 9
 
 ^5* Bubble Reputation. 
 
 that a thing won't be Australian, and that it can't be 
 right somehow unless it's all about snakes, and gum- 
 trees, and dry water-courses, and billy-cans, and wire 
 fences, and beef and pumpkins, and someone called 
 Bill or Sal. I know there are pumpkins and wire 
 fences in Australia, but I don't see them ; they don't 
 interest me." 
 
 " Quite so," remarked Barraclough. That was the 
 name of the man who was still leaning his elbows on 
 the balustrade. " I am inclined to sympathize with 
 you there. Yes, if we are to read novels, I don't see 
 how we can do better than stick to the duke and the 
 heiress, and the rest of them. Those are the kind of 
 people that you can learn something from ; they 
 know what to say at the right moment, even if they 
 don't do what is proper at the right time." 
 
 " I wasn't joking," said the lady stiffly. 
 
 " Neither was I," he answered calmly. 
 
 " I was talking about Australian literature, and 
 the things they say about Australia." 
 
 " And I quite agreed with you. But isn't it a 
 rather dry after-dinner subject?" 
 
 " I should imagine you would be the last to think 
 so." 
 
 " H'm ! " remarked the man, with deliberate non- 
 committal intonation. 
 
 "Let us talk seriously," said the girl. 
 
 " By all means," he assented. 
 
 " Here we are in the most picturesque part of 
 Australia — one of the finest places anywhere." 
 
 10
 
 Two People. ^ 
 
 " I grant you that," said Barraclough. 
 
 " I think it's grand. It is magnificent. I love 
 these mountains. To me they are like — not like 
 home exactly — but like something better than 
 home. Directly you get past Penrith, you feel as if 
 you were going back to an old friend. They always 
 seem to have a welcome. When you're tired of 
 things in town, and people begin to get on your 
 nerves, and you haven't the energy to crawl about 
 the house, and your complexion won't keep a decent 
 colour if you go out-doors — well, you can just get 
 into the train and come up here. And then it's all 
 different. You're in another world. And aren't 
 they splendid to look at ! Leura, and Wentworth, 
 and the Three Sisters, and that 2,000 feet precipice, 
 and the grand old forest out there, stretching miles 
 away from the house right yonder to where the sun 
 sets. Why don't they write about that ? It's as 
 good as the Engadine, or the Tyrol, or any of those 
 places. I'm sure of it. It is what makes me think 
 Australia is going to be a great country, and not for 
 ever worrying about its dry creeks and its rabbit- 
 fences. You're laughing." She stopped abruptly. 
 
 " Not for a moment ; 1 was deeply interested." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, you were. I saw a smile come over 
 your face. You think a woman doesn't bother about 
 these things. That shows you don't know every- 
 thing, Mr. Wiseman, although you are a lawyer, 
 and get such a lot of money for giving such bad 
 advice." 
 
 II
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Barraclough turned round, frankly amused. It 
 was evident they understood each other. 
 
 " If I smiled," he said, "it was because I couldn't 
 help wondering whether you ever talked to O'Brien 
 like that." 
 
 It was the girl's turn to laugh, but it was a laugh 
 with a doubtful, not wholly satisfied thought behind 
 it. 
 
 " I wonder where he is ; he must have left us alone 
 for fully twenty minutes." 
 
 There was no immediate reply, and the chatter of 
 voices within the house became more audible. The 
 dusk of the January day had turned into night. It 
 may have been that both the man and the woman 
 were sensible, in some fashion — more or less vague, 
 more or less unconscious — of the influence of the 
 hour. This sub-tropical twilight of Australia has a 
 habit of impressing itself on the imagination. No 
 St. Agnes' Eve could have been written by an 
 Australian in Australia. But a Hymn to Proserpine 
 might have been. To most of us, northern or 
 southern, pagan or ascetic, the throned Cytherean is 
 more real and more inviting than the sister to 
 sorrow. The Australian night is essentially pagan. 
 Perhaps for that reason it does not pall. Kindly 
 and caressing, sensuous and subduing, it will make 
 the greatest sufferer and the most hardened sinner 
 forget that there is either sin or suffering — until the 
 next morning. 
 
 One or two people strolled out on to the balcony. 
 12
 
 Two People. ^ 
 
 They sauntered up and down for a while, and then 
 subsided into one or other of the cane chairs that 
 were put out to catch the evening breeze. A group 
 of three — two women and one man — planted their 
 coffee-cups on a small round table, and buried their 
 heads in close and animated conversation. But 
 from whatever reason — or for no reason at all — the 
 man and the girl were left undisturbed. 
 
 "If you are not going to talk to me," said Miss 
 Rayment, " I will go inside." 
 
 "Don't go," he answered, with some show of 
 interest. " What shall I talk about ?" 
 
 " About yourself, just for a change." 
 
 " That's always a fascinating topic for one person," 
 said Barraclough, " but for the other person, likely to 
 be tiresome." 
 
 " Yet, isn't it suspicious if a man never- talks about 
 himself.?" 
 
 " I don't know ; perhaps it is. I daresay most of 
 us — but you know me better than most people. 
 Don't say you do not. It is generally safe to 
 assume in these cases that what isn't known isn't 
 worth knowing." 
 
 " Have you ever " she began, and hesitated. 
 
 " Yes ? " he murmured, in low-voiced interrogation. 
 
 " What was s/te like ? " inquired the girl abruptly, 
 looking at him. 
 
 '"Um!" answered the man, with much delibera- 
 tion. 
 
 " You are not going to say there's been no one ? " 
 13
 
 •>■• 
 
 Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " If you are asking me whether I've ever been in 
 love, I should say ' probably.' There's always a 
 certain amount of doubt about that — afterwards. 
 On the whole I am inclined to think I have been in 
 love. But it was a good while ago." 
 
 She gave him a look from the chair, that might 
 have meant admiration, or might have meant the 
 reverse. 
 
 " The learned signor takes it for granted that I 
 take a sisterly interest in his domestic affairs." 
 
 " Oh, no. But just on the spur of the moment I 
 can't think of anything that might be worth men- 
 tioning, or that you don't know yourself. My mode 
 of Hfe — what is it ? Now and again people give me 
 briefs, and numbers of your Australian citizens — a 
 dozen of 'em at a time — favour me with a stony 
 stare, while I endeavour to make the worse appear 
 the better reason." 
 
 " So nice and modest for a man who they say is 
 doing so splendidly at the bar ! And how good of 
 you to confess so much about your past career! — 
 I'm beginning to think there must have been some- 
 thing dreadful about it; something mysterious and 
 long ago, before you came out to Australia." 
 
 " It is your turn," he rejoined, " to be as candid as 
 I have been." 
 
 " Oh ! I've nothing to tell. You know I've 
 nothing to tell. If I had, there wouldn't be any 
 mystery about it. Haven't you known me ever 
 since I was a girl — you have, haven't you .-* " 
 
 14
 
 Two People. ^ 
 
 There was a certain amount of insistence in the 
 question which seemed hardly called for in the 
 circumstances. 
 
 " I should say you had lived," said Barraclough, 
 turning round and looking at her critically, with the 
 air of a much older man — older than his years alone 
 would have justified — " in a rather unhealthy atmos- 
 phere. You see, your father is well off; of course to 
 that in itself there can be no objection ; I'm not sure 
 that it isn't an advantage." He made another of 
 his deliberate pauses before going on. " And then 
 you are rather clever. At least, if you will allow 
 me to say so, I think you would have made an 
 extremely clever woman if you had cared to play 
 that part. That again is anything but a drawback. 
 I am one of those who have always worshipped 
 cleverness in woman — from a respectful distance. 
 But then, you see, you are decidedly good-looking, 
 and that's what makes the whole business so 
 unfortunate." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the girl, half flattered and 
 wholly surprised at this diversion. 
 
 " You must see for yourself, if you will look at the 
 matter in a dispassionate light, that it is very 
 unfortunate. Your cleverness doesn't get a chance. 
 Your money doesn't get a chance. Your good looks 
 don't get a chance. You never quite know where 
 you are. You don't know why so many people run 
 after you ; whether it is your mind they're interested 
 in, or your money they appreciate, or whether it is 
 
 15
 
 -o<; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 the wave of your hair and the way you look when 
 you s-nile that really takes their fancy. It must be 
 very annoying. A woman ought to know. I think 
 she has really got a grievance against Providence if 
 she doesn't know. I am old enough to tell you 
 about these things. Yes, I think it must be very 
 hard luck." 
 
 The girl, still half flattered and at the same time 
 a trifle annoyed, looked up at him with a wondering 
 expression that gradually disappeared and gave 
 place to an audible sigh. Barraclough, having said 
 his say, turned round and continued leaning on his 
 elbow, looking out into the night. 
 
 It was almost dark. The solitary figure of a man, 
 who had been reclining on one of the cane chairs, 
 rose and began slowly pacing to and fro, cigarette 
 between his lips. The girl turned her eyes in his 
 direction ; but he came no nearer. 
 
 When she spoke, it was with a certain petulance 
 and impatience. 
 
 " I'm not at all clever. It's the last thing I would 
 ever try to be. But it would be a treat to meet a 
 clever man now and again. It would be like a new 
 sensation. The men that talk to me, and say they 
 admire me, are not clever ; or if they are, they 
 disguise it so well that no one would ever suspect 
 it. When I say ' clever,' I don't mean a walking 
 encyclopaedia of legal knowledge, with no more 
 sentiment in his whole body than there is in a bag 
 of sawdust. I don't mean anything personal," 
 
 i6
 
 Two People. 5©» 
 
 " Of course not," remarked Barraclough urbanely. 
 
 " I mean someone who would be worth while ; 
 someone who wouldn't be quite like the ordinary ; 
 someone who would have brains, and who, while 
 everyone was talking about him, would be really and 
 genuinely in love with you." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that you have got tired of 
 O'Brien ! " 
 
 It was an audacious question, but with all his 
 impassivity, he might have been a little nettled at her 
 last " impersonal " sentence. 
 
 " If you please, we will leave him out of the 
 question." 
 
 " What would you do, when you have found — say, 
 this clever person ? Marry him ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; I don't think so. I wasn't 
 thinking about that, but it would be a new 
 experience — an experiment." 
 
 " Must your experiment be a moneyed man ; or 
 would you be satisfied with great ability, and a coat 
 out at elbows ? " 
 
 " Yes, I wouldn't care how poor he was. It's not 
 as if I wanted him for ever." 
 
 " Why not give the stranger a trial ? " 
 
 The girl turned her eyes toward the figure of the 
 man who was disappearing through the balcony 
 doorway into one of the lighted rooms. 
 
 " You mean ? — " she said interrogatively. 
 
 "Yes, he seems quite out of the ordinary. I was 
 talking to him this morning." 
 
 17 B
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " It might be worth trying," she assented. 
 
 "At the same time," he remarked, "there's always 
 a chance in these matters of burning one's fingers." 
 
 For answer the girl laughed a laugh in which 
 merriment was mingled with no shade of misgiving. 
 
 tS
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A MAN TO BE ENVIED. 
 
 T was the height of summer, and, as is 
 usual at this time of the year, the house 
 was filled with visitors. The large wooden 
 building, with its high, airy rooms, its carpeted 
 stairs, its broad balconies and verandahs, and its 
 rambling yet imposing frame-work, conveyed an 
 impression not only of coolness, but also of com- 
 fort and hospitality ; an impression that was 
 accentuated by the rugged and gloomy environ- 
 ment in which it was set. 
 
 There are probably few people, knowing Australia 
 and knowing the Blue Mountains, who do not 
 wish to return to them sometimes, who do not 
 regret them sometimes, who cannot recall some 
 pleasurable experience of which they were a part. 
 In the European sense they are still almost un- 
 discovered. They can still be written about. Your 
 up-to-date author, with that conscientious deter- 
 mination to acquire local colour which makes him 
 such a mine of information in these days, has so 
 
 19
 
 ^'; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 far been content to leave them alone. No doubt 
 their turn will arrive. The day of their greatness 
 — and the day of their littleness — must come. 
 Meanwhile they are comparatively untenanted. It 
 may be said of them as of the island in a certain 
 romantic poem, that *' Nature with all her children 
 haunts the hill." 
 
 The Australian Bush — that straggling, unending 
 vista of scattered timber and gumleaf, which spreads 
 itself for miles upon miles from plain to plain — has 
 been stamped by the representative Australian 
 novelist with the imprint of weird melancholy. It 
 is a permanent phase, and has been accepted. But 
 when the Bush rises to meet the mountain, the 
 outward character and the inward spirit of the 
 scene undergo a change. The weirdness is there 
 still ; the melancholy suffers eclipse. After all, the 
 melancholy fit is a product of decay and change, 
 and this part of the world is singularly free from 
 both. 
 
 The eternal sameness of these millions of gum 
 trees, looking in the aggregate like one gigantic 
 mantle mightily mantling a titanic mound of earth ; 
 the unbroken silence of crag and precipice, of 
 ravine and mountain-side ; the rare, very rare gleam 
 of silver showing where a stream or waterfall is 
 making its way downwards to the coast ; the mar- 
 vellously clear skyline, melting in the dim distance 
 into a continuous sweep of bush-covered plateau — 
 all this has a temper and character of its own, not 
 
 20
 
 A Man to be Envied. .^-^ 
 
 to be met with elsewhere, indefinable by any word, 
 inexpressible by any phrase. Great and gloomy, 
 uninviting and forbidding, impassive and impene- 
 trable, forever frowning upwards to a forever smiling 
 sky — such is the unchanging temper of these 
 mountain crags. 
 
 Yet the visitors at this time of the year were, for 
 the most part, a merry company, well versed in the 
 social axiom that nature and solitude are indiffer- 
 ently amusing when you happen to stay at the right 
 house, and surround yourself with the right kind of 
 people. It may have been that one or two of the 
 less travelled, less blase, guests appreciated the out- 
 look to the full, more especially when they watched 
 the mists of early morning breakmg over leagues of 
 bush-covered mountain ; or when they saw from the 
 balcony of the house a wild sunset first flare and 
 then fade over a darkening and majestic landscape. 
 
 But custom innures us to most things. It is even 
 doubtful whether it is quite good form to become too 
 enthusiastic over these matters. There seems reason 
 to believe, if you hear a man talking too insistently 
 about a place and its attractions, that he is arguing 
 himself a comparative novice, and that he is not 
 really the travelled and wealthy person you might 
 otherwise expect him to be. 
 
 One of those who did not claim any super-sensi- 
 tiveness on the score of natural beauties — though he 
 prided himself on being able to exercise a wise 
 discrimination in regard both to people and places — 
 
 21
 
 ^(; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 was Geoffrey O'Brien. As he belonged to a class 
 that is to be met with in most parts of the world, 
 and a class that every right-thinking person should 
 be pleased to associate with, he may well claim a 
 certain amount of respectful attention. 
 
 When anyone called Geoffrey O'Brien a lucky 
 beggar — and the phrase was used sometimes to his 
 face and oftener behind his back — the speaker 
 usually meant what he said. If a clear income from 
 landed property of ^2000 a year, good health, good 
 digestion, and years numbering little more than the 
 quarter century, do not justify a man in being called 
 a lucky beggar, what does ? For his own part he 
 was usually tolerably certain that he was lucky. He 
 saw nothing to grumble at. He was not the kind of 
 man who worried over things. In spite of all a man 
 has, or is likely to have, temperament may prove his 
 worst enemy, and may pursue him with unrelenting 
 bitterness from end to end of the earth. But even 
 in this important particular O'Brien had been well 
 treated. Neither his nerves nor his imagination ever 
 gave him much trouble. Whatever or wherever the 
 feast at which he was regaling himself, there was no 
 spectre to share it. He may have had a suspicion 
 that men who were considered smart, men like 
 Barraclough for example, might be inclined to laugh 
 at him, even when they went out of their way to ask 
 his opinion. But against this suspicion there was the 
 consoling reflection that he could buy most of them 
 out, three or four times over. 
 
 22
 
 A Man to be Envied. ^^ 
 
 For nearly eighteen months now he had attached 
 himself to Miss Rayment. During that time he did 
 not profess to have been absolutely constant. But 
 somehow the other fancies did not last. As he said 
 himself, they had a habit of flickering out in a few 
 days, or at most a few weeks. It was a pity. It 
 would have been better, he would have thought more 
 of himself, if he had not been compelled to come 
 back with such regularity to this woman. She led 
 him a nice dance. He knew she was unmanageable. 
 He knew she had no great love for him. Yet he had 
 a belief that some day she would marry him. He 
 was confirmed in this belief by the reflection that she 
 was a sensible woman. For the life of him he could 
 not see how any sensible woman could in the long 
 run refuse such a match, if only because of the solid 
 advantages that would follow from it. 
 
 But the girl had lately worried him. He had even 
 told one or two of his friends that she was getting on 
 his mind. 
 
 " Getting on your what .-' " said one of these in- 
 dividuals — a man with a reputation for a bitter 
 tongue. 
 
 For answer Geoffrey turned his back on the man 
 and closed up like an oyster. He might not set up 
 for a genius, but he was not going to have fellows 
 talk to him in that fashion. He had thought of 
 leaving Sydney, of going away somewhere, perhaps 
 to Tasmania or New Zealand, perhaps to Europe. 
 There was nothing like a change if a man was (Qeling 
 
 23
 
 ^^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 a bit upset. Probably it would put him alrig^ht. 
 He had made up his mind to some such course of 
 action when he had met her out on the lawn that 
 morning. Geoffrey's first impression on that occasion 
 had been one of lively satisfaction at finding Maud 
 alone ; for to find her thus had not been by any 
 means a common experience of late. Yet the inter- 
 view had been less than wholly satisfactory ; and the 
 expostulations into which he had let himself be 
 drawn were, as he afterwards reflected, rather undig- 
 nified. They made him look too much like a puppet 
 in her hands. What did one woman matter ? There 
 were so many others. And if this one imagined for 
 an instant 
 
 But after all she did matter. It was just as well 
 to look things squarely in the face. And, to do her 
 justice, she was different from others — more subtle, 
 more versatile, more clever, and at the same time 
 more like a woman. Yes, he might go a long way 
 and not meet with anyone quite like her again. He 
 was not her slave — he told himself this with great 
 determination ; but in bare justice to himself, as a 
 man of taste, it must be admitted that there were 
 grounds for his preference. 
 
 The interview that morning had been brief, though 
 on his part a trifle stormy. Had she been less 
 tactful, or had she shown less genius for under- 
 standing masculine character, there might have 
 been an end to all things between them. Nearly 
 six months ago he had gone the length — the extra- 
 
 24
 
 A Man to be Envied, .^o* 
 
 ordinary length — of asking her to marry him. And 
 though she had not absolutely refused, she had not 
 bound herself in any way — had preferred, as it 
 seemed, to keep him within call, and allow him to 
 claim her with some half understanding. 
 
 " No, no, no," she expostulated pleadingly that 
 morning, when he declared that he was being made 
 to look foolish, and that it would be better to say 
 definitely what was to happen. If she had been angry 
 or defiant, he would perhaps have been angry and 
 decisive ; but her tone of entreaty — the way she 
 had leaned and looked towards him — made him 
 feel that she was really as fond of him and as 
 proud of him as a girl might naturally be expected 
 to be, and that only some temporary obstacle stood 
 in the way. 
 
 Possibly there was more in that last reflection 
 than he had imagined. Was there any obstacle ? 
 What obstacle could there be ? Although he knew 
 that Maud Rayment was a recognised social success, 
 that she went everywhere and met everybody, he 
 knew it had not always been so. Her father was 
 a self-made man. Over his early career, before he 
 made money and became a Minister of the Crown, 
 it was usual to draw a veil. Geoffrey wondered 
 what might have happened to the girl in those 
 early stages, and what influences, personal or im- 
 personal, had helped to make her what she was. 
 
 After talking to her that morning on the lawn, 
 he avoided her, and for the greater part of the 
 
 25
 
 ^g Bubble Reputation. 
 
 day hung about the house, smoking, walking up 
 and down, paying visits to the billiard room, 
 talking to the barmaid, talking to men in the 
 hotel, going anywhere but where he thought he 
 would meet the girl. He knew she and her 
 mother were in the house — that they had not gone 
 out all day. He was determined not to go near 
 them. About a couple of hours before sunset he 
 took a horse from the stable and rode out. When 
 he came back it was nearly dark, and the horse 
 bore signs that it had been ridden hard and 
 far. 
 
 After dinner the tempter appeared in a new and 
 sophistical shape. It argued in this fashion. The 
 evening has to be put in somehow. Why make a 
 martyr of yourself when there is no need ? The 
 girl has been shown — you have shown her — that a 
 man can be quite determined. 
 
 Geoffrey felt that the tempter was getting the 
 better of the argument. He compromised with his 
 dignity and joined the others upstairs. 
 
 At a late hour that evening he was talking to 
 Mrs. Harper. She was a sympathetic, unusually 
 broad-minded woman, and, what was even more to 
 the purpose, an intimate friend of the Rayment 
 family. From the vantage ground of ten years' 
 seniority, she was quite willing to give a young 
 man friendly advice. 
 
 " It appears," said Geoffrey, " that they have 
 asked Ward to go with them to-morrow. Not 
 
 26
 
 A Man to be Envied. ^ 
 
 the sort of man I should have asked myself. She 
 seems to have taken a fancy to him though. 
 Tells me she was with him nearly all the morning, 
 and found him ' original ' — whatever she meant by 
 that." 
 
 " Well, if you will act the part of Achilles." 
 "Eh! what has Achilles got to do with it?" 
 " Wasn't he the brave fighter who once sulked in 
 a tent ? " 
 
 "Now, really," he expostulated. "If you mean 
 
 to insinuate — if you think I am such a fool " 
 
 She interrupted, "Of course I'm not insinuating, 
 and I see it's no use giving you advice, because 
 you would not take it if I did." 
 
 Geoffrey cleared his throat. It was not often 
 that he spoke of anything that had a strain of 
 sentiment in it, more particularly where the senti- 
 ment, or what passed for the sentiment, affected 
 himself. But he would have liked for many reasons 
 to get an expression of opinion from Mrs. Harper. 
 He hoped she wouldn't go away just yet. She 
 was one of those sensible women who never said 
 too much, and wouldn't give you away if you told 
 them confidences. And a man of twenty-five has 
 a great respect for the opinion of a woman of 
 thirty-five, where other women are concerned. 
 
 Geoffrey found his voice, and said he was sorry. 
 He daresay he was a bit mule-headed. But some- 
 how, he didn't mind admitting it, he didn't like 
 to see her talking so much to other fellows. Dashed 
 
 27
 
 4t^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 fool to care about it, but there it was. Not that 
 it was a matter of any consequence. 
 
 " Quite right," she assented brightly, " it's not a 
 matter of much consequence — hardly worth talking 
 about, in fact." 
 
 " And yet — " there was a dogged note in his 
 voice, which seemed to say that the matter was 
 of consequence — " you said this morning that if you 
 were in my place you wouldn't go with them to 
 the Falls to-morrow." 
 
 "Did I?" she replied with animation. "But 
 surely you haven't been troubling about it since." 
 
 "Then why did you say it ?" 
 
 "Well, it's like this, as my learned husband 
 would say. There are two unknown quantities — 
 your opinion of her (though I can guess at that), 
 and hers of you. As to the latter, I cannot speak. 
 But I'll tell you a secret — if you want a woman 
 to make advances to you, keep out of her way." 
 
 " Why ? " The tone was persistent. " Why did 
 you advise me not to go to the Falls ? " 
 
 "Simply because, if you want to know, the lady 
 has the reputation of being dangerous. I don't 
 say it in any spiteful way. She is too old for you. 
 I don't mean in years, but in experience." 
 
 " What ! You think she — you think I — oh, 'pon 
 my honour, it's out of the question, I wouldn't be 
 such a fool as all that. You must think I'm a 
 very susceptible kind of a Johnny." 
 
 " Oh, no," she answered, " not more than any 
 28
 
 A Man to be Envied. ^ 
 
 other man your age. You all get over it in time. 
 I'm not saying a word against Maud. I wouldn't 
 for the world. I am her friend and her mother's 
 friend, and to some extent her father's friend. I 
 only said she is considered dangerously fascinating. 
 Most women would consider that a compliment. I 
 only said it because I thought you wanted to 
 know my opinion. If you are satisfied that there 
 is no danger — you know better than I do — you 
 should go in and win." 
 
 " It would look silly to stay away now," said 
 Geoffrey, 
 
 " Perhaps it would. And it is a lovely part of 
 the country you are going to. I'm sure you deserve 
 her ; and I'm not so sure she deserves you. Now, 
 could I say anything nicer than that ? " 
 
 29
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WOMAN'S POINT OF VIEW. 
 
 HE holiday season was beginning to wane. 
 The week-end trippers — that numerous and 
 persistent class whose footsteps follow the 
 railway further and further into the heart of a 
 Continent — had already taken their departure. 
 Only the more leisured and the more leisurely 
 stayed on. 
 
 One of those who had announced their intention 
 of going back to the city within a few hours was 
 the reputedly learned, reputedly silent man whom 
 we have heard talking to Maud Rayment on the 
 balcony of the hotel. It would be a mistake to 
 assume that Barraclough was in any sense popular 
 or well-liked. Professionally, he was well known 
 and generally respected ; but individually he had 
 the reputation of being too reserved, too " English," 
 to make him a favourite with the great body of the 
 people who knew him by name. Nevertheless, when, 
 after opening his letters at the breakfast-table, he 
 announced his intention of returning to town that 
 
 30
 
 The Woman's Point of View. 5^ 
 
 evening, there were several reproaches, and more 
 than one expression of poh'te dismay. 
 
 For, as it happened, he commanded the warm 
 regard of those people — and there were very few of 
 them — who professed to know him intimately 
 They included the Rayment family, Miss Muriel 
 Dorrington — the latter a Judge's daughter, and a 
 young lady of many brilliant and doubtfully useful 
 accomplishments — Geoffrey O'Brien, and Mrs. 
 Harper, All protested that they had been 
 relying upon him for the Falls next Saturday, 
 and that it was too bad to leave them in the 
 lurch. 
 
 Barraclough duly acknowledged these regrets, and 
 made his apologies. Then he betook himself to one 
 of the drawing-rooms and devoted half an hour, to 
 the morning paper. Maud Rayment came in and 
 inquired whether he intended going with them on a 
 drive that was being organized to some place of 
 interest in the neighbourhood. If he would not go 
 himself, did he know of anyone who might be asked 
 to join. 
 
 He was sorry to have to decline as he had letters 
 to write, nor could he think of a substitute. 
 
 "Well," she said, "there is half an hour before we 
 start. What shall I tell the others about you ? " 
 
 " There is nothing to tell ; but in case the 
 opportunity doesn't occur again, 1 am tempted 
 to talk seriously to you — in fact, to give you 
 advice." 
 
 31
 
 ^>^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Don't be exasperating," she exclaimed. " You 
 know I'm always anxious to take your advice — 
 provided it is anything in reason." 
 
 "You remember what we were speaking about 
 last night? I have thought of it since, and I am 
 not quite sure whether you were in earnest. If you 
 were not, it doesn't matter ; if you were, I must say 
 I think it would be a pity." 
 
 " What would be a pity ? " 
 
 Before he could reply, O'Brien walked into the 
 room, but seeing the two engaged in what looked 
 like close conversation, walked out again. The girl 
 followed his retreating figure with an amused look. 
 
 " I was only going to say," went on Barraclough, 
 " that a girl — especially a girl like you — is liable to 
 do things which seem harmless enough, but which 
 may lead to a lot of trouble — especially where men 
 are concerned. We were talking about the stranger 
 — that mysterious friend of yours." 
 
 " It was you mentioned him first," she put in 
 quickly. 
 
 '• Perhaps I did. There was no need to have 
 brought him into the conversation. I only mean 
 that if you are looking for amusement, distraction, 
 that sort of thing, it would be as well to leave 
 him out of the question. It would be better to 
 leave him alone," 
 
 "Oh, oh!" she exclaimed, rather taken aback 
 and slightly offended. " What have I been doing 
 now ? " 
 
 32
 
 The Woman's Point of View. 5€» 
 
 " I know you will say it is no business of mine. 
 Neither is it in one way ; and yet in another way it 
 may be. I don't know much about this man Ward. 
 Perhaps you do. I can't say that I care very much 
 what happens to him. But I'm interested in you, 
 and Pm old enough to give you advice. It would 
 be a pity to have it said that you played the mischief 
 with one or both of them. I shouldn't think any 
 woman would care to let that go abroad." 
 
 " Is that all .'' " she inquired with suspicious calm- 
 ness. 
 
 He went on unconcernedly, '' A man is a better 
 judge of some things than a woman. Anyone can 
 see that this other one — Ward — is impressionable ; 
 he's in that stage. I've heard somewhere that he's 
 clever : a rising man, likely to do things some day. 
 The kind of man, in fact, that you say you'd like to 
 meet and exchange ideas with on art, and literature, 
 and politics — not to mention other things that might 
 drift into the conversation. Very agreeable he is 
 too ; but it's dangerous — it really is — to try and 
 handle the two of them, in broad daylight so 
 to speak. They will both see what is going on, 
 and the probabilities are — I may say the strong 
 probabilities are — that neither of them will like 
 it." 
 
 " And so your advice is " 
 
 "Is to leave Ward alone. Give him time to 
 develop. Unless you are prepared to let O'Brien 
 
 clearly understand " 
 
 33 c
 
 ^i; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Will you be good enough as to leave Mr. 
 O'Brien out of the conversation ? " 
 
 " Certainly. What was I saying ? About Ward — 
 it would be a pity if he were sacrificed ; and 
 although I repeat that his debacle in a matter of 
 this kind mightn't affect me or you either, I think 
 it would be a mistake to let yourself go down in 
 your own estimation ; or if not in your own, in other 
 people's. Even a girl like you has to think a little 
 about her own reputation, I'm not talking about 
 the conventions : they can look after themselves." 
 
 "Is that all?" 
 
 " Absolutely the last word, for this and all future 
 occasions. You're not offended ? Give me your 
 hand on it." 
 
 She pouted, looked at him doubtfully, and then 
 with a laugh, put her hand in his. He just touched 
 the tips of her fingers, and then rose as if to go. 
 
 " Wait a moment. You've had your say. It's 
 only fair to let me have mine. Would you like to 
 know what I think of you and your advice, Mr. 
 King's Counsel? Shall I tell you.-*" 
 
 Barraclough slightly raised his eyebrows. 
 
 " if you like, certainly," he said, " but I can't see 
 any reason just at this moment why you should 
 bring me into it, or drag my frailties — which I admit 
 are numerous — from their dread abode." 
 
 " Bah ! You are as serious as on a Bench of 
 Judges; and as solemn as an owl that's lost its 
 way among the tombstones. You can say what 
 
 34
 
 The Woman's Point of View. ^ 
 
 you like to me ; I'm not offended. I suppose I 
 ought to sit quiet and fold my hands and think to 
 myself, ' How true ! how proper ! how wise of 
 him ! It's the learned Mr. Barraclough talking. 
 Come and listen to Sir Oracle, and while he talks 
 let no dog bark. If I'm good, he may pat me on 
 the back ! " 
 
 He was looking down at her with the puzzled, 
 entirely impersonal expression that one gives to a 
 piece of mechanism whose movements are not 
 thoroughly understood. 
 
 " What I do say is, that you men are not fair." 
 
 " Not fair," he repeated meditatively. " How not 
 fair ? " 
 
 " You're not fair. Talk to us — talk to me — about 
 reputation, about convention ! Do you think a 
 woman doesn't know more about those things 
 than you do? Isn't our whole life a study in 
 conventions, from the cradle to the grave ? " 
 
 " Possibly," said Barraclough ; " but from my 
 limited observation I should say that the woman 
 who disregards the conventions finds it bad policy 
 in the long run." 
 
 " I daresay. I wasn't thinking about one class of 
 women — though I'm not sure that I wouldn't rather 
 be one of them than one of the other people, looking 
 like mixtures of virtue and vinegar, that I saw 
 sitting bolt uprij^ht at one of father's political 
 meetings. But this I do think, that men like 
 you, with your knowledge and your brains, ought 
 
 35
 
 ^•; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 to try and help us to some better and broader way 
 of living, instead of talking about our reputations, 
 and our conventions, and what we ought to do, and 
 what we oughtn't to do." 
 
 " I am afraid you have altogether misunderstood 
 me," said Barraclough. " I would be the last man in 
 the world to dictate to any woman what she ought 
 to do. All I meant to say was that it was dangerous 
 to play with more than one man at the same time. 
 That was all." 
 
 "And isn't it just as dangerous to play with more 
 than one woman .-' And yet how many of you do it ? 
 I don't mean you in particular ; but how many men 
 in the world are satisfied to be admired by only one 
 woman, I wonder ? " 
 
 " H'm ! " murmured the barrister, "isn't that a bit 
 outside the track? If you are going to advocate the 
 theoretical right of woman to do all the foolish 
 things that men have done from time immemorial, I 
 haven't a word to say." 
 
 *' No," said the girl more gently, and with less 
 assertiveness in her voice ; " it isn't that either. I 
 know there's a limit. But there are some things you 
 might do — which would make everything better 
 worth while — but they won't let you do them if they 
 can help it. You know what I mean." 
 
 " I'm afraid you overrate my powers of com- 
 prehension." 
 
 " I don't want to manage the affairs of the country. 
 None of us do — not really. But I do want to have 
 
 36
 
 The Woman's Point of View. ^ 
 
 some say in the management of my own affairs. If 
 I want to talk to anyone, I'll talk to him. And if 
 he wants to make love to me, he can. So long as it 
 pleases me, why shouldn't he? Do you want us 
 always to sit down with folded arms ; or go about 
 with labels on our backs to say that we belong to 
 Mr. So-and-so, and that Mr. Somebody-else mustn't 
 come near because Mr. So-and-so mightn't like it? " 
 
 There was nothing in his face to say whether he 
 was impressed or disapproved. 
 
 " Give us the right to love whom we like, and to 
 say to the people that please us what we like, and 
 you can have all the rest" 
 
 " Do you think that would work out well in 
 practice ? Do you really think it would ? " 
 
 " Not if everyone was like you, prepared to frown 
 on a woman the minute she gets outside the groove 
 she's been running in since the time of the ark." 
 
 "Again I'm bound to say that you do me less 
 than justice. When I spoke of a certain course of 
 action, which seemed to me the wisest in the circum- 
 stances, was I frowning or wishing to frown on 
 anyone .'' " 
 
 "Well," said the girl still defiantly, "you know 
 what I think — and I'll tell you something more. 
 I'm not going to have any of the amiable old ladies 
 of Sydney, or any other place, telling me what I 
 ought to do, and what they are quite sure would be 
 the best for my reput.ition. Reputation indeed ! 
 How many crimes have been committed in the name 
 
 37
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 of somebody's reputation ? If it ever seems worth 
 while — I don't say that it ever does — I won't be 
 satisfied to be robbed of happiness and presented 
 with a reputation. If I can't have both, I know 
 which one I'll choose. What do you think of that 
 Mr. Knight-of-the-serious-countenance ? Dreadful, 
 isn't it ? Shocking, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Not in the very least," said Barraclough ; " on 
 the contrary, quite instructive and entertaining." 
 
 " There, you've made me tired. I'm not going to 
 talk to you any more. You stand there like a cold 
 iron slab of intellect that moves about on wheels and 
 hinges. Go and talk to Muriel Dorrington. Go and 
 make love to her, and then come back and tell me 
 about it. Go and find out you're alive." 
 
 She had been talking heatedly, and she was now 
 looking up at him, her cheeks flushed, her lips half 
 parted, her eyes aglow. It occurred to him as he 
 regarded her for a moment without replying, that 
 she would have made an admirable model for the 
 Royal Academy picture of a Bacchante, with the 
 sunrise over her cheek, and the vine leaves in her 
 hair. Then again he reflected that this woman, 
 strong-minded and insurgent, yet emotional and 
 passionate, might be an instrument in the hands of 
 the Fates for avenging on men some of the wrongs 
 inflicted on the hearts of women — and might 
 perhaps wreck herself in achieving this end. 
 
 He was about to make some reply when a man 
 entered. Seeing the two together, as though in 
 
 38
 
 The Woman's Point of View. 5^ 
 
 confidential talk, the new comer stopped rather 
 awkwardly, and made as though he would have 
 left the room, but the girl spoke to him. 
 
 " Don't go, Mr. Ward. Mr. Barraclough has been 
 talking to me about woman's rights, and I've been 
 telling him he knows nothing about the subject. 
 Will you give us your opinion?" 
 
 Barraclough laughed. 
 
 "Really," he said, "you have vanquished me at 
 all points. I leave you with the honours of war." 
 
 He went out, and the other man, who was younger 
 and apparently lacking somewhat in self-possession, 
 seemed uncertain whether to follow or to remain. 
 He looked at the girl, and saw there was an implied 
 invitation in her glance. 
 
 " Oh, here you are ! The horses are ready, and 
 they are all waiting." 
 
 There was a rustle of dresses, and chatter of 
 voices. Two women, dressed for a morning drive, 
 entered the room. The three swept out together. 
 One of them threw a backward, farewell glance at 
 the man named Ward, who had sunk into a 
 chair, and who half-eagerly, half-disappointedly, was 
 watchingf them eo. 
 
 39
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE EDGE OF THE PIT. 
 
 H ? What ? What did you say ? Some- 
 one come to see me? I must have been 
 asleep." 
 The man in the chair turned his head as if 
 startled out of a reverie. The loose hair falling 
 over the forehead, and the luminous eyes were, 
 if not peculiar to, at least characteristic of 
 Arthur Ward. Perhaps through neglect, perhaps 
 through confinement indoors, the hair was looser, 
 the eyes more luminous than usual. And the 
 face was more than ordinarily pale. There had 
 evidently been an accident. His left arm hung 
 in a sling. 
 
 It was a gentle, mobile-featured girl of 
 apparently not more than twenty or twenty-one 
 standing in the room. She looked at him 
 hesitatingly, wondering whether he had been 
 asleep, wondering whether it would not have been 
 better to leave him undisturbed. 
 
 40
 
 The Edge of the Pit. ^c^ 
 
 " He is coming upstairs," she said. " I heard 
 him ask the hall-porter if you were in." 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 " He said he was your brother." 
 
 " Did he ? The chances are " — with the curious 
 smile which made the otherwise not remarkable 
 features look remarkable — " the chances are that 
 he is then. Can't think of any reason why a 
 man should want to be my brother if he isn't." 
 
 A young man, not much more than a boy, 
 came in unannounced. The girl looked at him 
 for a moment, looked from him to the man in 
 the chair, and then left the room. The new- 
 comer was not so interested in the object of his 
 visit that he had not time to look at her as 
 she disappeared. 
 
 Arthur held out his undamaged hand. The 
 look each gave the other was plainer than words. 
 The elder man's gaze, being interpreted, said, 
 
 " I am glad you have come. But I have been 
 here a long time — why didn't you come before ? " 
 
 The younger one merely remarked, 
 
 "You have had a nasty accident — how are you 
 getting on .-' " 
 
 It needed no soothsayer to discover which 
 current of feeling ran the deeper, which stood to 
 lose more by the other's loss. 
 
 " I am glad you have come " — the temporary 
 cripple was putting his thoughts into words — " I 
 suppose you couldn't get away sooner .-* I know. 
 
 41
 
 ¥tg Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Lots of things to look after in town. I am 
 getting on well enough now. Nothing really 
 serious. But I have had nearly a fortnight of 
 this. I have sat in this chair looking out 
 through the window watching the sky and the 
 bush, the bush and the sky, until they have 
 come and gibbered at me, and I had to turn 
 away for fear something worse might happen. I 
 have never thought of so many things in my 
 life, never wanted to do so many things in my 
 life, never been so restless in my life, and I 
 have been able to do nothing except sit there. 
 The girl you saw in the room just now " 
 
 " Nice-looking girl," remarked the other paren- 
 thetically. 
 
 " She has been good to me — looked after me 
 in one way or another most of the time. Except 
 for her I have hardly spoken to a soul." 
 
 " How did it happen ? I know nothing except 
 that you were coming back from a picnic — 
 wasn't it — and were thrown out of a trap." 
 
 " It is so long ago, Bertie, that it is hardly 
 worth recalling now." 
 
 " Not a fortnight yet — and I want to know." 
 
 *' There is nothing to tell. It wasn't out of a 
 trap — merely an ordinary commonplace kind of 
 accident, the one remarkable thing about it being 
 that it wasn't worse. We drove to the Falls — 
 about seven or eight of us — and I foolishly went 
 scrambling round in various places looking for 
 
 42
 
 The Edge of the Pit . ^ 
 
 flowers and that kind of thing. Something gave 
 way, and I was at the bottom. It was about 
 thirty feet, but some branches helped to break the 
 fail." 
 
 The boy listened with deep apparent sympathy 
 and wide-opened eyes. " You make light of it, 
 but it must have been a narrow shave," 
 
 " It might have been worse — or better," he 
 added moodily by way of after-thought. 
 
 " In one way," said Bertie after a pause, " this 
 may turn out very well. Rayment's wife and 
 daughter were there, weren't they .■' Rayment is 
 one of the few men in Parliament who have made 
 money out of the game. They say that the 
 daughter will come in for a good thing some 
 day." 
 
 "Do they?" 
 
 " Of course, you know quite well that they do, 
 and I suppose there have been kind inquiries, 
 and all that." 
 
 •' A few, but what follows .? " 
 
 " The girl has got money, and she takes a 
 fancy for the man who nearly broke his neck. 
 That is what follows." 
 
 " Perhaps it ought to follow, but does it ? 
 Can't say I ever thought of it myself" 
 
 " Vou never thought of it?" The tone implied 
 both impatience and disbelief 
 
 Arthur laughed. It was intended for a scornful 
 laugh, but was not quite a success. " Now, what 
 
 43
 
 4t^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 do you mean ? Do you mean that I ought to 
 marry this girl, or ask her to marry me, or that 
 I am to presume on the fact that I spoilt the 
 pleasure of their outing by meeting with an 
 accident ? " 
 
 " Rubbish ! I know something about women." 
 The boy spoke with the air of a man of forty. " I 
 know something about her. One of the best-looking 
 women in Sydney, and one of the best off. For your 
 own sake — it is not a chance that comes every day. 
 Besides" — the boy's tone was appealing — "you might 
 think of others." 
 
 How often had this appeal been made on 
 behalf of " others " ? 
 
 " There are some things that a man can't do even 
 if he wanted to do them." 
 
 " It's my belief, anyhow," said the boy doggedly, 
 " that she would marry you fast enough if you asked 
 her." 
 
 " That's ridiculous. I know what you mean — you 
 would like me to marry a rich woman to get you out 
 of a monetary fix. But you ought to know enough 
 about women of her class to know that she is after 
 higher game. At present she is playing with 
 O'Brien, and if she thinks it worth while she will 
 marry him," 
 
 " O'Brien's a fool. Everyone knows he is. You 
 can talk to her. In spite of all his money your 
 chance would be better than his. You can think 
 I am selfish if you like — but it is for your own 
 good," 44
 
 The Edge of the Pit. '^ 
 
 " For my own good. Very well, I will think you 
 meant that, and I don't mind telling you, if you ask 
 me, that the girl did make an impression on me, that 
 I did follow her about at the Falls, and that I have 
 thought of her since I have been here a great deal 
 more than there was any need to do, and a great 
 deal more than is good for me. There you have it. 
 But that is all. I am not going to ask her to marry 
 me ; in the first place, because she wouldn't if I did, 
 and in the second place, because I am not sure I 
 want to marry her or anyone. And as the best of 
 us are liable to fall into temptation and do foolish 
 things, I shall make it my business to keep out of 
 her way in the future." 
 
 " Very well." There was a hard note in the voice, 
 and a look on the boy's face that altered it for the 
 worse. " You know your own business best." 
 
 He got up from the chair and stood at the window, 
 looking out into the shadows, which grew deeper 
 every minute. Seen in profile against the window 
 his face was like a delicate pencil drawing. The 
 elder brother looked at him — a look in which some 
 fondness and admiration were blended with the kind 
 of pity that one feels for a wayward child. 
 
 " Is there anything I can do for you, Bertie? " 
 
 " Nothing, thanks," curtly. 
 
 " Is it the same old trouble ? Have they been 
 bothering you again ? " 
 
 " Not worse than usual." 
 
 " Well, if you will spend money when you can't 
 
 45
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 afford it there can only be one end. I have warned 
 you " 
 
 "Oh, yes, you've warned me. You were always 
 great at warnings. 1 never knew anyone much 
 better." 
 
 " You don't want to quarrel, do you, Bertie ? " 
 
 " No," said the boy, swinging round petulantly and 
 sharply, " I don't want to quarrel, but I am sick of 
 everything, and I don't know, and don't much care, 
 what the end's going to be. That's how I feel about 
 it anyway." 
 
 " If nothing has happened within the last few days, 
 I don't think you need fret. I will be back in town 
 next week and will look you up. I might be able to 
 give you a hand. You must know that I will do any- 
 thing for you that I can do. I am only sorry that it 
 is not more," 
 
 "I daresay" — indifferently. "I must be going," 
 looking at his watch; "it is just seven now, and the 
 train goes at seven-thirty. Good-bye." 
 
 The other man's face was paler, his eyes a shade 
 larger than usual. 
 
 " Don't say good-bye like that." He was speaking 
 very earnestly, his eyes on his brother's face. " That's 
 not the tone that ought to be used between us. 
 Now, before you go — it is only five minutes to the 
 station — listen to me just a minute. I may be able 
 to do a great deal more for you in the future than 
 I have done yet. If I can I will. I think you 
 know that. It isn't a matter of words." 
 
 46
 
 The Edge of the Pit. i'^©' 
 
 He stopped, and went on again. 
 
 " Since I have been here, certain things are clearer 
 to me than they were before. I have been wasting 
 time. I have played the fool. In one way I have 
 played the fool worse than you have. Don't say I 
 haven't ; I have. But that's all over. I am going 
 back to work. I am going back to play every card 
 I have got. And before I have finished I may win 
 the cards of some who hold stronger hands than I 
 do now." 
 
 " I know one thing. You would play a fair game." 
 
 It sounded like a rather grudging tribute, but it 
 was sincere. 
 
 " I hope I would. But you don't know what it is, 
 Bertie ; you can't know what it is to feel as I have 
 felt ; to feel that you have something to say and 
 can't say it because no one will listen to you ; to see 
 doors that you want to enter, that you should enter 
 by every right of equal justice and intelligence and 
 decent behaviour, slammed in your face ; to sit still 
 and choke yourself while all the red, ripe apples of 
 the Hesperides are falling into the laps of people 
 who affect to despise and patronize you because you 
 have nothing ; and you can do nothing, and are 
 nothing — and yet you know that by every law of the 
 eternal and the infinite you have at least as much 
 right to despise them." 
 
 " Rather an old story, isn't it .-• " said the boy ; he 
 had heard something like this before. 
 
 The other changed his tone. 
 47
 
 ^^" Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " So it is. I don't often rave. It's rather childish, 
 and heaven forbid that I should set myself up over 
 anyone. I mean only this. I mean that I am tired 
 of being kept di)wn like a beetle under a glass. If 
 I am to live like that I would rather not live at all. 
 I intend when I go back to begin systematically 
 working up some influence that may take me into 
 public life. I have got something to say — whether 
 it is worth saying or not, I want to say it — whether 
 on a platform or on paper, it doesn't matter which, so 
 long as I can get the people to hear. I can't say it 
 now. I might as well be dumb, or go down to the 
 cliffs and shout over the edge of them. They 
 wouldn't hear and the public wouldn't hear, but it is 
 possible — I am only saying it is possible — that some 
 day they may." 
 
 Bertie was shrewd in some ways. 
 
 " I expect it's the girl," he said, " who has brought 
 you to feel all this." 
 
 " I don't know" — with a rather cynical smile. '* If 
 I was a better man I should be content to go my 
 way and do my work, whether I got credit for it or 
 not. I daresay the girl has made me feel restless and 
 bitter in some ways. But I was also going to do great 
 things. I was going to do them years and years ago. 
 And now I'm twenty-eight. It is a respectable age, 
 twenty-eight. And I have done nothing yet. If I 
 ever am going to do anything, it is time to begin. 
 If I succeed, I shall be glad for my own sake, and I 
 shall be glad for youis. And if I fail, why, millions 
 
 48
 
 The Woman's Point of View. ^ 
 
 of better men than I have failed. That is all I am 
 going to say. I mean it, Bertie, ten thousand times 
 more than you are likely to believe or understand. 
 I am feeling better now. It is a relief to shout at 
 someone after hearing so many things shouting in 
 your own mind at you. You have got nearly ten 
 minutes yet. Good-bye." 
 
 49
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE LABOUR MEMBER. 
 
 R. JOHN RAYMENT, Minister for Edu- 
 cation and Labour, was seated in his 
 office with the usual pile of papers in 
 front of him. The blotting-pad near his left elbow 
 contained the ashes of his cigar. His silk hat 
 rested upon the table. His legs were stretched 
 out under it. The two morning journals lay along- 
 side the pile of official papers. One of these — the 
 one that advocated popular views, and, in the 
 supposed interests of democracy, had always sup- 
 ported himself — had been barely glanced at. The 
 other — the less widely read, but more scholarly 
 production — had been carefully conned. For the 
 organ of his own party he had a supreme contempt. 
 For the opposition sheet he had a secret admiration. 
 This morning there was on his strong, aggressive 
 face an expression of concentrated thought, as 
 though he, usually a determined man of clear and 
 single purpose, were confronted with a problem of 
 some complexity. So, as a matter of fact, he was. 
 
 50
 
 The Labour Member. ^ 
 
 Circumstances had made Rayment the champion 
 of a militant Labour Party ; but he was becoming 
 more and more impressed with the belief that 
 Nature had intended him for something very 
 different. Everything that upper housemaids used 
 at one time to call "genteel," everything that 
 smacked of luxury in the more ostentatious sense 
 of the word, had for him a strong fascination. As 
 he progressed in the world, he was able, with caution, 
 to gratify his tastes in this respect. His education 
 was meagre. Until a few years ago his reading 
 had been confined to daily and weekly prints, to 
 the frequent fighting pamphlets that embodied the 
 views of his party, and those sensational works of 
 fiction that the modern youth discards when he 
 is thirteen. But now the successful politician 
 adorned his office with copies of Beaconsfield's 
 novels, and the poetical works of Rossetti and Omar 
 Khayyam. He never mentioned these things to 
 his Labour colleagues. But to University professors, 
 barristers, and other reputedly learned persons with 
 whom, from his position as Minister of Education, 
 he was often brought in contact, he talked the small 
 talk of literary culture with just enough knowledge 
 to save himself from being absolutely ridiculous, 
 and enough brazen assurance to provoke a wondering 
 smile. 
 
 By those who knew him personally, and by those 
 who did not, he was always referred to as a con- 
 spicuous example of the self-made man. Interviewers 
 
 51
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 without number had sought him out to ask for 
 particulars of his career. Foreign journals had 
 written columns about his early struggles, his 
 indomitable perseverance, his extraordinary will 
 power. Local platform speakers had found him 
 useful as a text from which to point a moral. Any 
 reference to his championship of the Labour cause 
 would always evoke a cheer from any public meeting 
 containing an infusion of the democratic element. 
 But in his own mind he could estimate these things 
 at their proper value. They were useful — no one 
 knew their utility to a public man better than he 
 did — but they were a long way from representing 
 the truth. As to his career, he was astute enough 
 always to speak of it with just that humility which 
 an intelligent audience expects, and just that touch 
 of self-assertive arrogance that a fighting democracy 
 will always applaud. 
 
 How had it been achieved, this career of which 
 the public made so much ? He would confess to 
 himself — under no circumstances to anyone else — 
 that it had been thrust upon him. He had one 
 great virtue as a leader of men — he knew exactly 
 what he wanted. He took care that others should 
 know it. If it was only, as in his working day, 
 shorter hours, cheaper tobacco, cheaper and better 
 beer ; if it was only the passing need of a passing 
 moment, he invariably said to himself, "What I want, 
 the others want too. If we make enough noise the 
 chances are that we shall get it." At the Union, at the 
 
 52
 
 The Labour Member. ^ 
 
 mob meeting, at the caucus of the party to which 
 he belonged, his speech was always the most direct, 
 his method the most concrete. While the others 
 thought more, understood more, and hesitated more, 
 he invariably achieved the most. The wave of 
 party, with scarcely an ebb or a set-back, had carried 
 him straight towards his goal. 
 
 The stroke he was now meditating had dimly 
 presented itself some months before. But with his 
 usual directness he had kept to the matters in hand. 
 The question now was whether his position was 
 strong enough to warrant a decisive step. The 
 democrats on whose shoulders he had risen were 
 becoming more distressful every day. He was sick 
 of the sight of their ragged clothes, their loud- 
 mouthed poverty, their appalling lack of the luxuries 
 and decencies of life. They still believed in him — 
 he had taken pains that they should still do that — 
 but all his sympathies were with another class. At 
 present he was a Labour Leader. What he wanted 
 to be was a National Leader. The question was, 
 could he gradually shuffle off the companionship of 
 these noisy and objectionable persons, and become 
 the head of another and more prosperous party — 
 a National Party ? Was he strong enough to do it .-' 
 And was he clever enough to do it without raising 
 too dangerous a storm ? 
 
 He touched a bell, and his private secretary 
 appeared. The duties of this individual were rather 
 those of an amanuensis tlian of the private secretary 
 
 53
 
 ^t^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 whom some polilicians treat as guide, philosopher, 
 and friend. 
 
 True to his character for masterfuhiess and self- 
 reliance, the Labour Leader had hitherto entrusted 
 his most intimate business to no one but himself. 
 
 " What are my engagements this afternoon ? " 
 
 The secretary produced a memorandum book. 
 
 "At 2.15," he said, *' you have a deputation from 
 the University Senate. That has to do with the 
 proposed reduction in the Vote for Higher Education. 
 At 2.45 you have an appointment with Briggs, the 
 London Trades' Union man. At 3 o'clock you 
 are to receive the president and council of the Anti- 
 Sweating League. A deputation from the unem- 
 ployed is due at 3.30. There is a Cabinet meeting 
 at 5. At 7 you attend a dinner to Senator Perkins, 
 the visiting American. At 8 o'clock you will address 
 a mass meeting in the Trades' Hall on the question 
 of the minimum wage." 
 
 " Is that the lot ? " 
 
 '* You have also promised to go through the papers 
 in connection with the McSlattery case, to look in 
 at the Select Committee on Tobacco Growing, to give 
 an answer to the Chairman of the Factories' 
 Commission, and to accompany the Chief Secretary 
 on a visit to the Lunatic Asylum." 
 
 " H'm. I must put some of 'em off. It will have 
 to be the unemployed. Tell 'em I can't possibly see 
 them to-day, but will put their case before the 
 Cabinet. Say I am considering the question of 
 
 54
 
 The Labour Member. ^ 
 
 throwing open work at scrub-clearing. Telephone 
 at once. Ask for the Secretary. Say something 
 civil." 
 
 " Shall I tell them to come to-morrow ? " 
 
 "No, not to-morrow, nor the next day either. 
 Say this day week, if they like, about the same 
 time." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "And, Davidson!" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I asked you to make enquiries about a Mr. — 
 what's-his-name — Ward, who wrote to me a week 
 ago. Did you do so ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Nothing much known about him except that he 
 coaches students for examinations. Is not, so far as 
 I can find out, connected with any political party. 
 He is said to have written a book of some sort, but I 
 could not get hold of a copy. Should say no one 
 ever read it. Is not known to have any decided 
 views about public questions, or, if he has, has kept 
 them to himself. There is nothing known against 
 him." 
 
 " That means he hasn't been found out. But if he 
 calls this afternoon you can let him in." 
 
 " Very good." 
 
 " And telephone at once to the Trades' Hall." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 When, about an hour afterwards, Arthur Ward 
 
 55
 
 ^^' Bubble Reputation. 
 
 prepared to sally forth on his errand to the Minis- 
 terial sanctum, there was a feeHng of anything but 
 gaiety at his heart. Matters had not gone well with 
 him since his return from the mountains. His illness 
 and enforced absence from town had caused pupils 
 who would have come to him at the beginning of the 
 year to go elsewhere. He had been obliged to give 
 up his old rooms in Curzon Street. He saw himself 
 threatened with a still lower descent. From the 
 financial and other points of view the outlook was 
 decidedly the worst that had presented itself yet. 
 
 It was only after long deliberation that he had 
 decided to call upon the Minister. Before meeting 
 the daughter, before knowing she was in existence, 
 the career of the man had interested him as it had 
 interested many others. What had this successful 
 demagogue done — after all he was only a superior 
 kind of demagogue — that others with more know- 
 ledge and greater advantages could not do ? Yet he 
 had succeeded ; others had ignominiously failed. 
 Might it not be after all, Arthur asked himself, that 
 the man's crudities and mental limitations were his 
 greatest strength. His directness, his coarseness, his 
 entire lack of subtlety made him the natural 
 champion of a class that hated finesse, and despised, 
 as a class, anything that could not be put into 
 practical shape. Up to the present Rayment had 
 been the man for the occasion, and the occasion had 
 made him what he was. But a change was coming, 
 if it had not come already. The Minister could not 
 
 56
 
 The Labour Member. <* 
 
 indefinitely continue on the lines of the irresponsible 
 private member. As holder of a portfolio, and 
 particularly as holder of the Education portfolio, he 
 was constantly being asked to do what brute force 
 and verbosity could, of themselves, never do. 
 Whether he knew it or not, he needed assistance. 
 This was the opportunity that presented itself to 
 Arthur's mind. He knew that hundreds of people 
 applied to public men for an engagement, and in 
 ninety-nine cases out of a hundred were refused. 
 But it was worth a trial. 
 
 So far as Miss Rayment's influence was concerned, 
 the young man preferred not to question himself too 
 closely. Perhaps if he had never met the daughter 
 he would not have thought of approaching the father. 
 More probably he would. There was something 
 more than a sentimental interest at stake. If in 
 some capacity or other he could assist Rayment, 
 there were many capacities in which Rayment could 
 assist him. That was a fact that stood by itself, 
 independent of anything else. 
 
 " The Minister will see you," said the attendant, 
 urbanely. Feeling like one who is being initiated 
 into strange mysteries, Arthur gave a pull at the 
 green baize door and stepped inside. 
 
 The occupant of the room was sitting back in his 
 chair. As usual, the large and substantial desk in 
 front of him was littered with papers. As usual, he 
 fixed a hard, questioning eye on the new comer. 
 His strong, irregular features conveyed no impression, 
 
 57
 
 ^t; Bubble Rep utation. 
 
 encouraging or otherwise. He had just been listen- 
 ing to a long-winded deputation in reference to an 
 academic subject, about which he knew nothing. It 
 had cost him a severe effort to be tactful and ensure 
 non-committal. He was stretching himself now with 
 a feeling of relief, crossed by some shade of 
 annoyance. 
 
 " Take a chair," he said briefly, rather brusquely. 
 " You wished to see me ? " 
 
 It was not a hopeful reception. It chilled the 
 other man's expectations very nearly down to zero. 
 Yet as he sat down in a chair close to the official 
 desk he found himself scanning the face opposite for 
 traces of likeness to a softer, more beautiful face that 
 he knew well. 
 
 " I won't detain you more than a few minutes," he 
 said, in a voice that he strove to make as cold and 
 business-like as the Minister's own. " I think I 
 explained the object of my visit when I wrote to 
 you." 
 
 " Yes." The swing chair came round a few points, 
 and the penetrating eyes looked a little more genial. 
 " You supposed that a man in my position must have 
 a lot of work to put through, and you were kind 
 enough to offer some assistance. Wasn't that it ? " 
 
 The slight note of sarcasm in the voice threw the 
 visitor on the defensive. He sat up stiffly. Was he 
 to be specially singled out for humiliation — and at 
 the hands of this man of all others ? 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said decisively, all his 
 58
 
 The Labour Member, ^-o* 
 
 hesitation now gone, " if I have taken up your time 
 without cause. But I know — everybody knows — 
 that there is more in your Department than can be 
 looked after personally by any one man. I mean 
 matters of policy and things of that kind. You are 
 Minister of Education and Labour as well, and 
 either Department would be more than enough for 
 most men. There is the University question to begin 
 with. You have to deal with that. Then there is 
 Technical Education, Roman Catholic Education, 
 Primary Education for the masses, Higher Education 
 for those who can get it, the question of who ought 
 to get it and who ought not, the question of attract- 
 ing and keeping teachers, the question of State 
 subsidised secondary schools, and heaven knows how 
 many more. I know that you have to receive 
 deputations, dictate letters, make speeches, talk to 
 the newspaper reporters, and advise the Cabinet in 
 regard to everything. I ventured to call upon you 
 because most of my life has been given to a study of 
 one phase or other of the education question, not 
 only here, but in other countries as well." 
 
 " Possibly you have heard it whispered, Mr. — er — 
 Smith — I mean, Ward — you may have heard, Mr. 
 Ward, that my own education has been on — well, 
 popular lines." 
 
 The note of sarcasm was this time more 
 pronounced. 
 
 The visitor rose to his feet. 
 
 " I see that I have created a wrong impression. 
 59
 
 -o^- Bubble Reputation. 
 
 I am afraid that I must have expressed myself 
 very badly. It is surely open to any man, even 
 the poorest, to offer his services. They can only 
 be refused. I have thought — but I see it is no 
 use detaining you further." 
 
 " One moment. We might as well be candid, 
 Mr. Ward." 
 
 " I beg your pardon } " 
 
 " I want us to understand each other." 
 
 " That was precisely what I wanted myself. I 
 thought my letter took some trouble to explain." 
 
 "You were generous enough to say you could be 
 of use to me, eh ? " 
 
 " If I wanted to be of use to you it was 
 because I knew you could be of use to me. I 
 am not generous. I don't pretend to be. I 
 can't afford to be. When a man applies to you 
 for work, say on the railway line, you don't sneer 
 at his motive. He may be ready enough to help 
 you, but his chief anxiety, poor devil, is to help 
 himself." 
 
 He stooped and picked up his hat. His smile 
 was a trifle sickly. He was beginning to see 
 possibilities that were not pleasant to contemplate. 
 He was leaving the room when the Minister 
 called him back. 
 
 " Stop a minute. I think it is quite likely 
 you may be of service to me " 
 
 The applicant for employment stood still 
 wonderingly. Was this a new turn of the man's 
 
 60
 
 The Labour Member. ^ 
 
 satiric humour ? If so, he was not so abject 
 and humiliated that he could not show he 
 resented it. 
 
 " Yes," repeated the other, " I am sure you can 
 be of service to me. I wished you to speak 
 out. I am glad you spoke out. There is 
 nothing like being frank, Mr Ward — in political 
 and private life there is nothing like it. You 
 understand that .-* " 
 
 " The listener bowed. It did occur to him that 
 the speaker's own reputation for frankness was 
 far from being above suspicion. 
 
 " Let me ask you one or two questions. You 
 are not connected with any political party ? " 
 
 " Not in any way." 
 
 "You are not on the staff of one of the 
 
 newspapers 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 " Ever do anything in that line ? " 
 
 " Nothing to speak of. I have contributed 
 occasionally on social and literary topics. But 
 everyone does that nowadays," 
 
 "You are a university man — a scholar, I 
 believe .-• " 
 
 " I am afraid I can't call myself a scholar. I 
 am a university man, if that means that I have 
 been to a university." 
 
 "You belong to one of the professions?" 
 
 " Not in practice. I have passed two out of 
 the three examinations for the LL.B." 
 
 6i
 
 r Bubble Reputation. 
 
 ^ 
 
 " Then— excuse me, but it is a business question 
 — how do you earn a living?" 
 
 " I have a few classes, I teach a little, I write 
 a little. I manage to rub along." 
 
 " Good ! I may tell you, Mr. Smith, did you say 
 
 no? — Ward— that I knew most of what you 
 
 have just told me before you came into the room. 
 When I got your letter I made some inquiries 
 about you. You were right in reckoning that 
 there is too much work here for any one man. 
 You happened to strike the right moment. I 
 will be glad, Mr. Ward, if you will in some 
 measure act as my confidential secretary. You 
 will be able to help me, if not directly at least 
 indirectly — and perhaps directly even. There will 
 be papers and things of that kind handed over 
 to you. If I find I can trust you so far, I will 
 get you to advise me upon them. I daresay you 
 know I have a good many speeches to make. I 
 will expect you to look up the facts and supply 
 me with quotations. Nothing like an apt quotation, 
 Mr. Brown — er — Ward. Burns is as good as any- 
 one else, and a line from Horace is a useful 
 card to play with professional men. All the time 
 you are with me you will be gaining experience. 
 That is something to think about. Ever had any 
 idea of entering public life yourself?" 
 
 " I am afraid I can't deny — I must admit there 
 
 was a time " 
 
 " Well, we will see. If I like you I may do 
 62
 
 The Labour Member. ^ 
 
 something for you. See me to-morrow at my 
 private house. We can go into details then. 
 What about salary? What do you say to one 
 hundred and fifty pounds a year for a start ? " 
 
 Arthur thought for a moment. Then he said, 
 " Will you leave that open until to-morrow ? " 
 
 "Certainly. On second thoughts you had better 
 come to see me here — not at my private house. 
 Say, ten o'clock." 
 
 A messenger's head appeared round the door, 
 "Mr. Le Mercier to see you, sir!" 
 
 "Show him in." 
 
 A leery individual, entering with hat on the 
 back of his head, advanced to the table and took 
 a chair at Rayment's elbow. He was evidently 
 quite at home. The Minister showed no surprise, 
 and no resentment at the intrusion. Wondering, 
 and yet not less than pleased with the result of 
 his mission, Arthur bowed himself out of the 
 room. 
 
 63
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PURSUIT OF THE LAUREL. 
 
 WANT," said the Minister, leaning 
 forward in his office-chair, "to tell you 
 about some very particular business, 
 Mr. Ward." He held his lighted cigar suspended 
 in his left hand and looked at the man opposite 
 even more hard and penetratingly than usual. 
 
 It was about a month after the interview 
 narrated in the last chapter. The provisional 
 agreement then entered into had been completed, 
 and the chief partner was fain to confess that so 
 far it had produced satisfactory results. 
 
 " What I was going to say will surprise you." 
 
 The listener did not think it would. Nothing 
 that Rayment said would be likely to surprise 
 him. He knew his man pretty well by this time. 
 But he merely nodded. 
 
 " I believe," went on the other, still beating 
 about the bush and blending his hitherto 
 questioning manner with an element of confidence 
 and rather heavy familiarity, "that we understand 
 
 64
 
 Pursuit of the Laurel. 5©» 
 
 each other. I believe I can trust you. I don't 
 mind telling you that you have been of service 
 to me — very considerable service." 
 
 "I am very pleased to hear you say so." 
 
 " It comes to this. Mind, what I am going to 
 say is absolutely confidential ; I haven't said it 
 to anyone but you, and, what's more, I would not 
 say it to anyone but you." He paused to allow 
 this announcement to sink home. 
 
 " The fact is that this Government don't carry 
 on for more than another week." 
 
 " How ? What makes you think that ? " 
 
 "Think! it is an absolute fact. The numbers 
 are up. As soon as the House meets, Bryant 
 will have to go." 
 
 Rayment was right after all. The news was 
 surprising — it was little short of astounding. What 
 extraordinary underground tactics had been going 
 on to bring it about that an ostensible majority 
 of nearly twenty should crumble suddenly to nothing ? 
 And — the personal question that immediately 
 obtruded itself — what was to become of the recently 
 created post of adviser to the Minister for Labour 
 and Education when the present Government went 
 out of office ? 
 
 " Are you quite sure of it ? It was only last 
 week that the Recorder gave the rumour a flat 
 denial, and said that Bryant could show a 
 majority on want of confidence vote of nineteen." 
 
 " Recorder's an ass. I know what I am talking 
 65 E
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 «o 
 
 about. Never mind how I know — you will find 
 out soon enough." 
 
 " Who is to be the new man ? " 
 " Johansen." 
 
 " Johansen ! Why, how on earth can he form 
 a Ministry ? The country-party won't stand him, 
 and he can't get a single Labour vote." 
 
 Rayment smiled a cautious but satisfied smile. 
 " You are both right and wrong. I see you have 
 a fairly correct idea of what has been going on 
 so far as it can be known by anyone who is not 
 like myself in medias res, so to speak. Magna 
 pars fui — I think I might venture to say that." 
 
 At another time these tags of bad Latin might 
 have caused a smile. But the other man was 
 intensely anxious to know what was going to 
 happen. 
 
 " The position is this : Bryant can't carry on. 
 His majority, as I said, is gone. Johansen can 
 throw out Bryant — but Johansen can't fill Bryant's 
 place. Now that's what I call a very interesting 
 situation." 
 
 The slow oracular method of coming to the 
 point was getting exasperating. 
 
 " The key to the position," went on Rayment 
 with solemn emphasis, " rests with your humble 
 servant — it rests with me." 
 
 Arthur could only look at him. 
 " What I want you to do is to see Johansen 
 confidentially. Confidentially, you understand. 
 
 66
 
 Pursuit of the Laurel. ^ 
 
 Tell him I have had differences with Bryant over 
 this Education Grant business, and that I am 
 thinking about resigning. Say I authorised you 
 to say that. Sound him about his intentions 
 when the House meets. Do you follow me ? " 
 
 ''So far." 
 
 " Now here's where the beautiful part of it comes 
 in. Johansen doesn't know whether to move his 
 motion next week or to wait. He knows that he 
 can't form a Ministry without getting someone over 
 from our side. Well, what is he to do? There's 
 just one man who could set him on his feet. You 
 see that man in front of you." 
 
 "Am I to understand," said Arthur, the under- 
 lying motive of all this seeming to dawn upon him, 
 " that you want me to say — that is, that you are 
 prepared — I mean that you would have no objection 
 to take office under Johansen if the present Govern- 
 ment goes out ? " 
 
 The Minister smiled a sardonic smile. 
 
 " My dear fellow, you are a baby at this game. 
 You haven't cut your teeth at it yet. You don't see 
 more than an inch in front of your nose. Take 
 office under Johansen ! Be hanged to him. It is 
 the last thing in the world I would be likely to do." 
 
 "Then I am in the dark as much as ever." 
 
 " See here. You must get Johansen to tkiuk that 
 I will go with him. Then what happens ? He 
 moves his vote of no-confidence, turns out Bryant, 
 goes to the Governor and asks for a dissolution. In 
 
 67
 
 iOt; Bub ble Reputation. 
 
 the present hash-up of parties it is quite certain he 
 will get it. In the meantime I have resigned my 
 portfolio. The next step will be the election of the 
 new Parliament." 
 
 "I quite see that." 
 
 "Before the new Parliament meets Johansen will 
 have come to me. I shall have to tell him that he 
 has been labouring under a delusion, and that I 
 can't possibly serve under him. Tableau ! Down 
 goes Johansen, and who's left on top ? No one but 
 your humble servant. No one but myself It is a 
 million to one, if we play our cards correctly, that it 
 will be I — I who speak to you, Mr. Ward — who will 
 then be sent for and asked to form the new Cabinet." 
 
 " Upon my word, sir, your foresight in these 
 matters is amazing. It beats anything that I had 
 ever dreamed of" 
 
 " That's all right. You will see Johansen and 
 prime him for me. Verbuni sap., you know. I am 
 sure you will do very well — the very man — you'll 
 know what to say to him. We'll consider it settled." 
 
 " With all deference to you, sir, it isn't settled. 
 When I entered your service I never bargained for 
 anything like that — to lead a man to understand 
 what isn't true — to play a crooked game — to make 
 promises " 
 
 " D it, sir, what kind of high horse is this you 
 
 are riding ? Don't you know that all politics are a 
 matter of making promises ? How the devil do you 
 think this country could be carried on if we didn't 
 
 68
 
 Pursuit of the Laurel. ^o» 
 
 make promises ? Crooked, indeed ! If you weren't 
 a very young man and too green to know any better 
 I should speak plainer." 
 
 "Well," said Arthur, looking very white, and 
 experiencing the sickly sensation of one who has 
 scrambled on to what seemed a safe place and finds 
 it giving way under him, " all that I can say is, that 
 you had better get someone else. I am afraid there 
 is not much more use for me here." 
 
 " Now look here, my boy," urged the Minister, 
 changing his tone to one of large amiability, and 
 putting into it a note of almost entreaty, " I am sure 
 we are not going to quarrel. Take time to think of 
 it. Come back and see me to-morrow. You know 
 what a high opinion I have got of you. It is an 
 opinion, I may say, that I am not alone in. My 
 wife and daughter " — he laid a slight emphasis on 
 the word daughter — " share it with me." 
 
 It was anything but a fair move, but the effect 
 on the listener was stronger than he had probably 
 anticipated, 
 
 "And I don't mind telling you" — rising from his 
 chair and putting his hand on the other's shoulder — 
 "that I mean to push you on. You would like to 
 get into public life, wouldn't you ? Eh ? Well, if 
 the elections take place in June or July, we can 
 bring you out for a suburban constituency. You'll 
 get in all right. I'll come and speak on your 
 platform myself." 
 
 Arthur felt that he ought to kick the man who 
 
 69
 
 ^(j Bubble Reputation. 
 
 was offering him these bribes, but he could not even 
 speak. 
 
 " Think of what's in store for you. Politics, place, 
 power, anything you like. You have got it in you. 
 All that you want is a start. Doesn't the thought of 
 it put new life into you ? Crowds cheering you. 
 Women, who wouldn't look at you now, running 
 after you by the hundred. What a time you'd have, 
 by George ! " 
 
 The Minister grinned. If he was not thinking of 
 certain experiences in which the present Mrs, Rayment 
 had no part, the grin belied him. 
 
 " You needn't tell me that you don't know a pretty 
 girl when you see one. And they are all alike — they 
 are all to be had if you have enough to offer 'em. 
 Or, if you prefer it, you can take your otium cum dig. 
 in a mansion across the harbour, and have the 
 University professors to dinner with you." 
 
 " I am afraid it is no use asking me to " 
 
 "Don't decide until to-morrow. And don't be a 
 fool. Don't think that when you are out in the 
 world that you are in a Sunday School. I'm a 
 religious man myself, but there is moderation in all 
 things. Someone to see me? Show him in." 
 
 70
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "CREDE EX PER TO." 
 
 rfiST seemed to Arthur Ward, a couple of 
 g^l^l hours later, as he pulled a chair over to 
 the window of his room and sat looking 
 down upon the street, as if he had been bumped 
 over some rough and untried country and had 
 become a little dazed in consequence. And then 
 again it seemed as if a by no means angelic figure 
 had been taking him on to a mountain and giving 
 him a view of the world often seen in dreams. The 
 indignation that had followed the first overtures had 
 subsided. The crude morality, or lack of morality, 
 enunciated in Rayment's offer had astonished, if not 
 shocked him. But after all, who was he that he 
 should preach morality to these people or dash 
 himself against the rocks of political custom as he 
 had just heard it defined? If by way of protest 
 he threw the Minister over and went out into the 
 streets and starved, would there be any who would 
 not laugh at him ? Would there be anyone a shade 
 better for the sacrifice .-' Would either the present or 
 
 71
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 the dim eternity of the future make it worth while ? 
 Enough had happened during the last few weeks to 
 give him confidence, and to make him feel as if, 
 after several years of more or less uncertain and 
 wasted effort, he had at length found the groove in 
 which Nature or Providence intended him to run. 
 He took a genuine interest in everything relating to 
 politics and public life. It was a world of vast 
 promises, thouj^h at present he dwelt only on the 
 outskirts. He knew that recent paeans of praise in 
 the newspapers — praise of the Minister's " extra- 
 ordinary capacity for work," as shown in his intimate 
 knowledge of all the details of the Wages Board's 
 questions ; of his mastery of the principles of one of 
 the greatest problems of the day, as evidenced in a 
 recent speech in Parliament on Technical Education ; 
 of his exceptional firmness and self-control, as dis- 
 played in the answer to a very aggressive deputation 
 of the unemployed —were all praises due in no 
 slight measure to work done and advice tendered 
 by himself. Like Macbeth, he had won golden 
 opinions from all sorts of people. It would be 
 very much pleasanter to wear those opinions than 
 to have to throw them away — even with the prospect 
 of getting a close-fitting garment of rigid self-esteem. 
 
 He got up, walked about the room, and then came 
 back to the window, 
 
 " Five or six years ago," he muttered, " no one 
 would have persuaded me to do this thing, and 
 
 now " 
 
 72
 
 " Crede Experto." ^ 
 
 It might have been that his life during the past 
 few years had been too introspective and too friend- 
 less. He could have made a friend of his brother, 
 but Bertie's temperament was so entirely foreign to 
 his own that a close companionship would only have 
 jarred on both. But it was necessary to talk to 
 someone. Some relief to this whirring of the mental 
 wheels was demanded. He sat down at the table 
 and penned a hasty note to Bertie, asking him to 
 call round that evening. There was just time 
 to catch the afternoon post. He went out, put 
 the letter in a pillar-box, and slowly remounting 
 the stairs, flung himself listlessly into the chair 
 again. 
 
 The landlady's voice was heard below. She 
 seemed to be expostulating with someone. A 
 minute later there was a perfunctory knock at the 
 door, and someone stepped inside — the same 
 mysterious, dilapidated, shabby-genteel someone, 
 whom he had seen before in the Minister's room. 
 Close behind him came the landlady herself. 
 
 " Excuse me " — the man was smiling and his tone 
 was urbanely polite — '* but this good lady and I 
 have had a slight difference of opinion as to the 
 necessity of my coming upstairs. As, however, my 
 message was important, I thought I would take 
 the liberty of presenting it myself." 
 
 The intruder threw a letter on the table and 
 stood by the mantelpiece, applying a light to a 
 black and strong-smelling pipe. The address on 
 
 73
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 the envelope, which was marked confidential, was 
 in Rayment's own handwriting. 
 
 " My dear Ward," the note ran, *' I quite forgot 
 this morning that I had an engagement for to- 
 morrow, to inspect the works at the Dimboola 
 Swamp. That means I shall be away all day, 
 perhaps two or three days. If you have time on 
 hand, why not go to Randwick to-morrow ? My 
 wife and daughter will be there, and would be 
 glad if you would join their party. Will expect 
 to see you at 10.30 on Friday morning. Yours 
 sincerely, JOHN Rayment." 
 
 "Did the Minister give you this himself?" 
 
 " He did." 
 
 " And who in the name of all that is marvellous 
 are you ? " The question was not spoken, but it 
 stared at the new comer from the other man's 
 eyes. 
 
 " Having unfortunately left my card at home, I 
 should have explained that my name is Le Mercier, 
 and that I have the honour of a fairly intimate 
 acquaintance with the distinguished gentleman who 
 intrusted me with that letter. I think it would be 
 correct to say, if you will pardon the somewhat 
 vulgar expression, that we have been ' pals ' for a 
 long time." 
 
 " Ah, I am not surprised." 
 
 The man, whose manner and speech, whether 
 natural or assumed, were those of a broken-down 
 tragedian, bowed with unctuous politeness. 
 
 74
 
 " Crede Experto." ^ 
 
 " Your lack of surprise flatters me. To tell you 
 the truth, Mr. Ward — you see I have the honour 
 of knowing your name — there are some people who 
 are surprised. It is not always easy, it is some- 
 times distinctly difficult, to establish a mutual under- 
 standing between the successful politician and the 
 man who is — well, not such a conspicuous success. 
 The common herd have a habit of noticing such 
 little things. It is only to philosophers like your- 
 self and myself, that these outward and accidental 
 differences — the differences, for example, between 
 the Minister's coat and my own — become trifles of 
 no account." 
 
 He spoke with a slightly mocking air. As he 
 stood leaning carelessly on the mantelpiece, there 
 was a certain grace in his reckless Bohemianism, 
 battered and untidy as it was. Yet careless as he 
 looked, his eyes travelled round the room taking 
 in every detail, 
 
 "Is there anything," said Arthur after a short 
 pause, '* that I can do for you ? " 
 
 "If that," smiled the new arrival, "is a polite hint 
 that you would not be unduly disheartened by my 
 departure, allow me to say that I do not propose 
 to detain you. Perhaps you may find your way 
 to Randwick to-morrow ? We may have something 
 more to say to each other there. 
 
 " I have not decided." 
 
 " Rayment tells me that his wife and daughter 
 are going. A handsome woman that — the young 
 one I mean." 75
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " So I hear." 
 
 " What a woman ! What a spirit ! None of your 
 cold milk-and-watery creations. None of your tame- 
 looking, die-away beauties. Real life about her, 
 real warmth, real fire. Sort of woman who could 
 do anything and make you do anything. Better 
 a brief experience of her than a lifetime of all the 
 others. Or, if you prefer it in another way, better 
 fifty years of Maud Rayment than a cycle of Eliza 
 Jane, or Gwendoline, Ermyntrude, or the rest of 
 'em. Case of crede experto, I assure you." 
 
 " How in thunder — I mean what are you alluding 
 to by your crede experto ? " 
 
 Le Mercier laughed. " Of course, one hears things 
 and draws conclusions. Not that it matters to you 
 or me. As Shakespeare — or was it Bacon ? — 
 says, ' Let the galled jade wince, our withers are 
 unwrung.' In case I have to call again, tell 
 your excellent landlady that she needn't worry 
 about the spoons. I haven't pocketed any of them. 
 Good day." 
 
 And he was gone. Ward breathed more freely. 
 The man had, somehow, absorbed all the air. The 
 thinly veiled insolence of his tone, his manner of 
 taking possession of the apartment, his patronising 
 air were insufferable. Why did Rayment consort 
 with the fellow? Why did he let him haunt his 
 office? Why did he have him at his house? 
 Could it be that there was any kind of justifica- 
 tion — even the wildest justification — for the vulgar 
 
 76
 
 "Crede Experto." ^ 
 
 braggadochio of his reference to Rayment's 
 daughter ? Crede experto — what could he mean ? 
 
 Still asking himself these questions, Ward formed 
 one resolve. He would go and see the editor of 
 the Recorder. He would go that very night, 
 whether he was to break with Rayment or not. 
 And as the feeling of doubt and disgust grew 
 stronger, he half decided that he would break with 
 him. He would see the newspaper people, and 
 perhaps get a promise of work that would, if the 
 worst came to the worst, furnish some vantage 
 ground for a further effort, and help to keep the 
 wolf from the door. He did not like the Recorder^ 
 but he was beginning to like Rayment less. 
 
 At eight o'clock Bertie came whistling up the 
 stairs. He seemed to be in better spirits than 
 usual, " What's the matter," he said, " you look 
 worried about something \ " 
 
 "Do I? I don't feel worried — not now. I wanted 
 to talk with you. Sit down. I have got to go 
 out presently." 
 
 " So have I got to go out," the boy answered, 
 throwing himself into a chair, " but I am not exactly 
 pressed for time. What is it now, anyhow ?" 
 
 Looking at the careless face in front of him, 
 and remembering what he did remember, Arthur 
 knew quite well that any confidence of the kin<I 
 he was meditating could only have one result. 
 He knew well, and he was sorry to know it, that 
 scruples which troubled him so would not trouble 
 
 77
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 his brother in the least. Not that the latter's 
 nature was bad. He would not, if he could have 
 avoided it, have wantonly injured man, woman, or 
 child. He was ready to oblige anyone always, 
 provided it did not cost him too much trouble to 
 do so. But as for the power to sacrifice himself 
 to a question of abstract principle, or to withstand 
 any protracted moral siege, it was simply not in 
 his nature. And apparently nothing on earth could 
 put it there. 
 
 Yet Arthur told him what was in his mind. He 
 did not tell him everything. He mentioned no 
 names and said nothing to indicate the precise 
 plans of the people to be affected by the plan that 
 had been outlined to himself. Someone was to be 
 put on a wrong political track. Was he justified 
 in taking any hand in the proceeding, knowing, as 
 he did know, that treachery was engendered, and 
 that at the same time a refusal on his part would 
 probably mean the giving up of what looked like 
 a prosperous career ? 
 
 Bertie listened attentively to every word. " Great 
 Scot," he commented, when the narrative was over, 
 "there must be some clever scheming going on. It's 
 marvellous." 
 
 "Marvellous, do you call it? It is one of the 
 ugliest things that you or I have heard of for a 
 long time." 
 
 " Eh ? Does it strike you that way ? Do you 
 mean that you won't take on this contract, whatever 
 it is ? " 78
 
 "Crede Experto." ^^^ 
 
 " That's about what I do mean." 
 Bertie looked at his brother with surprise, mingled 
 with disappointment and ill-humour, " It's no use 
 reasoning with you, Arthur. I don't see anything 
 very bad, myself, in what you have told me. Seems 
 to me politics are very much like a game of poker. 
 If you don't bluff the other fellow he will bluff 
 you. Anyhow, we are an unlucky family. You 
 throw away a good chance, and I don't get a chance 
 at all." 
 
 " Just think for a minute, Bertie. Ought we to 
 come down to this? Is it really worth while?" 
 
 " Oh ! perhaps not," said the younger brother, in 
 the petulant tone of one who is not going to argue 
 the point. 
 There was no mistaking what that tone signified. 
 "I would like to do this," Arthur told him, "it 
 only for your sake. I know that if I got on with 
 Rayment I could give you a lift, and I dare say you 
 want it. But this is rather too much." 
 
 " That's all right." He got up as if the conversa- 
 tion was over. " I suppose you are not coming my 
 way." 
 
 " Yes, I am ; I am going as far as the Recorder 
 office. We might as well go together." 
 
 They walked along the street in silence. Both 
 knew it was safer to say nothing. The Englishman 
 is wise in these matters. The foreigner and the fool 
 will overwhelm you with words at the wrong time. 
 An Englishman seldom does that. 
 
 79
 
 ^i^ B ubble Reputation. 
 
 "Tell me," said Arthur at last in a perfectly 
 mattei-of-fact tone of voice, " how things have been 
 going with you lately. Financial barometer looking 
 up at all ? " 
 
 "Bad as it can be. That's nothing new. It's 
 been like that for a long time. I have been an awful 
 fool, simply an awful fool, but it's no use whining 
 about it. If I can't raise four hundred pounds by 
 the end of next week, Simpkins and Brown are 
 going to close down on me. It means that I shall 
 have to clear out of the country, that's all." 
 
 They had come to the Recorder office, and 
 Arthur stopped. His face was very grey. 
 
 " Bertie, I know you have been foolish, but I am 
 not blaming you. We are all fools more or less. I 
 am very, very sorry. If I could possibly — if one 
 hundred pounds is any use " 
 
 " No use at all, thanks all the same. You have 
 done quite enough for me as it is. If I have to go 
 under, I'll go under. But there is a chance, and I 
 meant to tell you about it before, only you started 
 on something else." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "Just this. It's a racing matter. Oh, I know 
 what you think — 'a silly game to begin with, and 
 only going to the devil faster than ever.' But this 
 may come off. For two months I have been 
 watching it every day. You will be at the races 
 to-morrow? Very well. Watch the steeplechase, 
 and if a horse with an all-crimson jacket wins, I 
 
 80
 
 "Crede Experto." 
 
 shall have won nearly five hundred pounds ; enough 
 anyhow to keep me on my feet for a month or two." 
 
 " I don't understand. What chance is there ? 
 What made you do this in the first place ? " 
 
 " If you come out to-morrow, I'll tell you all 
 about it." 
 
 " It is the rottenest of all rotten reeds to lean on, 
 Bertie. But " — with a look full of something warmer 
 than sympathy, " even if it is, don't be discouraged. 
 We'll find some other way. I have got to go in here 
 now. If you are coming past my place at about 
 eleven o'clock to-night, look in. I shall be up and 
 may have something to tell you. It is just possible 
 I may be able to tell you what our chances will be 
 for some time to come," 
 
 With that he disappeared up the stairs. 
 
 8i
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 INK AND DISHONOUR. 
 
 |R. JULIAN HOPKINS, mining speculator, 
 turfite, reputed good fellow — reputed that 
 is by the wide circle that knew him in a 
 casual way — was not in his usual cheerful mood. 
 He sat in the smoking-room of his house at Potville 
 and thought over many things. There had been two 
 or three people to dinner, but they had gone, and 
 Hopkins was alone. His wife was in the house 
 somewhere, but exactly where she was and what she 
 was doing he did not know, and did not much care. 
 He had a presumption amounting to certainty that 
 she would be able to entertain herself without his 
 assistance. So he sat in the smoking-room with a 
 spirit flask and syphon bottle by his side, cigar ash 
 liberally sprinkled over his shirt front, and an 
 expression of unmistakable dissatisfaction on his 
 face. 
 
 He had brought off several master strokes in his 
 time and was meditating another. If he was 
 
 82
 
 Ink and Dishonour. ^^ 
 
 successful he would be able to pride himself on a 
 rare feat. People who indirectly suffered by it 
 might be inclined to call it a rare swindle. But that 
 would not trouble Hopkins. It seemed to him 
 rather foolish to make a fuss about words when a 
 transaction of this kind was in question. The 
 knowing ones would call it clever, and as for the 
 greenhorns, they must expect to pay for their 
 experience. 
 
 About nine months ago he had bought for little 
 more than a song, a horse with which he had now 
 great hopes of winning the March Steeplechase to 
 be run only next day. The qualities of the animal 
 were quite unexpected when the purchase was made. 
 As it happened, the seller himself had not been 
 aware of them. The first inkling Hopkins got of the 
 extraordinary pace and jumping abilities of the 
 ill-tempered brute, which he chanced to be riding, 
 was on one occasion in August when he was follow- 
 ing the hounds. There was a lively five-minutes' 
 burst across country, over some stiff fences, and he 
 discovered, after the first breathless two hundred 
 yards, he was leaving the field as if it were standing 
 still. With great presence of mind, and not without 
 much difficulty, he pulled his mount back. For the 
 remainder of the afternoon he rode quietly and 
 thoughtfully behind the hunt. 
 
 " Upon my word, Hopkins," said an acquaintance 
 that evening, as they were riding slowly home 
 together, " that animal of yours put on a wonderful 
 
 83
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 spurt near the Point there. What happened to him 
 afterwards .'' " 
 
 "Tell you the truth, I don't know. I couldn't 
 hold him for a quarter of a mile, and then he seemed 
 to shut right up." 
 
 " If he could only stay," said the other man, 
 looking shrewdly at horse and rider. The latter's 
 reputation for guilelessness was not exactly that of a 
 turtle dove. 
 
 " It does seems a pity that he can't," was the 
 colourless and unconcerned reply. 
 
 This was the rod which was being kept in pickle 
 for the March Steeplechase, now at hand. Up to a 
 certain point everything had gone well. The horse 
 had been backed about a month before in all the 
 principal cities of Australia. If Gasconader won, his 
 owner would clear ;^ 5,000. He badly wanted the 
 money. He had given the horse an occasional 
 " breather " at suburban meetings, and as it had 
 been very carefully handled by the most expert 
 of jockeys, it had never finished closer up than 
 the middle of the field. Consequently the wagers 
 made by Hopkins had been made at a price that 
 was distinctly remunerative. 
 
 One of the very few individuals who shared the 
 owner's confidence was young Herbert Ward. With 
 that suicidal extravagance which was driving him on 
 to the rocks of bankruptcy and disgrace, it had been 
 Bertie's practice to follow the hounds on any and 
 every occasion when the opportunity presented itself. 
 
 84
 
 Ink and Dishonour. ^ 
 
 He rode straight and fearlessly — rode as he had 
 learnt to ride at his boyhood's home on the borders 
 of the Otvvay Forest, and as he had ridden many 
 a time in mad pranks, with the maddest of company. 
 Hopkins, who admired straight going — in the literal, 
 if not always, or to all appearances, in the metaphor- 
 ical sense — and who had been taken by the lad's 
 look and manner, as well as by his seat in the saddle, 
 had invited him to his house. Bertie had made 
 himself very agreeable. He was voted a treasure in 
 the drawing-room, where his music and his other 
 advantages were reputed to have caused no little 
 gushing and sighing from feminine lips. There was, 
 moreover, just enough man of the world about him 
 to make him sufficiently good company for the older 
 men who were, in a more or less intimate way, 
 members of Hopkins' set. 
 
 Knowing something of the lad's financial affairs, 
 and willing to do him a good turn, Hopkins had told 
 him of the Gasconader business and of the monetary 
 possibility connected with it. Bertie, duly grateful, 
 had managed by some means to borrow or scrape 
 together twenty pounds, which he had invested on 
 the horse at the liberal odds of twenty to one. 
 
 It was Bertie whom the owner of Gasconader was 
 awaiting now. There was a ring at the door, and in 
 the manner of one who was quite at home, the 
 expected visitor sauntered into the room. 
 
 " Read that," said Hopkins abruptly, tossing over 
 a telegram which he had been gloomily rolling round 
 his fingers, 85
 
 4(,' Bubble Reputation. 
 
 It was caught, straightened out, glanced at, and 
 tossed back again. It was in cypher. 
 
 "No use giving it to me. What's it all about? 
 What does it mean ? " 
 
 " It simply means," said Hopkins, " that we are 
 done. We haven't a possible. It means" — he got 
 up, walked to the door, and looked into the passage 
 to see if anyone was within hearin^j — " it means that 
 they have been getting at Carson, and the scoundrel 
 is going to throw me over." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " ejaculated Bertie. The blow 
 was severe. " Do you mean that Carson won't ride 
 Gasconader, or that he'll pull him — that he won't ride 
 to win ? " 
 
 Hopkins nodded. 
 
 " That's it. He'll ride him, or he thinks he will, 
 anyhow. But the man who sent me that telegram 
 has been sniffing round in Melbourne for the past 
 fortnight, and he tells me now that he is absolutely 
 certain Carson has been got at by the Sea King 
 party, and that he doesn't intend to ride to win 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Well," said Bertie, " there isn't much time. What 
 do you intend to do ? " 
 
 " Do ? What do I intend to do ? I wish to 
 heaven I knew what to do." 
 
 " Can't you get someone else ? " 
 
 " No. It's too late. All the jockeys that could 
 ride that weight or wouldn't bring him down at the 
 first fence are engaged for to-morrow. Besides, I 
 
 66
 
 Ink and Dishonour. ^ 
 
 couldn't trust them. The same people might get at 
 them too." 
 
 " Well—" 
 
 " Well ? What do you say ' well ' like that for ? " 
 
 " Why don't you put me up ? " 
 
 " Put j'ou up ! Great heavens, man, what have 
 you been drinking?" 
 
 Hopkins sat back and stared at the other man, 
 amazement, incredulity, and a score of other 
 emotions rendering him incapable of speech. 
 
 " You ride Gasconader ! " he managed to get out. 
 " Why, dash me, I never thought of such a thing. I 
 never dreamed you had the grit to do it, anyhow." 
 
 " Thanks," said Bertie, " you are complimentary, 
 at any rate. I may be a coward in some things, but 
 I'm not anxious to hear anyone tell me so. And 
 you ought to know by this time that if there is one 
 thing in the world I can do, it is sit a horse." 
 
 "This is the stififest race in Australia." 
 
 "Confound it, what if it is? Didn't I tell you I 
 wasn't afraid of it? Of course, if you are not 
 satisfied with me, you can get someone else." 
 
 " My dear boy," said the other man thickly, 
 gratitude and astonishment combining with the 
 whiskey he had been drinking to make his voice 
 unsteady, " my dear boy, I admire you. I never 
 expected it of you. I never thought — I wouldn't 
 have suggested — " 
 
 " That's all right," retorted the lad, his face set 
 and a shade paler than usual. " It isn't that I am 
 
 87
 
 ^' Bubble Reputation. 
 
 fond of this sort of thing, but if Gasconader 
 doesn't win to-morrow I am done. Do you hear ? 
 I am done. He must win. It is touch and go 
 with me, I tell you. Is it settled?" 
 
 "You have ridden him before?" 
 
 " You know I have — over all sorts of fences and 
 in all sorts of country. You know you have often 
 lent him to me. Carson himself doesn't know him 
 any better than I do." 
 
 " You shall ride him. Give me your hand on it." 
 
 They shook hands. Bertie's face was still pale, 
 but his eyes blazed. 
 
 " How is he ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Gasconader ? Never better. Fit to race for a 
 man's life." 
 
 " Good ! Has he been tried over the treble 
 yet ? " 
 
 "Once. He can fly it all right." 
 
 "You will tell Carson to stand down to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 " I'll send a message to him this very night, the 
 blackguard ! Thanks to you, I feel a man again. 
 I would have ridden the horse myself, but it was 
 simply impossible. It would have meant more 
 than two stone over weight. Here's good luck 
 to-morrow." 
 
 He poured some of the whiskey into a glass, and 
 pushed the bottle across to Bertie. The latter 
 helped himself. 
 
 "Another?"
 
 Ink and Dishonour. ^ 
 
 " No. Not another drop until this time to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Perhaps you had better go home and have a 
 sleep,'* suggested the elder man. 
 
 " Not yet. I couldn't sleep. I promised to see 
 some people at Mandeno's at ten o'clock. It is 
 nearly that now. Then I am going along to my 
 brother's. I promised to look in there before going 
 home." 
 
 " I won't let you go alone," said Hopkins. " I'll 
 have a cab sent round, and we'll go together." 
 
 He jumped up to leave the room and then turned 
 back. His eyes were staring wide open. He looked, 
 and indeed felt, like a man walking about in a 
 dream. He went up to Bertie and took him by the 
 shoulders. 
 
 "Am I mad," he said, "or are you? Are you 
 going to ride to-morrow ? Are we both drunk, or 
 what ? " 
 
 " You might be drunk," answered Bertie grimly, 
 " but I was never more sober in my life. And I tell 
 you candidly that Gasconader must win that race 
 to-morrow, or I must put a bullet through my head 
 five minutes afterwards. So, if I do break my neck 
 at the treble — well, it's neck or nothing in any 
 case." 
 
 In a couple of minutes they were bowling along 
 the street. 
 
 89
 
 -3; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 In the meantime, Arthur had made his way up 
 the Recorder stairs. What his intentions were, or 
 how much or how little he expected from the forth- 
 coming interview with the editor, he would not have 
 found it easy to say. The one clear impression he 
 had was that circumstances were driving him some- 
 where, and that he was doubtlessly strong enough to 
 resist. On the one side was the Scylla of 
 political treachery ; on the other was the Charybdis 
 of hopeless insignificance and failure. He wanted to 
 find some passage between the two. The news- 
 paper, naturally, suggested itself. The guiding 
 genius of that influential sheet could help him 
 if he would. But would he ? That was the 
 question. 
 
 There is nothing in the world so calculated to 
 daunt the spirits of anyone who has an appeal to 
 make, or a favour to ask, as the iron mechanism and 
 relentless routine of a newspaper ofifice. Even to 
 Arthur Ward, who was no novice, and who had been 
 up these stairs many times before, the period of 
 waiting was trying, almost to the point of physical 
 exhaustion. Of course the great man was busy, and 
 would be for some time. The very building and 
 machinery, the very walls and roof, seemed busy and 
 in the mood to resent any intrusion from anyone or 
 anything that was not part of themselves. 
 
 " What kind of folly is it," he thought to himself, 
 " to expect that this soulless thing will do anything 
 for me, or that I will be able to do anything for it ? 
 
 90
 
 Ink and Dishonour. 5«* 
 
 It has as much humanity as a Frankenstein, and as 
 much sentiment as a brick." 
 
 The preliminary throb of the latest modern 
 machine — the public were assured it had been 
 imported specially for the Recorder at enormous 
 expense — beat noisily in his ears. An occasional 
 printer's assistant, grimy-faced and full-handed, was 
 hurrying past. The ticking of a telegraph operator 
 came from an adjoining room. The men on the 
 staff, reporters, contributors, editorial assistants, 
 messengers, and occasional hands, passed in and 
 out like automata. Sub-editors sat glued to their 
 desks. A short, sharp command, or the shriek of a 
 whistle communicating with an upstair department, 
 was heard now and again. The faces of the men at 
 work, from chief sub-editor to printer's devil, had 
 only one expression, and that was no expression 
 at all. They were for the time being part of the 
 newspaper wheel. They might be anything outside 
 the office, but inside they were all alike. They 
 invited no confidences, betrayed no sort of feeling, 
 wanted no intrusion. All the time wires were 
 throbbing incessantly, and telegraph boys were 
 hurrying in and out. News and comments were 
 being hastily and hotly thrown together ; local 
 sensations and events of world-wide importance 
 were taking shape under the flying fingers of the 
 linotyper. Throughout the whole building, per- 
 vading it from basement to ceiling, was the sense 
 of some inexorable entity, some iron-bound, steam- 
 
 91
 
 «o§ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 driven, all-compelling force, the life of which was 
 infinitely more transcendent, and infinitely more 
 lastin^S than that of the human intelligence which 
 pretended for the time being to have it under 
 control. 
 
 And what of the man whose finger was on the 
 pulse of this machine, the man whom the visitor 
 was waiting to see ? Like the Delphic Oracle, he 
 was invisible, working behind a barrier. Men high 
 in the political and commercial world were ushered 
 into his room and ushered out again. What 
 happened behind the green baize door, no one but 
 the initiated ever knew. Whatever it was, they 
 were careful not to say. 
 
 At last Arthur's turn came. The five minutes 
 which he had been asked to wait had extended to 
 nearly three-quarters of an hour. And in the course 
 of that waiting his ideas had crystallised somewhat. 
 He would make his request in a couple of sentences. 
 He would be just as matter-of-fact as the man he 
 had to deal with. It would be impossible to be 
 more. 
 
 The editor laid aside the proof he was reading, 
 put down his pen, pushed his chair back an inch 
 or two, and looked at the intruder with the faintest 
 gleam of recognition in his eyes. This was, to those 
 who knew him well, his approachable manner. It 
 meant that he was prepared to listen. It committed 
 him to nothing. But it suggested that he was 
 strictly impartial. A glance at the clock was also 
 
 92
 
 Ink and Dishonour. ^ 
 
 intended as a slight reminder that his time was 
 hmited. 
 
 " I would not trouble you now," said Arthur Ward, 
 coming at once to the point, " were it not that you 
 have for some months past accepted a column from 
 me in your weekly paper. So far as that is con- 
 cerned, I believe — that is, I hope — that the 
 arrangement between us has not been unsatisfactory 
 to you ? " 
 
 The inscrutable-faced man with the greyish hair 
 and beard nodded ever so slightly. 
 
 " I have come to ask you if that arrangement 
 can be extended — I mean, if you can give me 
 anything more to do." 
 
 " H'm ! " 
 
 There was something in that dubious exclamation 
 not altogether discouraging. 
 
 " You wish to do more work for us ,!* Do you 
 mean editorially ? " 
 
 "In the humblest capacity, if you wish." 
 
 " At present we are, if anything, overmanned. 
 But it is just possible that something may come to 
 hand. At present " — with a glance at the clock — " I 
 can't tell you anything. Come and see me again, 
 say, this day week." 
 
 " Pardon me, but that will be of no use." 
 
 " Eh ? " 
 
 " The fact is " — looking hard at the face in front of 
 him, and trying to discover whether there was behind 
 the business mask any hint of friendship or any 
 
 93
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 invitation to more than a formal confidence — "my 
 own time for decision is very limited. The fact — 
 but perhaps I am troubling you with unnecessary 
 details?" 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " For the past month or two I have been earning 
 my livelihood by work of a semi-political character. 
 After to-morrow that work may no longer be avail- 
 able, and for obvious reasons I must decide promptly 
 what to do." 
 
 " In that case I am afraid — but stay a moment." 
 A sudden train of thought was shaping itself behind 
 the close eyebrows. " Perhaps we can find a way 
 out of the difficulty. You said that you had been 
 doing work of a semi-political character ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And, if I am not mistaken, you have been asso- 
 ciated in that work with the Minister for Education 
 and Labour .-' " 
 
 " Well " — rather hesitatingly — " to some extent, 
 yes." 
 
 " You will understand it is necessary to ask these 
 questions. And you possess the Minister's confi- 
 dence .? " 
 
 " I think I may say that I do." 
 
 " Absolutely ? " 
 
 " That would be going too far." 
 
 •' H'm." The face of the man in the editorial 
 chair betrayed nothing, but there was a little more 
 light in his eyes, as if a discovery or anticipation of 
 
 94
 
 Ink and Dishonour. ^ 
 
 more than average importance had dawned upon him. 
 " Will you excuse me a moment ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon ? " 
 
 " Excuse me a moment ; I want to speak to Mr. 
 Sharpe. Look in again in five minutes." 
 
 Arthur left the room wonderingly. In answer to 
 a ring the chief of the Recorder staff — a clean-shaven, 
 parchment-visaged man, who might have been any 
 age from thirty to fifty — stepped inside. The door 
 swung behind him. 
 
 "Well," inquired the editor abruptly, "what 
 success ? " 
 
 " Practically none," answered Sharpe. " I have 
 made enquiries and sounded about twenty members, 
 Government and Opposition, but none of them will 
 say a word. There are only rumours. But from 
 what I can gather, I think this is certain : the 
 Government will be out before another couple of 
 weeks are over," 
 
 " You could find nothing out about Rayment ? " 
 
 " Nothing to go upon." 
 
 " Not whether he is going to throw over Bryant ? " 
 
 " Impossible to say." 
 
 " Ah ! that's a pity." 
 
 " But I do know this : the man in his confidence, 
 and the man who could tell us everything if he liked, 
 is that new private secretary, or whatever he calls 
 himself, Ward. He was with Rayment privately- 
 for over an hour this morning. I heard that from 
 Le Mercier." 
 
 95
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Le Mercier ! You mean the man who calls him- 
 self an organiser of the unemployed ? " 
 
 " That's the man. I know he is a confirmed loafer 
 and liar, but I believe he is telling the truth in this 
 instance." 
 
 " You think this Ward knows all about it ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 " That will do for the present, Mr. Sharpe. Ask 
 the gentleman outside to come in." 
 
 Again Arthur entered the editorial sanctum. To 
 his astonishment there was a smile, evidently meant 
 to be encouraging, playing round the set impassive 
 features. Was he dreaming, or was the autocrat of 
 the mammoth journal actually apologising for having 
 detained him so long ? 
 
 "Of course, Mr. Ward, you will understand that 
 anything I do will have to be ratified finally by my 
 directors." 
 
 The listener bowed. He knew this was a cautious 
 formula intended to leave the door open for a change 
 of plans, if thought desirable. As a matter of fact, 
 the idea of interfering with any scheme of the editor's 
 never entered the directors' heads. 
 
 " As it happens, you are come at an opportune 
 time. You can tell us just what we want to know. 
 In regard to the political situation now " — he paused 
 and favoured the other man with a searching glance 
 — " I believe there is a crisis approaching ? " 
 
 "The remark was made interrogatively, but there 
 was no reply. Arthur was beginning to have a 
 
 96
 
 Ink and Dishonour. 5^ 
 
 vague idea as to what was coming. Somehow or 
 other, he felt I)e had stumbled into another cul de sac. 
 
 " You can tell us about the rumoured split in the 
 Ministry, and the part that Mr. Rayment intends to 
 play in it. In view of the intense interest felt by 
 the public in this matter, and the fact, which I don't 
 mind admitting, that it is extremely difficult to get 
 information, I am prepared to offer you ten pounds 
 for a short article. A strictly informative and reliable 
 article, mind." 
 
 "You mean" — inquired Arthur stammering, con- 
 scious of a noise like singing in his ears — "you 
 wish " 
 
 " Yes. You can tell us what we want to know. 
 And for the future, Mr. Ward, I will see that you get 
 work with us that will mean from two hundred pounds 
 to three hundred pounds to begin with. I think 
 that's all." The tone implied that the interview 
 was over, " You might let me have that article 
 to-night. It is too important to hold over." 
 
 So that was it. That was what was required. It 
 seemed certain now that one of two alternatives must 
 be correct. It seemed there must be something in his 
 look, or manner, or voice, or past history — he did not 
 know what, but there must be something — that made 
 these men with important schemes on hand regard 
 him as their natural tool. Either that, or the cold 
 brutal truth must be that ideals of straightforward 
 conduct and honourable dealing were in journalism 
 and politics so much lumber that had to be thrown 
 
 97 G
 
 ^^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 relentlessly overboard. It might be that his own 
 experience was unfortunate — no doubt it was — but 
 such was the conclusion that had now taken posses- 
 sion of him, and that decided what he was about 
 to say. 
 
 Thought is swifter than the electric current, and 
 with no noticeable pause he was ready with a reply. 
 
 " I regret, sir, that I shall not be able to let you 
 have the article to-night, or, for that matter, any 
 other night." 
 
 " What } " 
 
 " I regret that I am unable to accept your offer. I 
 regret for many reasons. But if I had Mr. Rayment's 
 confidence — which I never admitted — I would not 
 break it for ten pounds or two hundred pounds. If 
 I must break faith with someone, and it seems it has 
 come to that, it won't be with the man who took me 
 up in the first place and gave me the first chance I 
 ever had. But I am sorry — if this is the last word 
 you are likely to listen to from me, I will say it — I 
 am sick and sorry to think that a man in your 
 position, a man immensely rich and powerful, should 
 tempt or even allow other men to cheat and lie and 
 swindle for your benefit, when they know, poor devils, 
 that the only alternative is for them to go into the 
 street. As for me, I accept, if it must be so, the 
 alternative. For the moment — I hope it will only be 
 for the moment — 1 go out into the street." 
 
 The baize door shut, and, to the man on the outer 
 side of it, it shut out a world. 
 
 98
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE OPEN HEATH. 
 
 JVERYONE who has any wish to under- 
 stand AustraHan hfe in its social, and even 
 in its serious aspect, must spend at least 
 one afternoon at the races. He is lucky if the 
 spirit of the scene does not get possession of him 
 and compel him to come again. For here national 
 beauty and national ugliness, national virtues and 
 national vices, are strangely and inexplicably, and 
 yet attractively blended. The great god Chance is 
 invariably the presiding genius of the scene, though 
 many other minor deities set up their altars, and 
 come and play their parts, at each recurrent festival. 
 
 Brilliant, animated, and gay with contrasted 
 colours, was the scene on the morning after the 
 events related in the last chapter. Men were there in 
 thousands. In the jargon of the society-writer " the 
 gather was a fashionable one." The phrase means 
 that there were a large number of women present. 
 Where they are not, the fashions are not. On the 
 race-course many distinctions arc obliterated, but 
 
 99
 
 ^^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 there are some that remain. Men for the most part 
 become all alike. The baronet can and does talk 
 confidentially with the bookmaker's clerk ; and the 
 bookmaker's clerk, whatever snobbery may be 
 ingrained in his little soul, does not — while the 
 contest for the spoils is going on — care two indi- 
 vidual straws for the baronet. But women are not 
 alike. They will never admit that they are alike. 
 Even the race-course, with all its levelling tendencies, 
 cannot bring them together. Fashion divides them ; 
 reputation divides them. And there are always the 
 two great classes — the women who feel they are 
 women of importance, and the women who are 
 regarded by the other women as persons who are not. 
 Arthur Ward, who had arrived rather late, took 
 his seat on one of the stands, and with a curious 
 sense of aloofness and impersonality watched the 
 currents of humanity ebb and flow. The presence 
 of a crowd, particularly if it is a well-dressed, 
 pleasure-loving, buoyant-looking crowd, has on most 
 natures the effect both of a tonic and an anodyne. 
 Its collective brightness and brilliancy, its indifference 
 and lack of introspectiveness must, if they do not 
 actually repel or stifle, communicate themselves to 
 the individual who comes within reach. The result 
 is a deadening of self-consciousness, the forgetting 
 of that which, an hour before, had seemed to fill 
 the mental horizon. On the principle that the 
 whole is greater than its component parts, is not 
 the crowd greater than its constituent atoms? 
 
 lOO
 
 The Open Heath. .^^ 
 
 And being greater, is it not wider ? The individual 
 believes that so many things matter. The crowd 
 knows that so few things make any difference. 
 It knows there is one goal worth striving for — 
 pleasure ; that there are two apples worth chasing — 
 the joy of the sense and the delight of the eye. 
 
 The band struck up a joyous refrain, and the whole 
 scene had its setting. The stands, the lawns, the roses, 
 the ivy, the carnations, and the people, ;U1 were swathed 
 and caressed by waves of music that seemed to be 
 echoing the message of the mild autumn sun. It 
 was for the time being a lulling atmosphere, relieved 
 by strains of melody, and as yet unbroken by harsh 
 or discordant notes. Below the surface the fever of 
 speculation slumbered uneasily, waiting for the near 
 approach of the next race to rise to sudden life and 
 vigour. From a corner of the enclosure the babel 
 of the ringmen's voices came in a subdued murmur. 
 During this, the long interval before the chief event 
 of the day, the course and its surroundings looked at 
 their holiday best. 
 
 On one occupant of the stand, at any rate, the 
 social influences of the day had their full effect. 
 The troubled experiences of the previous twenty- 
 four hours were forgotten. He had always been too 
 prone to meet trouliles half-way. What needless 
 unpleasantness this had often caused him. How liable 
 a man was at such times to forget the infinite 
 possibilities of life and health and youth — and 
 other people. With the thought of " other people " 
 
 lOI
 
 ^^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 his eyes rested on the procession of sunshades, on the 
 swaying forms, on the bewilderingly coloured dresses, 
 on the rounded faces and laughing lips that made 
 the stretch of green lawn a mirthful and a living 
 thing. What is it that they have learned or forgotten, 
 these women of the South — what have they forgotten 
 of Jane Austen's primness, or St. Agnes' coldness ? 
 what have they learnt of the Spanish subtlety, or 
 the arts of Helen of Troy .-' Certain it is that what 
 they lack in austerity or reposeful manner they have 
 more than made up in power of seductive appeal. 
 
 Two among many — typical figures, and yet 
 individually worthy of attention, and seeming to 
 expect it — were the politician's daughter, Maud 
 Rayment, and her companion of the day, Geoffrey 
 O'Brien, That the former should have been the 
 object of many glances, admiring, curious or envious, 
 was not remarkable. In her day she was one of 
 the best known and best discussed women in 
 Sydney ; and even now, though a little past her 
 physical best, men would turn round and look at 
 her with that look which, according to a well-known 
 dictum, is perfectly justifiable, and even expected, 
 when the face and figure are of a kind to challenge 
 remark. The girl's dress, which was as striking as 
 the limits of accepted taste would permit ; her 
 look, which was frank, and even bold in its self- 
 confident greeting to friends and acquaintances ; the 
 contour of her smiling face, and the outline of her 
 well-moulded form — all seemed to be proclaiming 
 
 102
 
 The Open Heath. ^^ 
 
 the fact that she was part of the day's pageant and 
 was perfectly willing that people should know it. As 
 for O'Brien, stolidly satisfied, and perfectly aware 
 that his partner was setting him off to the best 
 advantage, he walked up and down the lawn with 
 a jaunty self-possession that nothing less than an 
 electric shock would have ruffled or diminished. 
 
 To Arthur Ward, inclined to forget himself as he 
 sat listening to the music and watching the crowd, 
 the sight of the two brought a sudden remembrance 
 and a sudden chill. An imperceptible shadow 
 seemed to have stolen over the scene and to have 
 taken some of the interest out of a picture that had, 
 a moment before, been full of life and meaning. 
 Reason has no part in a mental vision of this kind. 
 It needed no philosopher to tell Ward that the 
 woman out there on the lawn was one never likely 
 to bring anything more satisfying than storm and 
 unrest to himself — or, for that matter, to anyone 
 else coming under her influence. He firmly believed 
 this already. And yet her nearness and the sight 
 of her flaunting herself apparently without a care or 
 a regret in the company of O'Brien made him 
 sick with a sense of aloofness and rejection and 
 unsatisfied ambition. For some minutes, in spite of 
 reason, that feeling would not pass. 
 
 He was recalled to himself, and to the memory of 
 his primary purpose in coming to the course, by 
 hearing two men talking on the seat beside him. 
 Both were very much in earnest. One was an 
 
 103
 
 ^ Bubble Reput ation. 
 
 apparently affluent person, with a florid connplexion, 
 a resplendent waistcoat and tie to match ; the 
 other had the generic appearance of the individual 
 usually described as "a sporting character." His 
 trousers were tight, the rest of his dress was 
 nondescript, and his whiskers were sandy. 
 
 " Well," said the former interrogatively, " notice 
 anything ? " 
 
 The sandy-whiskered one nodded. 
 
 "There wasn't much light, but I made him out 
 all right." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " Gasconader. Did a preliminary over the big 
 fences. Remarkable ! " 
 
 " Sure it was Gasconader ? " 
 
 " Certain. And," the speaker took a look round the 
 stand and lowered his voice, " they're putting a new 
 man up on him." 
 
 "Whew! Evidently got wind about Carson. 
 Know who the new man is ? " 
 
 " No ; but 'e must be no mug at the game, or 'e 
 wouldn't be given the contract — you can bet on 
 that." 
 
 " The devil ! " 
 
 " It is the devil." 
 
 " And you think " 
 
 " I'm positive whatever beats 'im '11 about win. 
 Never saw a hoss fly the big fences as he flew 'em 
 that morning." 
 
 The man in the gorgeous waistcoat said something 
 104
 
 The Open Heath. ^ 
 
 in a whisper, and the other nodded, and then they 
 rose up and went down the steps. 
 
 Ward had only caught a portion of this dialogue 
 and its significance — if it had any significance — did 
 not occur to him. But he was reminded that the 
 big race of the day was approaching, and that he 
 had not yet found his brother. He would make 
 another attempt. 
 
 When at last he discovered him he was talking to 
 two people — a man and a woman — the latter young, 
 the former elderly, perhaps a relative. Just for 
 the moment Arthur did not recognise either of 
 them. 
 
 If he had been on the way to his own execution, 
 and the cart had taken him past a pretty woman, 
 Bertie would have insisted on calling a halt, and on 
 exchanging a few words with her before going on. 
 
 The sight of his brother recalled him immediately. 
 He raised his hat in hurried farewell, and took 
 Arthur by the arm. 
 
 " Can't think," he said musingly, as if one subject 
 and only one were in his thoughts, " when I've 
 been so taken with a face as I am with that one. 
 You remember that afternoon at the Mountains — 
 she was talking to you when I came in. A shy 
 little beggar — she won't say much. But" — suddenly 
 catching a glimpse of the clock over the committee- 
 room, and assuming with almost startling rapidity an 
 entirely different manner and tone — " I've only got 
 a few minutes left. Hurry up ! This way." He 
 
 105
 
 «o^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 half pushed, half dragged his brother through the 
 crowd. 
 
 " In here." 
 
 The man at the gate opened it in answer to an 
 impatient sign. It closed sharply, and in a couple 
 of seconds they were in a dressing-room with the 
 words, " Gentlemen riders only " over the door. 
 
 " What on earth — how, Bertie ! Tell me what on 
 earth does this mean ? " 
 
 " Only that I am going to ride in the Steeple," 
 said the boy, rapidly throwing off his boots, and 
 diving his hand into a canvas bag ; " that's all." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " 
 
 If a thunder-bolt had suddenly fallen at his feet, 
 Arthur Ward could not have looked or felt more 
 surprised. 
 
 " It seems to surprise you," throwing off coat, 
 waistcoat, and shirt, in quick succession, and reaching 
 for a bright-coloured silk jacket which was hanging 
 on the wall — " but it's all settled. You know what I 
 told you last night ? Well, the man who was to 
 have ridden for us was got at — bribed to chuck us 
 over, the dog ! There was no one else " — still 
 rummaging with the jacket and the other things — 
 " so here I am — going to ride myself No other way 
 out of it, Arthur — no other." 
 
 The elder brother, still unable to find anything to 
 say, leaned up against the wall. 
 
 " If you want to know anything more about it," 
 said Bertie grimly, again rummaging in the canvas 
 
 1 06
 
 The Open Heath. ^ 
 
 bag, " ask Hopkins. He'll tell you. This must be 
 he now." 
 
 The door opened and Hopkins came in. He 
 looked flushed and excited. A cigarette that had 
 gone out, and that he had forgotten to relight, was 
 between his lips. 
 
 With the entrance of the new-comer, Arthur found 
 his voice. 
 
 " Would you kindly tell me," he demanded, 
 " whether this is your doing, Mr. Hopkins ? Can't 
 you run horses without my brother here to ride 
 them ? Can't you do your own ? " 
 
 " Shut up," Bertie broke in. " It's nothing of that 
 kind. It's my own business. There's nothing more 
 to be said about it." 
 
 Hopkins had some decent instinct, and showed 
 no resentment at the tone in which he had been 
 addressed. 
 
 " I assure you, Mr. Ward, it wasn't my wish that 
 your brother should ride. 1 am as sorry in one way 
 as you are. I'd scratch the horse this minute if I 
 thought " 
 
 " You'd do nothing of the sort," shouted the boy 
 impatiently — he was now fully dressed from cap to 
 spurs — " you know you would be disgraced for ever 
 if you did. The bell will be going in a minute. Give 
 me a cigarette." 
 
 " Some brandy } " said Hopkins, taking a flask 
 from his pocket. 
 
 "Just a spoonful. How many starters arc there ?" 
 107
 
 «og Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Thirteen." 
 
 " The devil's number ! " The words came invohin- 
 tarily from the lips of the elder brother. 
 
 The younger one laughed — a short, hard laugh, 
 with a ring of defiance in it. 
 
 " I don't care if there were thirteen devils. I'm 
 strung right up, I tell you." 
 
 This was true. He was strung up to an unnatural 
 pitch. 
 
 " The horse is all right ; I've ridden him before. 
 If I win, I win. And if I lose — just another 
 
 spoonful — d it, I can't lose. Or if I do " — he 
 
 muttered the last words to himself — " that will be the 
 end." 
 
 An official put his head in at the door. 
 
 " All right," said the amateur rider. " You can go 
 out this door " — turning to Hopkins and his brother — 
 " it is the shortest way out for you." 
 
 " We will see you again," said Hopkins, with an 
 attempt at cheerfulness, and a shaking hand, as he 
 applied a match to his cigarette — " after the race." 
 
 " After the race," echoed the boy. " I won't say 
 good-bye. There it goes." The bell rang, and he 
 disappeared. 
 
 The other two passed out through the door he 
 had indicated, and found themselves again on the 
 course. If the scene had been animated before, it 
 was ten times more animated now. From the slight 
 elevation immediately in front of the stand, there 
 could be made out a cloud of smoke in the distance, 
 
 1 08
 
 The Open Heath. ^» 
 
 showing where the suburban train was making its 
 way inland. The peaceful effect of the vanishing 
 and reappearing cloud harmonized well with the 
 hazy sky and soft landscape — a landscape marked 
 in the middle distance by undulating open spaces, 
 with here and there a house and garden plot. 
 Further afield, and almost indistinguishable, was 
 the faint uncertain line of the sea. 
 
 O'Brien and Miss Rayment had taken their seats 
 in the stand. The latter glanced round with a 
 woman's curiosity to see who of her friends were in 
 the vicinity. Her eyes first fell on Barraclough. 
 There he was in philosophic mood — apparently 
 unmoved by the hum, and bustle, and excitement of 
 the surging crowd below. His reverie was disturbed 
 by a cordial greeting from a well-known lady 
 friend — nothing more — who had just come on to 
 the stand and had seated herself beside him in 
 the only vacant place. It was Mrs. Harper. She 
 glanced uncomfortably across to her gorgeous friend, 
 Maud Rayment. Her look seemed to say " I could 
 a tale unfold." Then she turned away her gaze, 
 forgot her pity for O'Brien, and listened with 
 pleasurable excitement to the Babel below. 
 
 Suddenly a momentary hush fell on the crowd. 
 Who is the young man, with white lips, mounted 
 on Gasconader? All eyes are now upon the jockey 
 in the crimson jacket. 
 
 109
 
 ^^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " That's not Carson up," muttered O'Brien to his 
 companion. " Can't make out who it is. Don't 
 remember seeing him before." He looked at one of 
 the boards near the betting ring. " Ward ! Who's 
 Ward, anyhow ? " 
 
 The voices of the metalHcians rose again. 
 
 " Five to one, bar one. Five to one, bar one. 
 Three to one Sea King. Ten to one Gasconader ! " 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed Geoffrey. " That's more like 
 it. Someone must have backed him. Looks fit 
 enough, anyhow." 
 
 Miss Rayment stifled a yawn behind her fan. 
 
 " You appear to be very much absorbed," she 
 remarked. 
 
 " If I thought I wouldn't lose my place," said 
 O'Brien, " I would go and put a pony on 
 Gasconader." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because his backers are going to have a run for 
 their money. It's going to be a straight go after 
 all." 
 
 The roar of Israelitish voices sounded louder than 
 ever. 
 
 " Four to one the field. Four to one the fee — Id. 
 Eight to one Gasconader." 
 
 " There," said O'Brien, " it will be a shorter price 
 yet. One minute — I'll be back in one minute." 
 
 With quite unusual speed he dashed down the 
 steps, the crowd making way on either side. 
 
 " I couldn't understand," said Mrs. Harper to 
 no
 
 The Open Heath. ^» 
 
 Barraclough, " when I came to this country first why 
 so nnany people — clever people, and people who had 
 other things to do, couldn't keep away from the 
 races." 
 
 " Do you understand now ? " 
 
 " Well, I rather " — she pronounced the " a " in 
 rather as Pope's generation pronounced the vowel 
 sound in " tea " — " think I do. The men a-re all 
 trying to make money, and the women are anxious 
 to show off their frocks." 
 
 " But I'm not trying to make any money, and I 
 haven't any frocks." 
 
 " Why do you come here .'' " she questioned. 
 
 " Hard to say ; perhaps a kind of gregarious 
 instinct we can't explain." 
 
 "You never bet .-* " 
 
 " Hardly ever. But it is interesting to watch the 
 people. You find it so, don't you ? " 
 
 " One gets plenty of amusement out of that, and 
 sentiment, too, sometimes." 
 
 There is no moment — not even the moment of 
 waiting, which seemed like a lifetime — but has its end. 
 The onlookers felt rather than saw or heard that the 
 race had begun. There was the usual gasp and 
 shout, the usual flashing of colours in the distance, 
 the usual hushed and strained expectation — strained 
 to the point of almost unbearable tension until the 
 moment when the flying squadron should have 
 reached the straight, and have risen at the first 
 obstacle of the three in front of the stand. 
 
 Ill
 
 •o^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 The crowd, as a crowd, had watched many steeple- 
 chases before, and had become fairly inured to the 
 spectacle. It had seen men thrown, lives lost, and 
 horses killed. It had watched the sight not without 
 anxiety, but with a certain excitement and pleasure. 
 Yet it would have been composed not of men and 
 women, but machines, if it had not felt a collective 
 throb at that moment. To one man, still sitting 
 apart and silent, the utterly unreasonable thought 
 would occur that if anything happened to his brother 
 he would be to blame. Somehow he ought to have 
 prevented this thing from happening. That was his 
 duty. But how ? how ? 
 
 " Oh ! " another gasp, another shout, and then a 
 cheer as every horse landed sheer of the first fence. 
 In the middle of the compact field, a crimson jacket 
 was discernible. A tremendous rush, and a rap- 
 rapping of timber, and twelve horses were over the 
 treble, while one had fallen heavily, and a rider had 
 been shot out of the saddle and lay still. 
 
 That most trying of all moments was over. 
 O'Brien, who had managed to regain his seat, near 
 Miss Rayment, and whose money was at stake, gave 
 something between a gasp and a grunt of satisfaction. 
 He had caught a glimpse of a rider sitting close and 
 hard and unmoved ; a glimpse also of a raking bay 
 horse that was making no mistake, and so far had 
 not touched a fence or stone wall. He smiled, and 
 remarked to his companion that the man who had 
 been thrown was getting on his feet again. 
 
 112
 
 The Open Heath. 5^ 
 
 The first round was compassed without further 
 accident. Something in a white, silvery jacket was 
 leading. It piloted the way on the long journey 
 round the back, and was first to reach the treble for 
 the second time. At the last jump of the three it 
 struck heavily and went down amid a yell of excite- 
 ment and dismay. Half a score horses and riders 
 thundering behind were on the brink of disaster. 
 The big bay, hard on the heels of the fallen man and 
 horse, was seen to stumble, and the crimson jacket 
 dipped. Again, there was the gasp of mingled 
 excitement and alarm, but in another moment a 
 cheer with a genuine ring in it proclaimed that horse 
 and rider had made a splendid recovery, and the now 
 diiuinished field entered the last round — for home. 
 
 Maud Rayment, who had never taken her eyes off 
 the race till now, leaned back in her seat. 
 
 " I can't watch it," she said, " any more." 
 
 But it was nearly over. At the back of the course, 
 about half a mile from home, the green jacket of an 
 outsider was leading. The last jump but one was 
 cleared, and he was still leading. A little further, 
 and places had changed. The field had strung out. 
 The crimson and green were abreast. The favourite 
 and a grey horse were a couple of lengths behind. 
 
 It was a great race — they said afterwards — and a 
 race full of sensations, particularly in the final stages. 
 Another shout, and one of the leaders — was it the 
 crimson or the green ? — had hit the last fence and 
 turned a somersault. Thank God ! It was the 
 
 113 H
 
 <o§ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 green. The red jacket was there still. It was first 
 in the straight, and everything seemed over. 
 
 But the favourite, patiently handled, was not done 
 with. He settled down to catch the leader in the 
 run home, and hard behind him thundered the grey 
 horse Jay Rye. A hundred yards from home the 
 favourite had drawn level. The amateur called 
 again on his mount. The odds might be on the 
 professional, but there was no doubt that the boy 
 had more than justified his place in the saddle that 
 day. 
 
 " Dead heat ! " was roared from stands and flat, 
 while the victory of either horse was acclaimed by 
 its supporters. " Dead heat ! " — the shouts were 
 repeated and re-echoed while the horses were a 
 hundred yards past the post. 
 
 O'Brien put down his field-glasses with much 
 deliberation. From his post of vantage he could see 
 better than the crowd what had happened. 
 
 " We were beaten," he remarked to the girl beside 
 him, " by about half a head ! Yes, there are the 
 numbers." 
 
 114
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LAUGHING LIPS. 
 
 N sharp contrast to the blare and turmoil of 
 the race-course, to the furious rush of 
 people into overcrowded trains and tram- 
 cars, to the fierce flutter and agitation of the streets, 
 was the all-pervading calm which brooded over the 
 further side of the harbour, whose waters kissed the 
 feet of the great city. The brightness of the autumn 
 day was over. The restlessness and the anxieties 
 that the day had brought with it were over. In their 
 place was something different, something better. 
 There was now the mildness of evening, the touch 
 of coolness in the air, the gleam of gold and purple 
 where the sun was about to set. And it was not 
 yet night. The day was going out smiling, and the 
 night was coming forward with a caress. 
 
 The house in which John Rayment lived attracted 
 attention the more from the commanding nature of 
 its situation, and its agreeable surroundings, than 
 from anything remarkable or ostentatious in its size 
 and workmanship. A two-storied, roomily built 
 
 115
 
 ^ B ubble Reputation. 
 
 structure, with a red French-tiled roof and wide 
 balconies, it was encircled by trees and lawny patches, 
 with a sloping stretch of ground in front of it, 
 leading down to the sea. The house was a few 
 hundred feet above the level of the harbour, which it 
 overlooked. The ferry-boats ran to within a few 
 yards of the steps at the edge of the lawn, and 
 through the wide-opened windows of a morning or 
 afternoon could be seen the green luxuriance of 
 tropical palms, contrasting with the blaze of oleanders 
 and garden roses. But at this time of the day there 
 was only the dusk red of sunset, against which 
 the outline of tree and shrub showed dark and 
 indistinct. 
 
 It needed a strain of music to harmonize the night 
 and the landscape ; and from one of the rooms of 
 the house that harmonizing strain floated out into 
 the garden and died on the evening air. It was a 
 large room, and had but three occupants — two 
 women and a man. It was not surprising that the 
 woman at the piano should be Maud Rayment. She 
 spent much of her time there, and her playing was 
 recognised as above the average. Neither was it 
 extraordinary, considering the relation between her 
 and the politician, that the listener, sitting there in 
 the shadow, should have been Arthur Ward. But 
 to the man, at any rate, it did seem a coincidence 
 that the singer, a girl with a velvety contralto 
 voice, should be the girl his brother had been 
 talking to, in those last anxious moments before 
 
 ii6
 
 Laughing Lips. .^'©» 
 
 the race, the girl he recalled as having helped to 
 relieve his own solitude one rainy day when last 
 he was staying up at the mountains. What was 
 she doing here? And where had she got that voice? 
 
 It might have been a much worse song and a 
 much less interesting singer, and yet the effect on 
 Ward would have been Cfinsiderable. In the first 
 place, his nerves required a sedative after the agitation 
 of a few hours ago, and here the want was being 
 supplied in the most ple.isant surroundings, in the 
 most agreeable way. In the second place, he needed 
 some outside influence — if of a flattering character 
 so much the better — to remove or deaden the sense 
 of disappointment and broken self-esteem, which 
 more than one event of recent date had helped to 
 bring about. As it happened, there were two women ; 
 one of them well known and widely desired, both 
 of them capable of appealing to eye and sense and 
 brain, waiting and ready to do him honour. He was 
 the only listener, and it might be argued that the 
 music was primarily for his benefit. Tiie flame of 
 life leaped up again, gratified and insurgent, though 
 self-retained. 
 
 The delicate flattery of the situation did, indeed, 
 appeal to the man strongly. Musing there while the 
 shadow grew deeper, and the figure at the piano 
 became hardly discernible, he seemed in some fashion 
 to get a firmer, truer ;^rasp of his own emotionable, 
 unstable character, and of the philosophy of living. 
 The crush and struggle on the race-course seemed 
 
 117
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 petty and meaningless when looked back upon now. 
 But was there anything on earth of which the same 
 would not be thought or said ? There might be no 
 reason or logic in allowing oneself to be worked up 
 into a fever over a mock battle on a pleasure ground. 
 But if it came to that, what was the logic or reason of 
 anything? Where was the logical justification for 
 spending a lifetime in the stringing together of loud 
 sounding phrases, and calling oneself a politician ? 
 Or in laboriously heaping up sentences, and calling 
 oneself an author ? What did it matter anyhow ? 
 The struggle on the race-course had been a genuine 
 enough struggle while it lasted. And, like a great 
 many other things that had at one time seemed 
 worth while, it was over. 
 
 The lamps were lit, and with a word to Miss 
 Raymcnt and a backward, half-apologetic glance of 
 farewell to the man in the corner of the room, the 
 girl had gone. It was really extraordinary, but just 
 for the moment he experienced a slight sensation of 
 disappointment. Even the prospect of some minutes 
 alone with the other woman — a prospect which had 
 the power to dazzle a few hours ago — did not prevent 
 something like a tinge of regret as the song ceased, 
 and as the figure glided out of the room. But the 
 feeling died almost as soon as it was born. There was 
 no trace of it left when Maud Rayment got up from 
 the piano and threw herself into a chair beside him, 
 with an easy confidence of manner and an inviting 
 smile on her hps. 
 
 ii8
 
 Laughing Lips. ^^ 
 
 " Haven't you anything to say to me before the 
 others come down ? " 
 
 This seemed like a request to have the shutters of 
 silence and conversational reserve taken away. It 
 could only be accepted by a man of ordinarily quick 
 perception as an invitation, if not to combat d 
 02itrance, at least to a sentimental passage at arms. 
 And the offer was tempting, even though the dangers 
 were apparent. 
 
 While he hesitated, hardly knowing where to begin, 
 she led the way on to strictly neutral ground. 
 
 " What happened to you after the race ? " she 
 inquired. " If I hadn't noticed you when the crowd 
 was going downstairs — you sitting there with that 
 picturesque look of gloom on your face — well, I 
 suppose, I shouldn't have seen you out here this 
 evening. Do you know what you reminded me of 
 amongst all those others ? A stormy petrel among 
 a lot of tame pigeons ; or, if you like it better, I'll 
 say a Moorish Prince among a lot of orthodox 
 Christians." 
 
 " Really," murmured Ward, meeting her confident 
 look with one of equal assurance, " you flatter me 
 far too much. As for being a Moorish or any other 
 sort of prince, I am now, and always have been, so 
 long as I can remember, a mere helpless captive in 
 the hands of the Philistines. Generally speaking, 
 I'm bound hand and foot ; I'm blown this way and 
 that way — at the present time I'm being blown 
 your way — in a storm." 
 
 119
 
 ^5- Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, looking at him incredu- 
 lously, but with some interest. 
 
 " If I were to try and find a comparison for you 
 now " 
 
 " Do," she entreated. 
 
 " This afternoon, seeing you out there, I might 
 have said you were the Roman Faustina. You 
 looked as if you di'ln't care. Horses or men, 
 gladiators or lions, it would have been all the same 
 to you. You could have smiled serenely — with that 
 beautiful imperial smile of yours — at all of them. 
 But now — to-night " 
 
 "To-night," she echoed. 
 
 " I don't know. I can't say. I only know that I 
 owe you a debt of gratitude. The light throws a 
 half-shadow on your face, and your dress matches 
 the colour of your hair. You have the art of making 
 people forget." 
 
 Her laugh cleared the air, which was beginning to 
 get heavy with the pervading sense of the personal 
 equation. 
 
 " It was a lovely day — quite exciting too. All the 
 way home Mr. O'Brien would keep talking about the 
 race, and about that horse that didn't win — Gaston — 
 Gascoigne — what was its name ? He said it was an 
 amateur that rode him, and he rode such a good 
 race that some of his — Mr. O'Brien's you know — 
 some of Mr. O'Brien's friends were going to get up 
 a subscription for him." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Ward with a sudden start 
 1 20
 
 Laughing Lips. ^ 
 
 and a sudden recollection. " He said that, did 
 he?" 
 
 "Yes, and he said that he wouldn't mind giving 
 ten pounds or so himself, just to encourage a man 
 that would do that kind of thing. What do you 
 think?" 
 
 " What do I think ? " repeated Arthur, with a chill 
 remembrance and a chill feeling of remorse; "that's 
 just it ; I don't quite know what to think." 
 
 Would it not have been a better and more unselfish 
 thing to have stayed with Bertie — whom he had left 
 getting into a cab outside the race-course gates — than 
 to have so readily accepted the invitation of this 
 woman to call at her father's house ? 
 
 " Never mind," .said the girl brightly, " it's not a 
 matter that concerns you and me. Let us talk about 
 something else ; about ourselves, for example." 
 
 " And yet he's my brother," said Arthur moodily. 
 " That's a fact I can't altogether forget." 
 
 " Your brother ? Who ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 Ward looked at her as if surprised. 
 
 " Of course," he said, " I am forgetting. You 
 didn't know. There was no need to have mentioned 
 it. Still it was my brother who rode Gasconader ; 
 and I'm sorry for his sake he didn't win. Going 
 from bad to worse, I'm afraid. No need to talk 
 about it though — I had forgotten for the m<^ment." 
 
 " How strange I " she exclaimed " How remark- 
 able ! If I had only known. Rut," with a sudden 
 change of manner, "you needn't trouble about it. 
 
 121
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 They are all praising him ; he's quite a hero. If 
 he were my brother I would be very proud of 
 him." 
 
 The listener's brow cleared. The momentary 
 cloud lifted, and the original interest in the woman, 
 and the pleasure of being there with her, revived. 
 
 " Yes," he assented, " I think he did better than 
 most men would have done in the circumstances. I 
 hope it will come out all right. But this doesn't 
 interest you ; I'm afraid you're having a very dull 
 evening now — now your friend the singer has gone." 
 
 " You mustn't go making love to her," said Maud 
 Rayment, shaking her head at him. " She's only a 
 country girl ; and I've warned her against clever 
 men in the city like — like you, for instance." 
 
 It was Ward's turn to laugh. Then he turned 
 round on her abruptly. 
 
 " Don't you think it would be a good idea if 
 someone would warn a few of the men against some 
 clever women, who shall be nameless ? " 
 
 The girl looked at him with an expression of 
 perfect frankness and innocence. 
 
 " Clever women," she repeated, " who are they ? 
 What are they? I don't know any woman who 
 really wants to be clever ! There are so many other 
 things better worth while. Now you are different. 
 I hear them talking about you ; they say you are 
 going to do great things." 
 
 It was more tactful to say " they " than to mention 
 her father. The latter's name might have given the 
 
 122
 
 Laughing Lips. ^ 
 
 listener cause to remember that he was not financially 
 independent. 
 
 Ward was pleased, and his look showed it. After 
 all, he was still very young. But he said nothing. 
 
 " Are you," she asked the question gently, 
 even solicitously, " in low spirits to-night ? " 
 
 " Not in the least — I never felt better. I have 
 any number of schemes and plans that may, or may 
 not, come to something. To-night, at any rate, I 
 believe they will." 
 
 " All ! that has the true ring of the olden time." 
 
 It was spoken in all sincerity, but his self- 
 consciousness took alarm. 
 
 " The ring of the modern Don Quixote, you mean.^ 
 There is one thing about you that I have always 
 recognised. You have the saving sense of humour. 
 And you have plenty of people to practise on — to 
 keep you in form." 
 
 " I don't understand you," replied the girl. 
 
 " I should say you have been playing a lot of lawn 
 tennis lately. I have never yet seen you knock a 
 ball into the net." 
 
 " Why do you talk in that way ? " 
 
 " Why do you play witii people as if they were 
 tennis balls?" 
 
 " Really," with a look that was rather mystifying, 
 " I had better bring mother in to talk to you." 
 
 Without looking back, she left the room. 
 
 It occurred to liim that he had better go. And 
 then it seemed that such a course would be foolish 
 
 123
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 and unnecessary. She could think what she liked ; 
 it was he who had the most cause for complaint. 
 Had she not been throwing out inducements to him 
 to forget himself, and then be sorry perhaps for years 
 afterwards? She knew her own powers — must know 
 them. Why did she want to practise them on 
 him .'' 
 
 She seemed to be away a long time. When she 
 came back it was with Mrs. Rayment and Mrs. 
 Harper. The latter had come in quietly, and 
 exercising the privilege of an old friend, had run 
 up to the private room of her hostess. The three 
 entered the drawing-room n<jw with much rustling 
 of silk and graciousness of demeanour. Miss 
 Rayment, bright and self-possessed, with no trace 
 of either former coquetry or later resentment in her 
 manner; her mother fair and smooth-faced, and 
 dressed in black ; Mrs. Harper also in black, 
 and with hair parted in the middle, American 
 fashion. Mrs. Rayment advanced to the male 
 occupant of the room, and feared he had spent a 
 very uninteresting evening. 
 
 He had barely time to murmur a negative, when 
 there was a ring at the door bell, and with much 
 swagger and ostentatious high spirits, Geoffrey 
 O'Brien, accompanied by two friends, station-o.vners 
 and reputedly wealthy men from the western district, 
 was ushered into the room. They had all been to 
 the theatre, but had all left early. O'Brien had 
 insisted on bringing the other two men with him, 
 
 124
 
 Laughing Lips. ^ 
 
 and as they were acquainted with Rayment and 
 Rayment's daughter, they had not demurred. 
 
 "How do?" — this to Arthur, after the usual 
 greetings to the others — " How do, Ward ? " — 
 nodding across the room with patronising geniality 
 — "didn't see you after the race this afternoon. 
 Hope you came out of it all right. Lost a little 
 myself, but nothing to speak of. Had a word with 
 your brother — great crowd around him — rode a 
 dashed good race, and a plucky race too, but 
 brought the horse out a bit too early, I thought, 
 
 otherwise would have won. A d , eh, a dashed 
 
 good race it was. I'm sure Mrs. Harper will agree 
 with me." 
 
 The lady hardly seemed to appreciate this appeal. 
 
 " How did you like the play?" she asked. 
 
 O'Brien didn't like it much. Thought it was 
 rather slow. Couldn't sit it out, anyhow. That 
 was why he had taken a run across before 
 turning in. 
 
 Miss Rayment in the meantime had engaged one 
 of the station-owners in conversation, and her mother 
 had hoped the visitors would make themselves at 
 home. They knew where to find the billiard-room if 
 they would like a game. 
 
 " Aw ! delighted," murmured the disengaged 
 squatter, looking across at his companion, who 
 was deep in conversation with the daughter of 
 the house. " What do you say, Rutherford ? 
 Miss Rayment will excuse us, I'm sure" 
 
 125
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " I'll come and mark for you," said Mrs. Harper. 
 
 They expressed their thanks. Rutherford went 
 away unwillingly. He would not have gone at all, 
 but he had gathered from certain hints — he did not 
 know how much or how little was in them — that it 
 might be the correct thing to leave O'Brien and 
 the girl together. 
 
 Arthur Ward rose, and murmured something about 
 the necessity of getting back to town. 
 
 " I will see you as far as the steps," said the girl, 
 springing up. " No, it's all right, mother, I don't 
 want a shawl ; I'll be back in one minute." 
 
 He protested that it was not necessary. But when 
 he found himself on the gravel walk, she was beside 
 him. It was starlight, but there was no moon, and it 
 was not easy to see where the path ended and lawn 
 and shrub began. In front, through an opening in 
 the trees, there was visible a brilliant streak of light, 
 showing where a ferry-boat was pushing off from the 
 opposite shore. 
 
 " There ought to be another light here," was her 
 comment. 
 
 They passed the first fringe of trees, descended the 
 steps that divided the upper from the lower part of 
 the garden, and with the aid of the distantly illumined 
 harbour, could see each other's faces. 
 
 "This path," indicating the one they were on, 
 " will lead you through a gate right down to the 
 jetty." 
 
 " I can only thank you again, and say good night." 
 126
 
 Laughing Lips. ^^ 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 There are several hundred ways of saying good 
 night. The words may mean anything from a curt 
 dismissal to a direct invitation to stay. Miss Ray- 
 ment's good night was neither the one nor the other. 
 Rightly interpreted it was a challenge. 
 
 The man felt that he was not being dismissed. 
 Evidently she did not want to quarrel with him. 
 
 "Tell me," he asked, "did I offend you just now — 
 when you went away so suddenly ? " 
 
 " I thought I had offended you — that you thought 
 badly of me." 
 
 " You need never have thought that." 
 
 " Why are you leaving so early ? Geoffrey and 
 those other men will be there for hours yet." 
 
 " Isn't it better to go now than stay too long ? " 
 
 " There are some people who as you know could 
 never stay too long." 
 
 It was a reckless, rather melodramatic thing to do, 
 but then she had half — perhaps more than half — 
 invited it. He put his arm around her, and she 
 did not attempt to free herself, but looked up with 
 unclouded face. 
 
 It was a foolish, dangerous thing to do, though 
 perhaps not so dangerous as, in his hopes and 
 fears, he might have imagined. Certainly there was 
 a warm, sensuous, all-pervading charm about the 
 woman leaning on his arm and looking up at him 
 with eyes shining through the dark. To kiss her 
 was to run the risk of not being able to forget. 
 
 127
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 It didn't seem to him at that moment — though it 
 did afterwards — that she might be merely toying 
 with a sensation that he was ready to find over- 
 whelming. 
 
 " If for the last time," he said, " Good night," 
 
 " Why did you say for the last time ? " 
 
 "What else is there possible — now I have forgotten 
 myself and offended you ? " 
 
 She raised her head quickly. There was a dis- 
 claimer on her lips, but it was never uttered ; and 
 as he watched her he thought even in that uncertain 
 light that a tremor came over her face. Her eyes 
 were fixed on something over his shoulder. 
 
 Turning round, he could at first see nothing. 
 Then he made out the figure of a man with a 
 slouch hat walking along the edge of the water 
 towards the jetty. He had just passed under the 
 light that marked the approach of the woodwork. 
 And something in the walk — it was impossible to 
 see the face — proclaimed the identity of Le Mercier. 
 Strangely interested, and with a curious feeling at 
 his heart, Arthur watched the man get into a small 
 boat that was moored close to the jetty and pull 
 away into the darkness. 
 
 The girl was now smiling, 
 
 " What a fright I got. I expect it was only one of 
 the watermen who live near the point. But they 
 look so much like murderers, creeping about there ia 
 the dark." 
 
 For answer he stood away from her. 
 128
 
 Laughing Lips. ^ 
 
 " I would like to think of you always as I think of 
 you now." 
 
 " Come and see me again. Come soon. I shall 
 be at home Friday — in the afternoon." 
 
 He demurred a little. 
 
 " For what purpose ,-' Better tell me to go now 
 before I have looked at you too long and become 
 blind." 
 
 " Didn't I tell you once before that I wasn't a 
 Gorgon ? " 
 
 " But you might be Diana. You know what 
 happened to Actaeon ? " 
 
 " Well ! " with a look that said more than words. 
 " I don't think anyone has ever compared me with 
 her." 
 
 " What part will you play then ? " 
 
 " I can't tell you now. Ask me that question 
 again. Ask me on Friday. I will be expecting 
 you. Good-bye ! " 
 
 There was nothing for it but to walk on to the 
 jetty and wait till the ferry-boat came along. 
 
 129
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LE MERCIER. 
 
 aSS 
 
 mm^ MERCIER adjusted his tie— it was not 
 often that he wore one — in front of the 
 square six inches of looking-glass. 
 
 *' Whichever way \ ou look at it," he muttered to 
 himself, " it is a funny game." 
 
 If he had been asked to define his own charac- 
 ter he would have said that he was a philosopher. 
 And so he was. He had thought his philosophy 
 out years before. Such as it was he accepted it, 
 and acted upon it consistently enough. In one 
 sense he was fortunate. When a man is able to 
 say to himself with conviction that it is a funny 
 game — that life is a funny game — he is on a plane 
 that, if not the highest, is at any rate out of the 
 way of some dangers. He had at least a likely 
 prospect of escaping both the morgue and the 
 lunatic asylum. It is true that the remark just 
 quoted is painfully hackneyed and meaningless in 
 the mouths of most people. But on the lips of 
 
 130
 
 Le Mercier. .'©• 
 
 Le Mercier it was a creed — if not a religious creed, 
 the nearest approach to one that he possessed. 
 
 Like most demagogues he had a passion for 
 argument. With a fine catholicity of taste he could 
 make himself equally at home before an audience of 
 one or an audience of a thousand. When in a 
 certain mood there was no one with whom he would 
 rather argue than his landlady. The argument was 
 all on one side. The woman had a tender regard for 
 Le Mercier. In a way he fascinated her. For one 
 thing he paid his board without having to be threat- 
 ened with dire penalties of the law — and that was 
 what most of the guests in the rather dingy, rather 
 second-rate boarding-house did not do. His compli- 
 ments did the rest. It mattered little that these 
 compliments were more ironical than serious. The 
 lady often had a suspicion that he was laughing 
 at her. But perhaps on that account — such is 
 the nature of women — she was fascinated all the 
 more. 
 
 Mrs. Kelly — that was her name ; it had been Brady 
 before her marriage, but who Mr. Kelly had been 
 before he departed for another world nobody knew 
 or inquired — Mrs. Kelly was proud of Le Mercier 
 for several reasons. She was proud of his conver- 
 sational powers, proud of his ac<iuaintance with 
 leading political lights, proud of the fact that a 
 Minister of the Crown had been in the habit of sitting 
 in his room on the only chair, while Le Mercier him- 
 self sat and smoked on the bed. These things gave 
 
 131
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 her boarding-house a prestige and made other board- 
 ing-house keepers jealous. But why did he wear 
 such a disreputable coat? And why did he change 
 his collar only once a fortnight ? And why, after 
 being seen coming out of the office of a great man 
 — in Mrs. Kelly's eyes these politicians were all great 
 men — did he go off with such dreadful-looking 
 people and spend so many hours in threepenny bars 
 in a back street ? She was puzzled and rather 
 distressed over these things. She sometimes spoke 
 to him about them. Usually he treated her well- 
 meant inquiries with indifferent silence. Once or 
 twice he had launched out in discursive fashion. 
 
 "Clothes, my good woman," he had said to her on 
 one occasion, " why do you talk to me about clothes } 
 Ton my honour, I thought you were different from 
 other women ; I thought you had a soul above 
 clothes. I thought you could recognise and appre- 
 ciate the man, Mrs. Kelly — the man without these 
 inorganic filaments — the man such as Nature made 
 him, whether he had any clothes or not." 
 
 She was silenced. She recognised that she was no 
 match for him in argument. Still, on the subject of 
 clothes, she was convinced that she was right and he 
 was wrong. 
 
 She had also talked to him about marriage. Why 
 did he not get married ? He wanted someone to 
 look after him ; she was sure a man of his tempera- 
 ment — a man careless and neglectful of himself — 
 would be better married. 
 
 132
 
 Le Mercier. ^ 
 
 This was playing into Le Mercier's hands. The 
 topic was one in which he fairly revelled. When she 
 had first broached it to him he smiled a grim, peculiar 
 smile. Later he had often broached it himself. He 
 threw it out as a draw to the honest woman, playing 
 her with it in the fashion of an angler playing with 
 a fish. 
 
 " Do you really think," he had said to her on 
 coming down to breakfast one morning, with eyes 
 inflamed, and a rather the worse-for-wear feeling, 
 "that any woman would have me? Do you really 
 think so? Just look at me — forty if I'm a day. A 
 distinguished political friend of mine, a gentleman 
 that we used to know by the name of Horace, was 
 just my age, when he protested that it was time the 
 women gave up disturbing his peace of mind. 
 " Thanks," as she handed him a cup of strong tea, 
 " \i you were to get married now it would be well 
 enough. There might be some excuse for that. 
 And though I am bound to say that I should have 
 to battle with the demon of jealousy, I should do my 
 best not to show my feelings." 
 
 When first he talked to her like this, she had 
 entertained the idea that he wanted to marry her 
 himself But she was quickly undeceived. 
 
 " There are some extraordinary things," he said 
 to her once — it was one of his prosperous evenings, 
 and he had brought home a bottle of claret instead 
 of the usual Colonial beer — " soine frightful things 
 committed in the name of morality, and marriage is 
 
 133
 
 •05 Bubble Reputation. 
 
 one of the worst of them. You don't agree with me? 
 Your sex never does. Get a glass, and let's talk it 
 over." 
 
 She was not particularly fond of wine, but she was 
 always more than wiMing to hear him talk. 
 
 " One of the greatest crimes and the greatest 
 absurdities known to civilisation," he continued, " is 
 to tie people up to each other for life. It makes you 
 wonder if the world has nut been mad for the last 
 five thousand years. Just think of it. Suppose they 
 tied us up for life— pleasant enough for me, no doubt 
 — but for you, horrible beyond description, dreadful 
 beyond words. No wonder you shudder. Have 
 some more wine .-* Yes," pouring out another glass, 
 and rolling his eyes at her, "a mockery, a phantasm, 
 a delusion, a chimera, an altar of sacrifice, an altar 
 that always smokes, and a sacrifice that goes on for 
 ever. Aha ! don't I know it ? Haven't I been 
 through it ? I talk to you like this because you are 
 a sensible woman. You can understand. I like 
 you, Mrs. Kelly, I admire you. You have been a 
 good friend to me ; yes, you have, I'm only warning 
 you ; I want to have you warned in time. The Lord 
 only knows when some dashed scoundrel may come 
 along and want to marry you off-hand. Getting 
 late? So it is. Good night then. Good night, and 
 don't make a fool of yourself over anyone." 
 
 For some weelvs after this outburst he had not 
 addressed to her more than a passing word. Once 
 or twice she had seen his name in the paper in 
 
 134
 
 Le Mercier. ^ 
 
 connection with some Labour movement. She had a 
 vague idea that he was working for his country in 
 some whole-hearted and insufficiently remunerated 
 way, and that it was because his country needed him, 
 and couldn't do without him, that he spent so little 
 of his time at home, and so much of it out of doors. 
 The casual remarks he made were intended to 
 confirm this view. While she was sometimes pained 
 over his indifference and carelessness to herself, 
 she derived a real pleasure and a reflected glory 
 from his manifest greatness in the eyes of the 
 world. 
 
 On the morning when he adjusted his tie with 
 such unusual care, Le Mercier descended the narrow 
 stairs with a buoyant tread and a look on his face 
 which took ten years off his age. He had great 
 schemes in hand. He knew that there were political 
 changes in the air. And he knew more about what 
 was likely to happen than anyone except the 
 principals themselves. It would be a marvel if he 
 could not make something out of the knowledge. 
 At any rate they would see, the people who pre- 
 tended to despise Le Mercier, would soon see — what 
 they would see. 
 
 His first business was with Johansen. And 
 Johansen, he knew, was a hard nut to crack. In the 
 first place it was not easy to get near him. Luckily 
 he had managed to arrange an interview. It had 
 been fixed for half an hour before mid-day on that 
 very morning, and was to take place in one of the 
 
 135
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 rooms at Parliament House. By the time he had 
 finished breakfast it was a few minutes after eleven. 
 
 He had a general rather than an exact plan of 
 operations in his head when he mounted the steps of 
 the building. He would find out in the first place 
 what Johansen knew. Then he would find out what 
 he intended to do. Of course he would not get this 
 information for nothing. He would have to show 
 his own hand first. He would have to tell what he 
 knew. He would have to give away Rayment, to 
 give away Bryant, to give away the Labour Party — or 
 at least to pretend to give them away. That was the 
 point. It was to be a battle of wits. If he did not 
 think he would get all he wanted, he had great hopes 
 of getting something that he could use as a trump- 
 card at the meeting at the Trades' Hall that night. 
 
 He met his man walking about the corridors. 
 
 " Come in here," said Johansen, showing the way 
 into one of the Opposition Rooms. It was empty. 
 " Now," dropping into a seat and crossing one leg 
 over the other, " what is it you want ? " 
 
 Le Mercier sat on the table. He folded his arms and 
 looked the other man squarely in the face. It was 
 impossible to imagine a greater contrast than that 
 presented by the two men. Le Mercier, with the wreck 
 of his insolent good looks, with the still quick intelli- 
 gence which only his hopeless laziness could have 
 dragged down, with the battered appearance that the 
 very cursory effort at adornment an hour previously 
 had not removed, with the unmistakable imprint of 
 
 136
 
 Le Mercier. -if 
 
 reckless dissipation and social outlawry on his face — 
 that was the man who sat on the table. He sat 
 there because he would have thought it a spiritless 
 concession to social custom to sit anywhere else, 
 
 Johansen had nearly all the qualities that Le 
 Mercier lacked. He was a man of studied reserve. 
 He cultivated appearances. He strove to impress 
 the public, and generally succeeded. He never let 
 himself be taken off his guard. He was a man of 
 clear cut, expressive features, controlled by a strong 
 will. Clean shaven, with something of the actor's 
 physiognomy, he would have looked well on any 
 stage. The limelight would have suited him. 
 Metaphorically he stood always in the limelight. 
 The mean and petty things of politics he hated, or 
 professed to hate. He had that reputation. He was 
 attracted by the big things. He would always for 
 preference talk about the big things. People who 
 knew him slightly, or knew him only by repute, had 
 the idea that he was intensely proud. His enemies 
 said he was a coxcomb, and most people agreed that 
 he was theatrical. His few intimate acquaintances — 
 they were very few — swore that there was not a more 
 tender-hearted man in the world. 
 
 Of the two men it would be hard to say which 
 disliked the other more. Dislike each other they 
 certainly did. In Le Mercier's case there was a 
 mixture of envy and spite with the other feeling — 
 the envy that an unsuccessful man feels for a 
 successful one. In his view Joliansen was a con- 
 
 137
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 summate hypocrite. As for any purity of motive, or 
 abnegation of self, or loftiness of purpose, the Labour 
 agitator simply did not believe in their existence. 
 The supreme contempt he felt for the public 
 professor of them was only less than the contempt 
 he felt for the people who were gulled by them. 
 
 As for Johansen, he regarded it as one of the 
 penalties of his public career that he should have to 
 hold any communication with such a man as Le 
 Mercier. The man's associations, his manner of 
 life, his character, his appearance, were all equally 
 repulsive. But he knew that Le Mercier was politi- 
 cally not to be despised. He knew that he pulled a 
 dozen Labour strings. He knew that, as an under- 
 ground burrower, he had probably no equal on the 
 Australian continent. And knowing that, he adjudged 
 it wise to hear what he had to say. 
 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 The question was emphasised by the look accom- 
 panying it — a look which said that one of the parties 
 to the interview had not much time to spare. 
 
 " I was anxious to see you," said Le Mercier, 
 restraining his natural insolence with difficulty, and 
 conscious of a feeling of intense irritation — a feeling 
 that years back would have been one of shame at 
 the outward difference between himself and the man 
 he was speaking to. " I was anxious to see you in 
 view of the meeting of our Council to-night. It will 
 be one of the most important meetings held for a 
 long time ; I might say for years," 
 
 138
 
 Le Mercier. ^ 
 
 The face of the other man betrayed nothing. 
 " I needn't tell you," went on Le Mercier, " that 
 something is going to happen next week. Some- 
 thing has happened already. Perhaps you know 
 what it is. Perhaps you don't. I know. It might 
 be interesting to you if you contemplate moving 
 your No-Confidence Motion on Tuesday to hear 
 some reliable information about the intentions of the 
 other side. And I might perhaps be able to tell 
 you." 
 
 " I have no doubt, " .^aid Johansen, dryly, " that 
 Mr. Le Mercier has sources of information open to 
 few." 
 
 If the sarcasm hit home, there was no outward 
 sign of the fact. 
 
 "It is pretty well known to everybody," the Labour 
 agitator remarked sententiously, " that the Govern- 
 ment is in a queer way. It can't last over the 
 coming Session unless — but perhaps I needn't go 
 into that." 
 
 " I should be sorry to appear rude ; but will you 
 come to the point? What is it you wanted to see me 
 about ? " 
 
 '* What do I want to see you about } " 
 
 " Yes. What do you expect me to tell you ? 
 What is your game ? " 
 
 "If you put it to me that way, I will ask you the 
 same question : what's yours ? " 
 
 "Just what I thought. You wish to find out what 
 I intend to do." 
 
 139
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Le Mercier looked hard at his man, then dropped 
 his eyes, and stood up from the table. He fidgeted 
 about uneasily. Johansen's methods were direct 
 enough to be disconcerting. 
 
 " It is not a matter of idle curiosity," he protested. 
 " If you can give the Labour Party a line to go by, it 
 may be better for both sides, I am certain it would 
 be better for you. If you treat us fairly, we'll treat 
 you the same. I don't expect you to tell me for 
 nothing. We might make a fair exchange. I am 
 in the confidence of two of the Ministry, and it may 
 surprise you to know that " 
 
 Johansen held up his hand. 
 
 "You needn't trouble ; I don't want to hear." 
 
 "You don't want to hear ? " 
 
 " No, for the reason — I trust you will not be 
 offended — that I wouldn't believe it if I did 
 hear." 
 
 " Well, I'm " 
 
 " What's the use of getting angry ? You are a 
 clever man up to a certain point, and you don't 
 expect me to believe that you would tell the truth 
 unless it suited you. And how do I know whether 
 it would suit you or not ? " 
 
 " You mean then," said Le Mercier, in the bullying 
 tone of the professional demagogue, " that you snap 
 your fingers at us ? Very well. You can do that to 
 me, but you can't insult the representative of Labour 
 in this country, Mr. Johansen, without being sorry 
 for it some time." 
 
 140
 
 Le Mercier. 5^ 
 
 " You know perfectly well I haven't insulted you." 
 
 The other man stood fingering his hat, uncertain 
 whether to make another attempt to get what he 
 wanted or to leave the room. He was just about to 
 leave when the politician, who had been knitting his 
 brows as if rapidly turning over some plan of action, 
 called him back. 
 
 "I'm going to surprise you. If you are reporting 
 to the meeting to-night, you can tell them that I am 
 going to move on Tuesday. I don't profess to know 
 yet what the result will be. You can tell them that 
 I am going to move, and that I stand or fall by the 
 programme I gave to the country six months ago. 
 If the Labour corner will support me, well and good ; 
 if they won't, I can't help it. They know my views 
 at any rate. If it's any satisfaction to you to have 
 got that much, you can have it. Good morning." 
 
 " Curse you," muttered Le Mercier, as he emerged 
 into the street, " but I believe you meant what you 
 said." 
 
 Out in the open air he felt a trifle lost and uncer- 
 tain what to do next. The last turn of events had 
 taken him by surprise. He had fully made up his 
 mind that his mission was to be a failure. At the 
 last moment it had proved at least a modified 
 success. Well, so much the better. It was one 
 step gained. It was necessary to pass the time 
 between mid-day and the meeting of the Labour 
 Council that night. He did what he seldom did in 
 the middle of the day ; he went home. 
 
 141
 
 ¥3fj Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Mrs. Kelly heard her lod^rcr's step while she was 
 engaged in household work, and secretly wondered. 
 Coming up to the top part of the house not many 
 minutes later, she put her head round his door. 
 He was fast asleep on the bed. It was a hot 
 afternoon. The window was open, and a breath of 
 air disturbed a lock of still dark hair on his fore- 
 head. The rougher lines of his face were in shadow. 
 She looked at him for fully half a minute, and 
 then softly closed the door. 
 
 It was ten o'clock, and the lights were blazing in 
 Mandano's hotel. Gilded youths of various ages 
 were standing around the bar. Most of them were 
 talking ; many of them were making praiseworthy 
 efforts to be more brilliant than Nature intended 
 them to be. If the majority only succeeded in being 
 inane, there were no censorious critics to take notice. 
 At the small round tables in the saloon men sat 
 apart and talked over the events and impressions of 
 the day. The Hebes behind the counter were 
 gracious, and smiling, and intelligent, as at this 
 house they invariably are — more gracious and more 
 intelligent than any other quartette of girls to be met 
 with in the hundreds of similar places in Sydney — 
 places similar in kind, but much less in degree; 
 places, in short, which the name of Mandano does 
 not adorn. 
 
 142
 
 Le Mercier. .^o^ 
 
 Into this cheerful company on the evening with 
 which we are now concerned, two men came un- 
 obtrusively. One of them was Le Mercier, refreshed 
 after his slumbers of the afternoon, and to all 
 appearances pleased with the result of the meeting 
 that night. The other was Sharpe, the same alert 
 and intelligent individual who has been met with 
 before in the Recorder offices. The business between 
 them was exclusive and confidential. 
 
 The presence of Sharpe was easily explained. It 
 was well known in newspaper circles that the Trades' 
 Hall meeting was to be important. The growing 
 strength of the Labour Party was fully recognised. 
 The meeting was held in camera. Extraordinary 
 secrecy was observed in regard to it. Judging by 
 the silent and impressive manner in which delegates 
 passed in and out of the meeting hall, something 
 great and startling was in preparation. 
 
 Sharpe, who had spent most of the evening in the 
 vicinity of the hall, had seen Le Mercier come down 
 the steps. He went over and spoke to him. The 
 two men were well known to each other. It was 
 natural, therefore, that Sharpe could accost Le 
 Mercier. It was equally natural, knowing his man, 
 that he should propose an adjournment to an hotel. 
 It would have been little short of marvellous if the 
 invitation had been refused. 
 
 The newspaper man was too shrewd to rush 
 matters. He talked of indifferent things. Le 
 Mercier for his part was just as indifferent. But he 
 
 143
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 knew perfectly well what was wanted. He had not 
 been in the least surprised to find Sharpe outside 
 the building. As a matter of fact he had counted 
 on finding him there. The game was going fairly 
 well for him. But he was too experienced a player 
 to reveal his hand before the time was ripe. 
 
 The two men sat at one of the round tables. As 
 a rule, Le Mercier patronised less reputable places. 
 But he was quite at home here. The liquor was of 
 the best, and it was being paid for by someone else. 
 Nothing could have been more conducive to a 
 pleasant evening. He nodded to one of the girls 
 behind the bar and raised his glass to her. She 
 smiled back at him. 
 
 " Can't help liking these girls," he said to Sharpe. 
 ** For one thing there is nothing too ostentatiously 
 virtuous about them." 
 
 " I don't know," remarked Sharpe, " I daresay 
 you're right ; I wouldn't like to venture an opinion." 
 
 " There may be virtue enough," explained Le 
 Mercier, "but what I mean is that it isn't always 
 being paraded before your eyes. Of all the dashed, 
 disagreeable, depressing things in this world, com- 
 mend me to a virtuous woman. I mean the woman 
 who advertises her virtue — who hits you in the eye 
 with it — who carries it about with her and labels it 
 for fear you mightn't know it was there." 
 
 " H'm ! " said the newspaper man. It was a remark 
 that committed him to nothing. 
 
 " I have no objection to virtue. And I am not 
 144
 
 Le Mercier. ^o* 
 
 particularly fond of the other thing. Heaven knows 
 one is about as disagreeable as the other. Perhaps a 
 little more so. It's the dashed dogmatic, pragmatic 
 way of advertising virtue that I object to." 
 
 He paused and looked round him with the air of a 
 man who had uttered the last word on a great social 
 question. 
 
 The journalist's parchment face was as expression- 
 less as ever, but his bright beady eyes moved about 
 restlessly. He looked at his watch. Time was 
 getting on. He leaned across to Le Mercier and 
 said something in an undertone. 
 
 The rest of the conversation was carried on in 
 the same subdued key. Sharpe did most of the 
 questioning. Le Mercier listened, kept his lips 
 closed, and occasionally shook his head. Then he 
 turned round to Sharpe with the air of a man about 
 to make a counter proposition. Whatever it was, it 
 caused the listener some hesitation. He toyed with 
 his glass, looked round the room, and made an 
 occasional remark about someone who had newly 
 come in. 
 
 Le Mercier drained his glass, and set it down with 
 emphasis. "You can't expect me to do it for 
 nothing," he said. 
 
 Sharpe was still silent, and still looking in front 
 of him 
 
 '* I'm off," said Le Mercier, fixing his hat on more 
 firmly. 
 
 " Agreed then. But you are doing the fair thing, 
 145 K
 
 «o^* Bubble Reputation. 
 
 mind — you are not going to put us on the wrong 
 track? If you are" — the tone had a distinctly 
 warning sound as well as a hint of sinister 
 meaning. 
 
 " We'll have it down on paper. Then, if there 
 is anything crooked, someone can be made to pay 
 the piper." 
 
 Sharpe produced from his pocket a fountain pen 
 and a sheet of paper. Ten minutes later he was in 
 possession of practically all that had happened at 
 the Labour meeting, while Le Mercier, for his part, 
 held a written promise signed on behalf of the 
 newspaper office for a definite sum. Even then 
 there was no hurry and no sign of excitement. 
 Sharpe rose leisurely, and lighted a cigarette. His 
 eye had been caught by someone who had just come 
 in — someone in the centre of a group of three, all 
 young, all in evening dress, and all talking excitedly 
 and laughing loudly. 
 
 " Know who that is ? " he inquired. 
 
 Le Mercier followed the look and nodded. He 
 knew who it was well enough. 
 
 " Young Ward, who rode Gasconader in the 
 Steeple. Seems to be going the pace faster than 
 ever now. Rather a pity too. A fair deal, mind ! " 
 
 The newspaper man was gone. 
 
 Le Mercier remained a little longer at the table 
 absently handling his empty glass. He could catch 
 what the new-comers were saying. The three were 
 standing just in front of him. The youngest of 
 
 146
 
 Le Mercier. 5^ 
 
 them seemed to be excited, and was talking louder 
 than was necessary. 
 
 " Thought she was going to faint," said one of 
 the two, "when you nearly came down at the 
 treble." 
 
 " Lucky dog, you are anyway," said the third. 
 
 " Lucky, be hanged," said Bertie fiercely. " She 
 doesn't care two straws about me. I wish to 
 heaven she did. Tried to make an appointment 
 with her, but she won't take any notice, I tell you, 
 she's as good as gold." 
 
 The two laughed boisterously, and then, seeing 
 that the boy's indignation was real, subsided. 
 
 The conversation had passed through Le Mercier's 
 head without conveying any impression to him. 
 But it did occur to him, as he made his way into the 
 street, that it had been an eventful, and, on the 
 whole, a successful day. 
 
 147
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A FIGHT WITH SHADOWS. 
 
 T seemed to Arthur Ward, restlessly tossing 
 from side to side and strangely weighted 
 down in sense and spirit, that the night 
 was longer and more unyielding than mortal man 
 had ever lived through. He was neither awake nor 
 asleep. If it could be called sleep it was a sleep 
 dominated by the consciousness of his own 
 personalty and filled with semi-waking dreams. 
 Prometheus-like, he was chained down on his back 
 and compelled to gaze upwards at a storm-driven, 
 scowling, inhospitable sky. The sky was the domain 
 of his own consciousness ; the clouds were the 
 thoughts that drove across it ; the storm and the 
 thunder were the more troubled and disturbing of 
 the images that broke in upon his distracted 
 sleep. 
 
 Superstition can hardly be said to survive in these 
 days. It has been discredited, and driven into out- 
 of-the-way corners. Yet there are times even now 
 when the world of sense and the world of spirit 
 
 148
 
 A Fight with Shadows. 5^ 
 
 become intermingled. There are times when the 
 hold upon things tangible is lost. There are times 
 when our professed materialism is shivered to atoms, 
 and we are all spiritualists, whether we admit it 
 or not. We see the unseen. We live among 
 shadows. For an hour, for half an hour, for a night 
 we walk among shadows, and believe only in 
 shadows. And these very shadows, as they drive 
 across the heaven or hell of our suspended con- 
 sciousness, are more real than the couch upon which 
 we lie, or the four walls of the room that shuts 
 us in. As for Arthur Ward, a trifle unsettled after 
 the mental stir and stress of the past few days, a 
 trifle overwearied in brain and body, he seemed to 
 himself to have been fighting with shadows for at 
 least a hundred years. Shrouded and entangled as 
 though in some encumbering night-curtain, he yet 
 seemed to have made his tempestuous way myriads 
 of miles into regions where living men had never 
 before trod. 
 
 He had lain down to sleep thinking he would see 
 Rayment in the morning. On that subject his 
 intention was clear. He was prepared for any 
 negotiations that might be suggested to him. He 
 had fed himself on sophistries, knowing they were 
 sophistries, yet deliberately choosing them in 
 preference to anything else. Why should he be 
 quixotic ? Why should he set up a standard of 
 political ethics at which every practical man would 
 raise a shout of derisive laughter ? Why should he 
 
 149
 
 «0(; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 get up on moral stilts and make an object of 
 himself ? And why after all was he justified in 
 assuming that his was the only right theory, his 
 the only proper scruple, his the only correct standard 
 of right and wrong? These other people, these 
 newspaper proprietors, these party leaders, these 
 politicians of all shades of opinion, saw no harm 
 in playing every card for what it was worth. It 
 was quite true, as his brother had said, that politics 
 resembled a game of poker. It was necessary to 
 bluff, and again to bluff, and to keep on bluffing. 
 And the bluffing had to be on an extensive scale. 
 To be a really great success you had to bluff, not 
 only the public, but the opposite political party, 
 your own colleagues and yourself as well. 
 
 What was the alternative ? There was no need 
 to ask what that was. Obscurity, poverty, chronic 
 dissatisfaction with his surroundings, the reproach 
 of nothingness, the reproach of want of power, the 
 reproach of want of success. And the reward on 
 the other side ? An audience, an influence, an 
 opportunity, a series of opportunities, a widening 
 horizon, a chance of fame, of fortune, of love, of 
 her with laughing lips — of her ! 
 
 He was inclined to end on that last note — to 
 sleep and to dream on the visions it conjured up. 
 But other images would rush in. As he laid his 
 head down on the pillow he was thinking of 
 Rayment's daughter; but he could not shake off 
 the thought of Rayment. Waking or sleeping, he 
 
 150
 
 A Fight with Shadows. ^^ 
 
 hardly knew which, he ever saw the two together. 
 They were strangely, inextricably blended. Across 
 a dim distance he saw the brown hair, the sweet 
 eyes, and the warm lips of the woman smiling at 
 him. And as he looked and looked, and struggled 
 on to overcome the distance, he saw that the lips 
 were smiling with a bitter disdainful smile. The 
 chill of that smile went to his heart and he could 
 not utter a word or move a step. All the time, in 
 some vague, forbidding way, Rayment himself was 
 standing near, threatening him. He saw the face 
 as he had seen it once or twice in real life — a face 
 wearing a scowl, a face from which the mask of 
 urbanity and good temper had fallen, a face looming 
 large and hideous in the shadows, never once 
 altering its expression of deadly, implacable resent- 
 ment towards himself. 
 
 Still battling with these dream-fantasies, he 
 became conscious, or semi-conscious, of a change. 
 Between him and the woman, between him and 
 the man came another image. And it brought a 
 keener pang, struck a colder chill than anything 
 that had gone before. Bertie ! Had he uttered 
 the name or had someone cried it in his ears ? 
 Bertie it was ; Bertie on horseback ; a shadowy, 
 ghostly Bertie on a more shadowy, more ghostly 
 horse ; surrounded by ghosts of horses and ghosts of 
 riders ; the whole cavalcade riding a terrific race 
 at a terrific speed, but riding it amid a weird 
 silence, a silence of the dead. Fences were taken, 
 
 151
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 timber was struck, the rush came nearer, the field 
 swept past like a dark and awful tempest ; but 
 always there was that shadow of night, and always 
 there was that silence as of the dead. 
 
 He knew that it was Bertie riding there in 
 advance of the others, because Bertie's face was 
 imprinted on his brain. He saw it plainly in his 
 sleep, though he had been unable to see it a day 
 before, when the living flesh-and-blood troop had 
 thundered by. It was an infinitely more dangerous 
 and a more awful race this time than the real one 
 which his waking eyes had witnessed. It was a 
 Mazeppa race ; a race along a rotten plank with 
 fathomless precipices on either side ; a race which 
 his brother was riding with devils as his pursuers ; 
 a race which could have no other ending than the 
 abyss. 
 
 He awoke suddenly. He shook the nightmare ofif 
 and sat up in bed. He reached out his hand and 
 pulled aside the blind. The light struggled in 
 feebly. The morning was still in the throes of 
 birth. It was the strangest, most mysterious hour 
 of the twenty-four, but it was better than the dark. 
 The light was growing, though very slowly. He 
 watched it grow. He knew that his face — if anyone 
 could see it — must be haggard and white. His 
 nerves were not steady. But he knew that he was 
 awake — and even that knowledge was precious 
 after the hours that had just passed. 
 
 He got up, lighted the lamp, and poured out a 
 152
 
 A Fight with Shadows. 5^ 
 
 little brandy into a glass. He drank it at a gulp. 
 It revived him wonderfully. He thought of Bertie 
 steadily, clearly. He went back to bed, folded his 
 hands behind his head, and lay awake with wide 
 open eyes. 
 
 Never at any time had he been a victim of 
 illusions. They had always been something outside 
 his nature and his beliefs. He was not superstitious 
 now. But lying there, wide awake, watching the 
 dawn grow and the lamplight fade, he was clearly 
 and definitely alive to a sense of coining evil. It 
 might be m.erely part of some physical reaction. 
 Very probably it was. He told himself that it 
 would pass away. And yet — and yet, deep down 
 in his wakeful consciousness, weighing upon his 
 reason and strangling its effort to shake off the 
 gloom, was not merely the foreshadowing, but the 
 belief, amounting almost to conviction, that some 
 disaster which he could not even guess at was at 
 hand. 
 
 He knew that his brother had been carrying on 
 recklessly since his steeplechase ride. He had 
 been talking recklessly, spending money recklessly, 
 drinking recklessly. His latest experience had done 
 him no good. The sudden springing up of nerve 
 and courage which had led to the magnificent effort 
 on the course had given way to the old worse than 
 folly, the old weakness of will. 
 
 " I wish to Heaven," the elder brother muttered, " I 
 could get him away somewhere. He wants a fresh 
 
 153
 
 ^^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 start. He wants to get away from the present crowd 
 altogether. If anything happens to him — and what 
 can happen but disgrace ? " 
 
 Disgrace ! What had the world ever done for him 
 or for those belonging to him that he or they should 
 concern themselves with its opinion of what was 
 and what was not disgrace? What was disgrace? 
 What did it mean, anyway? What was this rag 
 they called honour ? Were not the honoured 
 people often the most dishonoured ? . . . But 
 it was madness to go over that ground again. 
 
 And then he turned with gradually reviving 
 warmth and hope to the memory that had been 
 with him when he was trying to fall asleep — 
 that she had said what she had said, had rested 
 in his arms as she had done, that he would see 
 her again — but would he see her again ? Would 
 he — after all ? Would he be rash enough to burn 
 any incense at that inaccessible shrine .-* He 
 supposed so. He did not know. It might be 
 wise and more prudent not to ; but then vision 
 and prudence were ghostly comforters, and he had 
 too many ghostly comforters already. The need 
 now was for something real and human ; and she 
 was very real and very human. Everything around 
 him was shifting, changing ; for the sake of his own 
 health, happiness, and future he would not — it was 
 not fair to ask him — he would not let go of this. 
 With the growing dawn there came in a strain of 
 once familiar, but since forgotten, music : 
 
 154
 
 A Fight with Shadows. .^©» 
 
 "Ah! my Felise, if love or sin, 
 
 If shame or fear, could bold it fast — 
 Should we not hold it ? " 
 
 He fell into a calmer sleep. 
 
 A couple of hours later, when broad daylight 
 was streaming through the window, he rose and 
 dressed. He still bore some traces of a bad night ; 
 his face was haggard, and there were dark lines 
 under his eyes, but his head was clear and his 
 purpose more settled than ever. He knew that 
 Rayment would be in his office by eleven o'clock. 
 That would be in about three hours' time. He 
 would see Rayment then. The reaction from the 
 previous depression had begun. After all, there 
 were more possibilities in life now than there had 
 been twelve or even three months ago. He whistled 
 as he went down the stairs. 
 
 The Recorder sheet was lying on the breakfast- 
 room table. He opened it with merely the occasional 
 interest that most men feel in what is going on 
 throughout the world. The first thing that caught 
 his eye was the heading, " A Political Sensation." 
 It was rather a startling headline ; what was it 
 all about ? He grasped the paper harder, and 
 read with a trifle more interest. The interest 
 quickly rose to astonishment ; the astonishment 
 rose to dismay, and struck with the force of a 
 physical blow. 
 
 The information in the article, from whatever 
 source supplied, was full and, up to a certain 
 
 155
 
 •a^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 point, exhaustive. As Le Mercier would have 
 said himself, the whole show had been given away. 
 That conversation in Mandano's — of which, of 
 course, the man now staring at the sheet in front 
 of him knew nothing — had related to much else 
 besides the proceedings of the Labour meeting. 
 Someone had been permitted an entry behind, not 
 one scene, but many. Someone had been let into 
 the Minister's confidence. And someone had made 
 capital out of the fact. The betrayal had been 
 complete. 
 
 The editorial genius of the Recorder office was 
 fully alive to all the stimulating possibilities of the 
 situation. He knew that he had got hold of a 
 choice morsel. He was the last man in the world 
 to let it drop easily. He treated it in the fashion 
 of an expert chef who has something quite new 
 with which to adorn the menu card. He served 
 it up in different shapes and under different guises. 
 He brought it in both hot and cold. First of all 
 he presented it en masse, seasoned only by a number 
 of attractive headlines, and garnished with large 
 capital letters. Then he made a rechauffe of it, and 
 dished it up to the accompaniment of much mustard 
 and ginger in his leading columns. Finally, he 
 dealt it out in topical paragraphs and such 
 like side delicacies, well calculated to suit the 
 palates of those who had not much appetite for 
 heavier fare. 
 
 The leading article was headed, " A Ministerial 
 156
 
 A Fight with Shadows. ^ 
 
 Somersault," and the gist of it was contained in 
 the following passages : — 
 
 " The acrobatic feats of certain of our politicians 
 have been the subject of comment on more than one 
 occasion. Unfortunately, the standard of public 
 morality in this country is not as high as it might 
 be, or as it ought to be. The electors have been 
 gulled before to-day. Shameless duplicity has been 
 practised on them before to-day. Yet it is doubtful 
 whether any of our readers will be able to recall a 
 project quite so daring and quite so unscrupulous as 
 that to which we give publicity this morning. Never 
 since the first granting of responsible government to 
 this colony, never since the first British Dependency 
 was released from leading strings, has any Minister 
 of the Crown been convicted of so deliberate, so 
 shameless, so wanton an attempt to kick down the 
 ladder by which he rose to power, and to hoist himself 
 higher on the shoulders of the credulous people who 
 put faith in him. The mine appears to have been 
 carefully laid. It was to have been sprung on the 
 community only next week. All the details had been 
 carefully prepared. Mr. Johansen was to move his 
 No-Confidence motion as soon as the House met. The 
 Minister of Education and Labour was to be absent 
 during the debate — on what flimsy pretext we do 
 not pretend to know. The next turn of the wheel 
 was to see the Bryant Government out of office, and 
 the astute Mr. Rayment colleaguing with the 
 successful mover of the No-Confidence motion in 
 
 157
 
 ^^' Bubble Reputation. 
 
 regard to the personnel of the new Cabinet. Need- 
 less to say, the price of the ex-Minister's desertion 
 of his colleagues was to be a stiff one. It was to be 
 nothing less than a half share of the Premiership ! 
 It was pre-arranged that the head of the new 
 Government was to be a Janus-like affair, one side 
 of it presenting the face of Johansen, and the other 
 side of it presenting the face of Rayment. What 
 do our readers think of underground manoeuvring 
 of this character ? Could the shameful and degrad- 
 ing arts of the political trickster and huckster — nay, 
 more, of the political hypocrite and traitor — be carried 
 to a further pass ? 
 
 " But even this was not all. We are in a position 
 to assert that the fertile Rayment brain would not 
 have stopped even here. There were to have been 
 still further developments ; and though the imputa- 
 tion of motive is no part of our business, we say 
 unhesitatingly that yet another turn of the wheel 
 would have left Rayment in sole possession, and that 
 Johansen would have had cause to regret bitterly 
 the negotiations into which he had allowed himself 
 to be duped. We do not say for a moment that 
 Mr. Johansen has acted in bad faith. His part was 
 to be the honest, though inglorious one, of an 
 unconscious stepping-stone for Mr. Rayment." 
 
 After a few more general comments on the 
 situation, the article concluded as follows : — 
 
 " Can there be any future for a politician of this 
 class — a politician who will grossly and flagrantly 
 
 158
 
 A Fight with Shadows. /*©» 
 
 violate ev*^ry principle of loyalty and common 
 honesty for his own sordid love of gain ? Will 
 the public continue to trust him any longer ? Will 
 his deluded constituents still have faith in a man who 
 has waxed fat on promises never kept — who has 
 pandered to them for his own purposes, has fooled 
 them before and has intended to fool them again ? 
 The facts call for the plainest of plain speaking. 
 The public may rest assured that there is chapter 
 and verse for every one of the statements just made. 
 And if Mr. Rayment dislikes the tone of these 
 remarks, or is prepared to attempt a refutation of 
 anything that has been said, the remedy is at any 
 moment open to him in the Courts of Law." 
 
 Ward dropped the paper and stared blankly in 
 front of him. He scarcely realised at first what 
 this meant. It was too sudden and unexpected. 
 It was quite clear, however, that from the point of view 
 of the Minister it was serious ; so serious that the 
 ultimate consequences could not yet be fully gauged. 
 The mine had been sprung with a vengeance. And 
 it seemed impossible that from the wreck made by 
 such a disclosure any reliable reputation or any 
 coherent and successful policy could be built up. 
 
 Yet the thought of the source from which came all 
 this virtuous indignation did occur to him, causing a 
 bitter smile in the midst of very real distress and dis- 
 gust. It was the Recorder that had raised this furious 
 blast in the interests of public morality and political 
 honour. It was the Recorder whose fine sense of 
 
 159
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 decorum was shocked. It was the Recorder that was 
 uttering this siren shriek in the name of everything 
 that was pure and holy — the very Recorder which 
 was known to stick at nothing and which had shame- 
 lessly attempted to bribe him less than three months 
 ago. 
 
 The probable effect of the article on his own 
 prospects did not immediately occur to him. That 
 he should be pointed out by Rayment and Rayment's 
 circle as having given the secret away was an 
 afterthought. But when the idea did present itself 
 it came with almost startling force. Of course, he 
 would be suspected. He could scarcely hope to be 
 otherwise. He was in Rayment's confidence. So 
 far as he knew there was no one else in the same 
 predicament. 
 
 There was a sharp ring at the door. As the 
 landlady handed him a telegram, there was a worse 
 sinking at his heart than he had experienced yet. By 
 a sudden intuition he seemed to know what was 
 coming. 
 
 The telegram was unsigned, and contained only 
 one sentence : — 
 
 " Will Mr. Ward consider engagement for Friday 
 cancelled." 
 
 So that was it? Well, it mattered very little. If 
 she believed — if she could believe — that he had 
 been guilty of such treachery, there was condescen- 
 sion in sending him any message — even such a blunt 
 and brutal message as that. And yet, how could 
 
 1 60
 
 A Fight with Shadows. .*^'^ 
 
 she? If she had any eyes, or sense, or brain at 
 all, how could she believe this thing of one to whom 
 she had spoken as she had done — into whose eyes 
 she was looking only a few hours ago ? Did she 
 really think, whatever he might be or might not 
 be, that he was capable of crawling round to a 
 newspaper office for the purpose of giving away 
 the political honour of her father's house ? 
 
 The matter could not be allowed to rest there. He 
 must see her, if only for a moment. He was done 
 for so far as Rayment was concerned. His prospects 
 were hopelessly gone in that quarter. That was 
 nothing. But he could not walk about the streets 
 under the weight of this woman's unmerited 
 suspicions. Self-respect demanded that he should 
 see her. If she could not be convinced, she should 
 have back scorn for scorn. 
 
 The breakfast was pushed away untasted. He 
 drank a cup of coffee scalding hot, and asked for 
 another. He was aware of a feeling that resembled 
 thirst, but was not that. 
 
 It was no use writing. If she believed him guilty 
 now she would not believe any paper protestations 
 even if she read them. It was no use asking her 
 to see him. It was ten chances to one she would 
 not accede to the wish. There was only one other 
 course open to him. 
 
 He made up his mind to do a rash and foolish 
 thing, knowing quite well that it was rash and 
 foolish, but believing that anything would be better 
 
 i6i L
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 than the present intolerable state of afifairs. He 
 would go across to her house and compel her to 
 meet him. He would go that very night. She 
 might be out. No matter if she was ; he would 
 wait till she came back. He would see her and say 
 the one word he had to say — then leave her and 
 try to forget that such a woman had ever lived. 
 
 With this settled conviction in his mind he felt 
 his hot sense of indignation and resentment cooling 
 down. He picked up the paper more calmly and 
 read the incriminating article over again. 
 
 162
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 HAT will do as well as any." 
 
 A man who had just emerged from 
 the darkness pointed to one of the boats 
 lying at the foot of the steps, and a phlegmatic 
 boatman got the sculls and rudder ready. 
 
 It was an unusual proceeding, this of rowing 
 across the harbour at such an hour. The cheap 
 and obvious and simple method was to have recourse 
 to the ferry. If any other plan were hit upon, the 
 presumption would be that the person choosing it 
 was either actuated by a very peculiar set of circum- 
 stances, or that he had an irrepressible mania for 
 outdoor exercise. In the present instance, one of 
 these theories would have been nearly correct. The 
 circumstances were peculiar. They went far to 
 explain what looked like an utterly illogical pro- 
 ceeding. But before and since Leander swam the 
 Hellespont, before and since Hinemoa plunged into 
 
 163
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Rotorua, many foolish and illogical things have been 
 done in order to bring about a desired meeting. 
 
 The motive that influenced the man who now took 
 his seat at the oars was at least capable of explana- 
 tion. The night air was grateful, and the night air 
 was cooler on the harbour than it was anywhere else. 
 The journey by ferry would be an affair of but a 
 few minutes. The rowing-boat would take longer, 
 and for that reason was more desirable. The occupant 
 felt that he needed exercise. He wanted something 
 to steady his nerves. 
 
 " If I'm late," he called out to the boatman, " you 
 needn't hang about the steps for me. I can moor 
 the boat up myself" 
 
 It was about an hour's row, and the water was 
 dark and inky-looking. At intervals a paddle- 
 steamer rushed past, churning up the water as it 
 went. For a moment its glittering broadside 
 illumined the whole scene, the harbour, the shipping, 
 and the shadowy shores, and then everything was 
 blacker by contrast. The oarsman steered by the 
 gleam of the quay behind him. Looking over his 
 shoulder he could see the sprinkle of lights on the 
 northern side of the harbour — lights that were 
 numerous and brilliant in the vicinity of the ferry 
 steps, but thinned and scattered as they climbed 
 the hill, and dwindled to an occasional isolated 
 glimmer when they attempted to break the darkness 
 lying beyond. 
 
 He rowed hard, and without resting. The hull of 
 164
 
 A Tragedy. ^ 
 
 a big sailing ship lying at anchor was passed within 
 a few feet. It was more by good fortune than by 
 good judgment that a collision was averted. 
 
 " Hey, there ! " shouted someone at watch on 
 deck. "Look out where you're going, can't you.'" 
 
 The shadow of the black hull as he glided past it, 
 no less than the warning voice of the man on deck, 
 recalled him to his surroundings. He checked his 
 feverish activity at the oars, and proceeded more 
 warily, keeping his head constantly turned over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 There was a small, dimly lighted landing-place 
 only a few hundred yards from the gate which 
 led into the grounds of Rayment's house. After a 
 careful scrutiny he managed to discover it, and 
 pulled alongside. He jumped out and stretched 
 himself after the hour's pull. Bending over the 
 tow-line in the act of making the boat fast to 
 one of the wooden pillars, the conviction forcibly 
 presented itself that no fool's errand had ever been 
 quite so foolish or had looked quite so unpromising 
 as this. Yet even now there was no intention of 
 turning back. 
 
 As he looked upwards, and, through an interval 
 between the garden trees, could make out the 
 glimmer of a light — of more than one light — from 
 the Minister's house, the thought did occur that if, 
 by one of the happy chances dear to the fiction 
 writer, she would only step down and meet him on 
 that spot, a great deal of anxiety and a great deal of 
 
 165
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 possible unpleasantness to himself might be avoided. 
 But it is an unfortunate fact that the modern woman 
 is becoming intractable, and cannot be relied upon 
 to appear when and where she is wanted. If a man 
 does foolish things in real life, he must, unless he is 
 very exceptionally fortunate, follow out the conse- 
 quences to the bitter end. Miss Rayment, at any 
 rate, was invisible as the Egyptian Isis, and there 
 was nothing for it but to seek her where she was 
 most likely to be found. 
 
 He left the boat at its moorings, skirted the path 
 that ran round by the water's edge, and entered the 
 gate. He walked past the front of the house, 
 avoiding the gravel walk, and stepping on the 
 grass. His eyes were fixed on two upstair 
 windows in the left wing ; both were lighted, 
 though the front and centre of the house were in 
 shadow. The larger window was that of Maud 
 Rayment's room ; the adjoining apartment might 
 be that of her friend, Edith Grey. 
 
 He concluded, and concluded rightly, that she 
 was at home. He had rather counted on finding 
 that she had gone out. Had that been the case, 
 a long wait might have been necessary, though 
 this would not have mattered very much. He 
 would have waited and spoken to her as she 
 came up the path. The probability that others 
 would have been with her scarcely crossed his 
 mind. In any case he would have gone forward 
 openly. That would have been better than standing 
 
 1 66
 
 A Tragedy. 5«» 
 
 here like some wandering prowler, looking up at the 
 window, an object, could anyone see him, of 
 unmitigated scorn and derision. At last he was 
 beginning to see himself, and to see her, in the true 
 colours. The exercise and the night air had done 
 their work — had brought a clearer light and a clearer 
 understanding to bear upon the troubled events of 
 the last few hours. Thank Heaven, the state 
 of feeling that had prompted this mad escapade 
 was beginning to pass away. If he had made 
 himself ridiculous, it was no use making himself 
 more ridiculous by remaining. He turned slowly 
 and meditatively back. 
 
 A door of the house opened unexpectedly, and a 
 girl's figure appeared. The logical faculty that had 
 been in the ascendant a moment before was tem- 
 porarily paralyzed. He stepped forward with eager 
 expectancy, and then as suddenly recoiled. 
 
 It was the other woman. The cry of alarm and 
 astonishment was arrested on her lips. She stood at 
 the entrance trembling, with the door half open, half 
 closed behind her. It was impossible to say whether 
 she had recognised the intruder or not. 
 
 "Miss Grey," he said, recovering himself and 
 coming forward, " don't you know me ? It's I, 
 Arthur Ward." 
 
 " Oh ! " It was a gasping exclamation, half of 
 astonishment and half of relief. She looked at him 
 with palpable surprise and a trace of shyness. 
 
 " I want to speak to you for just a moment. I 
 167
 
 -o^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 have rowed across from the Man-o'-war steps. 
 I know it's very late, but I can't help it. Don't 
 be frightened. I'm not a thief or a burglar. I've 
 no evil designs on anyone. Step out here and 
 speak to me." 
 
 The tone was urgent and almost peremptory. 
 Still wondering, but no longer frightened, she 
 stepped off the verandah on to the lawn, and stood 
 beside him. 
 
 " I came to see Miss Rayment " — the voice was 
 a trifle husky, and very earnest. " She's inside, I 
 know. That's her window — where the light is. 
 Will you do me a great favour? Will you tell 
 her that I want to see her — that I want to see 
 her now?" 
 
 He could see that she hesitated. He thought she 
 was going to refuse, and went on hurriedly : 
 
 "I know it's not the usual thing. But it's a 
 matter of very great importance. I can't tell you 
 how much it means. It isn't merely a question of 
 sentiment ; if it were, I wouldn't be here ; I wouldn't 
 ask you to do this. It's a question of my own 
 reputation, and my own honour. It's everything to 
 me — it's a question of life and death." 
 
 "Of course" — the answer came slowly and doubt- 
 fully — " I will tell Miss Rayment if you wish. But 
 would it not be better to wait till to-morrow ? Must 
 you speak to her now ? " 
 
 " Thanks, thanks," he exclaimed fervently, for- 
 getting her last question in the relief her assurance 
 
 l68
 
 A Tragedy. ^ 
 
 gave him. " You are good. I haven't forgotten how 
 good you were to me up at the Mountains. I am an 
 unfortunate beggar — more unfortunate than you 
 think, or than I can tell you — but I hope some day 
 I may repay you for what you have done for me." 
 
 She could see that he looked ill. His face was 
 almost unnaturally thin, and his eyes were strained. 
 She was a gentle girl, and his appearance, combined 
 with the intense earnestness of his manner, caused a 
 break in her voice as she spoke to him again, laying 
 a hand rather timidly on his arm. 
 
 "Don't let it trouble you. I wish I could help 
 you ; I wish you didn't care so much about — 
 about " 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 " About her. I don't think she's worth — I mean — 
 that is " 
 
 She did not end the sentence. 
 
 He had scarcely heard the last words. His look 
 was fixed upon the lighted window, and there was a 
 burning fire of impatience in the look. She inter- 
 preted it aright and ran off. 
 
 " I will let her know," she said, vanishing into the 
 house. 
 
 He remained standing where she had left him. 
 And then a strange thing happened. To his dying 
 day he could never, from personal experience, recall 
 anything quite so strange. He had not taken his 
 eyes from the lighted window, and as he kept looking 
 up at it a shock of doubt, of wonderment, and of 
 
 169
 
 ^g Bubble Reputation. 
 
 swift suspicion struck him all at once. For — there 
 could be no doubt of it — a couple of shadows had 
 appeared on the blind, and one of them was the 
 shadow of a man. 
 
 The flame of jealousy, of disgust, of sudden dis- 
 beHef in her, blazed up hotly, and then as suddenly 
 died down. What if it were a man .'' A few minutes 
 before everything had seemed normal ; the cooling 
 breath of the Australian night had steadied him, and 
 made him once more a rational being — or at least 
 had made him believe that he was. But he must 
 surely be getting hysterical if the mere passing of a 
 shadow across a window-blind could produce a sensa- 
 tion and a start like this. After all, such things had 
 been heard of before. The women of the French 
 salons, the Recamiers and Scuderys had done that 
 kind of thing for generations, and had done it at all 
 hours of the night and morning. No one had 
 thought any the worse of them. There might be no 
 harm in it. 
 
 It seemed that his messenger was a long time 
 coming back. What on earth was detaining her } It 
 was scarcely kind, or considerate of the girl to linger 
 when she must know that time was going on, and 
 that every minute wasted made his position wor.se, 
 and the chance of obtaining an interview that night 
 proportionately less. 
 
 But — there it was again ! A shadow moving 
 rapidly across the blind — two shadows — a sudden 
 coming together — a starting apart — what looked like 
 
 170
 
 A Tragedy. 5©» 
 
 a brief struggle — what sounded like a muffled cry. 
 At first the watcher was inclined to doubt the 
 evidence of his senses, but this was not fancy. He 
 was not dreaming ; he was wide awake. 
 
 He checked the first impulse to call out, strong 
 though that impulse was. After all, what if this was 
 only another development of Miss Rayment's freak- 
 ish humour.? What if she were merely romping 
 with someone ? Shadows on a blind could easily cut 
 strange and fantastic shapes. And what an insuffer- 
 able position would be that of the one who raised an 
 alarm when no alarm was needed ! 
 
 He came closer to the side of the house, and 
 strained eyes and ears in the endeavour to get some 
 clue. He heard a slight sound as if of shuffling feet, 
 and then silence. There was a short defiant laugh — 
 a man's laugh. He could make nothing of the 
 voice ; even if it had been familiar, the harsh un- 
 natural utterance would probably have disguised it. 
 But it was a man's laugh — that was quite certain — 
 and it was a man's voice that followed with the words 
 which he could just catch : 
 
 " I'm coming back again." 
 
 And hard upon that promise, or rather threat, came 
 the answer in a tone of suppressed fury : 
 
 " I will kill you if you do." 
 
 There was another laugh, and then a door slammed. 
 That was all. No one was seen to come out of the 
 house. The intruder, whoever he was, had remained 
 within, or had made his escape by some side exit. 
 
 171
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Presumably he knew the house well. Perhaps he 
 was staying there all night. Perhaps he was a mem- 
 ber of the family, some relation who had quarrelled 
 with Miss Rayment over some trifling matter, and 
 had thus been the cause of this sinister-looking 
 affair. 
 
 But that suggestion was untenable, though the 
 watcher outside clung to it for a moment in the 
 desire to find some reasonable explanation, some 
 excuse for these inexplicable events. He knew that 
 relatives did not disagree in that fashion. The words 
 were not those of mere temporary vexation. The 
 two chief actors in that shadow-pantomime were 
 not playing with each other. Never in his life had 
 he heard anything more fearfully earnest than those 
 few muttered words : " I will kill you if you do." 
 
 To think of it ! Had he, Arthur Ward, a prac- 
 tical man and no dreamer, been permitted a glimpse 
 of a mysterious tragedy of real life? There were 
 such things. The sensational novelist had not a 
 monopoly of them. Men and women who put the 
 bravest face forward had their skeletons under 
 lock and key. But until now no evidence of any- 
 thing of the kind had come under his own notice. 
 How was it that the passing of a figure in front of a 
 window had seemed to pull back the curtain of a 
 tragic world ? 
 
 In a few seconds the whole field of conjecture 
 had been swept, and he had got back to the 
 starting-point. Surmise must end. What was the 
 
 172
 
 A Tragedy. ^^ 
 
 use of it ? As for this woman whom he had come 
 out to see, it was pretty clear now that she was 
 unscrupulous, probably a wanton who held mid- 
 night meetings with a lover in her own room. 
 Well, even if she were that — and it was about as 
 low a pass as any woman could come to — what 
 had it to do with him ? Was he the Almighty to 
 sit in judgment on her — he, who had no right to 
 be where he was, and had been base enough to 
 come prying on her ? It was true he had longed 
 to see her. Her passing tenderness, even though 
 it was feigned tenderness, had meant a great deal, 
 and now the delirium had passed — he had fancied 
 it had passed before ; but there was no doubt about 
 it this time. It was impossible to think that any 
 power in earth or heaven, or the other place, 
 could bring it back. He felt older, wiser, sadder, 
 and yet in some fashion more intent. 
 
 His messenger had returned. The door opened 
 noiselessly, and there she was. In reality it was not 
 more than five minutes. Everything including his 
 own heated fancies had passed and repassed in that 
 time. He expected no favourable reply, and was 
 not at all sure that he wanted one. The folly of 
 having sent a message at all, and the certainty of 
 being subjected to a refusal struck him now with a 
 sense of anger — not with her, but with himself. 
 
 " I'm afraid it is no use," the girl explained, " I 
 knocked and waited, but I could not get anyone to 
 reply." 
 
 173
 
 ^5 Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Thanks, I ought not to have troubled you. I am 
 deeply sorry. But tell me one thing — who was it 
 came out of the room while you were waiting ? " 
 
 In the dim light, which was partly starlight, and 
 partly thrown from the window above, he could see 
 her looking at him in surprise. 
 
 " Who was it ? " she repeated, " I saw no one." 
 
 " What ! " His voice was almost a shriek. Was 
 she another of them then — was this gentle, serious, 
 sweet-eyed girl as expert a liar as the other one ? 
 
 "I saw no one come out," she said again, "but 
 there are two doors, and someone might have gone 
 out the other way without my seeing." 
 
 " Did you hear anything ? " 
 
 " I thought I heard voices in the room, but I did 
 not listen closely." 
 
 " Does Miss Rayment often have visitors in her 
 room ? " 
 
 " Yes, often. Why do you ask .-' " 
 
 " At this hour .? " 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 He looked at her — at first with frank unbelief, but 
 gradually with less distrust, and ultimately with 
 something like conviction. If this girl could lie to 
 his face like that, which he would not believe, 
 then the whole world was one incarnate He. Half 
 apologetically, and much in the tone of a 
 penitent who has turned from his sins and become 
 wise, he said, 
 
 Let me thank you for what you have done ; if I 
 174
 
 A Tragedy. ^ 
 
 don't come this way again, try and forget the fright 
 and trouble I have caused you." 
 
 " Shall I give Miss Rayment any message in the 
 morning?" 
 
 " No, not from me. Good night." 
 
 He walked away. For the first time that evening 
 he was conscious of physical fatigue. The excite- 
 ment that had kept him so long on his feet had 
 vanished. He dragged himself down to the water. 
 Would it not be better to leave the boat where it 
 was and take the ferry back ? 
 
 The question had hardly shaped itself when his 
 attention was arrested. The splash of oars was 
 distinctly audible. There was nothing unusual in 
 that — watermen were abroad on the harbour at all 
 hours — but the voices did not seem to be those 
 of watermen. They sounded like the voices of a 
 pleasure party. 
 
 He stood back from the jetty light. It was a 
 small and struggling light which threw light for the 
 space of not more than a kw yards. There might 
 be people on the incoming boat whom he knew, and 
 he preferred not to be recognised. He did not wish 
 to spy on them, but neither did he wish them to 
 question him. It might look as though he were 
 coming from Rayment's house, and if by any chance 
 the fact were known that Rayment was away from 
 home while the daughter was not, .some altogether 
 unwarranted conclusions might be drawn. But he 
 was not prepared for what followed. The boat came 
 
 175
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 within the faint circle of light which the lamp threw 
 out to sea. It contained three men, but it was so 
 dark that it was impossible to make out their faces. 
 The splash of oars ceased, and a familiar voice called 
 out, 
 
 " Hullo ! There's another boat lying alongside ! " 
 
 It was his brother Berlins voice — his brother, with 
 whom he had not exchanged a word since the day of 
 the race. Was there to be no end of these night 
 surprises ? And what in the name of all that was 
 wonderful were they doing there at that hour? 
 What extraordinary coincidence had brought it about 
 that, on the very night when he had happened to 
 take a pleasure boat, they should take one and come 
 here too ? He remained in the shadow. Most 
 decidedly he was not going to reveal himself yet. 
 To do so he would have to give some explanation of 
 his presence, and that was out of the question. 
 
 The boat was made fast, and the occupants stepped 
 out. They stood together in a group on the jetty, 
 three figures dimly outlined against the black water. 
 One of them struck a match and lighted a cigarette. 
 Every word could be heard distinctly. 
 
 "Well," inquired one in a bantering tone, " where 
 are we going to now ? " 
 
 " This is my way," answered Bertie, moving ofif 
 the jetty towards the Park. " Meet you later on if 
 you like. I have a bit of business to transact 
 first." 
 
 " Come with us," said the man who had not yet 
 176
 
 A Tragedy. 5©» 
 
 spoken. " If it's a woman I'm dashed if I'd bother 
 about her at this hour." 
 
 The boy laughed. 
 
 " I will meet you at the Royal Oak in, say, an 
 hour's time — that will be eleven o'clock." 
 
 " Right, we will be there." 
 
 They disappeared in the dark. 
 
 Bertie walked rapidly along the path leading to 
 the right, and in a couple of strides was out of sight. 
 
 When, in after years, Arthur Ward sought to recall 
 the events of that day there was much that he could 
 not remember. Much of what happened in broad 
 daylight from the time of receiving Miss Rayment's 
 telegram to the time of starting out on his row across 
 the harbour, was a blank. There were just one or two 
 incidents of the night that were stamped on his 
 brain. For years afterwards he could see on the 
 blind of every lighted window two moving figures in 
 a grim shadow-pantomime ; for years afterwards he 
 could hear, whenever he shut his eyes, a mocking 
 laugh and a voice of concentrated rage ; for years 
 afterwards, whenever he went down to the water's 
 edge by night, he could see a group of three spectral 
 forms outlined against the water ; could hear the 
 same boyish voice that he knew so well sounding in 
 his ears. 
 
 The culminating tragedy was also remembered. 
 177 M
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 After the three men had separated and gone their 
 different ways, he believed that he had stood for 
 some time hesitating. What his state of mind was 
 he could not subsequently recollect. But he knew 
 that instead of jumping into his boat and pushing 
 off he had remained at the edge of the jetty waiting 
 — waiting for he knew not what, waiting possibly for 
 Bertie to return, waiting, at all events, with a chill 
 unknown fear, which he could not explain. 
 Crack ! 
 
 A pistol shot from the house on the hill should not 
 have sounded very loud at that distance, but to the 
 listener's excited ear it seemed as if the whole of 
 Heaven's artillery had opened fire. It started him 
 running in the direction from which the sound came. 
 He ran without knowing that he was running, bursting 
 through the gate, rushing over the grass and under 
 the trees, tearing past the front of the house — from 
 which new lights were beginning to loom on the 
 darkness — and hearing the sound of his own footsteps 
 crash like a regiment of cavalry on the gravel walk. 
 There was violent excitement within ; there was a 
 scream from a woman's lips, and someone was 
 opening the front door. But Arthur rushed over 
 something that was lying prone on the grass, and 
 either stumbled, fell or flung himself down beside it- 
 The people from the house must have come running 
 out immediately, but what they did with him or with 
 it he never knew. 
 
 178
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE LAWYER AND THE LADY. 
 
 O W did it happen, my poor boy ? " — When 
 the morning papers, among their Hst of 
 sensations, conveyed the news of the tragic 
 discovery on the northern side of the harbour, there 
 was a general impression among those acquainted 
 with him, that young Ward had gone to his death 
 by his own act. The details published in the first 
 instance were very meagre. The fact that Rayment 
 and his circle were anxious to avoid a scandal, and 
 the knowledge that the feelings of innocent people 
 were likely to be involved — perhaps, also, the reflec- 
 tion that it would be wiser to say little until the 
 truth were known — led the newspapers to refrain 
 from over elaboration, or from any attempt to invite 
 curiosity or suspicion. It seemed likely enough, in 
 the absence of a definite statement to the contrary, 
 that the lad had sought the desperate man's refuge 
 from disappointment, that he had ended his financial 
 troubles, and his once promising career, by firing a 
 bullet into his brain. 
 
 179
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 But after the magisterial inquiry such an impres- 
 sion could not continue — medical evidence showed 
 that the wound could not be self-inflicted, that the 
 bullet must have been fired from a distance of fully 
 five yards or more. There was the further fact that 
 no weapon was found in the dead man's hand or 
 anywhere near the body. Moreover, young Ward 
 was understood to have no enemies in the accepted 
 phrase ; he was in fact no one's enemy but his 
 own — and thus a motive for his destruction was 
 absolutely wanting. 
 
 For a day or two after the result of the inquiry 
 was made public, there was all the excitement at- 
 tendant upon a first-class sensation. Afterwards 
 the general interest began to die down, but it was 
 suddenly revived by the startling announcement that 
 an arrest had been effected, and that the person 
 implicated was no other than the Labour demagogue 
 and agitator who was known far and wide through- 
 out the city under the name of Le Mercier. 
 
 This was indeed a peculiar development, and 
 was received at first with scornful incredulity. 
 What could there possibly be to connect Le Mercier 
 with such an affair? What conceivable interest 
 could such a man, who was regarded as too dissolute 
 and noisy to harbour criminal instincts, have in 
 young Ward's death ? Unless there was a woman 
 at the bottom of the whole business ? This last 
 reflection set the gossips wondering. They had 
 made some progress with mental search for this 
 
 1 80
 
 The Lawyer and the Lady, ^^ 
 
 unknown woman, when the news came that the 
 prisoner under arrest had confessed to the crime, 
 and then it was felt with a certain sense of dis- 
 appointment that the bubble of a promising and a 
 growing mystery — the kind of mystery which the 
 average man or woman dearly loves — was being 
 dissipated into thin air. 
 
 Le Mercier in his confession admitted that he had 
 fired the fatal shot, but with no intent and under 
 misapprehension. He had, he said, come over by 
 the ferry-boat in order to bring a message to the 
 Minister — whose confidential and secret adviser he 
 declared himself to be — and hearing a step in the 
 dark, and suspecting that robbery with violence was 
 intended, he had fired in order to scare the intruder 
 away. He added that he was not perfectly sober at 
 the time. In his hastiness and alarm he had not 
 aimed high as he had intended, and the awful result 
 was what the Court knew. When reminded that 
 Rayment was not in town on the night of the 
 occurrence, he swore that Rayment had assured him 
 that he would be back that evening. This last 
 statement Rayment himself offered to come forward 
 and confirm. 
 
 At the trial the Crown Prosecutor declared his 
 entire disbelief in the man's story. He discredited 
 it in every way, ridiculed it to the jury, and protested 
 against it as a thin subterfuge to escape a trial for 
 wilful murder. For a time it looked as if things 
 would go hard with the author of the confession, and 
 
 i8i
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 that the gallows were not a remote prospect. He 
 owed his salvation principally to Barraclough, who 
 appeared for the defence, and contended strenuously 
 that there was not a shadow of motive to convict 
 Le Mercier of a wish for the young man's death. 
 The astute gentleman representing the Crown there- 
 upon changed his ground, he hinted indirectly, but 
 with quite sufficient plainness, that the confession 
 was intended to screen someone else. Further, he 
 insisted upon the possible, nay the probable and 
 morally certain influence of the "eternal feminine" 
 upon the tragedy in question, and declared that the 
 ends of justice would never be met until more was 
 known of the part played by two of the women in 
 the house on the night of the fatal occurrence. He 
 demanded that the hearing should be adjourned for 
 a month, until the detectives could make further 
 inquiries. 
 
 This gave the opposing counsel an opening of 
 which he took the fullest advantage. There was a 
 point, he assured the jury, up to which patience was 
 a virtue, but beyond which it must give way to 
 another and a very different feeling. Was there to 
 be no limit to the insinuations thrown out in this 
 reckless manner ? Was a crime of violence to be 
 laid at the door of those whose names were 
 associated in the minds of all of them with the 
 highest attributes of gentleness and womanly 
 virtue? Were the two ladies who had so un- 
 fortunately been compelled to submit to a trying 
 
 182
 
 The Lawyer and the Lady. 5^ 
 
 ordeal — the most trying ordeal that any woman 
 could undergo — the ordeal of a rigorous examina- 
 tion in regard to a violent and bloody death — were 
 they to receive, he would not say sympathy, but no 
 vestige of justice or fair play from the learned 
 gentleman who was appearing on the other side ? 
 Of course his learned friend was privileged. Outside 
 a court of law such insinuations would not be 
 tolerated for a moment. But even in a court of 
 law a man had no right to say such things unless 
 he were prepared to prove them. Personally, he 
 desired to enter his most emphatic protest against 
 such wanton, such damaging, such calumnious 
 suggestions, as had just emanated from a leading 
 member of the Bar — suggestions, he repeated, that 
 were unsupported by one jot or tittle of evidence. 
 
 This earnest and well-timed appeal carried the 
 day. The Court found that Herbert Ward had met 
 his death by misadventure, and discharged Le 
 Mercier. In giving the latter his liberty, the Judge 
 remarked that he might consider himself extremely 
 fortunate. He added significantly : " The jury has 
 taken an exceptionally lenient view of your position 
 in this matter. Men of your stamp are a danger to 
 the community. I warn you that further inquiries 
 may be made into these proceedings, and should 
 any new evidence come to light you may find 
 yourself in a very different position from the one 
 you are in now." 
 
 Le Mercier said nothing cither on this occasion or 
 183
 
 «; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 on any other during the inquiry. Strangely enough 
 the drunken loafer and agitator element seemed to 
 have disappeared. The dissipated, insolent look 
 which habitually disfigured him, had disappeared 
 also. He accepted the stinging judicial comment 
 without a word. When the verdict left him free he 
 walked away from the Court in the same unmoved 
 fashion, without a trace of boastfulness or anything 
 that looked like pleasure at his escape — with 
 precisely the same expression of serious reserve that 
 he had worn throughout the whole proceedings. 
 
 He walked away, and the loungers outside the 
 Court who watched him go, spat and smoked 
 meditatively for a minute or two, made a few 
 disparaging remarks about him, and then turned 
 their attention to something else. The incident in 
 which he had been a central figure was closed. 
 
 There was one other individual who might have 
 shown some elation at the result, but who did 
 not. Barraclough was not a man who advertised. 
 He was more fortunate than most of the members 
 of his profession, in that he did not need to. No 
 one expected that his triumph — and it was admitted 
 on all sides that it had been a signal triumph — 
 would have much outward effect upon him. As a 
 matter of fact it had none whatever. He never 
 spoke of it either to his intimates or to any of the 
 people at whose houses he visited. Yet he was not 
 one of those who kept all his wares for the 
 professional window. He believed that he owed at 
 
 184
 
 The Lawyer and the Lady. 5^ 
 
 least as much to his entertainers as they owed to 
 him. He liked to talk — to women if they were 
 sympathetic, to men if he had time and they had 
 intelligence. The fact that he was a bachelor 
 and had turned forty had won him the reputation — 
 among those who did not know him — of being 
 morose. Few suspected how strong his social 
 instincts really were. 
 
 A house at which he was often to be found was 
 Mrs. Harper's. He made his way there one Saturday 
 afternoon, a week or two after the court case had 
 ended. It was not her usual day at home, but it 
 was almost a foregone conclusion that there would 
 be visitors. He accordingly went rather late, in the 
 hope that by the time he arrived most of them 
 would have left. It was a dull, grey afternoon, 
 rather colder than it usually is during the mild 
 Sydney winter. The house lay back from the road, 
 and was so obscured by trees as to be 
 almost invisible from the entrance. Two or three 
 people were coming away as he reached the front 
 door. 
 
 He was pleased to find his hostess alone. Not 
 that he objected to others ; far from it. The people 
 that one met at this house were as a rule capable 
 of arousing interest. But as a matter of choice he 
 would rather talk with her than talk with her 
 guest.s. 
 
 He had taken a chair and pushed it back from 
 the fire. It was getting dusk. The logs threw out 
 
 185
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 a genial warmth, though the temperature of the 
 room scarcely required it. His hostess seated 
 herself on a lounge at his left, looking across at 
 him with pleased interest. She knew Barraclough 
 better than most people, and had a genuine liking 
 and admiration for him. Moreover, unlike many 
 other women, she was not in the least overawed 
 by him. 
 
 " I have been wanting to talk to you," she said, 
 " about lots of things, but I thought I would never 
 get the chance. It was very good of you to find 
 time to call when so many people are running after 
 you, and when you have so many more interesting 
 things to do." 
 
 "What if I said there were few things I liked 
 so well ? " 
 
 " Well " — with a smile — " if you choose, I will 
 consider it said." 
 
 "I meant it. I like talking to you. Why should 
 I deny it ? For one thing you never say ' Wa'll ' 
 when you mean ' Well.' " 
 
 " Do I ever mean otherwise } " 
 
 "That's unworthy of you. I have listened in vain 
 for the twang which one usually associates with your 
 charming countrywomen." 
 
 " Perhaps you don't know them." 
 
 " Perhaps ! But I have met a few." 
 
 " What class of woman have you not met ? " 
 
 " I ? Not very many. Absolutely speaking, 
 hardly any. Relatively speaking, perhaps a few." 
 
 i86
 
 The Lawyer and the Lady. ^ 
 
 " I should like to hear some of your experiences." 
 
 " If I said I never had any experiences ? Or none 
 worth speaking about ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't believe you. Just look at yourself 
 Look at your eyes — they are not hard, or narrow, or 
 cold, or selfish, or anything like that. Look at your 
 mouth — look at the curves round the corners. Look 
 at your hands, too ; they are soft and sensitive 
 enough to be a woman's." 
 
 " And the crows' feet," he interrupted ; " what 
 have they done that they shouldn't be looked 
 at as well." 
 
 " Oh, I am not blind. You can't tell a woman 
 that you have never thought of anything but law- 
 books, Mr. Barraclough. You couldn't expect us 
 to believe you there." 
 
 " Really," he answered, still gazing into the fire 
 and smiling, '' I am flattered indeed that any sins 
 I have ever committed in the past, or may be about 
 to commit in the future, should be of sufficient 
 interest to you to cause you to speculate about 
 them." 
 
 She looked at him with an indefinable expression 
 — an expression that might have meant curiosity 
 or disbelief, or personal interest, perhaps all three. 
 
 " I give you up. But one of these days when you 
 are tired of your club and your law-books, and your 
 men friends, and your legal dinners, and your 
 country visits, you will be glad to come to me 
 and tell me all about it." 
 
 187
 
 •o^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " About what ? " 
 
 "About the woman that mattered — the one you 
 used to know." 
 
 There was just a shade of seriousness in his 
 strictly non-committal attitude. "Yes, if I did 
 happen to strike that confidential mood — and this 
 room and this half light are eminently suited for 
 confidences — I should prefer above all things to 
 pour the tale into your sympathetic ear. I assure 
 you, a man of my age appreciates the compliment 
 such a listener pays him." 
 
 '* Your age ! Fiddle-de-dee ! Why, a great man 
 isn't a great man at all until he is sixty. Gertrude 
 Atherton says so." 
 
 His laugh was amused and scornful, but had 
 no bitterness, or disappointment — the laugh of a 
 man who could accept things as they were, and 
 not whine over them. ^^ Eheu fugaces," he exclaimed, 
 leaning carelessly back in the chair ; " 7ion sum 
 qualis erani — I am not what I used to be, dear lady. 
 At the risk of appearing pedantic, I don't see 
 why Horace — I've done my eight lustrums as well 
 as he — I don't see why Horace should have a 
 monopoly of all these phrases." 
 
 '* It is then," she inquired archly, " a case of 
 rursus bella moves ? " 
 
 " Good ! I see I need not have apologised. But 
 the answer to your question is a negative. The 
 old song gets to ring hollower as time goes on." 
 
 There was a pause, and then his hostess said, 
 1 88
 
 The Lawyer and the Lady. ^ 
 
 '• There is something I must speak to you 
 about." 
 
 " Not about what happened three or four weeks 
 ago?" 
 
 *' Yes. I haven't seen you — not like this — since 
 the trial. I am not going to pay you any 
 compliments. You needn't think I am. You 
 should hear the things the Judge's daughter says 
 about you." 
 
 The last remark was thrown out with some 
 adroitness. She thought that if there were a weak 
 spot in his armour, this would prove it. Like most 
 women, she was impressed by the man's intellect, 
 and even more by his public success. It was 
 irritating that he should be so invulnerable. It 
 would be a distinct triumph for the sex if some 
 woman could be found to drag this modern Hector 
 three times round the social market-place. 
 
 But he had got back to his impersonal manner. 
 The reference to the Judge's daughter shut him 
 up like an oyster. The look he gave her in response 
 to hers was absolutely without prejudice. 
 
 "I suppose it bores you to be made a hero of.?" 
 
 "If 1 have your good opinion, I am satisfied." 
 
 *' Did I deserve that artificial compliment } I 
 wanted to ask you about some of the people 
 mixed up in that affair, and especially about that 
 poor Mr. Ward. Have you seen or heard anything 
 of him since ? I wrote him a note asking him to 
 come here, but I have received no answer. Can't 
 
 189
 
 ^^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 they get him away somewhere and keep him from 
 brooding over things as they say he is doing?" 
 
 "Who are 'they'?" 
 
 " My husband, for one. He called upon him pro- 
 fessionally at his lodgings the day before the trial, 
 and his report was that there was nothing the matter 
 with him physically, but he was suffering from 
 acute mental depression, that might turn to chronic 
 melancholia. Those were the words. He said the 
 best thing would be to get him away for a thorough 
 change." 
 
 " It was your husband's evidence that enabled me 
 to have him kept out of the witness-box, though as 
 a matter of fact I have known witnesses in a much 
 worse plight made to come forward." 
 
 " I suppose they would have asked him all sorts 
 of questions?" 
 
 The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. '* Probably ; 
 it's a way they have. But whether they would have 
 got answers or not, I don't know." 
 
 She gave up skirmishing in favour of a direct 
 attack. " Don't you honestly think that the truth 
 never came to light ? " 
 
 "That is a question I can't answer. If you wish 
 me to separate my legal opinion from my private 
 opinion, I'm not sure that I could do it. It's a 
 dangerous thing to do in any case." 
 
 "You mean, dangerous to tell me?" 
 
 " I didn't say that. I didn't mean it. I mean 
 dangerous to tell anyone — dangerous to tell even 
 
 190
 
 The Lawyer and the Lady. 5©» 
 
 one's self. But there is one feature of the whole 
 business that does puzzle me, I admit. It is the 
 way that man Le Mercier conducted himself He 
 always struck me as a bad lot, and I don't know that 
 I have any cause to alter that opinion. But he cut 
 a more presentable figure in the box than I had 
 expected. And his absolute refusal to say anything 
 that might incriminate anybody — well, it came as a 
 surprise." 
 
 "You don't think he was telling the truth ? " 
 
 " That I can't say." 
 
 " I know it's not fair to bother you. If I am 
 abusing the privileges of friendship, you must forgive 
 me." 
 
 " To talk of something more interesting, have 
 you heard anything from the Rayments since they 
 started for the old country? " 
 
 " Only a short note from Maud, written from 
 Freemantle. She says the first week on board was 
 hateful, and that the weather going across the Bight 
 was simply hideous ; but she expects to have a gay 
 time when they get to Paris. I confess I never quite 
 understood that girl. I don't know anyone else who 
 did, either." 
 
 " And yet you were intimate friends." 
 
 " Isn't it the privilege of intimate friends to mis- 
 understand each other?" 
 
 " A feminine privilege — I dare say." 
 
 " There speaks the cynical bachelor again." 
 
 " Let his advancing years excuse him." 
 191
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " If you were really a victim to those advancing 
 years, you would not talk about them." 
 
 " A purely ad captandmn argument. But will 
 Rayment be back in time for the General Election ? " 
 
 " I don't know for certain. I thought it was 
 understood they have let the house for six months." 
 
 " I suppose there were no inquiries — from Miss 
 Rayment ? " 
 
 " About whom ? " queried the lady. 
 
 " I don't mean anyone in particular. They did 
 say — I expect it was mere idle talk — that Ward was 
 one of her victims. The elder one, I mean. Even if 
 it were true I should say he was cured by this 
 time." 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 He turned his head quickly. 
 
 " What was the sigh for } If he is indeed cured — 
 and was not a man that required to be cured, which 
 I don't assert — would not that be something to be 
 pleased over ? But you are like all other women ; 
 you can never bear to hear of anyone falling out of 
 love with you — if he has once been so fortunate, or 
 unfortunate, as to fall in." 
 
 " I am sorry for him. I am sorry for any young 
 man like him, when he loses all hope and interest in 
 the world." 
 
 " I believe he is in a bad way," said Barraclough. 
 " But there is no reason why he should not come 
 round again. I believe he will. He ought to. 
 
 192
 
 The Lawyer and the Lady. 5©» 
 
 Some of us have been in just as bad a way, and 
 yet we pulled through." 
 
 " Do you mean that you " 
 
 He shook his head smilingly. 
 
 " I mean that I must be going on. You have a 
 fatal facility for making the time pass." 
 
 " I suppose it's no use asking you to stay to 
 dinner ? My husband ought to be in any minute 
 now." 
 
 " Thanks," he answered, "but I promised to be at 
 Johansen's in half an hour. Expect I shall be able 
 to get a cab at the corner. Good-bye." 
 
 " That," he thought to himself, as he paused on the 
 verandah to light a cigarette, " is distinctly one of the 
 most interesting women I know." 
 
 " A strange man," she reflected, as she looked into 
 
 the fire. " I wonder " but exactly what she 
 
 wondered was scarcely more definable than the 
 flickering firelight. 
 
 He found his cab without having to go far to look 
 for it. The drive was a fairly long one. It took him 
 through busy streets and quiet ones. The vehicle 
 clattered over wooden blocks, round street corners, 
 and along metalled roads. Many people recognised 
 him through the cab windows as he sat, cigarette 
 between his lips, looking straight before him — 
 outwardly a fine study in impassibility, inwardly 
 revolving many things. He was rather glad that 
 he had spent an hour talking to her. It had done 
 him good. She was tactful, and understood things. 
 
 193 N
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Her questions never wearied him. Her feminine 
 curiosity amused him. She knew where to begin, 
 and where to leave off. She had the supreme and 
 rare gift of appearing more interested in her com- 
 panion than in herself No, she certainly never 
 bored him. So many people did. If marriage could 
 be excused or justified in any set of circumstances, it 
 would undoubtedly be marriage with a woman like 
 that. She had mind and womanly sympathy as 
 well. She was anxious to do a good turn for this 
 young man Ward. Well, the wish did her credit. 
 There could be no selfish motive behind it. And as 
 a matter of fact the man appeared to have ability, 
 and might have done well — might even yet do well 
 if he had a chance. But then so many people had 
 ability — of a certain kind — and might do well if 
 they had the chance. 
 
 At any rate he would speak to Johansen about 
 him. Johansen might give him a lift into public life. 
 Most young men at a certain stage seemed to have 
 a hankering after public life. It did not strike 
 Barraclough as a particularly worthy ambition, but 
 still, it might be worse. Johansen was a political 
 force. If Johansen cared to interest himself, he 
 could do a great deal. 
 
 The cab stopped in front of the entrance to his 
 club. In ten minutes Barraclough had dressed for 
 dinner, and was in the cab again, 
 
 194
 
 The Lawyer and the Lady. ^ 
 
 *' Johansen," he said, as he stepped into his host's 
 private apartment after dismissing the driver, and 
 dodging past the drawing-room where some dozen 
 people were assembled, " I want to have a word with 
 you about politics." 
 
 Johansen was standing with his back to the fire- 
 place. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he said, " if you want to ask me 
 my intentions, the oracle is dumb." 
 
 "Good heavens ! " ejaculated Barraclough, "as if I 
 didn't know quite enough about them already." 
 
 The politician smiled, still standing with his back 
 to the fireplace. He motioned the visitor to help 
 himself to the sherry. 
 
 The latter poured himself out a glass. The friend- 
 ship between Johansen and himself was of long 
 standing. 
 
 " If I said that your sherry was better than your 
 politics, you would not be offended ? " 
 
 " On the contr.iry, I should take it as a delicate 
 compliment ; I should quote Charles II. : ' My sherry 
 is my own choosing ; my politics are partly chosen 
 for me.' " 
 
 " Isn't that a confession of weakness ?" 
 
 " I said * partly.' No man, not even a Gladstone 
 or a Disraeli, can choose all his politics for himself 
 He's a fool if he tries." 
 
 " I was going to ask you if you have happened to 
 come across a young fellow named Ward — " 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Barraclough ! " exclaimed Mrs. Johansen 
 195
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 bursting into the room, " do come and talk to these 
 people in the drawing-room. I have reserved Miss 
 Dorrington — the Judge's daughter, you know — for 
 you. You shall sit next her at dinner." 
 
 The Judge's daughter was beginning to look like 
 his destiny after all. With her conversing he found 
 it true that the hours have wings at their command. 
 But when he got home that night, he remembered 
 with a passing tinge of regret, that, like Pharoah's 
 butler, he had forgotten to say a word to Johansen 
 about the subject he had had in mind. 
 
 196
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SAND. 
 
 |0, /don't want to see anyone. Tell them 
 to get out." It was Arthur Ward's voice. 
 The knock was repeated. 
 
 " Confound it, woman. Don't I tell you " 
 
 A letter was pushed under the door, and there 
 was the sound of a retreating footstep. The sole 
 occupant of the room got up and looked down 
 the stairs. The trail of a vanishinLj skirt was just 
 visible. He picked up what had been thrust under 
 the door, glanced at the handwriting, and tossed 
 the missive unopened on the bed. Then he went 
 back to his seat at the disordered tabic and once 
 more buried his head in his arms. 
 
 He was in the same position nearly an hour 
 later when she came up the stairs again. Receiving 
 no answer to her knock, she opened the door. She 
 came in, tray in hand, and with a few deft touches 
 cleared a space at the littered and paper-strewn 
 table. This done, she prepared for another retreat. 
 
 197
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Her step was on the passage outside when he raised 
 his head. 
 
 "Mrs. Garburn!" 
 
 The unemotional face and sober black-draped 
 figure were once more in the room. 
 
 " I must ask your pardon. I am afraid I spoke 
 hastily when you came up a little while ago. I 
 thought it might have been — anyhow I am sorry." 
 
 " I have fallen pretty low," he muttered, after 
 she had finally disappeared, " but there is no 
 necessity to talk like a cad to a woman who is 
 trying to earn her own living." 
 
 He drank the tea she had brouglit, and felt 
 grateful to the woman for brini^ing it. He rose 
 and went to the window, looking out at the land- 
 scape, while the faintest tinge of reviving interest 
 might be seen in the eyes that were heavy and dull. 
 
 The clouds were breaking. There would be a 
 fresh breeze blowing down the harbour. The sun 
 would be shining on South Head and the smiling 
 ocean would be flecked with white. There would 
 be a breath of life in Nature and a taste of strong 
 wine in the air. The grass on the shady reaches 
 round Watson's Bay would be soft and springy. 
 The road that leads away from the city would be 
 bright and dustless. The life of the earth would 
 be young and fragrant, and would be calling with 
 the voice of the yet unborn Spring to the myriad 
 forms of life in the air above. 
 
 And outside the close, half-darkened, unlovely 
 198
 
 Sand. ^ 
 
 room in which he sat, there would be deeps calling 
 under deeps — strong and vibrating hopes growing 
 stronger before they faded (as what hopes did not 
 fade ?), and lights of mirth, and lights of love 
 kindling in the busy, animated streets, or illuming 
 the faces of the passers by. And the great city 
 itself, the great, beautiful, resplendent city, washed 
 and shining after the rain of the last twenty- four 
 hours, irridescent and gracious, and decked with 
 millions of glittering dewdrops, having its feet in 
 the waters and its brow on the hill — the city would 
 be as nearly as possible the literal fulfilment of 
 the line in the Prometheus Unbound; it would be 
 " laughing with a thousand drops of sunny water 
 to the unpavilioned sky." 
 
 Though he knew all this and felt all this — felt 
 it vaguely and subconsciously, but yet felt it — he 
 knew also that the whole scene was dead so far as 
 he was concerned, and that he had no more interest 
 in Sydney, or in any man, woman, or child in 
 Sydney, than he had in any vanished inhabitant 
 of the moon. It seemed long ages since that row 
 across the harbour. He remembered well enough 
 most of what had led up to the finding of his 
 brother ; but all that took place immediately after 
 was a blank. There had been a short, sharp attack 
 of illness — brain fever, he had been told — but it had 
 passed. Thanks to a good constitution and a 
 naturally sound nerve and brain, he was nearly, if 
 not quite, himself again, physically and mentally. 
 
 199
 
 ^^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 But was he as well mentally? That was not so 
 certain. Was it not possible that one could judge, 
 reason, argue, criticise, weigh anything and every- 
 thing in the mental scales, could see everything with 
 the mind's eye as clearly as ever before, and yet be 
 destitute of something more important than all the 
 rest ? 
 
 Mentally ? Could a man be sound mentally when 
 he was without the hopes and ambitions and the 
 desires and fears of other men ? The position was 
 that of one who possessed a machine meant to float 
 on air, a machine that had floated on air, and was 
 only prevented from floating on air again by the 
 want of that impalpable, invisible something that 
 was necessary to keep it above tiie ground. What 
 was the use of a physical framework without the 
 buoyant principle behind it ? What was the use of 
 a balloon, even a perfectly correct and marvellously 
 constructed balloon, if there was no hydrogen and the 
 balloon would not rise ? 
 
 There may appear to be something astonishing 
 and almost incomprehensible in the spectacle of a 
 man still young, more than ordinarily intelligent, and 
 organically sound, drifting into a slough of despon- 
 dency, that smothers action and renders hope 
 impossible. Overwhelming grief, or the bitterest 
 disappointment might have such an effect on some 
 natures. But so far as the grief was concerned, 
 there was not that close affinity between Ward 
 and his brother that would tend to make the loss 
 
 200
 
 Sand. 5^ 
 
 of the latter an altogether incurable and hopeless 
 regret. Neither was the alienation from Rayment, 
 and Rayment's daughter, with its resulting sense 
 of disappointment and failure, a circumstance that 
 would of itself lead to his present state of despair. 
 
 The kind of infatuation that Ward had felt for 
 Miss Rayment was almost entirely of the senses ; 
 and yet, though it was of that nature, though it 
 had little or no spiritual life, it was real enough 
 and deep enough. Gladly would Arthur have 
 idealised it and her ; willingly would he have per- 
 suaded himself that he could meet her on a purely 
 intellectual and impersonal plane — or if not exactly 
 there — on a plane where sense and spirit were finely 
 fused and intermingled. But he knew that he could 
 not. Despite his disbelief in her, the woman could 
 play on him, almost as she liked ; and now that she 
 was out of the question, it was impossible to think 
 of kindling a fire at any colder, less splendid 
 shrine. 
 
 What was there then worth hoping for or worth 
 striving for ? The foolish ambition to get on, to 
 have a lot of brainless people talking about what 
 one did or did not do, to become versed in the ridicu- 
 lous and sordid game that was called public life — this 
 at any rate had been checked. Perhaps it was just 
 as well. Then why not seek for pleasure, since the 
 so-called serious things of life did not matter? 
 Pleasure ! Where was the pleasure ? Was it in 
 wine which deadened the senses for a minute, only 
 
 201
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 to rack them for an hour ? Was it in women ? 
 Was it in song ? When a man is nearly thirty, 
 what is the use of talking to him about pleasure, 
 seeing that he has already tried it all and learned 
 the futility of it all ? 
 
 But he must rouse himself. How his friends 
 repeated that parrot cry — " Rouse yourself! " What 
 in the devil's name was there to make a man 
 rouse himself? There was no more to be gained 
 by rousing himself and going out than by staying 
 in. He flung himself down on the bed. 
 
 He must have gone to sleep again, for, as was 
 evident by the shadow on the blind, the sun was 
 almost vertical, when he was awakened by voices 
 below. 
 
 They were not loud voices ; and yet the dry, 
 hard tones of that of the woman were audible 
 all over the house. A man's step came up the stairs 
 — not a heavy step, but the step of one accustomed 
 to tread warily. There was a knock at the door. 
 The occupant of the room did not answer it, 
 hoping that the intruder, whoever he was, would 
 go away. But instead of doing so, the intruder 
 turned the handle and walked in. 
 
 Arthur raised his head languidly upon his arm. 
 
 "Sharpe," he exclaimed, dully blinking at the 
 new comer, " who on earth would have thought of 
 seeing you here ? " 
 
 The newspaper man stood for a moment with 
 his walking-stick and gloves in one hand, and his 
 
 202
 
 Sand. ."©' 
 
 hat in the other. His thin face evinced neither 
 curiosity nor surprise. He seated himself in the 
 chair nearest the door, and looked across the 
 room at Arthur, who had sat up on the bed, his 
 hair in disorder, his eyes wide open, his face sallow 
 and darkly lined. 
 
 " I suppose," said the man in the chair, " my 
 note never reached you ? " 
 
 With a sudden impulse of memory Arthur 
 fumbled on the quilt beside him. 
 
 " This must be it," he said, " but I haven't 
 opened it." 
 
 He proceeded to do so. 
 
 " No matter ; it was only to say 1 intended to call 
 round, I would like for business' and other reasons 
 to have a word with you." 
 
 " Business* and other reasons ! T am afraid you 
 have come to the wrong shop if you want to talk 
 business with me. But excuse me a minute." 
 
 He got up and raised the blind an inch or two, 
 half letting in the sunlight, and revealing more 
 plainly the unusual pallor of his face. He poured 
 some water into a basin and plunged his head into 
 it. The sudden shock revived him. He produced a 
 bottle and two glasses from a cupboard. 
 
 " Help yourself," he said to Sharpe as he applied a 
 towel to his much-disordered hair. " There's a clean 
 glass, and there's a bottle in front of you. It might 
 be a graceful thing to apologise for the state of the 
 room. It doesn't look beautiful, but then no one is 
 
 203
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 bound to stay in it longer than he likes. No pressure 
 on anyone to remain, I assure you." 
 
 He dropped wearily into the only unoccupied 
 chair. A person of quick sensibilities might have 
 taken offence at this reception. But Sharpe was not 
 that person. 
 
 "Better knock this off," he remarked, indicating 
 the bottle ; " it won't do you any good if you keep 
 on at it." 
 
 There was just a tinge of rising colour in the 
 other man's face. 
 
 *' Thanks, I am much obliged for the advice. A 
 pity you don't seem to like brandy. I'm sorry there 
 isn't anything else on the premises." 
 
 Still, with the same unmoved expression, Sharpe 
 reached over to the bottle, poured a little into the 
 glass, and, after diluting with a liberal dose of 
 water, sipped it slowly. 
 
 " No prejudice on my part," he remarked. 
 
 " Ah, it's a great relief to me to hear that." 
 
 "I came to see you " began Sharpe with much 
 
 deliberation. 
 
 " You did," assented Arthur, with an audible sigh. 
 
 " Do you want me to explain why ? " 
 
 "Just as you please, and provided it won't take too 
 long." 
 
 Sharpe looked up with a sudden gleam in his 
 bright, magpie eyes. This reception was so far from 
 being cordial that it was almost wanting in common 
 civility, and he was secretly rather surprised. He 
 
 204
 
 Sand. 5fr 
 
 knew Ward but slightly — he had met him once 
 or twice in the Recorder office, and had heard a good 
 deal about him since his brother's death — and a want 
 of courtesy was the last thing he would have 
 suspected. He seemed to be on the point of making 
 some meaning and rather emphatic reply, but if 
 that had been his intention he altered it. Perhaps 
 he remembered the part the Recorder had played in 
 a recent political disclosure. Perhaps he also remem- 
 bered that the name of Arthur Ward had been 
 mentioned in the matter. And it did not require 
 much intuition to discover reasons why the man he 
 was speaking to should not care for further dealings 
 with the journal Sharpe represented. Moreover, the 
 face before him told its own tale. It was the face of 
 one who had latterly gone through a great deal, 
 and for whom some allowance could well be made. 
 No wonder the palefaced man before him was 
 impatient ; no wonder his nerves were on edge. 
 
 " It is simply this," said Sharpe, speaking in the 
 same even tone ; " we knew — that is to say, I knew — 
 you had been very much in Queer Street lately. I 
 was sorry to hear it. Probably it doesn't matter 
 to you whether I was sorry or not, but anyhow 
 I was." 
 
 There was a pause, but no reply. 
 
 " Best thing you can do is to rouse yourself straight 
 away." 
 
 Arthur, with his head resting on his hand, gave a 
 scornful sound that resembled a laugh. 
 
 205
 
 «o^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Anyone would think you had been talking to 
 Mrs. Garburn. If she has said that once she has 
 said it a hundred times. She must have been priming 
 you." 
 
 " The lady with the doleful countenance ? We 
 exchanged no confidences. But if she has said it, 
 it's perfectly true." 
 
 "Why should I rouse myself.'' You know quite 
 well there is nothing worth rousing yourself about." 
 
 " Rot ! " exclaimed Sharpe, producing a cigarette 
 and waxing it carefully. " And you know quite well 
 it is." 
 
 Arthur stared at him. 
 
 " Now, look here, Sharpe, you didn't come here to 
 talk about my health, or my state of mind either. 
 What is it you want ? What axe have you got to 
 grind this time ? You might as well say straight out 
 and have done with it" 
 
 The other man sat back in his chair. 
 
 " You don't believe, then," he said, with more than 
 usual deliberation, " that I am anxious to do you a 
 good turn ? " 
 
 " No, I don't see why you should be. I don't 
 believe it." 
 
 " The strange thing is that it happens to be true. 
 And in doing you this good turn, there is a chance 
 of doing one for myself as well." 
 
 "Ah, that's different. That is the horse of the 
 colour I was looking for." 
 
 " Damnation ! If you're going to talk like that — 
 206
 
 Sand. ^ 
 
 but " — with a swift return to his normal manner — 
 " the chief benefits will be yours." He took another 
 sip of the weak brandy and water, and looked over 
 the glass at the other man, " You've got some 
 political leanings ? " 
 
 " Got what ? " 
 
 " Political leanings — aspirations, ambitions, wliat- 
 ever you like to call them. You can speak on a 
 public platform, and wouldn't fall down in front of 
 an audience. Well, come to the meeting of the 
 Progressive League on Saturday night. Get up and 
 make a speech." 
 
 "I must say," rejoined Arthur, "that's a brilliant 
 ide^. Get up and make a speech ! A lot of good 
 that would do me, or do them either." 
 
 " Wait a minute. You know they will be choosing 
 candidates for the next General Election shortly. 
 You know that? Very well. If you go there and 
 let 'em see you — and talk to 'em — and let it be 
 known for an absolute certainty that you are in 
 earnest — you have a first-rate chance of being chosen 
 as one of their candidates in October. I mean it. 
 There's no need to look as if you were attending 
 your own funeral. They know something of you ; 
 they have been hearing a lot about you lately. 
 They know you were mixed up with politics before — 
 before zV happened. They are not sticks ; they have 
 got their sympathies. And I think, in fact I know, 
 that you would have a chance." 
 
 •' But," exclaimed Arthur, wondering and incredu- 
 207
 
 •o^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 lous, yet with some light of dawning interest in his 
 face, " I always understood they were a Labour 
 crowd." 
 
 " So they are, the great majority of them. But 
 they let in others, and if they can get a man who can 
 talk, and will fight their battles for them — a man 
 who is in earnest, mind you, and has got brains — 
 they don't care whether he is a blacksmith or the 
 son of the Great Mogul." 
 
 The light played for a moment in the other man's 
 eyes, then died down again. 
 
 " No use," he said hopelessly, " they'd stick to their 
 own crowd. I shouldn't have a million-to-one chance 
 with any of them." 
 
 " That," said Sharpe, " is where I come in." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Going on your own you would not have much 
 chance. But with the paper behind you, you would. 
 And I can promise you — conditionally, of course, and 
 with certain reservations — I can promise you we 
 would be ready to back you up." 
 
 Arthur got up, thrust his hands into his pockets, 
 and took a couple of turns across the room. After 
 all, this had stirred him more than a month's dosing 
 with quinine and iron could have done. But the old 
 hopelessness, combined with the old suspicion of the 
 man who had made this offer, came back. 
 
 "Very good of you," he said, while a sense of 
 obligation struggled with his unbelief, " but where 
 does the benefit to yourself come in ? " 
 
 2oS
 
 Sand. 5^ 
 
 " We want to win three city seats at the election. 
 We ought to win three on the advanced Democratic 
 ticket — not the Labour ticket exactly, but something 
 very like it. We are pretty sure of two, and you — 
 you must be the third. There is the fellow McNeill 
 who spouts socialism in the Park ; he's been spoken 
 of We can't stand him at any price. Then there's 
 Hawkins, the brewer : he's the other extreme. 
 Someone betwixt and between, someone whose 
 programme is advanced, but who won't drag the 
 party in the mud — that's what we're looking for. 
 I've mentioned your name to the editor. He didn't 
 take to you much at first, but now he rather likes the 
 idea. Bears no malice towards yourself I assure 
 you, for anything that may have passed. He only 
 wants you to speak publicly before we decide to do 
 anything. As to the benefit to myself" — he blew a 
 smoke cloud with an exaggerated slowness that was 
 almost painful to watch — " if you are my selection — 
 and you get in — so much the better for me." 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 There was a pause, and the newspaper man 
 reached for his hat which was lying on the table. 
 
 " At any rate, come to the meeting on Saturday. 
 It's an open meeting. We'll expect to see you there, 
 and expect to hear you. I needn't say that all this 
 is strictly between ourselves." 
 
 Arthur felt he might have been doing the man an 
 injustice. 
 
 *' Afraid I was rather uncivil," he said. 
 
 209 O
 
 ^5 Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Don't mention it. But I tell you what it is : you 
 must get out and do something. You must liven up. 
 If you don't you'll be in the river or the lunatic 
 asylum before long. What are you going to do 
 to-night?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Meet me outside the Palace at eight. We'll have 
 a look in at the green-room, and I'll introduce you 
 to a couple of friends of mine. Nice girls — clever 
 girls — nothing nasty about them. We'll have a glass 
 of wine together. For your own good, you know. If 
 you don't brisk up and get out of this, you'll be as 
 mad as a hatter before the elections come on. And I 
 don't want to go hunting all over Sydney for 
 another candidate. Remember — eight o'clock." 
 
 The thin, shrewd man, with the magpie eyes, had 
 come and gone. But he had left something behind 
 him. He had left some oxygen in the air. Not 
 that his motives were altogether to be trusted. 
 Not that it was possible to believe the cool, 
 calculating brain was genuinely anxious about the 
 success of anything except its own schemes. And 
 yet he had spoken of things that might even yet 
 come to pass. They might — might ! Once hoped 
 for, then forgotten, lost sight of, buried fathoms deep 
 under oceans of despairing bitterness, they might yet 
 be realised ! And in the meantime what was that 
 about the Palace Theatre and the appointment at 
 eight o'clock ? Not because any pleasure was to be 
 expected — and as a matter of fact he was certain 
 
 210
 
 Sand. ^ 
 
 the performance would bore him to extinction — but 
 because Sharpe had asked him, he would go. And 
 he went. 
 
 It was a brilliantly-lit theatre, a gay and crowded 
 theatre. For twenty minutes, perhaps for half an 
 hour or more, the only impression one member of 
 the audience had was that there was something 
 bright and glaring in front of him ; something which 
 resembled a great over-coloured drop scene shot 
 across, with moving figures that danced and pirouetted 
 and sang and then vanished, only to be replaced by 
 other figures — or were they the same figures come 
 back ? Whether they were marionettes or flesh and 
 blood, whether they were really singing, or whether 
 the incessant beat and rhythm and swell of sound 
 was from within and not from without, whether the 
 whole spectacle was real, and whether if it was real 
 it signified anything, Arthur Ward for that first 
 twenty minutes or half an hour did not consider. 
 Such was the lingering effect of three months' gloom 
 and isolation, that he did not really know whetlier 
 what was passing before his eyes was all a phantas- 
 magoria or not. 
 
 Gradually the surroundings had their effect. He 
 found himself applauding with the rest of the 
 house a sparkling and effective piece of dancing. It 
 was a voluptuous whirl that began softly and slowly 
 and ended by setting the imagination of the onlookers 
 aflame. After all it was getting interesting. He 
 was not so sorry he had come. And here "she" was 
 
 211
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 coming back again. Bravo ! That was the kind of 
 thing that was wanted. It made you forget. She 
 was going to dance again. No, she was not. Merely 
 a bow, and the curtain was down. The first part 
 was over. He looked at Sharpe, but that inscrutable 
 person showed no sign of enthusiasm. He was not 
 looking at the stage, but seemed to have been carrying 
 on a conversation, chiefly by means of nods and 
 monosyllables, with a third member of the party 
 seated on his left. 
 
 The performance had ended ; and the next fact of 
 which Ward was clearly conscious was that he was 
 getting into a four-wheeler outside the Theatre door. 
 The crowd was swarming outside like bees. He got 
 into the cab — his two male companions and two 
 other cloaked figures were inside it already — and 
 they drove away. It was not a long drive. It ended 
 at Mandano's, and the next rising of the curtain — 
 not a stage curtain this time — revealed a brilliantly 
 appointed supper-room, cosily lighted, glittering with 
 glasses, shining with silver ornaments on hospitable- 
 looking tables. His companions, these people with 
 him, were merry and friendly. One of them was the 
 girl whose dancing only a couple of hours before had 
 set the house in a tumult. And one of them — in the 
 circumstances it was a strange meeting — was Geoffrey 
 O'Brien. 
 
 The champagne, called for by O'Brien, flowed 
 freely. The laughter from the girls was unforced 
 and musical. O'Brien was the hero of the minute. 
 
 212
 
 Sand. ^ 
 
 Arthur heard the words spoken to Sharpe across the 
 table : 
 
 " Your friend is rather dull to-night." 
 
 Dull! He was dull, was he? The word seemed 
 to sting as a much more abusive epithet could never 
 have done. He would let them see whether he was 
 dull. When one came to think of it, there was no 
 excuse for the offence with which he had just heard 
 himself charged. Provided a man were amusing, 
 provided he had something to say and could help 
 to make the time pass, it did not matter what crime 
 he had committed, from bigamy to piracy on the 
 high seas. It did not matter to the company he was 
 in : it was purely an affair between himself and the 
 Crown Law Department. But to be dull ! What a 
 lot of muddy-mettled rascals there were in the world, 
 to be sure ! He was beginning to think he must be 
 one of them. That at any rate must be amended. 
 More wine arrived at his bidding ; and for half an hour, 
 for an hour, he could hear himself talking, laughing, 
 joking, complimenting the girls, bantering the men, 
 scattering all manner of sentiments, some witty, 
 some preposterous, round the table. He could hear 
 answering echoes of laughter : whether they were 
 laughing wiih him or at him he did not know, and 
 did not much care. 
 
 Finally he rose to go; but he was too unaccustomed, 
 or had been too unaccustomed lately to this kind of 
 thing. It was too sudden a change, and he was 
 obliged to put his hand on the table for support. 
 
 213
 
 ¥^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Sit down," exclaimed Sharpe, touching a bell. 
 "Must have one more. It's my turn now." 
 
 " No more to-night," said Ward, feeling just a 
 trifle unsteady on his feet. " Don't like to leave 
 you, but I must. Hallo ! " 
 
 The last was an expression of blank astonishment. 
 
 " What is she doing in this gallery ? " 
 
 The girl had put down the wine that Sharpe had 
 rung for, and as she was leaving the room he caught 
 a glimpse of her face. She had given him one 
 startled look. It was the velvet-voiced singer of a 
 certain memorable occasion. 
 
 " Fancy you being here," he said, heedless of the 
 others and ignoring the girl's evident embarrassment. 
 " I'm pleased to see you — I've been ill, you know. 
 Who would have thought — whatever are you doing 
 here ? " 
 
 The sight of her had brought many things back 
 again. She was leaving the room, and scarcely 
 knowing what he was doing, obeying only a blind 
 impulse, he started towards the door to detain her. 
 His foot must have caught in something ; there was 
 a crash, lights danced and went out, and he felt — was 
 it an hour, or a week, or a second afterwards ? — that 
 someone was helping to raise him from the floor on 
 which he had ignominiously fallen. 
 
 214
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 COLOURS ON THE LAWN: 
 
 H, my dear, lamented, long-lost Geoffrey, 
 what do you think of me? I haven't 
 written to you since the night we got 
 to Tilbury, and now we are at one of the Swiss 
 Lakes." 
 
 These were the opening sentences of the letter 
 that O'Brien was reading while lounging in the 
 smoking-room of the Melbourne Club. 
 
 " I hope you haven't forgotten me, Geoffrey. I 
 must have thought of you on the average at least 
 once a day. It's a beautiful thing, affection — 
 especially in the mild and homoeopathic way in 
 which you and I know how to indulge in it. 
 How exhausting it would be if we were violently 
 in love with one another. You wouldn't know 
 yourself, my poor Geoffrey. Yet, only last night 
 I was thinking I would like to see you again. It 
 was on the balcony of this Swiss hotel, looking 
 over the silent lake ; and I sighed a quite audible 
 sigh. Mother thought it was a yawn, and said I 
 
 215
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 ought to go to bed. But I assured her that it 
 wasn't that at all ; that it came from the heart 
 and was intended for you. She thereupon became 
 quite alarmed. How charmingly she does mis- 
 understand me, dear mother. 
 
 " What a strange, unreal, dreamy, fascinating, 
 delightful, disappointing time it has been ! What 
 a crowd of new experiences ! What oceans of 
 things to look back upon ! And what tons more 
 to look forward to ! But yet — and this is the 
 curious part of it — the reality is always a little 
 less than what you expected. It is very nice to 
 look forward to, and nice to look back upon, but 
 while you have got it and are actually taking it 
 in, it doesn't amount to so much. All this sight- 
 seeing must be like drinking absinthe — pleasant in 
 anticipation and pleasant afterwards, but not 
 always pleasant while it is going on. No, that's 
 not an original remark. I won't try to be original 
 until I have got to earn my own living like so 
 many other poor wretches. And if I have to 
 take to writing for a living, I will be as original 
 as they like, and just as shocking as any publisher 
 could desire. 
 
 " England — did I tell you what I thought of 
 England } I won't tell you. All you want to 
 know, you know already. You've been here ; the 
 facts you can get for yourself, and the impressions 
 you don't care about. You are not quite im- 
 pressionable enough, my Geoffrey. I must alter 
 
 216
 
 Colours on the Lawn. ^ 
 
 you there. The man who is all impressionism is 
 dreadful, but you go too far the other way. I 
 will be Charles II. to you and you shall be Nell 
 Gwynne — I saw the play in London a fortnight ago. 
 He tells her to darken her left eyebrow a little. For 
 Heaven's sake, Geoffrey, darken the eyebrow of your 
 imagination just a little. Have you read those Songs 
 before Sunrise I sent you ? 
 
 " We stayed in London at the Hotel Cecil. You 
 were there some years ago, so you know all about 
 it. We went to the House of Commons and listened 
 to a debate. We went to the Abbey. We looked 
 at the stones and figures and walls that are as old 
 as William Rufus. We worshipped, or at least, I 
 did, at the shrines of the Plantagenets. I drank 
 in the air of the place till I was intoxicated, and 
 didn't know where I was. I really thought I could 
 see the world moving away from me like the walls 
 of a dissolving house. I really thought I could see 
 the men sleeping there going out to fight. I thought 
 those queer old, heavily-built ships were lying waiting 
 for them in the Channel, ready to sail away to 
 France. I thought I could see them with their 
 armour on, and one of them was just asking me 
 ' A cup of sack, girl,' before he started off. I was 
 going to run out and get it. I knew there would 
 be grass growing outside in the London streets. 
 I knew the bonneted Plantagenet women would 
 be waiting with arms at their sides, talking and 
 flirting and smiling like a Rembrandt picture, and 
 
 217
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 one of them would give me the cup I wanted to 
 take to my hero. I knew all that — I knew nothing 
 else until mamma touched me on the arm, and we 
 were walking along Pall Mall. 
 
 "We went to everything. You know what the 
 round is. We went to Major Wrong's mansion, 
 or rather, palace. He made his money out of 
 Companies. I went to a ball there — none of your 
 cheap and nasty balls, but a real, toney, slap-up 
 affair, with a duke and a duchess turned on to 
 make it respectable, and beautiful lights, and ferns, 
 and mirrors, and uniforms, and silks, and dresses — 
 wonderful, Geoffrey, simply wonderful ! And the 
 English women. Oh, these English women ! I 
 read somewhere that one virtuous English woman 
 is a match for the whole ten thousand virgins of 
 Cologne. I can quite believe it. You ought to 
 come over here and marry one, and get her to 
 take you in hand. There is only one thing on 
 earth quite so outwardly and severely and respectably 
 virtuous as the middle-class Englishwoman, and that 
 is the English member of the House of Commons. 
 I am judging by the two that we had to dinner 
 here one night. I wanted to meet Mr. Chamberlain, 
 but haven't had the chance. Father met him some- 
 where — I think it was in a crush at the Agent 
 General's — and he told us about it in a very im- 
 portant tone of voice, and said he thought highly 
 of Mr. Chamberlain. I haven't heard what Mr. 
 Chamberlain thinks of father. 
 
 218
 
 Colours on the Lawn. 5^ 
 
 " I have met some of the literary people. They 
 are a curious, mixed lot, these literary Englishmen. 
 One of them who is making nearly five thousand 
 a year by his books, is the quietest and most 
 modest man you ever saw. Such a fine forehead, 
 and such deep, quiet eyes. A man who doesn't 
 advertise. They try to lionise him, but it's no 
 use ; he simply won't be lionised. I met him at 
 a garden party where there were lots of Colonials, 
 and when he found that I didn't want to stare at 
 him, or to pump him with questions about himself, 
 he was willing to talk. And I listened. That is 
 the really great man for you. But there are such 
 hundreds of the other sort — men who have been 
 to Oxford and Cambridge, and who have nothing 
 to do, and think they might as well do it by 
 scribbling articles for papers, and bringing out what 
 they call novels. Fleet Street is alive with them. 
 One of this kind called to see me three days 
 running at the Cecil. The first day he came he 
 told me that his book on — 'Haw! — "The Seventh 
 Commandment," or something like that — was — Aw! 
 coming out in Decembah ! ' The third time he 
 came, he sat in a chair in our private drawing-room, 
 sucked the end of his stick and simply stared at 
 me. Just to say something, I asked him if he 
 found me interesting. What do you think he said ? 
 ' Vewy interesting — Australian type always is — 
 might want to put you in a book, don't you know.' 
 I told him quite plainly that he could look for 
 
 219
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 his types somewhere else, and that I was afraid 
 I wouldn't be at home much in the future. And 
 he didn't call again. 
 
 " I had a fright the other day. I thought I was 
 old. This has nothing to do with what I have 
 been writing about, but that is the beauty of writing 
 letters — you needn't bother about the connections. 
 I might write a book some of these days if one 
 hadn't to worry so much about the connections. 
 But I thought I was old. It was in the English 
 country. You know the town of Sevenoaks, in 
 Kent, with its trees, and hedges, and grass, and 
 more trees, and more hedges, and more grass. 
 Only about twenty miles from London, but what 
 a change ! We were staying there for a few days, 
 and I went for a walk by myself in Knole Park. 
 It was autumn — the saddest, strangest, loveliest 
 time of the year. Shall I ever forget it, that walk 
 in the woods in the English autumn ? You know 
 those leaves that Shelley writes about — you don't 
 know, but that doesn't matter — yellow and black, 
 and hectic red, the " pestilence-stricken " multitudes 
 of them? They were falling, falling, falling every- 
 where as if a pestilence really had struck them, and 
 the winds werewhispering that sad, mysterious whisper 
 we don't hear in Australia, because the leaves don't 
 fall. And the bare branches of the trees were just 
 beginning to show themselves, and there were all 
 sorts of sighings and murmurings, and the breath 
 that came up from the north was icy cold. I knew 
 
 220
 
 Colours on the Lawn. 5^ 
 
 that these wonderful old English woods had been 
 English woods for hundreds of years before the 
 Normans came. I knew they were fading and 
 dying, but I knew that in the spring they would 
 grow beautiful again. And I felt old, old, old, 
 Geoffrey — I was thirty if I was a day. 
 
 "But Paris — Paris revived me. I was nineteen all 
 the time I was in Paris. Did I ever confess to you 
 that I was twenty-eight ? Foolish if I did, because, 
 even now, in the good, broad daylight I don't look 
 a bit more than twenty-six. And to think that I 
 have gone through so — but that isn't what I was 
 writing about. 
 
 " Paris, Paris, Paris. I simply write it down for 
 the pleasure of writing it — simply to make you 
 jealous in your little Sydney or Melbourne over 
 there. I expect you are in Melbourne, as Cup time 
 will be due when this reaches you. And you think 
 there are pretty girls and pretty dresses at Fleming- 
 ton, do you? You think the geraniums are lovely 
 around the grand stand, and the view over the Salt- 
 water is very fine and large? It's twelve months 
 since I was at Flemington, so I can't be expected to 
 remember. But didn't you like Paris .-' Didn't you 
 really love Paris ? What did you think of Versailles } 
 Didn't you realise that you were in another world 
 when you took your first stroll in the Champs 
 Elysees? And didn't you — even you, my practical, 
 unromantic Geoffrey — feel a thrill of some kind 
 when you stood on the site of the old B.istillc? I 
 
 221
 
 4>c Bubble Reputation. 
 
 don't expect you did. You liked the Opera House 
 best. And even there we had the advantage of you. 
 We heard Cavalieri sing. I sat in the box, and two 
 Frenchmen who spoke perfect English sat on either 
 side of me ; and what with the lovely music and the 
 lovely building and the lovely idiotic compliments they 
 paid me — while mamma was kind enough to talk to 
 some other woman on the other side of her — what 
 with all this, I felt pleased enough and happy 
 enough and wicked enough to break all the Ten 
 Commandments at a smash. 
 
 " Adieu ! Geoffrey, perhaps for only a little while. 
 We have been in Holland, and after doing Switzer- 
 land will go on to Venice and then home. I 
 seem to have crowded all sorts of things into the 
 last few weeks, but I am not out of love with 
 Australia. I am not out of love with you, Geoffrey. 
 You are not a genius — at least, you don't pretend to 
 be one — but I should die if I had to marry a genius. 
 And if" — (the words, " circumstances permit" lined 
 out, and " you think the same " written above 
 them) — "if you think the same, there is no knowing 
 what the fates may hold for us two. 
 
 " Your affectionate 
 
 " Maud. 
 " P.S. Is it true that that peculiar man — what's 
 his name? — Le Mercier, has mysteriously dis- 
 appeared .-* What do you think has become of him ? 
 Has our friend Mr. Ward quite recovered his 
 health and spirits again?" 
 
 222
 
 Colours on the Lawn. ^ 
 
 This letter was in O'Brien's pocket, and its 
 contents were metaphorically running through his 
 head when he stepped into a cab that afternoon and 
 directed the driver to Government House. The 
 impressionist portion of it did not affect him one 
 way or the other. It was not the kind of letter that 
 he would have written himself, and that about the 
 Frenchmen in the box was — er, well, it might have 
 been left out. But when a fellow likes that sort of 
 girl, he supposed he had to expect that sort of 
 thing. 
 
 But if he was not a genius, O'Brien was, within 
 his own compass, not a fool. He had a thoroughly 
 good idea that the postscript was not thrown 
 in by accident. In fact, he was tolerably well 
 satisfied that the mind of the writer was running 
 more on those two or three lines of postscript 
 than on London or Paris or Switzerland, or any 
 of the other topics with which she had covered these 
 pages. 
 
 She had mentioned no one, asked after no one, 
 except those two. Who on earth was this fellow 
 Le Mercier? And why did she write as if she had 
 forgotten his name, when she knew it as well as her 
 own ? That she knew more about him than the public 
 at large, O'Brien had long been convinced, but /lozu 
 muck she knew was a mystery. It was a dashed 
 nasty business altogether, and he didn't like to 
 think about it. That a girl like Maud Rayment — 
 a girl whom he had serious thoughts of marrying, by 
 
 223
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Jove ! — should have had anything to do with this 
 fellow, was not pleasant to contemplate. He was 
 willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but he 
 didn't like the look of it at all. As to the other 
 man, it was reasonable, perhaps, that she should ask 
 after him. He dare say she was sorry for the poor 
 beggar. O'Brien was sorry for him himself. Not 
 a nice thing to have a brother killed like that. Must 
 give a man a shock that he wouldn't get over in 
 a hurry. 
 
 The idea struck O'Brien as the cab carried him 
 over Princes Bridge and along the St. Kilda Road, 
 that Johansen and Barraclough and one or two 
 other big men that he knew would be at Government 
 House that afternoon. They were all over from 
 Sydney for the Cup, and would be certain to be at 
 the Garden Party. He might mention Ward's name 
 to them. They were men of money and influence ; 
 they could easily do anyone a good turn if they 
 wished to. Geoffrey knew quite well that 
 Ward was too proud to ask for favours himself. 
 It was rather queer, when one came to think of 
 it, that he should be putting himself out for the 
 sake of a man who didn't belong to his own set. 
 It was the sort of thing a fellow might do when he 
 was recovering from an illness, or was feeling weak 
 in the head, or had just won a big bet at the races. 
 No one of these contingencies had lately happened to 
 himself He concluded there could be only one 
 motive. He must be even more anxious to please 
 
 224
 
 Colours on the Lawn. ^ 
 
 Maud Rayment and more struck on her than he 
 had imagined. 
 
 With this solution of the problem before him, 
 and with the unaccustomed benevolent impulse 
 still uppermost in his mind, he drove through the 
 gates. 
 
 The people he had been reckoning upon were all 
 there. It was the gayest and most representative 
 crowd of the season. The gathering represented 
 all parts of Australia ; but all those present were 
 included in one or another of three classes. They 
 were, first, the people who were something — people 
 like the visiting Governors, occasional sprigs of 
 English nobility, and here and there a baronet or 
 two ; they were, secondly, the people who had done 
 something — people among whom were successful 
 politicians, barristers, and other professional men ; 
 they were, thirdly, the people who owned some- 
 thing — people among whom was included Geoffrey 
 himself. 
 
 It was a great feminine festival. Every woman who 
 had come to this Garden Party as well as some 
 hundreds who had expected to come, but whom the 
 Aide-de-camp had absent-mindedly passed over, 
 had expended hours and days in a study of shades 
 and harmonies. The fate of so much had depended 
 on so little. Instead of being bright, the day might 
 be cloudy. And to be ideally perfect the costume 
 had to match not only the gloves and the sunshade, 
 but the colour of the day. Hundreds of women, 
 
 225 P
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 who would not have risked more than half-a-crown 
 on the Melbourne Cup Race, had plunged recklessly 
 on the chances of clear weather. And in this 
 instance they had won. It was a carnival of mixed 
 pretentiousness and daintiness and vulgarity and 
 refinement — but what carnival is not ? A peacock- 
 like display of social feathers, unredeemed by heart 
 or soul or intellectual meaning — but what big social 
 function, whether in the New World or in the Old, 
 is not the same ? O'Brien, for one, was satisfied with 
 the prospect, and satisfied with his own part of it. 
 The unpleasant habit of moralising had never taken 
 possession of him. He plunged into the crowd, 
 keeping an eye open for those whose attention he 
 wanted to attract. 
 
 Meanwhile a group of three, all persons of 
 some distinction in a fairly wide circle, were talking 
 together on a less frequented part of the lawn. 
 O'Brien did not notice them. If he had he might 
 have hesitated to come forward, for while one of 
 them was Johansen and another Barraclough, 
 the third was the visiting Governor of New South 
 Wales. 
 
 " It is not for me to urge you, Mr. Barraclough," 
 said the Governor, " but we are speaking in confi- 
 dence, and I should like very much to see experience 
 and ability properly represented in the Common- 
 wealth Parliament. As one who stands outside 
 party, but is really fond of this country and wishes 
 it well, I feel bound to say as much, even at the 
 
 226
 
 Colours on the Lawn, ^'^o* 
 
 risk of being called to account by some of your 
 professing democrats if I said it publicly," 
 
 " Your Excellency is never anything but discreet," 
 answered Barraclough, with studied politeness. 
 
 " Ah ! " responded His Majesty's representative, 
 " I thought we had agreed that on every Im- 
 perialist there reposed at present most pressing 
 responsibilities." 
 
 " I am afraid it's no use," chimed in Johansen 
 " I have told him a dozen times that he ou^ht to 
 come forward, if not for the State House, at least 
 for the Federal Parliament. Next year there will 
 be a new order of tilings — bigger questions, bigger 
 responsibilities, bigger men. At least, I hope there 
 will be bigger men." 
 
 " I am an Englishman and perhaps prejudiced," 
 went on the Governor ; " correct me if I am. But 
 it certainly strikes me, as an Englishman, that a 
 section of your people are getting too much power. 
 Of course, one mustn't say what section. Perhaps 
 in the old country, we require some shaking up ; 
 perhaps our Liberal and Conservative lines are a 
 trifle stereotyped. But here it does seem to me you 
 are going too far — I am afraid much too far." 
 
 Johansen closed his lips firmly while this was 
 being said, and looked far in front of him. He had 
 the look of a man thinking over problems of vast 
 import. There was this peculiarity about Johansen 
 that even when speakin^j; about small matters to a 
 small audience on a small platform he could com- 
 
 227
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 mand the expression of an Emperor surveying con- 
 tending armies. His friends adored him for this 
 trait in his character, and his enemies wondered how 
 he did it. 
 
 " If," he went on, still with the same fine look 
 from under the fine forehead, " if I have any voice 
 in the destinies of united Australia, I shall endeavour 
 to prevent any Party from going to extremes." 
 
 " And what about you, Mr. Barraclough," persisted 
 the Governor, " isn't it possible to inspire you with 
 imperial, if not with political, enthusiasm } Knowing 
 what you must know — seeing what you must have 
 seen — a man of your ability, too." 
 
 The recipient of these attentions shook his head 
 with a deprecating smile. 
 
 " You are too kind." 
 
 " You are still young ; you have your life in front 
 of you." 
 
 " You are much too kind — and too mistaken." 
 
 The Governor laughed. " Well, we needn't discuss 
 it further. I shall hope to hear of you when the first 
 Federal Ministry — or, if not that, the second— is 
 being formed. Ah, they are coming. That is the 
 worst of being a man in my position — solitude a deux 
 or even solitude ct trots is a luxury almost unknown 
 to us." 
 
 There was a babel of voices, and the three were 
 carried in different directions. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Barraclough ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Barraclough, how do you do ? " 
 228
 
 Colours on the Lawn. ^ 
 
 " Mrs. Harper, how do you do ? Miss Dorrington, 
 it would not be true if I said it was an unexpected 
 pleasure to see you." 
 
 " Which would not be true — the pleasure or the 
 unexpected ? " 
 
 " I am not to be taken off my guard like that. 
 Has your charge — " this to Mrs. Harper — " heard so 
 few flattering speeches lately that she is prepared to 
 listen to one from me .-' " 
 
 " Possibly she is ambitious, and desires to go down 
 to history as /<? vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre." 
 
 " In that case," turning round to the girl, " I am 
 only too willing to be conquered. I will begin at 
 once to swell the chorus of morituri te salutatit." 
 
 Miss Dorrington tossed her head with very pretty 
 scorn. 
 
 *' Oh, you are too clever and too classical for me. 
 The Aide-de-camp is much more understandable." 
 
 " Clever and classical," repeated the lawyer. " And 
 I had thought it was a contradiction in terms, and 
 that to be clever you had to be anti-classical in these 
 days" 
 
 " What was the Governor saying to you just now } 
 I know you won't tell me, but I was determined to 
 ask you, all the same." 
 
 For answer he gave a glance round him. 
 
 " You have been most basely deserted. Mrs. 
 Harper has responded to a call from some enemy 
 of yours in ambush, and has left you alone with 
 me. 
 
 229
 
 ^§ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " How sweet — I mean how aggravating of her ! 
 There are some chairs over there under that tree." 
 
 " Now," she exclaimed, ** I mean to stay here for, 
 at least, ten minutes. They're not going to move 
 me on again. They've been moving me on all day. 
 I seem to have been walking for hours. Don't you 
 think," with a quick look at him, " it's very pleasant 
 here?" 
 
 ** Very pleasant," he answered, leaning forward 
 and idly flicking the grass with his disengaged 
 glove, " very pleasant indeed," 
 
 " We saw Mr. O'Brien a few minutes ago. He 
 said he wanted to speak to you, so I suppose he 
 may come along at any moment." 
 
 " Let us hope for the best." 
 
 " What is that ? " queried the lady. 
 
 " That he won't find me." 
 
 •' Thank you — that is, if any compliment is in- 
 tended. You see, you are so elliptical and so 
 oracular, that one never knows how to take you. 
 People never know when to believe you, except 
 when you are speaking in Court, and then you 
 have a way of making the Judge and jury and 
 everyone else believe you. At least, that's what 
 I've heard them say. Don't you think it's very 
 strange .■* Just when you could afford to be natural, 
 people don't think you are ; and just when they 
 know you must be acting a part, they can't help 
 being carried away by you." 
 
 He was looking across at the pavilion and at 
 230
 
 Colours on the Lawn. ^^ 
 
 the intervening lawn dotted with moving figures. 
 His lips parted slightly as if about to speak, and 
 then closed firmly as if he had registered a mental 
 vow that he would not let himself be tempted. 
 
 " Well ? " she queried. 
 
 " Well," he replied, " I was thinking that if Mr. 
 O'Brien doesn't find me presently, your Aide-de-camp 
 will soon be here after you. There he is now, by 
 the pavilion." 
 
 " With the usual crowd of adoring spinsters round 
 him. He looks as though he was having a good 
 time." 
 
 His next words rather astonished her. 
 
 "You know that at a word from you he would 
 leave them all lamenting." 
 
 " Oh ! " The directness of the attack sent a swift 
 wave of colour over her face. " I know no such 
 thing. He has never told me anything of the kind. 
 I don't know how you can say it." 
 
 " If you ask me my candid opinion," went on 
 Barraclough quietly, " I really think he is better 
 than the rest of them." 
 
 This was not contradicted. 
 
 " Sets off his uniform well — but that's what they 
 are chosen for. Made a hundred for his University 
 against Cambridge — in these days of croquet and 
 ping-pong, that's distinctly in his favour." 
 
 She smiled and turned to the speaker with bright 
 eyes and animated face. She was distinctly pretty. 
 He looked at her, and then looked away. 
 
 231
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation . 
 
 " Of course," she said, " he is not like you." 
 
 He again leaned forward, his chin resting on his 
 hand, and his hand supported by an elbow on his 
 knee. His next words were a long time coming. 
 
 "No," he said slowly, "he is not like me. And 
 it is quite possible that there may be no marked 
 resemblance even when " 
 
 " When what ? " 
 
 " When he is wise enough and old enough to talk 
 to you about things and people — about yourself, for 
 instance— without any personal feeling in the matter 
 — as I am talking now." 
 
 The reference to personal feeling or rather to the 
 absence of it, might have been a trifle forced. Did 
 it — she would not admit that the question floated 
 across her mind — did it imply what it ostensibly 
 denied ? 
 
 " He is not clever like you." 
 
 " Who told you that I was clever ? " 
 
 " I am not sure that I like him." 
 
 " No ? And yet the ensign fluttered very prettily 
 in your cheeks a minute ago." 
 
 " Oh, you are exasperating." 
 
 " Quite the contrary. Here comes O'Brien. What 
 on earth can he have to say to me ? " 
 
 *' I will leave you and go and find Mrs. Harper." 
 
 She tripped across the lawn, a dainty figure in a 
 dainty setting. He sat and watched her go. 
 
 She was lost in the kaleidoscope of colours. But 
 he still remained where he was, and idly flicked the 
 
 232
 
 Colours on the Lawn. ^ 
 
 grass as before, with his disengaged glove. People 
 said he was fond of the girl. But, if so, he never 
 told her. If he was conscious of the rising of a 
 tide that had been sternly suppressed for fifteen 
 years, no one ever knew of the fact. 
 
 But O'Brien's intentions were interrupted. He had 
 just caught sight of the man he wanted, when a 
 Government House messenger, who had been in- 
 dustriously searching the grounds, came forward and 
 put a telegram into his hand. The contents of that 
 message caused astonishment — so much astonishment 
 that the benevolent impulse to ask Barraclough to 
 do Ward a good turn, which had been in his mind 
 all the afternoon, was driven out and forgotten. 
 
 In Venice the following evening (while Barraclough 
 was on his way back to Sydney — he astonished every- 
 one by suddenly leaving Melbourne), Miss Rayment 
 received a cable from O'Brien that had been for- 
 warded on to her from London : — " Le Mercier 
 died Sydney Hospital to-day." 
 
 233
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE CLIFF, 
 
 O be above the cliffs that lead round to the 
 South Head Lighthouse ; to be above the 
 cliffs and above the houses, caught up into 
 the air that, strong as wine, is carried hither across 
 illimitable miles of ocean — that is, literally and 
 metaphorically, to be above the world. There are 
 few more reviving places on earth than this undu- 
 lating, intermittently grass-grown, intermittently rocky 
 plateau, which is the first part of Australia to greet 
 the sun as he rises from the eastern sea. If the 
 dweller in the city feels tired, and sick, and sorry, 
 as he may do ; if he feels that he is physically 
 depressed, or mentally and spiritually dead ; if he 
 feels the need of some reminder that life is larger 
 than the room within which he lives, and that Nature 
 has more to offer than the walls and plaster which 
 shut him in ; if he feels all this, or any part of it, he 
 cannot do better than climb the rising ground outside 
 the environments of Sydney, and, with the salt spray 
 on his face, look out towards the sea. 
 
 234
 
 The Cliff. '0- 
 
 One afternoon, in the still early spring, two figures 
 ascended the path leading up from the Watson's Bay 
 jetty, and made their way along the high ground that 
 terminates abruptly at the South Head Light. They 
 were two figures which much resembled many 
 another two that have trod the same path and 
 looked out on the same ocean in years past, and will 
 continue to look out on it for centuries to come. 
 Figures of a man and a woman — both young as years 
 go, though one, at any rate, was fairly old in thought 
 and experience. 
 
 The girl's dress fluttered in the mild sea breeze. 
 There were dissolving white caps on the water, and 
 a wide area of sunlight falling into shadow further 
 out towards the horizon, A couple of steamers were 
 in sight along the coast, and further seawards was a 
 broad white sail. The sky was clear and the sun 
 was shining; a warm, grateful sun, not yet powerful 
 enough to cause distress, but sufficiently in evidence 
 to secure a welcome for the tempering breeze. 
 
 A passer-by, if he had taken the trouble to look in 
 the man's face, would have said that he seemed to be 
 in need of a rest and change. A face that was more 
 than a little drawn and sunken, though the walk up 
 the hill and the sea air had brought a touch of 
 needed colour into it. The less than robust appear- 
 ance might have been due to dissipation or self 
 indulgence, though the eyes rather contradicted the 
 latter supposition. It was a face that did not look 
 ignoble, and had an expression that might not have 
 
 235
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 been out of place on the countenance of a nature- 
 worshipper. 
 
 And yet this was the man who declared that he 
 had put ideals far from him ; the man who had 
 fallen on the floor on the upstairs room at 
 Mandano's. 
 
 He had evidently found a companion ; and the 
 casual passer-by, judging by appearances, would 
 have said that he had been fortunate in the find. 
 During the past few weeks there were many people 
 in the city who had come to know this girl, and not a 
 few who had regarded her with frank and meaning 
 looks of admiration. The tragedy of a month or 
 two back had brought her name to everybody's lips. 
 She was a guest, or a confidential friend, or some- 
 thing between the two at the house where a sad and 
 sensational event had occurred. Her name had been 
 coupled with that of the victim in a grim and terrible 
 affair. It was discovered that he had been speaking 
 to her on the day of the race. Rumour hinted at 
 the possibility, even the probability of some connec- 
 tion between the presence of this girl in the house 
 and the form that had been found lifeless on the 
 grass. 
 
 The echo of these rumours reached Edith Grey ; 
 and being more shy and sensitive than the majority 
 of women, she felt an intense longing to escape from 
 associations that carried with them the recollection 
 of trouble and unmerited shame. It was the tongues 
 of the women that she dreaded most. The slight 
 
 236
 
 The Cliff. i^» 
 
 turn of the shoulder, the slight lifting of the eyebrows, 
 were refinements of feminine cruelty to which she 
 was now introduced. The Rayments had decided to 
 give up their house, and to visit Europe. It was, 
 therefore, necessary for Edith to do something for 
 herself She could not, or would not, remain idly 
 at home, where the struggle for existence, with 
 a limited income and an unlimited family, was 
 already sufficiently severe. Casting round for some 
 opening,she took the place that offered at Mandano's. 
 It was inevitable that Ward should have felt and 
 expressed some astonishment at finding the girl 
 there. It seemed a far cry from the quiet of the 
 drawing-room at the house of the Minister for 
 Education and Labour to the glittering saloon in 
 the city, where men burned incense to Bacchus day 
 and night, and where women flitted to and fro for 
 the purpose of tending that unquenchable flame. 
 There was a world of difference between the two 
 atmospheres ; between the soft lights and luxury 
 of the Rayment house by the harbour, and the din 
 and pleasure-seeking and mechanical mirth of this 
 popular and public meeting-place. What strange 
 circumstance had brought the guest of Rayment, the 
 chosen companion of Rayment's proud daughter, to 
 the necessity of working for her living amid such an 
 environment ? Ward was not only astonished, but — 
 such is the unconscious Philistinism of all of us — a 
 trifle shocked ; insensibly his mental attitude towards 
 the girl underwent, if not a change, at least a 
 
 237
 
 *!>'; Bubble Reputation. 
 
 modification. A man may be as Bohemian as he 
 pleases, but as a rule his most deferential and 
 respectful sentiment is kept for women who do not, 
 whether from choice or necessity, cultivate Bohemian 
 surroundings. 
 
 And yet, what should she have done? Fortune 
 plays strange tricks with women who have been 
 brought up in a state of economic dependence ; and 
 when the plank on which they have walked a certain 
 distance gives way under them, there must necessarily 
 be some danger of a fall. Those are happy who can 
 then cling to a helping hand, or step at once into 
 some haven of refuge. Perhaps they are happier 
 still who are strong enough and gifted enough to 
 work out their own destiny, and who, in the pursuit 
 of some calling that brings artistic pleasure and satis- 
 faction, reap their own sufficient reward. But most 
 deserving of sympathy and assistance, and most 
 usually without either, are the women who are 
 suddenly called upon to take their place amid the 
 rank and file of industry ; who fight, as it were, in 
 midstream ; and who have barely time to recover 
 from the shock of altered circumstances before the 
 voices of the storm are crying in their ears. It is 
 just possible that in some cases the loss and danger 
 to the individual may be the gain to humanity at 
 large. Rather fortunately for those of us who are not 
 Orientalists, and whom Brett will not recognise, there 
 are occasional refining influences to be met with 
 along the harder commercial and residential walks 
 
 238
 
 The Cliff. ^ 
 
 of life. Continually we find the waste places, even 
 the vicious-looking places of earth, being brightened 
 by deft fingers, and rounded cheeks and shining 
 eyes. 
 
 For when all is said that can be said on the subject 
 it is the women like Edith Grey, circumstanced like 
 Edith Grey, who make the world. They ask little 
 from the world, and in the majority of cases they 
 get less. They are broken on all our altars ; they 
 are swept by the million into the gutter and into the 
 street. They are the women who work. The 
 society butterflies may end in idleness, as they have 
 begun, but these other women work on for ever. 
 They are the women who suffer. They do the best 
 they can, the best that is in their hearts and 
 consciences to do, but when they ask for bread they 
 are as often as not given a stone. The others may 
 play at love and talk of marriage settlements, but 
 the emotionalism of these women is of a different 
 stamp. When they love, it is not as men do, with a 
 fitful, feverish, restless feeling that is here to-day and 
 there to-morrow ; they love through good report and 
 evil, through honour and dishonour, through an endless 
 round of petty duties, through circumstances calling 
 for infinite pity, through the gates of suffering, right 
 up to the citadel of shame. It is because they 
 are what they arc that the earth is not the cold, 
 calculating, uninteresting, and material place it 
 otherwise would be. They are not the picture 
 women, not the helpless women, not, thank Heaven, 
 
 239
 
 -»^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 the pedantic and the spectacled women, but they are 
 the women who make the world. 
 
 Something of this knowledge — the knowledge that 
 humanity as a whole, and himself as an individual, 
 had more to hope from the women who worked hard 
 and felt deeply, than from the women who played 
 with passion and murdered time — gradually grew 
 upon Arthur Ward, and made him rather ashamed of 
 his former supercilious feeling. In the course of a 
 few weeks or less, a bond of friendship grew up 
 between Edith Grey and himself. If there was no 
 warmth of feeling on his side, there was at least 
 growing respect and something like gratitude. He 
 could see that she preserved a womanly charm, and 
 even some shy reserve, amid an atmosphere of 
 reckless unconcern or worse. Men prominent in 
 public life, men high in the commercial world, middle- 
 aged men as well as young men, spoke favourably 
 after their fashion of this new acquisition of 
 Mandano's, and paid her compliments to her face. 
 But Ward could not help noticing that she would 
 turn from them, even the richest and most flattered 
 among them, if he entered, and that the attention 
 and sympathy she gave to him were given to no one 
 else. People began, half jokingly, but more in 
 earnest, to speak to him about his " conquest " ; and 
 though he disliked the word, and knew that the 
 implied insinuation was a calumny on her, he could 
 not but feel some faint stirring of complacency and 
 gratified pride, 
 
 240
 
 The Cliff . ^ 
 
 This afternoon they had gone out together, and 
 coming to a place where the ground began to slope 
 towards the edge of the cliff, he threw himself down 
 on the grass, allowing the breeze to play on his face. 
 She took a seat beside him. 
 
 " If there were only a deserted garden somewhere 
 about," he said, " the picture would be complete." 
 
 He was evidently following a train of thought in 
 which she had no part, and repeated, more to himself 
 than to her, the lines : — 
 
 " All are at one now, roses and lovers, 
 
 Not known of the woods, or the streams, or the sea, 
 Not a breath of the tUBe that has been hovers 
 
 In the air now soft with a summer to be. 
 Not a breath shall there sweeten the seasons hereafter 
 Of the flowers or the lovers that laugh now or weep, 
 When, as they that are free both of weeping and laughter. 
 We shall sleep." 
 
 " Do you know," he said, " those verses seem to me 
 to clear the air? They are the most crystalline, 
 musical, sea-like things I know." 
 
 She murmured an assent, 
 
 " Of course they don't amount to much when you 
 merely hear them said. It's no use hearing them 
 once, or even reading them once ; you want to 
 know them. The man who is always repeating 
 poetry to other people is an unmitigated nuisance 
 and a curse. Heaven forgive me for my own sins in 
 that direction. But even now I believe there is no 
 wine on earth like this kind of wine, when it is the 
 
 241 Q
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 real article and not the sham ; when the lines will 
 ring in your ear when you want them to ring. Yes, 
 I believe that even now." 
 
 " Why do you say even now ? You are not old." 
 
 " Perhaps not, but a man who is not thirty may be 
 as old as Methuselah in everything but years." 
 
 She wanted to tell him that he had great possibili- 
 ties yet ; that he was gifted with certain knowledge 
 and certain powers ; that it was unmanly and unjust 
 to himself to give way, and not make the best of 
 all he had. But she hardly knew how to say this, so 
 she said nothing. 
 
 His next words were in a different key. 
 
 " I feel better to-day than I have done for a long 
 while. A few weeks ago I felt ten times as old as 
 the hills, and not a tenth part as interesting, even to 
 myself. Things were about as bad as they could be. 
 I was absolutely at bedrock." 
 
 " I am very sorry," she told him — and she looked 
 it. Her eyes were eloquent. 
 
 " I won't speak of it again. It is over and done 
 with. You see, I met you, and we are here now." 
 
 " I should thank you for taking me out. I love 
 being here ; it is so different." 
 
 « How different ? " 
 
 " Different from town — and from Mandano's. Oh, 
 different from everything. It's not like anything 
 else." 
 
 " And how about me ? Am I different too ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered simply, " you are." 
 242
 
 The Cliff . ^ 
 
 "If it isn't an egotistical thing to ask, how do I 
 seem to you to be differentiated from other people ? " 
 
 " I don't know — at least, I do know. I think I 
 know. But you are not like the others at all." 
 
 This girl, despite some of the associations that 
 were part of her life, seemed as innocent of shams as 
 Nature itself And yet, he asked himself, was there 
 not such a thing as a mirage — the most deceptive of 
 all shams and peculiarly Nature's own ? 
 
 " Ah, well, it was a foolish question. If you had 
 answered it truthfully — and you wouldn't have 
 answered it otherwise — I might have experienced 
 a shock." 
 
 " No, no," she exclaimed ; " oh, no." 
 
 " It's pleasant sometimes to eat the lotus, to go to 
 sleep, and yet to know that you are asleep." 
 
 " If I were you " she began again and hesitated. 
 
 " If you were I ?" 
 
 " If I were you," said the girl, looking away from 
 him towards the sea, " I would not fret over things 
 and let them worry me so, but I would be thankful 
 for all that I could do. I would be glad because 
 I was a man, and because people would listen to me, 
 and I could give them pleasure sometimes." 
 
 " If a man always had an Egeria like you beside 
 him, he might always be strong and hopeful too." 
 
 She did not understand the reference, but her eyes 
 smiled, still looking out towards the sea. 
 
 " Egeria was a lady who gave a man good advice 
 a long while ago." 
 
 243
 
 ^5 Bubble Reputation. 
 
 « Did she ? " 
 
 " The modern Egeria is not always Hke you, Miss 
 Edith. Sometimes, once in a million times, she is 
 young, beautiful, charming ; as a rule she wears 
 glasses and has short hair." 
 
 "You are laughing at me," said the girl, "but I 
 did mean what I said. It would make me happy 
 to think that you had done justice to yourself — and 
 that people knew you and were proud of you." 
 
 "Laughing at you— I laughing at you? I would 
 as soon think of laughing at the sea out there, or at 
 the kindly sky." 
 
 There was just a touch of increasing coolness in 
 the air. The occasional figures dotted about the 
 cliff were making their way back to the jetty. 
 
 " We have had a good walk," he said, " and it's 
 getting rather cold. We can catch a boat," looking 
 at his watch, "in twenty-five minutes from now." 
 
 He rose and buttoned his coat more closely round 
 him. They walked away together, neither saying 
 anything, but she with a look in which contentment 
 remained. She gathered from a glance at his face 
 that his thoughts were not troubled ones, as they 
 evidently had been a couple of hours ago. 
 
 The path began to descend more abruptly. When 
 it had once crept out from the shadows thrown by 
 the northern shore, they could see the ferry-boat 
 making its way across. It looked like a cockle- 
 shell in the distance, but it was coming nearer. He 
 stopped suddenly, and turning round to her, said, 
 
 244
 
 The Cliff. ^ 
 
 " We shall be among the crowd in a few minutes. 
 I want to say to you what I can't say when we are 
 down there. I want us to be friends — real friends. 
 Do you think we can ? " 
 
 She met his gaze with transparent frankness. 
 
 " I thought we were friends." 
 
 He gave a swift glance round to see what progress 
 the boat was making. 
 
 " I want to be fair to you. I want you to know 
 what sort of a man I am, so that you can be some- 
 thing to me, or let me go my way, just as you please ; 
 I am deeply, sincerely grateful to you for coming 
 out with me like this. Yours is the kind of influence 
 I want. You have helped me already ; will you help 
 me still more ? " 
 
 She could only wonder what he meant. 
 
 "I want to see you as often as I can — as often as 
 you care to see me. I know I'm selfish, desperately 
 selfish, but I want you to save me from myself. I 
 don't want you to leave me alone. I've been an 
 awful fool, and worse than a fool. I've lost some 
 of my nerve, some of my self-control, during these 
 past two or three months ; but I'm getting it back. 
 I honestly believe it is coming back. But as I said, 
 I am not myself yet, and I don't want to be left too 
 much alone." 
 
 " I would like to do anything for you that a friend 
 could do." 
 
 "Ah, yes. That's it— that a friend could do! 
 You are a woman — a pretty woman, and lots of men 
 
 245
 
 -a^' Bubble Reputation. 
 
 will talk friendship to you ; but, believe me, that 
 isn't what they mean. I don't profess to know how 
 a woman feels about these things. But I am trying 
 to be candid. I don't ask you to be my friend ; 
 for the thing that is called friendship is only a 
 mask for indifference, nothing else. If there is any 
 warmth or life or colour in it, it means more than 
 friendship. And it isn't friendship — not that cold, 
 wintry, indifferent thing called friendship — that can 
 do me much good just now," 
 
 " But you want me to be your friend — you do, 
 don't you .'' What else could I ever be to you ? " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, and from looking intently 
 into her eyes, looked away. 
 
 "Marvellous!" he exclaimed. "You have put 
 the philosophy of the whole world into a sentence — 
 into that one question. If a man doesn't want a 
 girl to be his friend — and marriage is impossible 
 for one or the other of them — what is it that he 
 wants the girl to be? And the world kicks 
 moderately hard at the man, and ten times harder 
 at the woman, who try to answer the question in 
 their own way." 
 
 " I would like to do anything I could," she said, 
 still puzzled, " if you could only tell me what it is." 
 
 " Nothing, dear girl," he answered her, " only try 
 and think as well of me as you can. There is the 
 boat coming alongside now. We shall just have 
 time to catch it if we make haste." 
 
 246
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 DELIRIUM. 
 
 GREAT thing had happened. It seemed 
 to Arthur Ward that never in his Hfe 
 had anything so great happened or any 
 prospect quite so dazzUng opened before the eyes 
 of mortal man. 
 
 He drank of a cup that was more sweet and 
 delirious and intoxicating than the cup which the 
 Bacchantes lifted up to shouts of " Evoe " in the 
 golden age. True, it would have seemed to many 
 a small and pitiful and plentifully watered draught. 
 But he was unaccustomed to it, and it ran through 
 his veins like magic and kindled in his senses like 
 fire. 
 
 The medium through which this potent influence 
 was conveyed was no other than the sheet which 
 issued from the Recorder Office. 
 
 The paper which he had held in his hand, and 
 which he had let drop on the floor beside him, 
 contained references to himself, and a brief, much 
 summarised report of the speech he had made on 
 
 247
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 the previous evening. There were several other 
 speakers, and as a rule they were much better 
 known than he was. But he had been specially 
 singled out. The paper had gone out of its way 
 to declare that his was the speech of the evening. 
 Moreover, it had hinted, not obscurely, that the 
 advanced democratic party had secured a welcome 
 and powerful addition to its ranks — an addition 
 that was likely to make its presence felt at the 
 coming elections. 
 
 Reason declared in plain and emphatic terms that 
 what seemed to him great was in reality very little. 
 It was merely tentative praise that might be re- 
 called or turned to censure in a day. Yet it 
 contained a promise. It might lead to the realisa- 
 tion of a great deal. It brought appreciably nearer 
 some of the things that were worth striving 
 for. And what were they, these things worth 
 striving for? The chances of some emergence 
 from under the black pall of a life's brief obscurity, 
 the realisation of a time when a voice — his own 
 voice — would be heard in the councils of a nation, 
 when the audience long looked for would be found ; 
 when the deep desire, strong as physical thirst, for 
 just one opportunity to get out of the ranks of 
 the millions, who ran like sheep after blind leaders, 
 would be attained. What a dream it had been. 
 It had come to him not only in sleep, but when 
 he was wide awake, and had shouted to him in a 
 clarion voice, telling him to get up and do some- 
 
 248
 
 Delirium. ^ 
 
 thing, and believe in life and in himself. And 
 then, for a long time — a time that might have 
 been only months, but that might have been years 
 — he had been blankly staring at a blank wall. 
 
 Some time before, he had made an attempt to 
 reach his audience through the medium of a book. 
 Looking back upon it now, he believed that 
 book was not wholly a bad one, though written 
 more than three years ago. It was not great nor 
 epoch-making. But neither was it absolutely crude 
 and juvenile. It was the highest expression he could 
 give to the highest truths of which he had as yet 
 knowledge. But he had given it forcible, in places 
 dramatic form. He honestly did not think that 
 anyone could call the book dull. And yet it had 
 fallen as flat and unread as a religious tract among 
 a crowd of bookmakers at a Flemington Meeting. 
 
 Books were useless. He was not the fashion, 
 and no one would read him. He must speak to 
 the people directly if he were to speak at all. 
 He must get a voice in public affairs, or be for 
 ever silent. The latter course had seemed the only 
 alternative. But the events of the last couple of 
 days had wrought a change. The vision had 
 actually reappeared before him, a trifle more real, 
 a trifle more resplendent than of old. 
 
 Like a man drugged, he sat motionless with 
 the paper on the floor beside him. He deliberately 
 gave himself up to the pleasure of the new 
 emotion. He knew it would not last. But he 
 
 249
 
 4^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 still sat motionless, happier than he had been 
 for years, letting the invisible sunlight of awakened 
 anticipation flood over him, knowing and yet not 
 caring that it would presently vanish and fade 
 into the light of common day. 
 
 Seen from the balcony of the hotel, the line 
 of dusky red on the horizon was fading rapidly 
 into dark. It was finely situated, this house of 
 Mandano's. On an evening such as this it was 
 worth a great deal to be able to come out and 
 feel the cool, caressing breeze that swept up from 
 the ocean ; to see the lights beginning to dance 
 in the harbour and flicker throughout the city — 
 the city and harbour that one must learn to love, 
 that one could not help loving, if one had any 
 sense at all of the beauty and the fairness that 
 are on the face of the earth. 
 
 " You must have been pleased," she was saying. 
 
 " I admit I was." 
 
 " And yet it did not last ? " 
 
 " No. And I never expected that it would." 
 
 " You are not low-spirited again ? " 
 
 " Not that, either. But neither am I in the frame 
 of mind I was in yesterday. Things are getting 
 back to their old level. Lucky if the last state isn't 
 worse than the first." 
 
 "You don't think that you will? You don't 
 
 mean " 
 
 250
 
 Delirium. ^ 
 
 " No, I don't really mean it. You see there are 
 other things — and other people — to think about, and 
 some of them count for a good deal." 
 
 It was evident that she had a great belief in him. 
 Since his experience of Miss Rayment he believed 
 less in women than he had done a few years back. 
 But in this case no man with eyes and a mind could 
 feel much doubt. Even the callow sensualists who 
 came to the hotel believed in her. Undoubtedly it 
 was a privilege to be talking to her here. 
 
 " At any rate," he said after a pause, " I don't 
 think I shall let myself become again the wreck I 
 was only three weeks ago." 
 
 The girl was leaning one arm on the railing and 
 was looking outwards. There were more impressive 
 types of beauty than hers, no doubt, but yet with 
 her well-harmonised features, with the soft masses of 
 dark hair piled round her brow and temples, with 
 the melting curves of the lips — well, it was certainly 
 a pleasure as well as a privilege to be talking to htr. 
 
 Again the breath of night air came sighing 
 upwards. 
 
 " You are tired of hearing me talk ? " 
 
 It was a barefaced attempt on his part to get her 
 to turn her face and say something. He was almost 
 ashamed of it as soon as made. 
 
 " I like listening to you," she answered. 
 
 " I should prefer to be listening to you." 
 
 " I have nothing to say. There is so little in my 
 life worth talking about." 
 
 251
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 "There is not much in mine." 
 
 "After yesterday? You can't think that after 
 yesterday." 
 
 He drew his chair closer to hers, leaning his arm 
 also on the railing. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, I am in much the same 
 position as I was that day on the cliffs. I am better 
 in health, stronger, not quite such a weak, miserable 
 fool as I have been ; but even if things were going 
 better with me in one way than they are now, that 
 would not be all. It would not be enough. Yester- 
 day morning for a few minutes, for an hour or so 
 after I had read the paper, I was satisfied. I was 
 quite ridiculously satisfied. And yet, though I knew 
 it was ridiculous, I was glad that I was satisfied — 
 glad that a thing like that had the power to satisfy 
 me. Does this interest you ? " 
 
 She looked as if it did. 
 
 The cold logic of the situation came back soon 
 enough. It came back that very afternoon. It was 
 another case of the guardian angel gone, and the 
 demon returned to take possession. It was not 
 quite the same demon, he was a little more genial 
 and a little less awful, but he was a demon all the 
 same. 
 
 " Ah ! " she exclaimed, and her voice conveyed a 
 world of sympathy, " you are not quite yourself yet. 
 I thought all that trouble had gone," 
 
 He did not wish to presume on her friendship, or 
 to bring any element of difficulty or embarrassment 
 
 252
 
 Delirium. ^ 
 
 into their relations, but it was tempting, too tempting 
 to take the hand that was resting on the balcony 
 near his own. She drew it away. 
 
 " No, no — not like that," she said. 
 
 With a sudden movement that rather startled her, 
 he pushed his chair further away from hers, and 
 folding his arms, looked out grimly at the sky-line. 
 
 " Not like that," he repeated, with a note of 
 bitterness in which something of the old hopelessness 
 blended; "so be it then. Plenty of moonlight and 
 starlight, but never 'glad, confident morning' between 
 us. Plenty of kind phrases and sympathy, and the 
 rest of it, but nothing that isn't quite ordinary and 
 proper and conventional, nothing warm or worth 
 having. I understand, it is to be not like that." 
 
 When she spoke again there were tears in her 
 voice. 
 
 "What can I ever be to you more than I am 
 now?" 
 
 It was the old question in another form — the 
 question asked him on the cliffs. And again it 
 brought him to a sudden standstill. It seemed to 
 strike a warning bell somewhere in his inner con- 
 sciousness. Where was he driving ? On to what 
 rock was he driving himself and her? She had a 
 right to ask that question. What could she ever be 
 to him ? Marry her ? Did he want to marry her ? 
 Or would she marry him if he did ? Perhaps — 
 probably. She was good enough for him — far too 
 good for him — good enough as far as that went for 
 
 253
 
 >o<^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 any man living. But the whole scheme and business 
 of marriage were outside his life. He had nothing 
 and less than nothing to ofifer anyone, even if he 
 wanted to offer it. Marriage might be well enough 
 perhaps for men differently situated ; well enough 
 for men who had an established position, and knew 
 what was before them ; well enough it might be for 
 men who were satisfied with life and the obvious 
 every-day things of life ; well enough for those who 
 could risk the disillusionment that so often comes — 
 but not for him. 
 
 What then } It was a queer, malevolent trick of 
 fortune, but one must learn to laugh at the irony of 
 it, and make the best choice that the victim could. 
 
 He was still looking leagues away from her, but 
 there was no longer bitterness in his voice. In its 
 place there was a note of decision mingled with some 
 sense of loss and personal humiliation. 
 
 " Forgive me ! You are absolutely right and I was 
 wrong. I am a worse brute than I thought I was. 
 You have given me so much, and still I was not 
 satisfied." 
 
 There was no doubt about it, she was in tears. 
 
 " Edith," he said, " if I have made you sad I will 
 never forgive myself to my dying day. I am going 
 now. Believe me, that if I have offended you 
 unthinkingly, there is no one living who is so anxious 
 to please you as I am." 
 
 She turned her head as he rose to go. 
 
 " I shall see you again ? " 
 254
 
 Delirium. 5€» 
 
 " Yes, if I can believe that you would really like 
 to see me, you shall see me again." 
 
 It was a full fortnight before he dared see her 
 again. For the first two or three days the time hung 
 upon his hands like lead. He had much to do. but 
 could not fix his mind upon it. The wish to meet 
 her was stronger than he had believed, after the 
 disenchantment with regard to the other woman, 
 such a wish could ever again be. But gradually 
 the desire to work, and the capacity for work came 
 back. 
 
 It was necessary in the first place to earn a living. 
 That was an elementary fact from which there could 
 be no escape. Perhaps it was well after all that it 
 presented itself just now. It gave him something to 
 occupy his time. Thank Heaven, the worst of the 
 physical and mental depression — illness it must have 
 been — had passed away. 
 
 He had to earn his living, and just at present it 
 was a precarious one. For nearly three months he 
 had not given a lesson or written a line. Most of 
 his old pupils had left him and gone elsewhere. 
 But now that he was himself again, and had time 
 and inclination to seek them out, he found that some 
 at any rate were willing to come back. With the 
 remnant of a once large matriculation class, he set to 
 work again. 
 
 His ambition, however, lay along another path. 
 The public arena was the one to which his thoughts 
 were constantly turning. To win any semblance of 
 
 255
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 success in it, it was necessary in the first place to 
 make one's self known. He resolutely set about the 
 task. The columns of the Sydney Labour Journal 
 were open to him, and he wrote for it industriously. 
 It was a small, unpretentious sheet, with few literary 
 airs and graces, but it had a fairly wide circulation 
 among the working classes. It had a trenchant 
 style of criticism, in some respects its own. But 
 trenchant though it could be, it played the game 
 fairly. It was not brutal or prurient. No one need 
 have felt ashamed to see it on his breakfast table. 
 And to say that, is to say rather more than can be 
 said of half the newspapers of its class. 
 
 Ward's contributions appeared regularly under a 
 noni de plume that came to be recognised and looked 
 for. In Labour circles the real name of the author 
 was soon canvassed abroad. He made some slight 
 addition to his modest earnings by work of 
 this kind, but what was of more importance — he 
 gained a reputation among the class he wished 
 to reach. 
 
 To do him justice, it was not a reputation built on 
 shams. He believed thoroughly and intensely in 
 what he wrote for the Labour paper. At this period 
 of his life he was convinced that the people who had 
 anything, whether it was money, position, or influ- 
 ence, were in nine cases out of ten the people who 
 deserved least, and who had done least for the world. 
 All his sympathies were with the people who had 
 nothing. He had nothing himself He was as poor 
 
 256
 
 Delirium. 5©» 
 
 as any of them. He had gone through more than 
 most of them. He had the same desires as the 
 struggling people had. The fact that his upbringing 
 had been different did not affect the question. He 
 wanted to help them, and the only selfish considera- 
 tion he allowed himself was a hope that those he 
 strove to help v/ould some day help him. 
 
 His efforts were not without result. He found 
 he was becoming known. He was constantly being 
 asked to speak at meetings of the Progressive party 
 in various places. He was careful never to refuse, if 
 by any possibility he could comply. The nearest 
 approach to elation he had felt since reading the 
 Recorder article was when he received a telegram 
 from the local secretary of the Progressive League, 
 asking him to second an important resolution at a 
 public meeting in a town one hundred miles away. 
 As his financial resources were down to a few 
 shillings, and the railway and hotel fare would have 
 taken more than the ready cash he possessed, he 
 thought it wiser in that instance to refuse. He 
 telegraphed his regrets and his appreciation of the 
 objects in view. 
 
 He put his pride in his pocket, and called at the 
 Recorder office. After all, the paper had done him. 
 a kindness. He had no grudge to pay off. 
 Journalistic etiquette was not a thing for him to 
 fret about. He had not invented it, and there 
 was not much doubt that it would go on very 
 well without him. As it happened, the editorial 
 
 257 K
 
 ^t? 
 
 ^' Bubble Reputation-. 
 
 reception was frank and almost cordial. The clear- 
 eyed, hard-faced man seemed almost to have forgotten 
 the disagreements of a few months before. Possibly, 
 having had much else to think about, he had quite 
 forgotten it. At any rate he lent a favourable ear 
 to the request that the former contributor might be 
 allowed to resume the work he had abandoned. 
 
 " I will see about it, Mr. Ward," he said. " If it can be 
 arranged, we will let you know." He added, as the 
 visitor was going out, " I hear you have been speak- 
 ing in public lately. Quite right ! I think you are 
 doing the right thing. Good afternoon ! " 
 
 The caller did not allow himself to anticipate that 
 much would follow from the interview. A con- 
 ditional promise bound no one, and a much-sought- 
 after editor rather less than other people. Yet, to 
 his surprise and pleasure, he received a note only two 
 days later to say that his weekly contribution would 
 be welcome on the usual terms, and that it was 
 hoped he would begin forthwith. With this notifica- 
 tion in his pocket, he felt if the worst came to the 
 worst he had at least a reasonable certainty of 
 avoiding that once-threatened derelict refuge — the 
 Sydney Domain, Australia's Hyde Park. 
 
 It was about this time he remembered that he had 
 not spoken to Edith Grey for a fortnight, except now 
 and again to pass a formal word in the presence 
 of others. Yet the thought of her had never been 
 far from his consciousness. A chance meeting with 
 O'Brien — O'Brien, of all the people in the world — 
 
 258
 
 Delirium. 5o» 
 
 happened to bring the girl suddenly and vividly- 
 back. Emerging from Mandano's, with his usual 
 well-fed, well-satisfied air and glossy appearance, 
 O'Brien encountered Ward in the street. After 
 some more than usually civil remarks with reference 
 to the latter prospects^ and tlie state of public affairs 
 generally, O'Brien made an allusion to the "girl in 
 there " — indicating the hotel he had just left. She 
 wasn't a bad-looking one, by George — though he 
 had seen women with prettier faces — but somehow 
 he liked her style. Intended to get her to come out 
 for a drive with him next Sunday. 
 
 " Queer thing," added Geoffrey, " that it should be 
 the one staying at the Mountains at Christmas-time. 
 Don't fancy she thought of going behind the bar in 
 those days. But you never know. Dash't good 
 voice too. I've been telling her she ought to go on 
 the stage ; she's wasting her time there. First chance 
 1 get I'll bring Williamson's man along to hear her. 
 Ta-ta." 
 
 Thinking of her after O'Brien had gone, Ward was 
 convinced that he must have another word with her. 
 He would not abandon her to men of the O'Brien 
 stamp. And on the heels of that conviction there 
 came a stronger, more subtle, more insidious thought. 
 It took the form of some dusky and tempting angel 
 or demon, and whispered that if she were going 
 to fall into anyone's arms, it might as well be 
 into his. And if not that — for he repelled the 
 thought as soon as it came to him — it might yet be 
 
 259
 
 ^g Bubble Reputation. 
 
 possible to find some way of escape — some solace for 
 both her and him. 
 
 Immediately after dinner he went out. He called 
 at the house, and learning from the porter that Miss 
 Grey was on the balcony, he said he had a message 
 to give her in person. Without standing on further 
 ceremony, he ran upstairs. 
 
 Arrived on the balcony, he found she was not 
 there. His first impulse had been resultless. Well, 
 perhaps it was for the best. What an idiot he might 
 have made of himself. Perhaps she had seen him 
 coming up the stairs, and was keeping out of sight. 
 Serve him right if she was. And yet 
 
 He sank down on a chair, staring in front of him 
 in rather gloomy meditation. He was there for 
 perhaps ten minutes, when he got up slowly and 
 turned to go away. And as he rose she came 
 through the folding doors of her room, which opened 
 on the balcony some distance further round. He 
 had given up the hope of meeting her, and it seemed 
 as she came that the darkened sky grew brighter, 
 and a tide that had been sternly suppressed flowed 
 strongly back. 
 
 " You are surprised to see me," he said. " I am 
 not much of a Spartan after all. I didn't stay away 
 very long." 
 
 Unless he was deluding himself with a ridiculous 
 belief in the semblance of things, she was in 
 manner and look more pleased than he had yet 
 seen her. 
 
 260
 
 Delirium. .'-^ 
 
 " Hush ! " She gave a warning look over his 
 shoulder. '* They will be coming up from dinner 
 presently. They mustn't see me talking to you 
 here." 
 
 She was right. He ought to have thought of that 
 himself While she hesitated he led her along the 
 balcony as far as the doors, through which she had 
 emerged. They stood half open. Rather recklessly, 
 hardly thinking what he was doing, and only anxious 
 to escape intrusion, he drew her inside. It was her 
 own room, small but pretty, with white curtains 
 outlined in the deepening shadow. 
 
 " Now," he said, letting go her hand and standing 
 a little away from her, " may I talk to you here — 
 just for five minutes? Or if you think it better not, 
 I will go at once." 
 
 The shy, sensitive girl first met with at the 
 Mountain Hotel had developed wonderfully in the 
 past few months. Recent experiences — the men she 
 had met, the men who had talked to her, and 
 admired her, and whose admiration, while not spoil- 
 ing her, had taught her her own value — had added 
 something to her grace of bearing, and even to her 
 physical charm. Sensitive she was still, but most of 
 the shyness had vanished. She stood up confidently 
 before the man who had daringly followed her 
 here, her eyes glistening through the growing 
 dark. 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no. Talk to me. I've been wanting 
 to see you for a long time." 
 
 261
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 "Two hours ago I never dreamed I should be 
 here. But I met Mr. O'Brien this afternoon — heard 
 him mention your name. And I thought and 
 wondered, thought a lot of things and wondered 
 a lot of things. The old wish to see you came back 
 — though for that matter I don't know that it ever 
 went away." 
 
 She had no answer ready, and he came a step 
 nearer. 
 
 " You must know that you are more to me than 
 the others. Tell me that you think of me as I do of 
 you. Let me beHeve that you do." 
 
 The warm feel of her breath on his face was 
 working on his senses like a subtle spell, but it 
 seemed that she was not happy — even now. 
 
 " What is it ? What is it that is making you 
 sad ? " he asked with an earnest solicitude. 
 
 " Nothing — it's nothing at all," 
 
 " But there is something. Why don't you say ? 
 There are tears in your eyes ! I can see them." 
 
 " It is the life — that is all. But I won't think of it. 
 Only sometimes I can't help it." 
 
 " You don't like being at Mandano's." 
 
 " I hate it. I would give anything to be able to 
 go away." 
 
 She looked at him, and the upturned face seemed 
 to lose its shadow of trouble. 
 
 " You must hate it. And I am very much as you 
 are. I hate the life I am leading, because there is 
 no one in it but myself With you it would be 
 
 262
 
 Delirium. 5^ 
 
 different You are a great deal to nie. I have 
 nothing to offer you, and the world would say that I 
 had no right to talk to you here like this, but the 
 fact that follows me up and down the street is that 
 you are more than all the others to me." 
 
 Her reply was too low for him to hear, but the 
 tide of emotion was making him reckless. It was 
 not easy to stand in her room like this, and yet be 
 altogether wise or sane. 
 
 " Since I have known you I have drunk hemlock. 
 And there is no antidote away from you. You hate 
 your life, and I am sick of mine. I have been 
 seeking the bubble reputation, but love is the 
 only thing in the world worth having. And if you 
 love me, I will love you always." 
 
 " I do love you," she said, and her voice trembled. 
 
 *' What would you have me do to prove it, 
 then ? Do you want me to go out of your sight 
 for ever ? " 
 
 What was said afterwards he could not recall, for 
 words were inarticulate. But she had extricated 
 herself from his arms, and was lying face downwards 
 on the couch. Her breast was shaken with sobs, but 
 when he took one step towards her, she made no 
 sign. She loved him — she had said so — and that 
 love implied self-surrender. He realised then, with 
 a sudden, swift conviction, that he was looking at the 
 eternal, living emblem of woman's potential sacrifice, 
 and woman's after sorrow. And the realisation by a 
 kind of miracle drove the seven devils out of him, 
 
 263
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 dammed up the flood-tide of passion, and left him 
 with a shuddering, ebbing sense of shame. 
 
 He drew her hands from her face, kissed them 
 quietly, and walked out on to the balcony and into 
 the street. 
 
 264
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CHOOSING A CANDIDATE. 
 
 RDER ! order ! " yelled the occupant of the 
 presidential chair. 
 
 In a struggle between the sense of his 
 own dignity and a growing feeling of irritation, he 
 had become purple in the face. The present occasion 
 was one of the most momentous in his life. The 
 audience before him was large and thoroughly 
 representative. For the first time in local history 
 the two forces had come together. There was the 
 Labour force, and there was the kindred but 
 differently constituted Progressive force. To belong 
 to the former you had to be connected with one of 
 the trades. To belong to the latter you had merely 
 to subscribe to a platform. 
 
 The two organisations overlapped somewhat, and 
 had sometimes found themselves tripping over each 
 other in pursuit of the same aims. But the line of 
 demarcation was clear. For one, the conditions of 
 membership were manual ; for the other, they were 
 
 265
 
 ^g Bubble Reputation. 
 
 mental. The Labourites claimed that they did most 
 of the hard work, and the Progressivists claimed that 
 they supplied most of the brains. Neither claim 
 could be said to be justified on the facts. 
 
 Not without much negotiation and preliminary 
 sparring had the present meeting between the two 
 bodies been arranged. The object was to choose a 
 candidate for one of the Metropolitan seats at the 
 coming elections a month hence. Every trade that 
 could be called a trade, as well as various other 
 democratic interests, was represented. The hall was 
 full, and expectation ran high. The fact that the 
 President of the Labour Council was one of the 
 candidates, explained the presence of the Acting- 
 President in the chair. 
 
 It was a gathering that was fully conscious of its 
 strength. From that hall terms had been dictated 
 to many Governments in the past. The delegates 
 had now come together in confident mood. Most of 
 them were quite at home on the hustings ; all of 
 them were used to the sound of their own voices in 
 debate. Many spoke good, some indifferent, and 
 some bad English. But they all spoke it as if they 
 were not afraid of it, and as if they meant what they 
 said. The fact that the two organisations were 
 united, if but temporarily, made the sense of power 
 all the greater. 
 
 There were many variations of type, and many 
 shades of opinion represented in the hall. There 
 was a fair proportion of firebrands — men who had 
 
 266
 
 Choosing a Candidate. ^ 
 
 nothing to lose and everything to gain by pulling 
 down what others had set up. There were others 
 who had read a great deal. Some of them had read 
 not wisely, but too well — they had filled themselves 
 up with the philosophy of Godwin and Condorcet, of 
 Rousseau and Voltaire. If the receiving vessel was 
 deep enough, no harm was done ; if it happened to 
 be shallow, there was much spluttering and fuming 
 and frothing over. There were many who laboured 
 under a sense of class injustice. They had been born 
 with it, and would die with it. The majority of 
 these were pessimists of the darkest hue, but some 
 were optimists, living always on the verge of an 
 industrial millenium, and convinced whenever wages 
 rose a shilling a week that existence was about to 
 become a perfect and glorious thing. Many were 
 Protectionists. Some were disciples of Henry 
 George. The majority asserted a loud belief in 
 the principles of "Australia for the Australians." 
 Some carried the latter dogma to its extreme limit, 
 and clamoured to be allowed to manage their own 
 affairs, without the possibility of interference from 
 Downing Street or anywhere else. 
 
 The bulk of opinion represented at this joint 
 conference was not reflected in any one extreme 
 phase. As a matter of fact the Labour Party in 
 Australia, wliatevcr may be the case with individual 
 members of it, is, as a whole, well off, and — what is 
 of more consequence — knows that it is well off It 
 has no desire to pull everything to pieces. If it 
 
 267
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 wants Socialism, it wants it by gradual stages. It is 
 not quite certain that it wants it at all. In a 
 measure it is Republican. But it has a lingering 
 regard for the Constitution. It has not forgotten — 
 the larger and more respectable portion of it has not 
 forgotten — the country from which it sprang. At 
 the same time, it desires many things and intends to 
 have many things. It wants old age pensions. It 
 wants factory legislation. It wants higher wages, 
 and shorter hours. When it gets these it will be 
 prepared to talk about Socialism. It has fully 
 realised, much more fully than the English working 
 man, what a tremendous influence its organisation 
 gives it at the ballot-box. It exercises its vote only 
 after careful consideration, and only after it has been 
 convinced that the man who gets it will fight its 
 cause and do what it requires. 
 
 •'Order!" again called the Chairman in the strident 
 voice that had done duty at indoor and outdoor 
 meetings for a number of years. " I have an 
 important hannouncement to make. The Honourable 
 Mr. Johansen — " he paused until the cheering and 
 occasional hooting that greeted the name had sub- 
 sided — "the Honourable Mr. Johansen, leader of His 
 Majesty's Opposition, has been specially requested by 
 the hexecutive to be present at our dee — libberashuns 
 this evening. He has haccepted that hinvitation and 
 will be with us halmost immediately." 
 
 This announcement came as a surprise to at least 
 half of those present. From the greater number of 
 
 268
 
 Choosing a Candidate. 5<^ 
 
 the audience it elicited applause, but others were 
 silent, or threw out such inquiries as " What's that 
 for ? " " What game's this you're playing ? " " What's 
 he got to do with it, anyway ? " 
 
 The Chairman, who had sat down, was again on 
 his feet. 
 
 "The biggest hignoramus in tliis 'all," he shouted 
 in a voice of loud expostulation, mingled with 
 tremendous scorn, " must know, if 'e's capable of 
 knowin' anything, that the combined forces of 
 Labour and Progress can't give their support to the 
 Bryant Government any longer. We're about full 
 up of 'em. An' good reason we've got to be. We 
 can't form a Government of our own — more's the 
 pity — but we can 'ave a big say in what's goin' on. 
 And the only man that's much good for us at the 
 present time is Johansen." 
 
 The cheers were loud this time, and the dissentients 
 few. The speaker smiled a gratified smile. 
 
 " The hexecutive has given this matter its most 
 careful and hanxious con-sidderashun. Mr. Johansen 
 may get 'ere at any moment. (Pause). I will call 
 upon him — after the candidates have heach and 
 severally expressed their views — I will call upon 
 him to hadjudicate upon their merits and say which, 
 in his opinion, is most deserving of support in this 
 great contest — this battle of Tite-uns that is now 
 approachin'." 
 
 The tumult broke out louder than ever. There 
 were yells from all parts of the hall. 
 
 269
 
 'Og Bubble Reputation. 
 
 "What's he got to do with it?" and, "We came 
 here to decide that ourselves ! " 
 
 Again the strident voice obtained silence. 
 
 " Bless my soul, anyone would think this was a 
 meetin' of the Rats' Push, hor — (pause) — hor a 
 scramble of society swells for Government House 
 champagne and chicken." (Laughter, and a voice, 
 " When were you there, James ?") " Isn't Johansen 
 the honly man that's any good for us ? " (Cries of 
 " Yes " and " No"). "Isn't his opinion worth findin' 
 out?" ("Yes"). "And isn't it a morrul and fizzikul 
 certainty that the man he throws his weight in with 
 will get in ? " (Loud cries of " Yes," cheers, and 
 a voice, " Good for you, James.") 
 
 " Well, then," continued the Chairman with a smile 
 of mingled triumph and forgiveness, "what more do 
 you want .■' We'll get his opinion — it's worth gettin' 
 — no one else's is worth as much — but we needn't 
 act upon it. That's the whole point and meanin' of 
 the situation. There is no compulsion on any of us 
 whatever. Some may think — and I confess I am 
 one of 'em — that we would be wisest to go in with 
 Johansen, but if the majority think hotherwise, we 
 can take a ballot after hearin' what e' 'as to say. 
 Does that meet with your happroval, gentlemen ? " 
 
 The assent was this time unanimous. 
 
 The Chairman sat down, but almost immediately 
 caught the eye of someone at the back of the 
 hall and bobbed up again. " Gentlemen," he said 
 impressively, "the Honourable Mr. Johansen has 
 arrived." 270
 
 Choosing a Candidate. ^ 
 
 The man who had been waited for, and thus 
 announced, entered the building. As he walked 
 down the passage towards the platform, every seat 
 was vacated while the occupants stood up and 
 cheered. Even the minority who did not cheer, 
 and who in their secret souls disliked and distrusted 
 Johansen, thought it as well to stand up. For if 
 ever a man looked a fit subject for an ovation, he 
 did. The eyes and forehead and distinguished, 
 thoughtful face, would have marked him out in any 
 assemblage. He had the manners of a great man. 
 He seemed as though he had all his life studied 
 great parts. Some people said — it was the worst 
 thing they could say about him — that he studied 
 them in front of a mirror. Whether or not he was 
 naturally great — what is more, three people out of 
 four believed he was — he had learned the knack of 
 greatness. 
 
 He advanced to the platform and took a seat 
 on the chairman's right. Before doing so he bowed 
 impressively to right and left, with just the requisite 
 amount of dignity, and just that touch of deference 
 that flatters the vanity of a democratic audience. 
 
 Arthur Ward was one of the four prospective 
 candidates who occupied seats on the same plat- 
 form, and who, from that position, were looking 
 squarely in front of them at the audience that was 
 to decide their fate. And just for a moment, as 
 Johansen took his seat. Ward felt himself carried 
 back nineteen centuries ; he could hear the blare of 
 
 271
 
 ^5 Bubble Reputation. 
 
 trumpets — he could hear the heralds proclaiming 
 that Caesar had arrived and that the gladiators 
 could now draw swords. 
 
 It had been arranged that the candidates should 
 speak in alphabetical order. The one who was to 
 speak last was very glad of it. There was, at least, 
 some advantage in being able to hear what had 
 gone before and to have the final word. It was a 
 slight enhancement of prospects that, in any case, 
 could not be regarded as over bright. 
 
 It fell to McNeill to speak first. This was the 
 man who had been referred to by Sharpe as an 
 agitator, and a fellow to be kept out of the House 
 at all costs. He was an Irishman and a voluble 
 one. There was no doubt that he could talk. 
 With more ballast and more training and more 
 self-control he would have been an orator of the 
 very first rank. As it was, he talked too much and 
 too often. He never knew when to stop. And his 
 creed outran the majority even of those who voted 
 the Labour ticket. It was the creed of many land- 
 less Irishmen ; it was the creed of the outlaw and 
 the renegade. Wherever there was a Government 
 or any political institution of standing, he had a 
 burning desire to pull it down — a desire amounting 
 to a passion. Had he lived in the old world his 
 bitter hostility to the Conservative Government 
 would have landed him in the stocks, if not gaol. 
 
 As he rose from his seat to set the ball in 
 motion, and took one step towards the edge of the 
 
 272
 
 Choosing a Candidate. ^ 
 
 platform, there was a round of applause, followed 
 by immediate silence. The audience had become 
 the jury. McNeill was not now to talk to a mob- 
 meeting in the open air. He was on his trial, and 
 he knew it. He had come there determined to 
 put a severe restraint on himself. He began with 
 studied moderation, saying nothing about his own 
 record, expressing in a couple of well-rounded 
 sentences his gratification that united action in the 
 popular interest had been decided upon, and trust- 
 ing himself unreservedly to the judgment of the 
 delegates and the people. 
 
 But he had not spoken for more than five minutes 
 when it became tolerably plain to any critical 
 listener that his chance was hopeless. Once launched 
 into the middle of his subject, his Celtic blood 
 boiled over. The excitement of the occasion went 
 to his head. He roared and ranted, as he had 
 roared and ranted in the park every Sunday after- 
 noon for years past. He declaimed as if he were 
 declaiming to his usual Sunday crowd of dere- 
 licts. He had denounced Monarchical government, 
 personal property, the principles of individualism, 
 and various other things, and was in the middle of 
 a sonorous sentence, dealing with the evils of taxing 
 the breakfast table of the poor man — the only 
 practical question he had so far reached — when the 
 Chairman's warning bell announced that his twenty 
 minutes had expired, and he sat down. 
 
 The next utterance came from the Secretary of 
 
 273 ii
 
 «o^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 the Progressive League, a man named Romans. 
 His was a strange personality — in many respects 
 interesting, in a few admirable, in others repellant. 
 Physically he was not attractive. He was small 
 and thin and parch ment-visaged. Not more than 
 five feet two or five feet three inches in height, his 
 habitual stoop made him look even smaller than he 
 was. His voice was harsh and unmusical. Many 
 people said he realised as nearly as possible their 
 idea of the regicide Marat. When told this, 
 Romans smiled as though he regarded it rather as 
 a compliment than otherwise. But that the man 
 had brains was unquestionable. In his cold, hard, 
 unscrupulous way he was regarded by all parties 
 as a force to be reckoned with. Though not a 
 worker with his hands, he was the silent influence 
 behind most of the workers' movements that had 
 agitated the country for the past ten years. His 
 industry was untiring, and he had apparently solved 
 the problem of living without rest or sleep. As 
 Secretary of the Progressive League he was in- 
 valuable. The fact that the League had become a 
 political power, the fact that it was in existence at 
 all, was due almost entirely to him. 
 
 The one circumstance that told against him was 
 that he made no friends. He had no emotional 
 strength, no magnetism, no power of attaching 
 anyone to himself by personal ties. It was known 
 that he had no belief in anything, either in man or 
 woman, God or Devil. With a different personality 
 
 274
 
 Choosing a Candidate. ^ 
 
 — with considerably less brains and more humanity 
 — he would have been a commanding figure in 
 public life long before. As it was, his influence 
 had always been that of the underground engineer. 
 His efforts to rise above the surface had so far 
 failed. 
 
 Yet it looked as if they might be successful this 
 time. His speech was cleverly thought out and 
 well suited to the audience. It was polished and 
 satirical, as his speeches invariably were. It was 
 clear enough and definite enough to satisfy the 
 most exacting. As an exposition of a creed, the 
 creed of nine-tenths of the people in the hall, it 
 left nothing to be desired. True, it was a cold 
 sort of utterance, unilluminated by anything but 
 pure reason. And the man who delivered it was 
 cold as an iceberg, and personally disliked. But 
 would this coldness, this dislike, prevent him from 
 getting the recognition which his abilities claimed ? 
 Would a general belief in the man's doctrines 
 overcome dislike to the man himself.? It might 
 be so this time, though it had not been so before. 
 
 The third candidate was the President of the 
 Labour Council, a man who belonged to tlic 
 numerous family of Smith. His chances ot be- 
 coming the nominee on this occasion were regarded 
 as being on the whole better than those of any 
 of the others. He was reckoned a good fellow, 
 and had few, or no enemies. There was nothing 
 remarkable about him. He would never excite 
 
 275
 
 4>§' Bubble Reputation. 
 
 enthusiasm. But neither would he stir up strife, 
 or create dissensions in the party to which he 
 belonged. He was not ambitious enough to be 
 really dangerous. Personally he was of middle 
 age and of about medium height. He affected a 
 rather better style and dress, and a more prosperous 
 appearance than was common with the artisan class. 
 On certain occasions he even went to church. He 
 had occasionally been taken for a bank manager. 
 Even in his working dress he looked hardly reck- 
 less enough, hardly dissatisfied enough with his 
 surroundings, to satisfy democrats of the more 
 violent type. But then the majority in the hall 
 could scarcely be called violent. And the man's 
 record proved that he could be trusted to go 
 straight. The workers knew that, and in their 
 estimation it meant a good deal. 
 
 It was rather a serious drawback that he had 
 no special ability as a platform speaker. He only 
 occupied fifteen minutes of the twenty allowed him, 
 and never looked quite comfortable. With some 
 hesitation he managed to get off his half dozen 
 articles of belief, and to express his unswerving 
 adherence to each and all of them. The most 
 that could be said for it was that it was an 
 honest statement without suspicion of frill or orna- 
 ment. All at once, without the slightest attempt 
 at rhetorical flourish, the speaker abruptly con- 
 cluded. The audience knew he had finished simply 
 because he sat down. 
 
 276
 
 Choosing a Candidate. ^ 
 
 " I will now," said the chairman, rising and glaring 
 round him with the fierce glare that the militant 
 democrat invariably giv^es the most friendly audience 
 — the more friendly the audience the fiercer the 
 glare — " I will call upon the fourth and last speaker, 
 Mr. Arthur Ward, to hexpress his views." 
 
 Just for a moment, as he rose to his feet after the 
 long hour's wait — just as the meeting threw off its 
 character of a hundred mechanical figure-heads, and 
 resolved itself into a couple of hundred burning 
 eyes, all fixed upon himself — ^just for that moment 
 the man now called upon felt the same curious surge 
 at his heart that had threatened to disable him when 
 he commenced his first debating-society speech at 
 Cambridge ten years ago. But the round of 
 applause that greeted him — applause carried beyond 
 the mere formal limit as a mark of encouraf^ement 
 to a comparatively unknown man — enabled him to 
 steady himself and to wait without overmuch anxiety 
 for the sound of his own voice. He poured out a 
 glass of water, sipped it, put the glass down on the 
 table, and began. 
 
 In the course of a subsequent career, that was not 
 uneventful, it fell to him to speak on many occasions, 
 important and otherwise. Sometimes he knew he had 
 spoken less than well. Sometimes the result was a 
 popular success. But it always seemed to him, 
 looking back in after years, that fortune had per- 
 mitted him to reach that night the best he was 
 capable of. 
 
 277
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 One fact had fixed itself on his brain while he sat 
 listening to the other speakers. He must make this 
 audience believe that he was in earnest. That was 
 essential. It was the last audience in the world that 
 was likely to be taken in by chaff. It had a 
 practised eye for the quack and the charlatan and 
 the parasite, and the ranter who ranted merely to 
 catch votes. It knew the modes of these people off 
 by heart. It liked a strong man, and was willing to 
 follow a strong man. But the man who pretended to 
 be strong, and discovered himself to be weak, was 
 tolerably certain to be thrown out with emphasis, 
 so far as it had any say in the process. At all 
 hazards, and at all risks, this audience had to be 
 convinced that the man who was going to speak 
 to them was not trading on them for votes, and had 
 not come there to mouth a platform in which he 
 did not absolutely believe. But how was it to be 
 done ? To protest too much would be to defeat his 
 own ends. A mere formal reiteration of principles 
 was not enough. Running rapidly over the chances 
 for and against him, he decided to leave the personal 
 note to the last. He would end on that. Other 
 things being almost, if not quite, equal, it would be 
 on the skilful or unskilful manner in which that was 
 struck that the issue would very largely depend. 
 
 For a little more than fifteen minutes he reviewed 
 the five or six important questions that were before 
 the country. Speaking generally, he believed that 
 the only remedy for individual greed and class 
 
 278
 
 Choosing a Candida te. 5^ 
 
 monopoly was the wise extension of tiie powers of 
 the State. He believed in factory legislation, in 
 arbitration laws, in "bursting up" large estates, in 
 taxing the land before taxing anything else. The 
 louder the howl raised by the land-owners the better 
 he would be pleased. As an ultimate goal he looked 
 to free trade ; but meanwhile he believed in safe- 
 guarding local industry by means of protective duties. 
 When the industry was in competition with the 
 labour of the foreigner and the coloured alien, he did 
 not care how high those duties became. He believed 
 in the absolute necessity of letting in the strongest 
 searchlight of criticism upon existing administration ; 
 he believed that the blood and toil and money of the 
 workers of the country had been used constantly in 
 the past and were being used now to fatten parasites 
 who were the most contemptible creatures on God's 
 earth. If the price of liberty was eternal vigilance — - 
 as he and they knew it was — they could rely upon it 
 that, whether in Parliament or out of it, no vigilance 
 should be wanting on his part, in the interests of 
 landless men and of poor men — of whom he himself 
 was one — to bring about a state of affairs which, 
 while it would not be the millenium, would at least 
 be some distance nearer to abstract right. 
 
 " And, in conclusion," he added, kindling a little at 
 the knowledge that not one of the members of 
 the audience had averted his g.ize while he had 
 been speaking, " I have only to add one word cf 
 explanation — should I say of excuse — for my 
 
 2/9
 
 -f>5 Bubble Reputation. 
 
 presence on this platform to-night. I do not know 
 whether my views are, or are not, in conformity 
 with those of any party leader. I do not know, 
 for example, how they appeal to the distinguished 
 gentleman who is here at the invitation of your 
 executive. Though I yield to no one in respect 
 for his many admirable qualities, I am bound to 
 say that I do not greatly care what effect any 
 views of mine may produce upon him. So far as 
 I am personally concerned, I am here because my 
 lot is cast, now and always, with those who have 
 suffered from social, moral, and political wrong — 
 wrong which I do not pretend is altogether capable 
 of remedy, but nevertheless can be remedied in 
 many directions by agents that are now lying idle. 
 Whether younger or older than those who have 
 spoken before me — and two of them, at any rate, 
 are men with whom I am in substantial agree- 
 ment, and whose co-worker I am proud to be — I 
 claim to have experienced and thought and suffered 
 at least as much as any one of the three. I can 
 only say again that, whatever your verdict may be, 
 I shall be neither unduly elated nor unduly cast 
 down. It seems to me that the only real satisfac- 
 tion, the only lasting happiness in life is to be 
 found in working for a cause to which you are 
 pledged, for which you are prepared to make some 
 sacrifices, and in which you thoroughly believe. 
 That being so, I shall ask for nothing better, if 
 health and strength remain to me, than to be 
 
 380
 
 Choosing a Candidate. ^ 
 
 allowed to continue, whether in Parh'ament or out 
 of it, the work in your interests which I have had 
 the honour of doing in the past." 
 
 There was a genuine ring in the cheers as the 
 speaker sat down. For the moment he was satisfied. 
 He had had his chance, and had said, however weakly 
 and imperfectly, v/hat he wished to say. The candi- 
 dates were asked to retire while the ballot was being 
 taken. Followed by curious eyes, they filed out of 
 the hall. 
 
 Sharpe was looking at his watch. 
 
 " Reckoning an hour for counting the votes, they 
 might be here in five minutes. The Secretary pro- 
 mised me that he would take a cab and drive round 
 directly the result was known." 
 
 They were waiting the result in a private room of 
 Mandano's. The man who had spoken last of the 
 four candidates put down his empty glass. 
 
 " You didn't hear what was said } " he remarked 
 interrogatively. 
 
 Sharpe shook his head. 
 
 " Fact that the meeting was hi camera wouldn't 
 have stopped me — I would have worked in as a 
 delegate. I've done it before, but I'm getting too 
 well known. You say, Ward, you don't expect 
 to pull it off?" 
 
 " No." He spoke quietly, and did not seem cither 
 excited or depressed. " I think it is a certainty for 
 Smith. Not that I am dissatisfied. If thirty per 
 
 281
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 cent, vote for me it will be as much as I have any 
 right to expect. I don't doubt, if I care to wait for 
 it, that my time will come." 
 
 " You'll soon be out of your misery anyway." 
 
 " To tell you the honest, solemn truth, Sharpe, I 
 don't very much care. I thought I would care a 
 very great deal, but I find that I don't. You may 
 not believe it, but as soon as we were outside I was 
 thinking less about what the verdict would be than 
 about ' something else.' " 
 
 *' Queer," said Sharpe meditatively, " and yet I 
 don't know. Seems to me that the political game is 
 hardly worth the candle. There's more sand than 
 laurel about it anyway, and the laurel, when you do 
 get hold of it, is about as dusty as it can be." 
 
 " Excuse me for a minute — I'll be back presently." 
 
 A cab came driving up at a great pace. Someone 
 stepped out and ran up the stairs. In two minutes 
 Ward had got back. Whatever the result of his 
 mission, he was looking surprised and rather scared. 
 
 " I am sorry to inform you " — the Secretary's look 
 was regretful, and his tone conveyed both sympathy 
 and respect — " that you were beaten by Smith in the 
 final ballot by fifty votes to forty-four." 
 
 "Was I? It's as much as I expected, Sharpe" — 
 catching the newspaper man's keen and inquiring 
 glance. Then he murmured to himself after his 
 fruitless search, " She is gone away ; it's I who have 
 driven her away, and I know I shall never see her 
 again." 
 
 282
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE GOAL THAT RECEDES. 
 
 HERE were one or two unusual features 
 about the contest to which the events 
 of the last chapter were a preliminary. 
 Johansen's part in it was somewhat mysterious. 
 It was surmised from his presence at the meeting 
 that he would support the candidate on whom 
 the choice of the delegates fell. Yet he did less 
 than what was expected of him. He would make 
 no public utterance. Ho gave nothing better than 
 moral support and not much of that. His con- 
 spicuous lack of enthusiasm caused his advocacy 
 to do rather more harm than good. Another 
 adverse factor in the case was the part played by 
 the Recorder newspaper. After preserving a guarded, 
 but on the whole a favourable, attitude for several 
 days, it suddenly commenced to denounce Smith 
 as being in the political sense a ludicrous absurdil)', 
 and ended by giving a whole-hearted support to his 
 opponent. 
 
 283
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Yet the Labour man won. It was only by a 
 small margin, but he won. For the result he 
 ,had two agencies to thank. In the first place the 
 Labour phalanx rallied solidly round him, never 
 showing its compact and determined organisation 
 to better advantage. And in the second place he 
 was indebted to the fighting support of the three 
 men who had been rejected in his favour, but who 
 remained true to their protestations, and sank any 
 personal feeling in the interests of the party. 
 Before the election the prospect of hearing these 
 three — McNeill, Romans, and Ward — would fill 
 any building in the city. McNeill, though turbulent 
 and illogical, and impossible as a legislator, had 
 a quite extraordinary gift of speech ; Romans 
 could touch any audience on the intellectual side ; 
 and Ward, while less experienced than the other 
 two, possessed more culture, at least as much 
 enthusiasm, and in a different manner was quite 
 as effective as either. The final meeting held in 
 the Sydney Town Hall the night before the 
 election proved a popular triumph. The building 
 was packed not only with members of the 
 democratic party, but by scores and hundreds of 
 society people, both men and women, keenly 
 interested in politics, who were there to sample 
 the new speakers as they would have sampled a 
 new play that had been cried up in the newspapers. 
 
 When men begin to talk about you, you may be 
 only unfortunate. When women begin to talk 
 
 284
 
 The Goal that Recedes. ^-^ 
 
 about you, you are not so obscure as you used to 
 be. Arthur Ward was a case in point. Miss 
 Dorrington had been at the Town Hall on the 
 night of that final meeting. And now, twenty- 
 four hours afterwards, when the result of the 
 polling was known, she was discussing with Mrs. 
 Harper in the latter's drawing-room one of the 
 people familiar in this history. 
 
 " He left word to say he would call for you 
 here," said Mrs. Harper, glancing at the clock. 
 
 Miss Dorrington drummed with one foot on the 
 carpet. She did not appear to have heard the 
 remark. When she spoke it was more to herself 
 than to the listener. 
 
 " He interests me — that man ! " 
 
 " Naturally ! " 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean what you mean. It doesn't 
 follow that because a girl's engaged to a man she 
 is going to think of him, and nothing but him, 
 morning, noon, and night. I was thinking of that 
 young man I heard speak at the meeting — Mr. 
 Ward." 
 
 " I was rather surprised at you spending the 
 evening there." 
 
 " Why surprised ? " 
 
 " Only because most girls would prefer to be 
 with the man they are engaged to than to be at 
 a political meeting." 
 
 " Well, just for a change, Mirabel. I'm not a 
 political woman, but I re.iUy am fond of politics. 
 
 285
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 If I were a man I would rather go in for politics 
 than anything. It's exciting, it's lovely to hear 
 someone talking to a whole crowd, a whole hall 
 full of people, and to hear them cheer. It makes 
 you feel bigger somehow ; it makes you remember 
 that there are other things beside dressing for 
 dinner and wondering how you are going to pass 
 the day." 
 
 The other woman had her eyes on her lap, 
 watching the piece of ornamental work that was 
 growing under her hand. 
 
 " What do you think ? You won't be shocked 
 when you hear it? — I spoke to that Mr. Ward 
 coming out of the hall. He was coming along 
 the side passage as we three — Gladys, her brother, 
 and I — were going down the main steps. He 
 seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the crowd 
 and nearly ran into us. I seized the opportunity, 
 while the others were getting into the carriage, to 
 tell him that I liked his speech very much." 
 
 " What did he say to that ? " 
 
 " I don't think he said anything, at least nothing 
 particular. He smiled and passed on." 
 
 " He would have been pleased," 
 
 " That's the doubtful part of it. He didn't look 
 pleased, or as if he cared whether I liked his speech 
 or not. He just smiled politely, took off his hat, 
 and that was the end of it. And my vanity was 
 hurt, though if he had stopped, and smirked, and 
 sniggered, I should have despised him." 
 
 286
 
 The Goal that Recedes. ^ 
 
 " When," inquired Mrs. Harper, with one of those 
 rapid changes of a conversational position for which 
 she was famous — "when is it going to be? " 
 
 " Now," said the Judge's daughter, leaning forward 
 in Brown- Potteresque fashion, with her chin resting 
 on one hand, " what a question to ask me ! As if 
 I wouldn't have told you before anyone else if I 
 knew anything, or had decided anything. But I 
 might as well acknowledge it — of course in strict 
 confidence — he wants me to marry him at Easter — 
 and I think I may." 
 
 "Easter? That will be in less than four months 
 from now." 
 
 " I think I may. On the other hand it is possible 
 that I may not. In the meantime, Desmond is as 
 nice as anything, and the other girls are as envious 
 as could be wished." 
 
 " I thought you had given up saying cynical things 
 since Maud Rayment went away." 
 
 " I'm in too good form, and too well satisfied 
 to be really cynical. But they always seem to 
 expect me to go into raptures, and I'm not 
 going to." 
 
 " But you are fond of him ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He's very good-looking." 
 
 " Sans doute!' 
 
 " And decidedly well off." 
 
 " Oughtn't you to have put that first? " 
 
 " The younger son of an English Honourable," 
 287
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 " Is it any wonder that some of the dear girls 
 would like to kill me ? " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 For answer, Miss Dorrington leaned back in the 
 chair and smiled. Then with a quick change of 
 mood she sighed. 
 
 " It's curious, isn't it, though it's been said so 
 often before, that the thing you haven't got is the 
 thing you always want? Now in Desmond, I've 
 got good looks, good birth, good manners, good 
 disposition, and money — lots of it. And I wouldn't 
 care to be without any of those things." 
 
 " I am sure you wouldn't. You would feel like 
 the Lady of Lyons in the gardener's hut." 
 
 " And yet," the girl went on, looking earnestly 
 at the other woman, " if I had a son I would want 
 him to be clever — more clever than his father. And 
 if he wasn't half as good-looking I would be just as 
 pleased." 
 
 Mrs. Harper, a childless woman with quick sym- 
 pathies, smiled a faint, rather sickly smile. 
 
 " You see there are so many things to think of. 
 I am fond of Desmond — I haven't the least wish 
 to give him up. But it's just a little bit hard on 
 a woman to tie her up for life to the same eyes, 
 face, figure, and beautifully parted hair. Don't be 
 shocked Mirabel — you know it is — the best of us 
 know it is." 
 
 "If the man is worth it," began Mrs. Harper, and 
 stopped.
 
 The Goal that Recedes, ^-o- 
 
 The girl nodded. 
 
 " Yes. And I'm really fond of Desmond. If I 
 had a choice of three husbands I believe I would 
 pick him first." 
 
 " Oh ! And who would the second be ? " 
 
 " The opposite extreme. Someone cool, strong, 
 and self-contained like — what do you say to Mr. 
 Barraclough ? " 
 
 " And the third ? " 
 
 The girl laughed merrily. 
 
 "You're a little too inquisitive. But for the 
 third experiment, if it came to that, I think I would 
 pick someone different again. The only one I can 
 think of at present is that pale-faced, big-eyed, 
 strange-looking, Mr. Ward." 
 
 There is a path that winds in full view of tlic 
 sea, along the outskirts of the Waverly cemetery. 
 It is not much frequented, and it is out of siglit 
 of the main road. In the growing dusk the 
 hundreds of tombstones within view of it stand 
 out like white spectres. And just beyond them 
 the darkening sea shudders and shines inter- 
 mittently, before it is made one with the night. 
 
 It was early dusk on the evening after the 
 election — the evening when his name was on the 
 lips of the two women in Dr. Harper's drawing- 
 room — that Arthur Ward walked along this road- 
 way. His was the only figure in sight. His 
 
 289 T
 
 4>§ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 step was firmer and more decided than in earlier 
 days ; not the step of a dreamer, not the step 
 of one who is weak in body or uncertain in 
 mind, but the step of one who had a definite 
 and settled purpose in view. 
 
 He had just left the cemetery, where he had 
 paid a visit to his brother's grave. He had a 
 particular motive in going there. It was probable 
 that in a few weeks he might be leaving 
 Australia for ever. And with the recollection of 
 much stir, and stress, and shouting still upon 
 him — with the noise, and dust, and tumult of the 
 hustings still clinging about his senses — he felt 
 there was nothing better to do than to come for 
 respite here. More calming to restless hopes and 
 stormy ambitions than a bathe in the waters of 
 Lethe would be a look, probably a last look, at 
 the sod under which his young brother lay. 
 
 The most crowded and eventful chapter of a 
 life was over. What was to happen next ? 
 Was it to be a return to the old groove, to the 
 life of routine and hard work, to the deadening 
 surroundings which must seem more flat and 
 unprofitable than ever now the excitement of 
 the combat was gone ? A return to all this with 
 no human interest, no brighter interest to give 
 zest to the game ? 
 
 What necessity was there to face the prospect ? 
 Why remain in Australia ? Why not start afresh ? 
 Why not get away to London, which was always 
 
 290
 
 The Goal that Recedes. 5^ 
 
 calling, calling, calling, literally shouting through 
 its fogs and smoke to every man with a brain 
 to think, and a pen to write, and a word to 
 say? 
 
 A few minutes before, when passing out through 
 the cemetery gates, he had met a woman coming 
 in. She was evidently a poor woman, and with 
 great care she was holding in her hand a few 
 flowers. He was curious enough to watch her. 
 With bent head and face, and in the manner of 
 a devotee, she reverently placed the flowers on a 
 grave that stood by itself, unmarked by any head- 
 piece or memorial stone. Then she buried her 
 face in her hands. The grave was Le Mercier's, 
 the man watching her knew this because the 
 spot had been pointed out to him once before. 
 And the solitary mourner was Mrs. Kelly — the 
 rough-handed, soft-hearted woman to whom the 
 dead man had been not a dissipated and 
 depraved waster and lounger, but her hero, 
 practically her all in all. In the whole universe, 
 it seemed to Arthur Ward, there was nothing 
 sadder, and at the same time nothing finer than 
 this — the visible embodiment of love, unselfish 
 and unrecognised, stretching hopeless arms to the 
 disembodied ghost that even in life had neither 
 known nor cared. 
 
 And yet if for a moment the outward shell 
 of things could be stripped off, if the bauble 
 that went by tlie name of success could be 
 
 291
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 estimated at its true worth, might it not be said 
 that even Le Mercier had not lived in vain ? 
 Would any man care to stand up at the day of 
 Judgment and say that the gorgeous, ghastly 
 pageant of a state funeral, with its hollow mockery 
 of pomp, and its more hollow mockery of grief, 
 was one tenth part so splendid as the grief that 
 was witnessed here? Surely if there was to be 
 an eternity it ought to be reserved for the man 
 or woman whom someone, without sham or 
 pretence, with complete abnegation and complete 
 self-surrender, had loved until the end. 
 
 Thinking of these things, thinking of Le Mercier, 
 thinking of the woman, thinking of what lay 
 before himself, he found himself on board a tram- 
 car bound for the city. The anodyne had done 
 its work. The storm had nearly subsided and 
 the horizon was becoming hourly more clear. 
 There were a few business arrangements to be 
 made, and ihen the curtain could be rung down 
 on this, and rung up on another phase. 
 
 A surprise was in store. As he set foot inside 
 the house the landlady met him and said, 
 " There's someone waiting to see you." 
 
 Mrs. Garburn was in one respect a truly 
 remarkable woman. Her complete lack of vocal 
 or facial inflection bordered on the sublime. It 
 would not have mattered whether the visitor had 
 been a royal duke in full regalia, or an escaped 
 lunatic of dangerous homicidal tendencies. She 
 
 292
 
 The Goal that Recedes. ^ 
 
 would merely have said to the person who had 
 been asked for, " There's someone waiting to see 
 you," and would then have gone on with the 
 business she had in hand, 
 
 Arthur walked into the little downstairs parlour. 
 And there sitting close to the window in the 
 deepening gloom was a woman with a veil drawn 
 back from her face — the face that had so 
 persistently risen before him in the days i;one 
 by. 
 
 " You I " 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Rayment, "it is I." 
 
 He struck a match, lit the gas, and going over 
 to the window drew down the blind. 
 
 "To think," he exclaimed, standing and looking 
 at her, not quite sure whether this was a trick 
 which his nerves were playing on him after the 
 stress and excitement of the past few days, " to 
 think that it should be you — you — after all this 
 time ! " 
 
 " It has been a long time," she assented. 
 " More like a lifetime than six months." 
 
 " Did you " — it was necesssary to say some- 
 thing — "did you want to see me?" 
 
 " Did I want to see you ! " The same musical 
 voice, challenging through the same full and 
 smiling lips. " Was it modesty made you ask 
 that question ? Or did you think that it was 
 your charming landlady that I came to sec ? I 
 must tell you that it cost me a lot of trouble 
 
 293
 
 •©'^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 and a long cab drive to get here — to say 
 nothing of the risk of being found out. And I 
 wore this horrible thick veil that nearly suffocated 
 me." 
 
 " When did you get back ? " 
 
 " We came overland from Adelaide yesterday." 
 
 "How did you find out where I lived?" 
 
 " Ah, that was easy. You have become a 
 person of some importance nowadays." 
 
 This did not seem to call for a reply. 
 
 " Any more questions ? You haven't said yet 
 that you were pleased to see me." 
 
 He sat down at the table, leaning his elbow 
 upon it, and resting his head on his hand. He 
 looked across at her in a curious impersonal 
 fashion — a look that was the reflex of the curious, 
 impersonal feeling that her presence inspired in 
 him now. Yes, the old fire had burnt itself to 
 ashes. Was that something to be glad or sorry 
 for? Which was the better after all — the troubled 
 ocean or this dead silent sea ? 
 
 " I expect," he said, still looking at her, " I 
 am quite as pleased to see you as you are to 
 see me." 
 
 She returned the look earnestly as though 
 seeking to read what was behind it Probably 
 she did read. At any rate the look of the 
 woman towards the past and prospective lover — 
 the coquettish, inviting, tempting, defying look 
 — suddenly gave way to another, and a totally 
 
 294
 
 The Goal that Recedes. 5^ 
 
 different expression. Whatever associations, what- 
 ever pleasant memories the sight of him had 
 called up, had vanished, and she had become again 
 what behind all her pleasure-loving and voluptuous 
 nature she invariably was — a practical and far- 
 sighted woman of the world. 
 
 She left her seat at the window and took a 
 chair at the table near him. 
 
 " I must be gone in a few minutes. It wouldn't 
 do for them to know I was here. I might tell 
 Geoffrey afterwards, but not yet. I suppose you 
 didn't know that we have arranged to be married 
 next month ? " 
 
 " Indeed ! I didn't know it — how could I ? " 
 (After a pause). " I can only say that I congratulate 
 you both — very much." 
 
 *' Ah ! don't talk like that. If you can only 
 say those hollow sort of things don't say any- 
 thing. You know that you don't like Geoffrey," 
 " I'm not sure that I dislike him." 
 " And you don't like me." 
 
 He looked at her again — a look which she 
 returned but seemed to get lost in the mazes of. 
 
 '* Well ! " he said, with a curious reminiscent smile, 
 " considering what has passed — and the wealth of 
 
 affection you have lavished upon me " 
 
 He ended the sentence by thrusting his hands into 
 his pockets and gazing meditatively through the wall 
 at the phantoms of things that had been real but a 
 few months ago. 
 
 295
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 She smiled slightly, but immediately became 
 serious again — more serious than he had ever yet 
 known her. 
 
 " Oh, I must make haste. There are some things 
 I want to tell you. I'm not superstitious and I very 
 seldom worry — I should have been dead before this, 
 if I had been that sort of woman — but I couldn't do 
 what I am going to do, I simply couldn't marry him 
 without getting this off my mind. And there is no 
 one that I can tell, or ever will tell, but you." 
 
 " Are you sure you want to tell me ? " 
 
 She did not seem to hear the question. 
 
 " You see we were both mixed up in it — in one 
 way — you and I. It was your brother who was 
 killed and it was my " 
 
 Something seemed to choke her, but presently she 
 went on again : 
 
 " I couldn't speak to you now, but you were 
 fond of me once, and I seem to know you so well, 
 and I know that if I told you, you would never 
 betray me." 
 
 " I thank you at least for saying that." 
 
 " We should not have been back so soon " — she 
 was speaking more calmly and looking closely, she 
 began to fathom his mood — " but I got a cablegram 
 to say that Le Mercier was dead." 
 
 " Did that make so much difference ? " 
 
 " Yes — all the difference." 
 
 " You mean that he had been " — the slow measured 
 tone left the last word almost unsaid — "your lover?" 
 
 296
 
 The Goal that Recedes. ^ 
 
 " No," she flashed back at him, " not that. Not 
 my lover — but my husband ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " 
 
 " So there you know it. It all happened when I 
 was a very young girl — when father was very poor 
 and no one knew about us. It was kept secret. We 
 never lived in the same house. He was going to 
 make nie a home, but he never did, and my eyes 
 were opened to what sort of man he was. And when 
 we got on in the world father gave him money to 
 keep him from making claims on me. He seemed 
 satisfied as long as the money was paid, though I 
 always felt as though a sword was hanging over me." 
 
 "Does anyone know of this except your father 
 and mother ? " 
 
 "No. I will say that for him — he kept the secret 
 well." 
 
 "Does Mr. O'Brien — the man you are going to 
 marry — know of it ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " If I were you I would tell him." 
 
 "I won'ndl him." 
 
 There was a storm of pent-up passion in her voice 
 and her eyes blazed. 
 
 " I zuon'^ tell him. Has he been true to me all the 
 time I've been away, or all the time before I went 
 away ? Has he never been anything to anyone else 
 but me? Has he never met a woman whom he 
 ought to have married — even if he didn't marry her — 
 Heaven knows how often ? " 
 
 297
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 Her laugh was the bitterest and most scornful that 
 he had ever heard. 
 
 " Oh, I like to hear you men talk. There is to be 
 one law for us and another for you. You can do 
 what you like, and we are to be sacrificed all the 
 time. He can live a fast life for as many years as he 
 likes, and because I made one mistake when I knew 
 no better, I am not good enough for him if you 
 please — I am to be branded like some inferior sort 
 of animal and turned adrift." 
 
 Her vehemence at this point astonished him. 
 " If he were a good man, if you were all good men 
 and spotless, as you expect a woman to be, it would 
 be different. I swear to God, if a man were true to 
 me I would be true to him. I'm not a bad woman ; 
 I'm only a natural woman. And if we are going to 
 get married, what business is it of anybody? If he 
 wants to marry me, let him — let him — do you hear?" 
 " I have not another word to say. But tell me one 
 thing: If you think this of the man, if you despise 
 him as you seem to, why do you want to marry 
 him } " 
 
 " Oh ! It's not like that ; I don't despise him. I'm 
 not blaming him, even. We don't rave about each 
 other, but we like each other well enough. We've 
 both got over the silly stage. And the marriage 
 means a lot to me. Socially and in other ways, 
 it means a lot to me." 
 
 " Heaven knows / have no right to blame anyone. 
 I think I understand." 
 
 298
 
 The Goal that Recedes. 5^ 
 
 She gave him a quick, grateful glance, but she was 
 more troubled and more excited than before. 
 
 "There is only one other thing, and I must say it, 
 though it kills me. You remember — you remember 
 the night your brother died ? Well, Le Mei^rier was 
 in my room that night." 
 
 The shadows on a window blind seemed to come 
 shuddering back. 
 
 " He must have been drunk or something. He 
 wanted to stay, though I kept telling him to go. I 
 got him away at last, but he said he would come 
 back. And I was out of my senses. I got a 
 revolver — from father's room" — she gasped for 
 breath — "is that brandy in the flask there? I'm 
 a little faint — give me some." 
 
 She drank some of the spirit, and it revived her. 
 " Le Mercier is dead, and he — he said nc)thing. 
 He took the blame. I only meant to frighten him. 
 
 I never dreamed that it was not he, but " 
 
 " Stop ! " 
 
 The imperious command frightened her. 
 " For God's sake, stop ! You mustn't tell mc any- 
 thing more. I won't answer for myself if you do." 
 
 " Can't you see that if I was the sort of woman 
 who sat down and brooded over things, I should be 
 stark, staring mad. I had either to forget or go 
 crazy. And I managed to forget." 
 
 There was silence for a full minute. When it was 
 over she had risen to go. He could sec that, with 
 the marvellous vitalit)' that was part of her unequalled 
 
 299
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 mental and physical equipment, she had recovered 
 from the effects of the terrible mood of a few minutes 
 before. 
 
 She held out her hand, with lips uncertainly 
 smiling and eyes swimming over. 
 
 " Will you take it, and never remember that a 
 woman came to see you here to-night ? " 
 
 " I shall never recall it," he said, staggering to his 
 feet, and just touching her hand, but keeping his 
 face turned away; "you can be all the more sure of 
 that, as in a few days I shall have left Australia." 
 
 300
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE DECLINING SUN. 
 
 HE clock pointed to four in the afternoon, 
 A couple of portmanteaux were lying 
 packed on the floor, and a drawer contain- 
 ing letters, manuscripts, printed papers, and other 
 relics was being pulled about. 
 
 " Can I help you, sir ? " 
 
 Recalled from wide ranging thoughts by the 
 question, he looked round. The head of Mrs. 
 Garburn was visible in the room. Her figure was 
 concealed behind the slightly opened door. 
 
 The inquiry suggested friendliness, a desire to 
 help. But the impassive face, and still more the 
 tone of voice, denied emphatically that such a poor 
 thing as sentiment had any bearing on the situation. 
 
 " Thank you, no. I have nearly finished." 
 
 The head disappeared. 
 
 "Mrs. Garburn!" 
 
 There it was back again. 
 
 " A gentleman sent me a telegram to say that 
 301
 
 ^' Bubble Reputation. 
 
 he would call about this time. It's too late to stand 
 on ceremony. If he calls, show him up here." 
 
 She said "Yes," and he turned to his packing 
 again. 
 
 The clock pointed to half-past four. The sorting 
 was completed. The things to be kept had been 
 finally separated from the things to be destroyed — 
 and the result showed the former to be marvellously 
 few. 
 
 A ring at the bell caused an involuntary start. 
 Was it the man or the woman this time? Prob- 
 ably the man. It was the hour of his appointment. 
 The prospects of seeing the woman again were 
 becoming momentarily less. Yet, what folly was 
 it to look for a meeting that must inevitably be 
 painful, and could do no good? 
 
 " I should apologise," said Johansen, with the 
 stately manner which never deserted him, " for 
 intruding upon you here. But I wished to see 
 you. I hoped, and I may say I still hope — 
 though these preparations leave little ground for 
 it — that you may have changed your mind." 
 
 " You are very kind." If the words were formal 
 the tone was not. " I have done nothing to deserve 
 your kindness. Perhaps for that reason I appreciate 
 it all the more." 
 
 " My dear fellow," exclaimed the politician puzzled, 
 and a little testily, "I can't understand it. Why 
 should you want to go away — now, of all times ? 
 As I reminded you in my letter, the Federal 
 
 302
 
 The Declining Sun. ^ 
 
 elections will be coming on early next year, and 
 your chance of winning a seat would, I venture 
 to say, be second to none. And as I mentioned 
 also, I am willing to give you any assistance in 
 my power." 
 
 The younger man flushed a little. Notice of 
 this kind from a man like Johansen was unusual, 
 and inclined to be embarrassing. 
 
 " I am free to confess that I did not want to 
 see you standing in Smith's shoes. I did not — I 
 may tell you now — advise your selection. The 
 larger Federal arena is the better one for you. It 
 is the one I propose to enter myself." 
 
 "You are more than kind. If anything in the 
 world would have made me remain, it would have 
 been your letter. I hesitated a long while. But 
 two things decided me to go." 
 
 "What were they?" 
 
 " In the first place, it is not at all certain that 
 I should be returned." 
 
 "You would have an excellent chance, at any 
 rate. It would be idle to affirm " — with the peculiar 
 manner that impressed everybody — " that there is 
 any certainty about these affairs." 
 
 " I know. And, if you will allow me to say so, 
 I think you rather over-estimate my chances of 
 success. I should have to satisfy the Labour 
 Unions, the Progressive League, the advanced 
 democrats, the moderate democrats, the single 
 taxers, the faddists of fifty kinds, and thousands 
 
 303
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 of other people as well. And then there 
 would be the Press, which might be favourable to 
 me, or might not. Apart from that, there would 
 be the scores of men who have been longer at the 
 game than I have, and who think they have 
 a better claim upon the seat than I have. It is 
 not a question of ability. Not that at all. It is 
 a question of influence, of advertisement, of personal 
 likes and dislikes, of drum-beating, cymbal-banging, 
 and wire-pulling in excelsis.'^ 
 
 " Someone must win, and why not you ? " 
 " I thought of that too. Don't believe that I'm 
 afraid to fight the seat — not that for a moment. But 
 since I have been mixed up in politics a little, the 
 idea of winning — even if I could win, of which I 
 am not at all sure — doesn't appeal to me as it did 
 a few months ago. It seems to me now that there 
 are other things better worth while. And the 
 second consideration is this : A book I wrote 
 three years ago has been dug up, and has brought 
 me in a little money and a little — a very little — 
 reputation. What is more important, it will give 
 me an introduction to a London publisher, and 
 may give me a start in a bigger life." 
 
 " A book of yours ! I can't say I have heard 
 of it." 
 
 " Nor anyone else until a few weeks back. But 
 since I have been talked about — since my name 
 has got into the newspapers — they have been putting 
 this thing in the shop windows. One or two critics 
 
 304
 
 The Declining Sun. 5> 
 
 have discovered for a fact, what no one even 
 suspected before, that it contains originah"ty, dis- 
 tinction, boldness, ' the refinement of neo-paganism ' 
 — whatever that means." 
 
 *' What do you propose to do in London ? " 
 
 " Write — and keep on writing. Starve, perhaps — 
 but not necessarily keep on starving, because Nature 
 herself imposes a limit of time on that process." 
 
 " Your mind is made up, then ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " In that case," said Johansen, rising from his 
 seat and preparing to leave, " I have nothing more 
 to say. But it just occurs to me — would you like 
 a letter to anyone over there? I was representing 
 the colony at Diamond Jubilee time, and met a 
 good many people, pubHshers and newspaper editors 
 among them." 
 
 The younger man looked at him with a sudden 
 thought and a sudden hesitation. 
 
 " If I only thank you for that generous offer, 
 will you allow me, in place of accepting it, to ask 
 you to do something else ? Something that concerns 
 another than myself." 
 
 " Yes ? " — interrogatively, with a slight lifting of 
 the eyebrows. 
 
 " It may seem folly to ask it, and I am presuming 
 to do what I dare say no one else would do. 
 But there is someone here in Sydney — where, I don't 
 know — whom it makes me sick to think I shall 
 probably not see again." 
 
 305 u
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 "Ah, you'll get over that." 
 
 " Perhaps — and perhaps not. Her name is Edith 
 Grey, and you may possibly have seen her at 
 Rayment's house. If by any chance you meet her 
 or hear of her — I know it's wildly improbable, but 
 there is just this fact that you will be twelve 
 thousand miles nearer to her than I will — I venture 
 to ask that you might do something for her, or sec 
 that she comes to no harm." 
 
 " H'm," said Johansen, dubiously. " Who is she ? 
 What is her address ? " 
 
 " I don't even know that for certain, but I believe 
 the General Post Office will find her." 
 
 " H'm ! " exclaimed Johansen, still more dubiously, 
 pausing in the middle of the room. " It's rather 
 a vague sort of commission, is it not ? " 
 
 The other man had risen impulsively from his 
 chair, but he sank down in it again. 
 
 " Of course it is," he muttered, *' sheer mad folly 
 and presumption to ask it. I know that. But 
 I have been thinking about this so much lately that 
 I couldn't help speaking about it, even to you." 
 
 The unmistakeable dejection in the voice was its 
 strongest appeal. And it was not altogether thrown 
 away. 
 
 " My dear boy," said Johansen, " I can under- 
 stand what you feel. We've all had our day. I may 
 not be able to do very much, but I'll do this: I'll 
 get Mrs. Johansen to write the girl a line at the 
 General Post Office, and invite her to come to the 
 
 306
 
 The Declining Sun. 5©^ 
 
 house. If she doesn't come, I'm afraid I can't do 
 anything ; but if she does, she won't want a 
 friend." 
 
 " I should only make an idiot of myself," said 
 Arthur Ward, " if I tried to thank you, or tried to 
 say another word." 
 
 Johansen held out his hand, which the other 
 took, and then the wheels of a cab were heard 
 driving off. 
 
 The clock had got round to five. The sole 
 occupant of the room went to the window and 
 looked out. It was an inviting prospect. The 
 light of a declining summer's day was reflected from 
 housetops and the distant sea. What a panorama ! 
 What a tint of soft light, brilliant enough to charm 
 the senses, and yet not glaring enough to tire the 
 eye ! What a dark, restful line of rising ground and 
 of bush in the distance — the unchanging line that 
 the Australian recognises as one of the welcoming 
 symbols of home ! And how, in contrast to that 
 more sombre line, the red-roofed tiles of a thousand 
 houses fringing the harbour smiled a Danae smile of 
 welcome to the gold of the descending sun ! And 
 how that small white-winged craft, one of hundreds, 
 came dancing out from the sheltering promontory 
 across the laughing waters of the bay ! 
 
 By next evening he would be out of reach of it all. 
 Yet the sight of it did him good. The ship was to 
 leave early in the morning. For years to come the 
 thought of this harbour city, the memory of it as he 
 
 307
 
 -o^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 could see it now, would come between him and 
 much that it was necessary to forget. Yet would it 
 come between ? Would it ? He hoped at any rate 
 that it would. 
 
 The bell rang again. This time it must be she. 
 He had never really believed that, having heard, as 
 she must have heard of his intending departure 
 from Australia, she would utter no word and give no 
 sign. The sickening hope that it might be she was 
 met and strangled by the messenger of reason, which 
 told him that it would be better for him, better 
 perhaps for her, if it were not. 
 
 Anticipating Mrs. Garburn, he was down the stairs 
 and had opened the door. It was Edith, and he led 
 her into the room where the other woman had made 
 the confession of a few nights before. 
 
 Once there she seemed to realise that she had done 
 a daring thing. She stood up wondering, uncertain, 
 tremulous. He released her hand and pu-shed a 
 chair towards her. 
 
 *' I am so glad to see you," he said, looking at her 
 but not coming any closer. " You don't know how 
 glad I am." 
 
 " I heard — it was in the paper — that you were 
 going away. I have come to wish you good-bye." 
 
 Yes, I am going away, and the thought has been 
 torturing me that I would never have the chance to 
 tell you how much I loathed and detested myself for 
 having said one word or done the least thing to 
 offend you or frighten you — as I did that night 
 
 308
 
 The Declining Sun. ^ 
 
 Because you are here now I know that you have 
 forgiven me and that you wish me well," 
 
 " It said to-morrow— are you going away to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes. The boat leaves at daybreak, and the 
 passengers must be on board to-night." 
 
 She rose from the seat, and coming over towards 
 him looked as if she were going to fall. He sup- 
 ported her in his arms, and her soft dark hair brushed 
 his face. 
 
 " Ah, why do you go away ? " The words were 
 just audible. " Why do you want to leave me } It 
 has been so hard — and now it will be harder still." 
 
 " I have nothing to offer you — no riches, no home, 
 not even a name." 
 
 " I don't think of them — only of you." 
 
 " You heard what I said — not even a name." 
 
 " I would rather anything, anything, than the old 
 life — and the other people — I can't bear it." 
 
 " Let me think for a minute — I can't while I am 
 talking to you like this." 
 
 He released her and went to the window, looking 
 out into the darkness. Then he began pacing up 
 and down the room. 
 
 " I wouldn't have stayed," he muttered to himself, 
 " not for Johansen — nor any of them. But this — this 
 is different — what ought I to do ? " 
 
 Something seemed to prompt her to say the right 
 word. 
 
 •' I am sure you ought to stay in Australia. It 
 
 309
 
 ^ Bubble Reputation. 
 
 would be wrong — ever so wrong — to go away now ; 
 they are just beginning to know you, and to talk 
 about you ; you wanted that ; why should you throw 
 it all away ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " he murmured doubtfully, still walking up 
 and down the room, but with a new and different 
 expression beginning to grow in his eyes. 
 
 '* Oh ! don't think I'm selfish," she went on 
 passionately, " because I want you to stay ; it is 
 not that at all, I put myself out of the question 
 altogether. But I know — I know they will want 
 you here, and I hear them saying they are going to 
 have Federation — isn't it so ? — and that the men who 
 understand things will be wanted in Australia more 
 than ever now." 
 
 He still said nothing, but the look on his face had 
 changed. 
 
 " But if you have made up your mind," she said, 
 sinking down in a chair and burying her face in her 
 hands, " go and don't think of me — go— I shall do — 
 very well." 
 
 The man made a step forward and drew her hands 
 from her face. 
 
 " Dear girl," he said, " I have done my best to 
 think this matter out, and to do the right thing for 
 both of us, even if it seemed hard ; I never doubted 
 I could be happier here with you — but now I believe 
 — I am sure it is wiser as you say. There is more, 
 far more to be gained by staying than going away." 
 She looked at him tearfully, but radiantly smiling. 
 310
 
 The Declining Sun. 5^ 
 
 " Oh, I am glad ; you will get a reputation, you 
 will become famous, I know you will." 
 
 '* No, no," he answered deprecatingly, " life has 
 something to give more real than that; but whatever 
 comes," speaking very earnestly, "we will share it 
 together, will we not ? " 
 
 She was wholly pleased, but doubtful and half 
 afraid, 
 
 " Not unless you really wish it," she said. " You 
 will do what is best, and not mind me." 
 
 He assured her that he wished it more than 
 anything else, and in the exaltation of the moment 
 meant what he said. Neither in later times, after 
 the wave of emotionalism had broken, did there 
 seem any reason to regret that its overmastering 
 force had carried them both so far. For he grew to 
 realise that her woman's devotion, strong, unselfish, 
 and unwavering, was the brightest beacon of any 
 leading to the harbour of Content. 
 
 THE END.
 
 ilARROLD & SoNSi Ltd., 
 
 Printers, 
 
 The Empire Press, Norwich.
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 ^"9619.3 .B854b 1906 
 
 A A 001 41 1 697 4 
 
 L 009 502 181 2