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-^t*lr»-:^ 
 
 (sasf^el Bypon's 
 
 Profession. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE BERiNARD SHAW. 
 
 1886. 
 THE MODERN PRESS. 13, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.G. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cashelbyronsprofOOshawrich 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION, 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 I. 
 
 MoNCRiEF House, Panley Common. Scholastic establishment 
 for the sons of gentlemen, &c. 
 
 Panley Common, viewed from the back windows of Moncrief 
 House, is a tract of grass, furze, and rushes, stretching away to 
 the western horizon. 
 
 One wet spring afternoon the sky was full of broken clouds, and 
 the common was swept by their shadows, between which patches 
 of green and yellow gorse were bright in the broken sunlight. 
 The hills to the northward were obscured by a heavy shower,, 
 traces of which were drying off the slates of the school, a square 
 white building, formerly a gentleman's country house. In 
 front of it was a well-kept lawn with a few dipt holly trees. At 
 the rear, quarter of an acre of land was enclosed for the use of 
 the boys. Strollers on the common could hear, at certain hours, 
 a hubbub of voices and racing footsteps from within the boundary 
 wall. Sometimes, when the strollers were boys themselves, they 
 climbed to the coping, and saw on the other side a piece of 
 common trampled bare and brown, with a few square yards of 
 concrete, so worn into hollows as to be unfit for its original use as 
 a ball alley. Also a long shed, a pump, a door defaced by innu- 
 merable incised inscriptions, the back of the house in much 
 worse repair than the front, and about fifty boys in tailless jackets 
 and broad turned-down collars. When the fifty boys perceived a 
 stranger on the wall, they rushed to the spot with a wild halloo ; 
 overwhelmed him with insult and defiance ; and dislodged him by 
 a volley of clods, stones, lumps of bread, and such other projectiles 
 as were at hand. 
 
 On this rainy spring afternoon, a brougham stood at the door 
 of Moncrief House. The coachman, enveloped in a white 
 india-rubber coat, was bestirring himself a little after the recent 
 shower. Withindoors, in the drawing-room. Dr. Moncrief was 
 conversing with a stately lady aged about thirty-five, elegantly 
 dressed, of attractive manner, and only falling short of absolute 
 beauty in her complexion, which was deficient in freshness. 
 
 "No progress whatever, I am sorry to say," the doctor was 
 remarking. 
 
 B 
 
2 CASHBL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 ♦' That is very disappointing," said the lady, contracting her 
 brows. 
 
 " It is natural that you should feel disappointed," replied the 
 doctor. ** I would myself earnestly advise you to try the effect of 
 placing him at some other — " The doctor stopped. The lady's 
 face had lit up with a wonderful smile ; and she had raised her 
 hand with a bewitching gesture of protest. 
 
 " Oh no. Dr. Moncrief," she said. ** I am not disappointed with 
 you ; but I am all the more angry with Cashel because I know that 
 if he makes no progress with you, it must be his own fault. As to 
 taking him away, that is out of the question. I should not have 
 a moment's peace if he were out of your care. I will speak to him 
 very seriously about his conduct before I leave to-day. You 
 will give him another trial, will you not ? " 
 
 " Certainly. With the greatest pleasure," exclaimed the doctor, 
 ■confusing himself by an inept attempt at gallantry. " He shall 
 stay as long as you please. But " — here the doctor became grave 
 again — " you cannot too strongly urge upon him the importance of 
 hard work at the present time, which may be said to be the 
 turning point of his career as a student. He is now nearly seven- 
 teen ; and he has so little inclination for study that I doubt 
 whether he could pass the examination necessary to entering one 
 of the universities. You probably wish him to take a degree 
 before he chooses a profession." 
 
 ** Yes, of course," said the lady vaguely, evidently assenting to 
 the doctor's remark rather than expressing a conviction of her 
 own. ** What profession would you advise for him ? You know 
 so much better than I." 
 
 " Hum ! " said Dr. Moncrief, puzzled. *' That would doubtless 
 ■depend to some extent on his own taste — " 
 
 •' Not at all," said the lady, interrupting him with vivacity. 
 ^' What does he know about the world, poor boy ? His own taste 
 is sure to be something ridiculous. Very likely he would want 
 to go on the stage, like me." 
 
 " Oh ! Then you would not encourage any tendency of that 
 sort?" 
 
 " Most decidedly not. I hope he has no such idea." 
 
 " Not that I am aware of. He shows so little ambition to excel 
 in any particular branch that I should say his choice of a pro- 
 fession may be best determined by his parents. I am, of course, 
 ignorant whether his relatives possess influence likely to be of use 
 to him. That is often the chief point to be considered, particularly 
 in cases like your son's, where no special aptitude manifests itself." 
 
 *' I am the only relative he ever had, poor fellow," said the lady, 
 with a pensive smile. Then, seeing an expression of astonishment 
 •on the doctor's face, she added quickly, " They are all dead." 
 
 *' Dear me ! " 
 
 *• However," she continued, " I have no doubt I can make plenty 
 of interest for him. But it is difficult to get anything now-a-days 
 without passing competitive examinations. He really must work. 
 If he is lazy he ought to be punished." 
 
 The doctor looked perplexed. "The fact is," he said, "your 
 son can hardly be dealt with as a child any longer. He is still 
 
PROLOGUE. 3 
 
 quite a boy in his habits and ideas ; but physically he is rapidly 
 springing up into a young man. That reminds me of another 
 point on which I will ask you to speak earnestly to him. I must 
 tell you that he has attained some distinction among his school- 
 fellows here as an athlete. Within due bounds I do not discourage 
 bodily exercises : they are a recognized part of our system. But 
 I am sorry to say that Cashel has not escaped that tendency to 
 violence which sometimes results from the possession of unusual 
 strength and dexterity. He actually fought with one of the village 
 youths in the main street of Panley some months ago. The 
 matter did not come to my ears immediately ; and, when it did, 
 I allowed it to pass unnoticed, as he had interfered, it seems,to pro- 
 tect one of the smaller boys. Unfortunately, he was guilty of a much 
 more serious fault a little later. He and a companion of his had 
 obtained leave from me to walk to Panley Abbey together. T after- 
 wards found that their real object was to witness a prizefight 
 that took place— illegally, of course — on the common. Apart 
 from the deception practised, I think the taste they betrayed a 
 dangerous one ; and I felt bound to punish them by a severe im- 
 position, and restriction to the grounds for six weeks. I do not 
 hold, however, that everything has been done in these cases when 
 a boy has been punished. I set a high value on a mother's in- 
 fluence for softening the natural roughness of boys." 
 
 " I dont think he minds what I say to him in the least," said the 
 lady, with a sympathetic air, as if she pitied the doctor in a matter 
 that chiefly concerned him. ** I will speak to him about it, of 
 course. Fighting is an unbearable habit. His father's people 
 were always fighting ; and they never did any good in the world." 
 
 " If you will be so kind. There are just the three points : the 
 necessity for greater — much greater — application to his studies ; a 
 word to him on the subject of rough habits ; and to sound him as 
 to his choice of a career. I agree with you in not attaching much 
 importance to his ideas on that subject as yet. Still, even a boyish 
 fancy may be turned to account in rousing the energies of a lad." 
 
 '* Quite so," assented the lady. " I will certainly give him a 
 lecture." 
 
 The doctor looked at her mistrustfully, thinking perhaps that she 
 herself would be the better for a lecture on her duties as a mother. 
 But he did not dare to tell her so : indeed, having a prejudice to 
 the effect that actresses were deficient in natural feeling, he doubted 
 the use of daring. He also feared that the subject of her son was 
 beginning to bore her ; and, though a doctor of divinity, he was as 
 reluctant as other men to be found wanting in address by a pretty 
 woman. So he rang the bell, and bade the servant send Master 
 Cashel Byron. Presently a door was heard to open below ; and a 
 buzz of distant voices became audible. The doctor fidgeted and 
 tried to think of something to say ; but his invention failed him : 
 he sat in silence whilst the inarticulate buzz rose into a shouting 
 of " By-ron ! " " Cash ! " the latter cry imitated from the summons 
 usually addressed to cashiers in haberdashers' shops. Finally 
 there was a piercing yell of " Mam-ma-a-a-a-ah ! '' apparently in 
 explanation of the demand for Byron's attendance in the drawing- 
 room. The doctor reddened. Mrs. Byron smiled. Then the 
 
 B 2 
 
4 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 door below closed, shutting out the tumult ; and footsteps were 
 heard on the stairs. 
 
 " Come in," cried the doctor encouragingly. 
 
 Master Cashel Byron entered blushing ; made his way awkwardly 
 to his mother ; and kissed the critical expression which was on 
 her upturned face as she examined his appearance. Being only 
 seventeen, he had not yet acquired a taste for kissing. He in- 
 expertly gave Mrs. Byron quite a shock by the collision of their 
 teeth. Conscious of the failure, he drew himself upright, and 
 tried to hide his hands, which were exceedingly dirty, in the scanty 
 folds of his jacket. He was a well grown youth, with neck and 
 shoulders already strongly formed, and short auburn hair curling 
 in little rings close to his scalp. He had blue eyes, and an ex- 
 pression of boyish good humour, which, however, did not convey 
 any assurance of good temper. 
 
 " How do you do, Cashel ? " said Mrs. Byron, in a queenly 
 manner, after a prolonged look at him. 
 
 *' Very well, thanks," said he, grinning and avoiding her eye. 
 
 " Sit down, Byron," said the doctor. Byron suddenly forgot 
 how to sit down, and looked irresolutely from one chair to another. 
 The doctor made a brief excuse, and left the room ; much to the 
 relief of his pupil. 
 
 " You have grown greatly, Cashel. And I am afraid you are 
 very awkward." Cashel coloured and looked gloomy. 
 
 *• I do not know what to do with you," continued Mrs. Byron. 
 '* Dr. Moncrief tells me that you are very idle and rough." 
 
 " I am not," said Cashel sulkily. " It is bee — " 
 
 "There is no use in contradicting me in that fashion," said Mrs. 
 Byron, interrupting him sharply. " I am sure that whatever 
 Dr. Moncrief says is perfectly true." 
 
 " He is always talking hke that," said Cashel plaintively. " I 
 cant learn Latin and Greek ; and I dont see what good they are. 
 I work as hard as any of the rest— except the regular stews 
 perhaps. As to my being rough, that is all because I was out one 
 vlay with Gully Molesworth ; and we saw a crowd on the common ; 
 and when we went to see what was up it was two men fighting. It 
 wasnt our fault that they came there to fight." 
 
 " Yes : I have no doubt that you have fifty good excuses, 
 Cashel. But I will not allow any fighting ; and you really must 
 work harder. Do you ever think of how hard / have to work to 
 pay Dr. Moncrief one hundred and twenty pounds a year for 
 you ? " 
 
 " I work as hard as I can. Old Moncrief seems to think that a 
 fellow ought to do nothing else from morning *til night but write 
 Latin verses. Tatham, that the doctor thinks such a genius, does 
 all his constering from cribs. If I had a crib I could conster as 
 well — very likely better." 
 
 "You are very idle, Cashel: I am sure of that. It is too pro- 
 voking to throw away so much money every year for nothing. 
 Besides, you must soon be thinking of a profession." 
 
 " I shall go into the army," said Cashel. " It is the only pro- 
 fession for a gentleman." 
 
 Mrs. Byron looked at him for a moment as if amazed at 
 
PROLOGUE. 5 
 
 his presumption. But she checked herself and only said, *' I am 
 afraid you will have to choose some less expensive profession than 
 that. Besides, you would have to pass an examination to enable 
 you to enter the army; and how can you do that unless you 
 study?" 
 
 " Oh, I shall do that all right enough when the time comes." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! You are beginning to speak so coarsely, Cashel. 
 After all the pains I took with you at home ! " 
 
 " I speak the same as other people," he replied sullenly. ** I 
 dont see the use of being so jolly particular over every syllable. 
 I used to have to stand no end of chaff about my way of speaking. 
 The fellows here know all about you, of course." 
 
 " All about me ? " repeated Mrs. Byron, looking at him curiously. 
 
 ♦'All about your being on the stage, I mean," said Cashel. 
 ■" You complain of my fighting ; but I should have a precious bad 
 time of it if I didnt lick the chaff out of som^ of them." 
 
 Mrs. Byron smiled doubtfully to herself, and remained silent 
 and thoughtful for a moment. Then she rose and said, glancing 
 at the weather, " I must go now, Cashel, before another shower 
 begins. And do, pray, try to learn something, and to polish your 
 manners a little. You will have to go to Cambridge soon, you 
 know." 
 
 ♦♦ Cambridge ! " exclaimed Cashel, excited. ♦• When, mamma ? 
 When ? " 
 
 *' Oh, I dont know. Not yet. As soon as Dr. Moncrief says 
 you are fit to go." 
 
 *• That will be long enough," said Cashel, much dejected by this 
 reply. ♦' He will not turn £120 a year out of doors in a hurry. 
 He kept big Inglis here until he was past twenty. Look here, 
 mamma : might I go at the end of this half? I feel sure I should 
 do better at Cambridge than here." 
 
 ♦* Nonsense," said Mrs. Byron decidedly. ** I do not expect to 
 have to take you away from Dr. Moncrief for the next eighteen 
 months at least, and not then unless you work properly. Now dont 
 grumble, Cashel : you annoy me exceedingly when you do. I am 
 sorry I mentioned Cambridge to you." 
 
 " I would rather go to some other school, then," said Cashel 
 ruefully. " Old Moncrief is so awfully down on me." 
 
 " You only want to leave because you are expected to work 
 here ; and that is the very reason I wish you to stay." 
 
 Cashel made no reply ; but his face darkened ominously. 
 
 " I have a word to say to the doctor before I go," she added, re- 
 seating herself. "You may return to your play now. Good-bye, 
 Cashel." And she again raised her face to be kissed. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Cashel huskily as he turned towards the door, 
 pretending that he had not noticed her action. 
 
 '♦ Cashel !" she said, with emphatic surprise. ♦' Are you sulky ?" 
 
 *• No," he retorted angrily. ♦' I havent said anything. I suppose 
 my manners are not good enough. I'm very sorry ; but I cant 
 help it." 
 
 " Very well," said Mrs. Byron firmly. " You can go, Cashel. I 
 am not pleased with you." 
 
 Cashel walked out of the room and slammed the door. At the 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 foot of the staircase he was stopped by a boy about a year younger 
 than himself, who accosted him eagerly. 
 
 •* How much did she give you ? " he whispered. 
 
 " Not a halfpenny," replied Cashel, grinding his teeth. 
 
 ** Oh, I say ! " exclaimed the other, much disappointed. •• That 
 was beastly mean." 
 
 " She's as mean as she can be," said Cashel. " It's all old 
 Monkey's fault. He has been cramming her with lies about me. 
 But she's just as bad as he is. I tell you, Gully, I hate my 
 mother.' 
 
 " Oh, come ! " said Gully, shocked. " That's a little too strong, 
 old chap. But she certainly ought to have stood something." 
 
 " I dont know what you intend to do, Gully ; but I mean to bolt. 
 If she thinks I am going to stick here for the next two years» 
 she is jolly much mistaken." 
 
 '* It would be an awful lark to bolt," said Gully with a chuckle. 
 '* But," he added seriously, " if you really mean it ; by George, I'll 
 go too ! Wilson has just given me a thousand lines ; and I'll be 
 hanged if I do them." 
 
 ** Gully," said Cashel, his eyes sparkling: " I should like to see 
 one of those chaps we saw on the common pitch into the doctor — 
 get him on the ropes, you know." 
 
 Gully's mouth watered. " Yes," he said breathlessly ; " particu- 
 larly the fellow they called the Fibber. Just one round would be 
 enough for the old beggar. Let's come out into the playground : 
 
 1 shall catch it if I am found here." 
 
 II. 
 
 That night there was just sufficient light struggling through the 
 clouds to make Pauley Common visible as a black expans^, 
 against the lightest tone of which a piece of ebony would have 
 appeared pale. Not a human being was stirring within a mile of 
 Moncrief House, the chimneys of which, ghostly white on the side 
 next the moon, threw long shadows on the silver-grey slates. The 
 stillness had just been broken by the stroke of a quarter past 
 twelve from a distant church tower, when, from the obscurity of 
 one of these chimney shadows, a head emerged. It belonged to a 
 boy, whose body presently wriggled through an open skylight. 
 When his shoulders were through, he turned himself face upwards, 
 seized the miniature gable in which the skylight was set, drew 
 himself completely out ; and made his way stealthily down to the 
 parapet. He was immediately followed by another boy. 
 
 The door of Moncrief House was at the left hand corner of the 
 front, and was surmounted by a tall porch, the top of which was 
 flat and could be used as a balcony. A wall, of the same height 
 as the porch, connected the house front with the boundary wall, 
 and formed part of the inclosure of a fruit garden which lay at the 
 side of the house between the lawn and the playground. When 
 the two boys had crept along the parapet to a point directly above 
 the porch, they stopped, and each lowered a pair of boots to the 
 balcony by means of fishing lines. When the boots were safely 
 
PROLOGUE. 7 
 
 landed, their owners let the lines drop, and re-entered the house 
 by another skylight. A minute elapsed. Then they reappeared 
 on the top of the porch, having come out through the window to 
 which it served as a balcony. Here they put on their boots, and 
 stept on to the wall of the fruit garden. As they crawled along it, 
 the hindmost boy whispered, 
 
 ** I say, Cashy.*" 
 
 •* Shut up, will you," replied the other under his breath.. 
 " What's wrong ? " 
 
 " I should like to have one more go at old mother Moncriefs 
 pear tree : that's all." 
 
 " There are no pears on it at this season, you fool." 
 
 " I know. This is the last time we shall go this road, Cashy. 
 Usent it to be a lark ? Eh ? " 
 
 '* If you dont shut up, it wont be the last time ; for you'll be 
 caught. Now for it." 
 
 Cashel had reached the outer wall, and he finished his sentence 
 ])y dropping from it to the common. Gully held his breath for 
 some moments after the noise made by his companion's striking 
 I tie ground. Then he demanded in a whisper whether all was 
 right. 
 
 " Yes," returned Cashel impatiently. " Drop as soft as you can." 
 
 Gully obeyed ; and was so careful lest his descent should shake 
 the earth and awake the doctor, that his feet shrank from the con- 
 cussion. He alighted in a sitting posture, and remained there, 
 looking up at Cashel with a stunned expression. 
 
 " Crikey ! " he ejaculated presently. " That was a buster." 
 
 *' Get up, I tell you," said Cashel. " I never saw such a jolly 
 ass as you are. Here, up with you ! Have you got your wind 
 back ? " 
 
 " I should think so. Bet you twopence I'll be first at the cross 
 roads. I say: let's pull the bell at the front gate and give an 
 awful yell before we start. They'll never catch us." 
 
 "Yes," said Cashel ironically: " I fancy I see mysslf doing it,, 
 or you either. Now then. One, two, three, and away." 
 
 They ran off together, and reached the cross roads about eight 
 minutes later : Gully completely out of breath, and Cashel nearly 
 so. Here, according to their plan, Gully was to take the north 
 road and run to Scotland, where he felt sure that his uncle's 
 gamekeeper would hide him. Cashel was to go to sea, where, he 
 argued, he could, if his affairs became desperate, turn pirate, and 
 achieve eminence in that profession by adding a chivalrous 
 humanity to the ruder virtues for which it is already famous. 
 
 Cashel waited until Gully had recovered from his race. Then 
 he said, 
 
 ** Now, old fellow. We've got to separate." 
 
 Gully, thus confronted with the lonely realities of his scheme,. 
 did not like the prospect. After a moments reflection he exclaimed, 
 
 " Damme, old chap, but I'll come with you. Scotland may 
 go and be hanged." 
 
 But Cashel, being the stronger of the two, was as anxious to get 
 rid of Gully as Gully was to cling to him. " No," he said ; '^ I'm 
 going to rough it ; and you wouldnt be able for that. You're not 
 
8 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 Strong enough for a sea life. Why, man, those sailor fellows are 
 as hard as nails ; and even they can hardly stand it." 
 
 " Well, then, do you come with me," urged Gully. ** My 
 uncle's gamekeeper wont mind. He's a jolly good sort ; and we 
 shall have no end of shooting." 
 
 •* That's all very well for you, Gully ; but I dont know your 
 uncle ; and I'm not going to put myself under a compliment to 
 his gamekeeper. Besides, we should riin too much risk of beingr 
 caught if we went through the country together. Of course I 
 should be only too glad if we could stick to one another ; but it 
 wouldnt do : I feel certain we should be nabbed. Goodbye." 
 
 " But wait a minute," pleaded Gully. •' Suppose they do try to 
 catch us : we shall have a better chance against them if there are 
 two of us." 
 
 " Stuff! " said Cashel. ** That's all boyish nonsense. There 
 will be at least six policemen sent after us ; and even if I did my 
 very best, I could barely lick two if they came on together. And 
 you would hardly be able for one. You just keep moving, and 
 dont go near any railway station ; and you will get to Scotland all 
 safe enough. Look here : we have wasted five minutes already. 
 1 have got my wind now ; and I must be off. Goodbye." 
 
 Gully disdained to press his company on Cashel any further. 
 " Goodbye," he said, mournfully shaking his hand. *• Success, 
 old chap." 
 
 " Success," echoed Cashel, grasping Gully's hand with a pang 
 of remorse for leaving him. *' I'll write to you as soon as I have 
 anything to tell you. I may be some months, you know, before I 
 get regularly settled." 
 
 He gave Gully a final squeeze, released him, and darted off 
 along the road leading to Pauley Village. Gully looked after 
 him for a moment, and then ran away Scotland wards. 
 
 Pauley Village consisted of a High Street, with an old fashioned 
 inn at one eud, a modern railway station and bridge at the other, 
 and a pump and pound midway between. Cashel stood for a while 
 in the shadow under the bridge before venturing along the broad 
 moonlit street. Seeing no one, he stepped out at a brisk walking 
 pace ; for he had by this time reflected that it was not possible to 
 run all the way to the Spanish main. There was, however, 
 another person stirring in the village besides Cashel. This was 
 Mr. Wilson, Dr. Moncriefs professor of mathematics, who was 
 returning from a visit to the theatre. Mr. Wilson had an impres- 
 sion that theatres were wicked places, to be visited by respectable 
 men only on rare occasions and by stealth. The only plays he 
 went openly to witness were those of Shakspere ; and his favourite 
 was " As you like it " : Rosalind in tights having an attraction for 
 him which he missed in Lady Macbeth in petticoats. On this 
 evening he had seen Rosalind impersonated by a famous actress^ 
 who had come to a neighbouring town on a starring tour. After 
 the performance he had returned to Panley, supped there with 
 a friend, and was now making his way back to Moncrief House, 
 of which he had been entrusted with the key. He was in a 
 frame of mind favourable for the capture of a runaway boy. An 
 habitual delight in being too clever for his pupils, fostered by 
 
PROLOGUE. 5 
 
 frequently overreaching them in mathematics, was just now stimu- 
 lated by the effect of a liberal supper and the roguish consciousness 
 of having been to the play. He saw and recognized Cashel as 
 he approached the village pound. Understanding the situation at 
 once, he hid behind the pump, waited until the unsuspecting 
 truant was passing within arm's length, and then stepped out and 
 seized him by the collar of his jacket. 
 
 ** Well, sir," he said. ** What are you doing here at this hour ? 
 Eh ? " 
 
 Cashel, scared and white, looked up at him, and could not 
 answer a word. 
 
 " Come along with me," said Wilson sternly. 
 
 Cashel suffered himself to be led for some twenty yards. Then 
 he stopped and burst into tears. 
 
 " There is no use in my going back," he said sobbing. *' I have 
 never done any good there. I can't go back." 
 
 " Indeed," said Wilson, with magisterial sarcasm. *' We shall 
 try to make you do better in future." And he forced the fugitive 
 to resume his march. 
 
 Cashel, bitterly humiliated by his own tears, and exasperated by 
 a certain cold triumph which his captor evinced on witnessing 
 them, did not go many steps further without protest. 
 
 " You neednt hold me," he said angrily : " I can walk without 
 being held." The master tightened his grasp and pushed his captive 
 forward. *' I wont run away, sir," said Cashel more humbly, 
 shedding fresh tears. " Please let me go," he added in a suffocated 
 voice, trying to turn his face towards his captor. But 
 Wilson twisted him back again, and urged him still onward. 
 Cashel cried out passionately, " Let me go," and struggled to break 
 loose. 
 
 " Come, come, Byron," said the master, controlling him with a 
 broad strong hand ; ** none of your nonsense, sir." 
 
 Then Cashel suddenly slipped out of his jacket, turned on Wilson, 
 and struck up at him savagely with his right fist. The master 
 received the blow just beside the point of his chin ; and his eyes 
 seemed to Cashel to roll up and fall back into his head with the 
 shock. He drooped forward for a moment, and fell in a heap 
 face downwards. Cashel recoiled, wringing his hand to relieve the 
 tingling of his knuckles, and terrified by the thought that he had 
 committed murder. But Wilson presently moved and dispelled 
 that misgiving. Some of Cashel's fury returned as he shook his 
 fist at his prostrate adversary, and, exclaiming, " You wont bra.o; 
 much of having seen me cry," wrenched the jacket from him with 
 unnecessary violence, and darted away at full speed. 
 
 Mr. Wilson, though he was soon conscious and able to rise, did 
 not feel disposed to stir for a long time. He began to moan, with 
 a dazed faith that someone would eventually come to him with 
 sympathy and assistance. Five minutes elapsed, and brought 
 nothing but increased cold and pain. It occurred to him that if 
 the police found him they would suppose him to be drunk ; also 
 that it was his duty to go to them and give the alarm. He rose, 
 and, after a struggle with dizziness and nausea, concluded that 
 his most pressing duty was to get to bed, and leave Dr. Moncrief 
 to recapture his ruffianly pupil as best he could. 
 
10 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 Accordingly, at half-past one o'clock, the doctor was roused by 
 a knocking at his chamber-door, outside which he presently found 
 his professor of mathematics, bruised, muddy, and apparently 
 inebriated. Five minutes elapsed before Wilson could get his 
 principal's mind on the right track. Then the boys were awakened 
 and the roll called. Byron and Molesworth were reported absent. 
 No one had seen them go : no one had the least suspicion of 
 how they had got out of the house. One little boy mentioned the 
 skylight ; but, observing a threatening expression on the faces of 
 a few of the bigger boys, who were fond of fruit, he did not press 
 his suggestion, and submitted to be snubbed by the doctor for 
 having made it. It was nearly three o'clock before the alarm 
 reached the village, where the authorities tacitly declined to trouble 
 themselves about it until morning. The doctor, convinced that 
 the lad had gone to his mother, did not believe that any search was 
 necessary, and contented himself with writing a note to Mrs. 
 Byron describing the attack on Mr. Wilson, and expressing regret 
 that no proposal having for its object the readmission of Master 
 Byron to the academy could be entertained. 
 
 The pursuit was now directed entirely after Molesworth, as it 
 was plain, from Mr. Wilson's narrative, that he had separated 
 from Cashel outside Panley. Information was soon forthcoming. 
 Peasants in all parts of the country had seen, they said, " a lad 
 that might be him." The search lasted until five o'clock next 
 afternoon, when it was rendered superfluous by the appearance of 
 (jully in person, footsore and repentant. After parting from Cashel 
 ,ind walking two miles, he had lost heart and turned back. Half 
 way to the cross roads he had reproached himself with cowardice, 
 and resumed his flight. This time he placed eight miles betwixt 
 himself and Moncrief House. Then he left the road to make a 
 short cut through a plantation, and went astray. After wandering 
 until morning, thinking dejectedly of the story of the babes in the 
 wood, he saw a woman working in a field, and asked her the 
 shortest way to Scotland. She had never heard of Scotland ; and 
 when he asked the way to Panley, she lost patience and threatened 
 to set her dog at him. This discouraged him so much that he was 
 afraid to speak to the other strangers whom he met. Having the 
 sun as a compass, he oscillated between Scotland and Panley 
 according to the fluctuation of his courage. At last he yielded to 
 hunger, fatigue, and loneliness ; devoted his remaining energy to 
 the task of getting back to school ; struck the common at last ; 
 and hastened to surrender himself to the doctor, who menaced 
 him with immediate expulsion. Gully was greatly concerned at 
 the prospect of being compelled to leave the place he had just 
 run away from ; and earnestly begged the doctor to give him an- 
 other chance. His prayer was granted. After a prolonged lecture, 
 the doctor, in consideration of the facts that Gully had been 
 seduced by the example of a desperate associate, that he had 
 proved the sincerity of his repentance by coming back of his own 
 accord, and had not been accessory to the concussion of the brain 
 from which Mr. Wilson supposed himself to be suffering, accepted 
 his promise of amendment and gave him a free pardon. It should 
 be added that Gully kept his promise, and, being now the oldest 
 
PROLOGUE. II 
 
 pupil, graced his position by becoming a moderately studious, 
 and, on occasion, even a sensible lad. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Byron, not suspecting the importance of the 
 doctor's note, and happening to be in a hurry when it arrived, 
 laid it by unopened, intending to read it at her leisure. She would 
 have forgotten it altogether but for a second note which came two 
 days later, requesting some acknowledgment of the previous com- 
 munication. On learning the truth she immediately drove to 
 Moncrief House, and there abused the doctor as he had never 
 been abused in his life before ; after which she begged his pardon, 
 and implored him to assist her to recover her darling boy. When 
 he suggested that she should offer a reward for information and 
 capture, she indignantly refused to spend a farthing on the little 
 ingrate ; wept and accused herself of having driven him away by 
 her unkindness ; stormed and accused the doctor of having treated 
 him harshly ; and finally said that she would give £ioo to have 
 him back, but that she would never speak to him again. The 
 doctor promised to undertake the search, and would have promised 
 anything to get rid of his visitor. A reward of £50 was offered. 
 But whether the fear of falling into the clutches of the law for 
 murderous assault stimulated Cashel to extraordinary precaution, 
 or whether he had contrived to leave the country in the four days 
 which elapsed between his flight and the offer of the reward, the 
 doctor's efforts were unsuccessful ; and he had to confess their 
 failure to Mrs. Byron. She agreeably surprised him by writing 
 a pleasant letter to the effect that it was very provoking, and that 
 she could never thank him sufficiently for all the trouble he had 
 taken. And so the matter dropped. 
 
 Long after that generation of scholars had passed away from 
 Moncrief House, the name of Cashel Byron was remembered there 
 as that of a hero who, after many fabulous exploits, had licked a 
 master and bolted to the Spanish main. 
 
 HI. 
 
 There was at this time in the city of Melbourne, in Australia, a 
 wooden building, above the door of which was a board in- 
 scribed GYMNASIUM AND SCHOOL OF ARMS. In the 
 long narrow entry hung a framed manuscript which set forth that 
 Ned Skene, ex-champion of England and the Colonies, was to be 
 heard of within daily by gentlemen desirous of becoming proficient 
 in the art of self-defence. Also the terms on which Mrs. Skene, 
 assisted by a competent staff of professors, would give lessons in 
 dancing, deportment, and calisthenics. 
 
 One evening a man sat smoking on a common wooden chair out- 
 side the door of this establishment. On the ground beside him 
 were some tin tacks and a hammer, with which he had just nailed 
 to the doorpost a card on which was written in a woman's hand- 
 writing: '* Wanted, a male attendant who can keep accounts. Inquire 
 within.'' The smoker was a powerful man, with a thick neck that 
 swelled out beneath his broad flat ear lobes. He had small eyes, 
 and large teeth over which his lips were slightly parted in a good- 
 
12 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 humoured but cunning smile. His hair was black and close cut ; 
 his skin indurated ; and the bridge of his nose smashed level with 
 his face. The tip, however, was uninjured. It was squab and 
 glossy, and, by p^iving the whole feature an air of being on the 
 point of expanding to its original shape, produced a snubbed 
 expression which relieved the otherwise formidable aspect of the 
 man, and recommended him as probably a modest and affable 
 fellow when sober and unprovoked. He seemed about fifty years 
 of age, and was clad in a straw hat and a suit of white linen. 
 
 He had just finished his pipe when a youth stopped to read 
 the card on the doorpost. This youth was attired in a coarse 
 sailor's jersey and a pair of grey tweed trousers whicli he had con- 
 siderably outgrown. 
 
 •' Looking for a job ? " inquired the ex-champion of England 
 and the Colonies. 
 
 The youth blushed and replied, " Yes. I should like to get some- 
 thing to do." 
 
 Mr. Skene stared at him with stern curiosity. His professional 
 pursuits had familiarized him with the manners and speech of 
 English gentlemen ; and he immediately recognized the shabby 
 sailor lad as one of that class. ' 
 
 ** Perhaps you're a scholar," said the prizefighter, after a moment's 
 reflection. 
 
 '* I have been at school ; but I didnt learn much there," replied 
 the youth. " I think I could book-keep by double entry," he added, 
 glancing at the card. 
 
 " Double entry ! What's that ? " 
 
 " It's the way merchants' books are kept. It is called so because 
 everything is entered twice over." 
 
 •' Ah ! " said Skene, unfavourably impressed by the system : 
 •* once is enough for me. What's your weight ? " 
 
 " I dont know," said the lad with a grin. 
 
 " Not know your own weight ! " exclaimed Skene. ** That aint 
 the way to get on in life." 
 
 ** I havent been weighed since I was in England," said the 
 other, beginning to get the better of his shyness. " I was eight 
 stone four then ; so you see I am only a light weight." 
 
 " And what do you know about light weights ? Perhaps, being 
 so well educated, you know how to fight. Eh ? " 
 
 " I dont think I could fight you," said the youth, with another 
 grin. 
 
 Skene chuckled ; and the stranger, with boyish communi- 
 cativeness, gave him an account of a real fight (meaning apparentl}- 
 one between professional pugilists) which he had seen in England. 
 He went on to describe how he had himself knocked down a 
 master with one blow when running away from school. Skene 
 received this sceptically, and cross-examined the narrator as to 
 the manner and effect of the blow, with the result of convincing 
 himself that the story was true. At the end of quarter of an hour, 
 the lad had commended himself so favourably by his conversation 
 that the champion took him into the gymnasium, weighed him, 
 measured him, and finally handed him a pair of boxing gloves and 
 invited him to show what he was made of. The youth, though 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 impressed by the prizefighter's attitude with a hopeless sense of 
 the impossibility of reaching him, rushed boldly at him several 
 times, knocking his face on each occasion against Skene's left fist, 
 which seemed to be ubiquitous, and to have the property of 
 imparting the consistency of iron to padded leather. At last the 
 novice directed a frantic assault at the champion's nose, rising on 
 his toes in his excitement as he did so. Skene struck up the 
 blow with his right arm ; and the impetuous youth spun and 
 stumbled away until he fell supine in a corner, rapping his head 
 smartly on the floor at the same time. He rose with unabated 
 cheerfulness and offered to continue the combat ; but Skene 
 declined any further exercise just then, and, much pleased with his 
 novice's game, promised to give him a scientific education and 
 make a man of him. 
 
 The champion now sent for his wife, whom he revered as a 
 pre-eminently sensible and well mannered woman. The new 
 comer could see in her only a ridiculous dancing mistress ; but he 
 treated her with great deference, and thereby improved the 
 favourable opinion which Skene had already formed of him. He 
 related to her how, after running away from school, he had made 
 his way to Liverpool ; gone to the docks ; and contrived to hide 
 himself on board a ship bound for Australia. Also how he had 
 suffered severely from hunger and thirst before he discovered 
 himself ; and how, notwithstanding his unpopular position as 
 stowaway, he had been fairly treated as soon as he had shown 
 that he was willing to work. And in proof that he was still willing, 
 and had profited by his maritime experience, he offered to sweep 
 the floor of the gymnasium then and there. This proposal con- 
 vinced the Skenes, who had listened to his story like children 
 listening to a fairy tale, that he was not too much of a gentleman 
 to do rough work ; and it was presently arranged that he should 
 thenceforth board and lodge with them, have five shillings a week 
 for pocket money, and be man of all work, servant, gymnasium 
 attendant, clerk, and apprentice to the ex-champion of England 
 and the Colonies. 
 
 He soon found his bargain no easy one. The gymnasium 
 was open from nine in the morning until eleven at night ; 
 and the athletic gentlemen who came there not only ordered him 
 about without ceremony, but varied the monotony of being set at 
 naught by the invincible Skene by practising what he taught them 
 on the person of his apprentice, whom they pounded with great 
 relish, and threw backwards, forwards, and over their shoulders as 
 though he had been but a senseless effigy, provided for that pur- 
 pose. Meanwhile the champion looked on and laughed, being too 
 lazy to redeem his promise of teaching the novice to defend him- 
 self. The latter, however, watched the lessons which he saw daily 
 given to others ; and, before the end of a month, he so completely 
 turned the tables on the amateur pugilists of Melbourne that Skene 
 one day took occasion to remark that he was growing uncommon 
 clever, but that gentlemen liked to be played easy with, and that 
 he should be careful not to knock them about too much. Besides 
 these bodily exertions, he had to keep account of gloves and foils 
 sold and bought, and of the fees due both to Mr. and Mrs. 
 
14 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION, 
 
 Skene. This was the most irksome part of his duty ; for he wrote 
 a large schoolboy hand, and was not quick at figures. When 
 he at last began to assist his master in giving lessons, the 
 accounts had fallen into arrear ; and Mrs. Skene had to resume 
 her former care of them : a circumstance which gratified her 
 husband, who regarded it as a fresh triumph of her superior in- 
 telligence. Then a Chinaman was engaged to do the more menial 
 work of the establishment. " Skene's Novice," as he was now 
 generally called, was elevated to the rank of assistant professor to 
 the champion, and became a person of some consequence in the 
 gymnasium. 
 
 He had been there more than nine months, and had developed 
 from an active youth into an athletic young man of eighteen, when 
 an important conversation took place between him and his prin- 
 cipal. It was evening ; and the only persons in the gymnasium 
 were Ned Skene, who sat smoking at his ease with his coat off, 
 and the novice, who had just come downstairs from his bedroom, 
 where he had been preparing for a visit to the theatre. 
 
 '♦ Well, my gentleman," said Skene mockingly : ** you're a fancy 
 man, you are. Gloves, too ! They're too small for you. Dont 
 vou get hittin' nobody with them on, or you'll mebbe sprain your 
 wrist." 
 
 ** Not much fear of that," said the novice, looking at his watch, 
 and, finding that he had some minutes to spare, sittmg down oppo- 
 site Skene. 
 
 ** No," assented the champion. " When you rise to be a regular 
 professional, you wont care to spar with nobody without you're 
 well paid for it." 
 
 ** I may say I am in the profession already. You dont call me 
 an amateur, do you?" 
 
 "Oh no," said Skene soothingly: "not so bad as that. But 
 mind you, my boy, I dont call no man a fighting man what aint 
 been in the ring. You're a sparrer, and a clever, pretty sparrer ; 
 but sparring aint the real thing. Some day, please God, we'll 
 make up a little match for you, and show what you can do without 
 the gloves." 
 
 " I would just as soon have the gloves oflf as on," said the novice, 
 a little sulkily. 
 
 " That's because you have a heart as big as a lion," said Skene, 
 patting him on the shoulder. But the novice, who was accustomed 
 to hear his master pay the same compliment to his patrons when- 
 ever they were seized with fits of boasting (which usually happened 
 when they got beaten), looked obdurate and said nothing. 
 
 " Sam Ducket of Milltown was here to-day while you was out 
 giving Captain Noble his lesson," continued Skene, watching his 
 apprentice's face cunningly. " Now Sam is a real fighting man, if 
 you like." 
 
 " I dont think much of him. He's a liar, for one thing." 
 
 •* That's a failing of the profession. I dont mind telling you so," 
 said Skene mournfully. Now the novice had found out this for 
 himself already. He never, for instance, believed the accounts 
 which his master gave of the accidents and conspiracies which 
 had lead to his being defeated three times in the ring. Hov/ever, 
 
PROLOGUE. 15 
 
 as Skene had won fifteen battles, his next remark was undeniable. 
 ** Men fight none the worse for being liars. Sam Ducket bet 
 Ebony Muley in twenty minutes." 
 
 "Yes," said the novice scornfully ; " and what is Ebony Muley ? 
 A wretched old nigger nearly sixty years old, who is drunk seven 
 days in the week, and would sell a fight for a glass of brandy ! 
 Ducket ought to have knocked him out of time in seventy seconds. 
 Ducket has no science." 
 
 " Not a bit," said Ned. *' But he has lots of game." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Come now, Ned ; you know as well as I do that that 
 is one of the stalest commonplaces going. If a fellow knows how 
 to box, they always say he has science but no pluck. If he doesnt 
 know his right hand from his left, they say that he isnt clever, but 
 that he is full of game." 
 
 Skene looked with secret wonder at his pupil, whose powers of 
 observation and expression sometimes seemed to him almost to 
 rival those of Mrs. Skene. " Sam was saying something like that 
 to-day," he remarked. " He says you're only a sparrer, and that 
 you'd fall down with fright if you was put into a twenty-four foot 
 ring." 
 
 The novice flushed. " I wish I had been here when Sam Ducket 
 said that." 
 
 " Why, what could you ha 'done to him ? " said Skene, his small 
 eyes twinkling. 
 
 "I'd have punched his head: that's what I could and would 
 have done to him." 
 
 " Why man, he'd eat you." 
 
 " He might. And he might eat you too, Ned, if he had salt 
 enough with you. He talks big because he knows I have no 
 money ; and he pretends he wont strip for less than fifty pounds 
 a side." 
 
 " No money ! " cried Skene. " I know them as'll make up fifty 
 pound before twelve to-morrow for any man as I will answer for. 
 There'd be a start for a young man ! Why, my fust fight was 
 for five shillings in Tott'nam Fields ; and proud I was when I won 
 it. I dont want to set you on to fight a crack like Sam Ducket 
 anyway against your inclinations; but dont go for to say that 
 money isnt to be had. Let Ned Skene pint to a young man and 
 say ' That's the young man as Ned backs ' ; and others will come 
 for'ard — aye, crowds of 'em." 
 
 The novice hesitated. " Do you think I ought to, Ned ? " he 
 said. 
 
 •' That aint for me to say," said Skene doggedly. " I know what 
 I would ha' said at your age. But perhaps you're right to be 
 cautious. I tell you the truth, I wouldnt care to see you whipped 
 by the like of Sam Ducket." 
 
 •' Will you train me if I challenge him ? " 
 
 ♦' Will I train you ! " echoed Skene, rising with enthusiasm. 
 
i6 
 
 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSIOM. 
 
 " Aye will I train you, and put my money on you too ; and vou 
 shall knock fireworks out of him, my boy, as sure as uiy name's 
 Ned Skene." 
 
 " Then," cried the novice, reddening with excitement, " I'll fight 
 him. And if I lick him, you will have to hand over your belt as 
 champion of the colonies to me." 
 
 " So I will," said Skene affectionately. " Dont stay out late ; 
 and dont for your life touch a drop of liquor. You must go into 
 training to-morrow." 
 
 This was Cashel Byron's first professional engagement. 
 
I? 
 
 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 WILTSTOKEN CASTLE was a square building with circular 
 bastions at the corners : each bastion terminating skyward 
 in a Turkish minaret. The southwest face was the front, and was 
 pierced by a Moorish arch fitted with glass doors, which could be 
 secured on occasion by gates of fantastically hammered iron. The 
 arch was enshrined by a Palladian portico, which rose to the 
 roof, and was surmounted by an open pediment, in the cleft of 
 which stood a black marble figure of an Egyptian, erect, and 
 gazing steadfastly at the midday sun. On the ground beneath 
 was an Italian terrace with two great stone elephants at the ends 
 of the balustrade. The windows on the upper storey were, like 
 the entrance, Moorish ; but the principal ones below were square 
 bays, mullioned. The castle was considered grand by the illiterate ; 
 but architects, and readers of books on architecture, con- 
 demned it as a nondescript mixture of styles in the worst possible 
 taste. It stood on an eminence surrounded by hilly woodland, 
 thirty acres of which were enclosed as Wiltstoken Park. Half-a- 
 mile south was the little town of Wiltstoken, accessible by rail 
 from London in about two hours. 
 
 Most of the inhabitants of Wiltstoken were conservatives. They 
 stood in awe of the Castle ; and some of them would at any time 
 have cut half-a-dozen of their oldest friends to obtain an invitation 
 to dinner, or even a bow in public, from Miss Lydia Carew, its 
 orphan mistress. This Miss Carew was a remarkable person. She 
 had inherited the Castle and park from her aunt, who had con- 
 sidered her niece's large fortune in railways and mines incomplete 
 without land. So many other legacies had Lydia received from 
 kinsfolk who hated poor relations, that she was now, m her twenty- 
 fifth year, the independent possessor of an annual income equal to 
 the year's earnings of five hundred workmen, and under no 
 external compulsion to do anything in return for it. In addition 
 to the advantage of being a single woman in unusually easy 
 circumstances, she enjoyed a reputation for vast learning and 
 exquisite culture. It was said in Wiltstoken that she knew forty- 
 eight living languages and all dead ones; could play on every 
 known musical instrument; was an accompHshed painter; and 
 had written poetry. All this might as well have been true as far as 
 the Wiltstokeners were concerned, since she knew more than they. 
 She had spent her life travelling with her father, a man of 
 
 c 
 
38 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 active mind and bad digestion, with a taste for sociology, science 
 in general, and the fine arts. On these subjects he had written 
 books, by which he had earned a considerable reputation as a 
 critic and philosopher. They were the outcome of much reading, 
 observation of men and cities, sightseeing, and theatre-going, of 
 which his daughter had done her share, and indeed, as she grew 
 more competent, and he weaker and older, more than her share. 
 He had had to combine health hunting with pleasure seeking; and, 
 being very irritable and fastidious, had schooled her in self control 
 and endurance by harder lessons than those which had made her 
 acquainted with the works of Greek and German philosophers 
 long before she understood the English into which she translated 
 them. 
 
 When Lydia was in her twenty-first year, her father's health 
 failed seriously. He became more dependent on her; and she 
 anticipated that he would also become more exacting in his 
 demands on her time. The contrary occurred. One day, at 
 Naples, she had arranged to go riding with an English party that 
 was staying there. Shortly before the appointed hour, he asked 
 her to make a translation of a long extract from Lessing. Lydia, 
 in whom self questionings as to the justice of her father's yoke had 
 been for some time stirring, paused thoughtfully for perhaps two 
 seconds before she consented. Carew said nothing, but he pre- 
 sently intercepted a servant who was bearing an apology to the 
 English party ; read the note ; and went back to his daughter, who 
 was already busy at Lessing. 
 
 •* Lydia," he said, with a certain hesitation which she would 
 have ascribed to shyness had that been at all credible of her 
 father when addressing her : '* I wish you never to postpone your 
 business to literary trifling." 
 
 She looked at him with the vague fear that accompanies a new 
 and doubtful experience ; and he, dissatisfied with his way of 
 putting the case, added, " It is of greater importance that you 
 should enjoy yourself for an hour than that my book should be 
 advanced. Far greater ! " 
 
 Lydia, after some consideration, put down her pen and said, *' I 
 shall not enjoy riding if there is anything else left undone." 
 
 " I shall not enjoy your writing if your excursion is given up for 
 it," he said. " I prefer your going." 
 
 Lydia obeyed silently. An odd thought struck her that she 
 might end the matter gracefully by kissing him. But as they were 
 unaccustomed to make demonstrations of this kind, nothing came 
 of the impulse. She spent the day on horseback; reconsidered 
 her late rebellious thoughts ; and made the translation in the 
 ■evening. 
 
 Thenceforth, Lydia had a growing sense of the power she had 
 unwittingly been acquiring during her long subordination. 
 Timidly at first, and more boldly as she became used to dispense 
 with the parental leading strings, she began to follow her own bent 
 in selecting subjects for study, and even to defend certain recent 
 •developments of art against her father's conservatism. He approved 
 of this independent mental activity on her part, and repeatedly 
 "warned her not to pin her faith more on him than on any other critic. 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. IQ 
 
 She once told him that one of her incentives to disagree with him 
 was the pleasure it gave her to find out ultimately that he was 
 right. He replied gravely, 
 
 " That pleases me, Lydia, because I believe you. But such 
 things are better left unsaid. They seem to belong to the art of 
 pleasing, which you will perhaps soon be tempted to practise, 
 because it seems to all young people easy, well paid, amiable, and 
 a mark of good breeding. In truth it is vulgar, cowardly, egotisti- 
 cal, and insincere : a virtue in a shopman : a vice in a free woman. 
 It is better to leave genuine praise unspoken than to expose your- 
 self to the suspicion of flattery." 
 
 Shortly after this, at his desire, she spent a season in London, 
 and went into English polite society, which she found to be in the 
 main a temple for the worship of wealth and a market for the sale 
 of virgins. Having become familiar with both the cult and the 
 trade elsewhere, she found nothing to interest her except the 
 English manner of conducting them ; and the novelty of this soon 
 wore off. She was also incommoded by her involuntary power of 
 inspiring affection in her own sex. Impulsive girls she could 
 keep in awe ; but old women, notably two aunts who had 
 never paid her any attention during her childhood, now 
 persecuted her with slavish fondness, and tempted her by 
 mingled entreaties and bribes to desert hei father and live with 
 them for the remainder of their Hves. Her reserve fanned their 
 longing to have her for a pet ; and, to escape them, she 
 returned to the contirient with her father, and ceased to hold any 
 correspondence with London. Her aunts declared themselves 
 deeply hurt ; and Lydia was held to have treated them very 
 injudiciously ; but when they died, and their wills became public, 
 it was found that they had vied with one another in enriching her. 
 
 When she was twenty-five years old, the first startling event of 
 her life took place. This was the death of her father at Avignon. 
 No endearments passed between them even on that occasion. 
 She was sitting opposite to him at the fireside one evening, reading 
 aloud, when he suddenly said, " My heart has stopped, Lydia. 
 Goodbye !", and immediately died. She had some difficulty in 
 quelling the tumuk that arose when the bell was answered. The 
 whole household felt bound to be overwhelmed, and took it rather 
 ill that she seemed neither grateful to them nor disposed to imitate 
 their behaviour. 
 
 Carew's relatives agreed that he had made a most unbecoming 
 will. It was a brief document, dated five years before his death, 
 and was to the effect that he bequeathed to his dear daughter 
 Lydia all he possessed. He had, however, left her certain private 
 instructions. One of these, which excited great indignation in his 
 family, was that his body should be conveyed to Milan, and there 
 cremated. Having disposed of her father's remains as he had 
 directed, she came to set her affairs in order in England, where 
 she inspired much hopeless passion in the toilers in Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields and Chancery Lane, and agreeably surprised her solicitors 
 by evincing a capacity for business, and a patience with the law's 
 delay, that seemed incompatible with her age and sex. When 
 aU was arranged, and she was once more able to enjoy perfect 
 
 C 2 
 
.aO CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 tranquillity, she returned to Avignon, and there discharged her last 
 duty to her father. This was to open a letter she had found 
 in his desk, inscribed by his hand, " For Lydia. To be read by 
 her at leisure when I and my affairs shall be finally disposed of." 
 The letter ran thus. 
 
 *» My Dear Lydia, 
 
 ** I belong to the great company of disappointed men. 
 But for you, I should now write myself down a failure like the rest. 
 It is only a few years since it first struck me that although I had 
 failed in many ambitions with which (having failed) I need not 
 trouble you now, I had achieved some success as a father. I had 
 no sooner made this discovery than it began to stick in my thoughts 
 that you could draw no other conclusion from the course of our 
 life together than that I have, with entire selfishness, used you 
 throughout as my mere amanuensis and clerk, and that you are 
 under no more obligation to me for your attainments than a slave 
 is to his master for the strength which enforced labor has given to 
 his muscles. Lest I should leave you suffering from so mischievous 
 and oppressive an influence as a sense of injustice, I now justify 
 myself to you." 
 
 *• I have never asked you whether you remember your mother. 
 Had you at any time broached the subject, I should have spoken 
 quite freely to you on it ; but as some wise instinct led you to avoid 
 it, I was content to let it rest until circumstances such as the 
 present should render further resers'e unnecessary. If any regret 
 at having known so little of the woman who gave you birth troubles 
 you, shake it off" without remorse. She was the most disagreeable 
 person I ever knew. I speak dispassionately. All my bitter 
 personal feeling against her is as dead whilst I write as it will be 
 when you read. I have even come to cherish tenderly certain of 
 her characteristics which you have inherited, so that I confidently 
 say that I never, since the perishing of the infatuation in which I 
 married, felt more kindly towards her than I do now. I made the 
 best, and she the worst, of our union for six years ; and then we 
 parted. I permitted her to give what account of the separation 
 she pleased, and allowed her about five times 'as much money as 
 she had any right to expect. By these means I induced her to 
 leave me in undisturbed possession of you, whom I had already, 
 as a measure of precaution, carried off" to Belgium. The reason 
 why we never visited England during her lifetime was that she 
 could, and probably would, have made my previous conduct and 
 my hostility to popular religion an excuse for wresting you from 
 me. I need say no more of her, and am sorry it was necessary to 
 mention her at all. 
 
 " I will now tell you what induced me to secure you for 
 myself. It was not natural affection : I did not love you then ; and 
 I knew that you would be a serious encumbrance to me. But 
 having brought you into the world, and then broken through my 
 engagements with your mother, I felt bound to see that you should 
 not suffer for my mistake. Gladly would I have persuaded myself 
 that she was (as the gossips said) the fittest person to have charge 
 of you ; but I knew better, and made up my mind to discharge my 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 21 
 
 * 
 
 responsibility as well as I could. In course of time you became 
 useful to me ; and, as you know, I made use of you without scruple, 
 but never without regard to your own advantage. I always kept 
 a secretary to do whatever I considered mere copyist's work. 
 Much as you did for me, I think I may say with truth that I never 
 imposed a task of absolutely no educational value on you. I fear 
 you found the hours you spent over my money aflPairs very irksome ; 
 but I need not apologize for that now : you must already know 
 by experience how necessary a knowledge of business is to the 
 possessor of a large fortune." 
 
 " I did not think, when I undertook your education, that I was 
 laying the foundation of any comfort for myself. For a long time 
 you were only a good girl, and what ignorant people called a 
 prodigy of learning. In your circumstances a commonplace child 
 might have been both. I subsequently came to contemplate your 
 existence with a pleasure which I never derived from the con- 
 templation of my own. I have not succeeded, and shall not succeed 
 in expressing the affection I feel for you, or the triumph with which 
 I find that what I undertook as a distasteful and thankless duty 
 has rescued my life and labor from waste. My literary travail, 
 seriously as it has occupied us both, I now value only for the share 
 it has had in educating you ; and you will be guilty of no disloyalty 
 to me when you come to see that though I sifted as much sand as 
 most men, I found no gold. I ask you to remember then that I 
 did my duty to you long before it became pleasurable or even 
 hopeful. And, when you are older and have learned from your 
 mother's friends how I failed in my duty to her, you will perhaps 
 give me some credit for having conciliated the world for your sake 
 by abandoning habits and acquaintances which, whatever others 
 may have thought of them, did much whilst they lasted to make 
 life endurable to me." 
 
 " Although your future will not concern me, I often find myself 
 thinking of it. I fear you will soon find that the world has not yet 
 provided a place and a sphere of action for wise and well instructed 
 women. In my younger days, when the companionship of my 
 fellows was a necessity to me, I voluntarily set aside my culture, 
 relaxed my principles, and acquired common tastes, in order to fit 
 myself for the society of the only men within my reach ; for, if I 
 had to live among bears, I had rather be a bear than a man. Let 
 me warn you against this. Never attempt to accommodate yourself 
 to the world by self- degradation. Be patient ; and you will enjoy 
 frivolity all the more because you are not frivolous: much as the 
 world will respect your knowledge all the more because of its own 
 ignorance." 
 
 " Some day, I expect and hope, you will marry. You will then 
 have an opportunity of making an irremediable mistake, against 
 the possibility of which no advice of mine or subtlety of yours can 
 guard you. I think you will not easily find a man able to satisfy 
 in you that desire to be relieved of the responsibility of thinking out 
 and ordering our course of life that makes us each long for a guide 
 whom we can thoroughly trust. If you fail, remember that 
 your father, after suffering a bitter and complete disappointment 
 in his wife, yet came to regard his marriage as the happiest event 
 
jfi CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 in his career. Let me remind you also, since you are so rich, 
 that it would be a great folly for you to be jealous of your own 
 income, and to limit your choice of a husband to those already too 
 rich to marry for money. No vulgar adventurer will be able to 
 recommend himself to you ; and better men will be at least as 
 much frightened as attracted by your wealth. The only class 
 against which I need warn you is that to which I myself am 
 supposed to belong. Never think that a man must prove a 
 suitable and satisfying friend for you merely because he has read 
 much criticism ; that he must feel the influences of art as you do, 
 because he knows and adopts the classification of names and 
 schools with which you are familiar ; or that because he agrees 
 with your favourite authors he must necessarily interpret their 
 words to himself as you understand them. Beware of men who 
 have read more than they have worked, or who love to read better 
 than to work. Beware of painters, poets, musicians, and artists of 
 all sorts, except very great artists : beware even of them as husbands 
 and fathers. Self satisfied workmen who have learnt their busi- 
 ness well, whether they be chancellors of the exchequer or farmers, 
 I recommend to you as, on the whole, the most tolerable class of 
 men I have met." 
 
 *♦ I shall make no further attempt to advise you. As fast as my 
 counsels rise to my mind follow reflections that convince me of 
 their futility." 
 
 ** You may perhaps wonder why I never said to you what 
 I have written down here. I have tried to do so and failed. If I 
 understand myself aright, I have written these lines mainly to 
 relieve a craving to express my affection for you. The awkward- 
 ness which an over-civilized man experiences in admitting that he 
 is something more than an educated stone, prevented me from 
 confusing you by demonstrations of a kind I had never accustomed 
 you to. Besides, I wish this assurance of my love — my last 
 word — to reach you when no further commonplaces to blur the 
 impressiveness of its simple truth are possible." 
 
 " I know I have said too much ; and I feel that I have not said 
 enough. But the writing of this letter has been a difficult task. 
 , Practised as I am with my pen, I have never, even in my earliest 
 efforts, composed with such labor and sense of inadequacy " 
 
 Here the manuscript broke off". The letter had never been 
 finished. '' 
 
CASHiiL BYRON's PROFESSiON. 2^ 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 In the month of May, seven years after the flight of the 
 two boys from Moncrief House, a lady sat in an island of shadow 
 which was made by a cedar tree in the midst of a glittering green 
 Jawn. She did well to avoid the sun ; for her complexion was 
 as delicately tinted as mother of pearl. She was a small, graceful 
 woman with sensitive lips and nostrils, green eyes with quiet 
 unarched brows, and ruddy gold hair, now shaded by a large 
 untrimmed straw hat. Her dress of Indian muslin, with half 
 sleeves terminating at the elbows in wide ruffles, hardly covered 
 her shoulders, where it was supplemented by a scarf through 
 which a glimpse of her throat was visible in a nest of soft Tourkaris 
 lace. She was reading a little ivory-bound volume — a miniature 
 edition of the second part of Goethe's Faust. 
 
 As the afternoon wore on and the light mellowed, the lady 
 dropped her book and began to think and dream, unconscious of 
 a prosaic black object crossing the lawn towards her. This 
 was a young gentleman in a frock coat. He was dark, and had a 
 long, grave face, with a reserved expression, but not ill-looking. 
 
 " Going so soon, Lucian ? " said the lady, looking up as he 
 came into the shadow. 
 
 Lucian looked at her wistfully. His name, as she uttered it, 
 always stirred him vaguely. He was fond of finding out the 
 reasons of things, and had long ago decided that this inward stir 
 was due to her fine pronunciation. His other intimates called 
 him Looshn. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " I have arranged everything, and have come 
 to give an account of my stewardship, and to say good-bye." 
 
 He placed a garden chair near her and sat down. She laid her 
 hands one on the other in her lap, and composed herself to listen. 
 
 " First," he said, " as to the Warren Lodge. It is let for a 
 month only ; so you can allow Mrs. Goff to have it rent free 
 in July if you still wish to. I hope you will not act so unwisely." 
 
 She smiled, and said, "Who are the present tenants ? I hear 
 that they object to the dairymaids and men crossing the elm 
 vista." 
 
 " We must not complain of that. It was expressly stipulated 
 when they took the lodge that the vista should be kept private for 
 them. I had no idea at that time that you were coming to the 
 castle, or I should of course have declined such a condition." 
 
 " But we do keep it private for them : strangers are not 
 admitted. Our people pass and repass once a da v on their way 
 to and from the dairy : that is all;" 
 
24 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 " It seems churlish, Lydia ; but this, it appears, is a special 
 case — a young gentleman, who has come to recruit his health. 
 He needs daily exercise in the open air ; but he cannot bear 
 observation ; and he has only a single attendant with him. Under 
 these circumstances, I agreed that they should have the sole use 
 of the elm vista. In fact they are paying more rent than would be 
 reasonable without this privilege." 
 
 " I hope the young gentleman is not mad." 
 
 *' I satisfied myself before I let the lodge to him, that he would 
 be a proper tenant," said Lucian, with reproachful gravity. " He 
 was strongly recommended to me by Lord Worthington, whom I 
 believe to be a man of honour, notwithstanding his inveterate love 
 of sport. As it happens, I expressed to him the suspicion you have 
 just suggested. Worthington vouched for the tenant's sanity, and 
 offered to take the lodge in his own name and be personally 
 responsible for the good behaviour of this young invalid, who has, 
 I fancy, upset his nerves by hard reading. Probably some college 
 friend of Worthington's." 
 
 " Perhaps so. But I should rather expect a college friend of 
 Lord Worthington's to be a hard rider or drinker than a hard 
 reader." 
 
 •* You may be quite at ease, Lydia. I took Lord Worthington 
 at his word so far as to make the letting to him. I have never 
 seen the real tenant. But, though I do not even recollect his 
 name, I will venture to answer for him at second-hand." 
 
 *• I am quite satisfied, Lucian ; and I am greatly obliged to vou. 
 I will give orders that no one shall go to the dairy by way of the 
 warren. It is natural that he should wish to be out of the world." 
 
 '*The next point," resumed Lucian, "is more important, as it 
 concerns you personally. Miss Goff" is willing to accept your offer. 
 And a most unsuitable companion she will be for you 1 " 
 
 •• Why, Lucian ? " 
 
 " On all accounts. She is younger than you, and therefore 
 cannot chaperone you. She has received only an ordinary 
 education ; and her experience of society is derived from local 
 subscription balls. And, as she is not unattractive, and is 
 considered a beauty in Wiltstoken, she is self-willed, and will 
 probably take your patronage in bad part." 
 
 ♦♦ Is she more self-willed than I ? " 
 
 •* You are not self-willed, Lydia ; except that you are deaf to 
 advice." 
 
 " You mean that I seldom follow it. And so you think I had 
 better employ a professional companion — a decayed gentlewoman 
 — than save this young girl from going out as a governess and 
 beginning to decay at twenty-three ? " 
 
 *♦ The business of getting a suitable companion, and the pleasure 
 or duty of relieving poor people, are two different things, Lydia." 
 
 " True, Lucian. When will Miss Goff" call ? " 
 
 " This evening. Mind : nothing is settled as yet. If you think 
 better of it on seeing her, you have only to treat her as an ordinary 
 visitor and the subject will drop. For my own part, I prefer her 
 sister ; but she will not leave Mrs. Goff", who has not yet recovered 
 from the shock of her husband's death." 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 2$ 
 
 Lydia looked reflectively at the little volume in her hand, and 
 seemed to think out the question of Miss GofF. Presently, with an 
 air of having made up her mind, she said, 
 
 " Can you guess which of Goethe's characters you remind me of 
 when you try to be worldly wise for my sake ? " 
 
 " When I try — What an extraordinary irrelevance ! I have not 
 read Goethe lately. Mephistopheles, I suppose. But I did not 
 mean to be cynical." 
 
 *' No : not Mephistopheles, but Wagner — with a difference. 
 Wagner taking Mephistopheles instead of Faust for his model." 
 "Seeing by his face that he did not relish the comparison, she added, 
 '• I am paying you a compliment. Wagner represents a very clever 
 man." 
 
 ** The saving clause is unnecessary," he said, somewhat sarcasti- 
 cally. " I know your opinion of me quite well, Lydia." 
 
 She looked quickly at him. Detecting the concern in her glance, 
 he shook his head sadly, saying, ♦' I must go now, Lydia. I leave 
 you in charge of the housekeeper until Miss GofF arrives." 
 
 She gave him her hand; and a dull glow came into his gray jaws 
 as he took it. Then he buttoned his coat and walked gravely 
 away. As he went, she watched the sun mirrored in his glossy 
 hat, and drowned in his respectable coat. She sighed, and took up 
 Goethe again. 
 
 But after a little while she began to be tired of sitting still ; and 
 she rose and wandered through the park for nearly an hour, 
 trying to find the places in which she had played in her childhood 
 during a visit to her late aunt. She recognized a great toppling 
 Druid's altar that had formerly reminded her of Mount Sinai 
 threatening to fall on the head of Christian in " The Pilgrim's 
 Progress." Further on she saw and avoided a swamp in which 
 she had once earned a scolding from her nurse by filling her stock- 
 ings with mud. Then she found herself in a long avenue of green 
 turf, running east and west, and apparently endless. This seemed 
 the most delightful of all her possessions ; and she had begun to 
 plan a pavilion to build near it, when she suddenly recollected that 
 this must be the elm vista of which the privacy was so stringently 
 insisted upon by her invalid tenant at the Warren Lodge. She 
 fled into the wood at once, and, when she was safe there, laughed 
 at the oddity of being a trespasser in her own domain. She 
 made a wide detour in order to avoid intruding a second time : 
 consequently, after walking for quarter of an hour, she lost 
 herself. The trees seemed never-ending : she began to think she 
 must possess a forest as well as a park. At last she saw an opening. 
 Hastening towards it, she came again into the sunlight, and stopped, 
 dazzled by an apparition which she at first took to be a beautiful 
 statue, but presently recognized, with a strange glow of delight, 
 as a living man. 
 
 To so mistake a gentleman exercising himself in the open air on 
 a nineteenth century afternoon would, under ordinary circum- 
 stances, imply incredible ignorance either of men or statues. But 
 the circumstances in Miss Carew's case were not ordinary ; for the 
 man was clad in a jersey and knee breeches of white material ; and 
 his bare arms shone like those of a gladiator. His broad pectoral 
 
26 CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 muscles, in their white covering, were like slabs of marble. 
 Even his hair, short, crisp, and curly, seemed like burnished 
 bronze in the evening light. It came into Lydia's mind that she 
 had disturbed an antique god in his sylvan haunt. The fancy was 
 only momentary ; for she perceived that there was a third person 
 present : a man impossible to associate with classic divinity. He 
 looked like a well-to-do groom, and was contemplating his 
 companion much as a groom might contemplate an exceptionally 
 fine horse. He was the first to see Lydia ; and his expression 
 as he did so plainly showed that he regarded her as a most 
 unwelcome intruder. The statue-man, following his sinister look, 
 saw her too, but with different feelings ; for his lips parted ; his 
 colour rose ; and he stared at her with undisguised admiration and 
 wonder. Lydia's first impulse was to turn and fly ; her next, to 
 apologize for her presence. Finally she went away quietly through 
 the trees. 
 
 The moment she was out of their sight, she increased her 
 pace almost to a run. The day was too warm for rapid move- 
 ment ; and she soon stopped and listened. There were the usual 
 woodland sounds : leaves rustling, grasshoppers chirping, and 
 birds singing; but not a human voice or footstep. She began 
 to think that the god-like figure was only the Hermes of 
 Praxiteles, suggested to her by Goethe's classical Sabbat, and 
 changed by a day-dream into the semblance of a living reality. 
 The groom must have been one of those incongruities characteristic 
 of dreamn — probably a reminiscence of Lucian's statement that the 
 tenant of the Warren Lodge had a single male attendant. It was 
 impossible that this glorious vision of manly strength and beauty 
 could be substantially a student broken down by excessive study. 
 That irrational glow of delight too was one of the absurdities of 
 dreamland : otherwise she should have been ashamed of it. 
 
 Lydia made her way back to the Castle in some alarm as to 
 the state of her nerves, but dwelling on her vision with a pleasure 
 that she would not have ventured to indulge had it concerned a 
 creature of flesh and blood. Once or twice it recurred to her so 
 vividly that she asked herself whether it could have been real. 
 But a little reasoning convinced her that it must have been an 
 hallucination. 
 
 "If you please, madam," said one of her staff of domestics, 
 a native of Wiltstoken, who stood in deep awe of the lady of the 
 Castle : '* Miss Goff is waiting for you in the drawing-room." 
 
 The drawing-room of the Castle was a circular apartment, with 
 a dome-shaped ceiling broken into gilt ornaments resembling thick 
 bamboos, which projected vertically downward like stalagmites. 
 The heavy chandeliers were loaded with flattened brass balls, 
 magnified facsimiles of which crowned the uprights of the low, 
 broad, massively-framed chairs, which were covered in leather 
 stamped with Japanese dragon designs in copper-coloured metal. 
 Near the fireplace was a great bronze bell of Chinese shape, 
 mounted like a mortar on a black wooden carriage for use as a coal- 
 scuttle. The wall was decorated with large gold crescents on a 
 ground of light blue. 
 
 In this barbaric rotunda Miss Carew found awaiting her a young 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 7JJ 
 
 lady of twenty-three, with a well developed, resilient figure, and a 
 clear complexion, porcelain surfaced, and with a fine red in the 
 cheeks. The lofty pose of her head expressed an habitual sense 
 of her own consequence given her by the admiration of the youth 
 of the neighbourhood, which was also, perhaps, the cause of 
 the neatness of her inexpensive black dress and of her irreproach- 
 able gloves, boots, and hat. She had been waiting to introduce 
 herself to the lady of the Castle for ten minutes in a state of 
 nervousness that culminated as Lydia entered. 
 
 " How do you do. Miss GofF. Have I kept you waiting? I was 
 out." 
 
 " Not at all," said Miss Goflf, with a confused impression that 
 red hair was aristocratic, and dark brown Tthe colour of her 
 own) vulgar. She had risen to shake hands, and now, after 
 hesitating a moment to consider what etiquette required her to do 
 next, resumed her seat. Miss Carew sat down too, and gazed 
 thoughtfully at her visitor, who held herself rigidly erect, and, 
 striving to mask her nervousness, unintentionally looked dis- 
 dainful. 
 
 " Miss GofF," said Lydia, after a silence that made her 
 speech impressive : " will you come to me on a long visit ? In 
 this lonely place, I am greatly in want of a friend and companion 
 of my own age and position. I think you must be equally so." 
 
 Alice GofF was very young, and very determined to accept no 
 credit that she did not deserve. With the unconscious vanity and 
 conscious honesty of youth, she proceeded to set Miss Carew right 
 as to her social position, not considering that the lady of the 
 Castle probably understood it better than she did herself, and in- 
 deed thinking it quite natural that she should be mistaken. 
 
 " You are very kind," she replied stiffly ; " but our positions are 
 quite different. Miss Carew. The fact is that I cannot afford to 
 live an idle life. We are very poor; and my mother is partly 
 dependent on my exertions." 
 
 " I think you will be able to exert yourself to good purpose if 
 you come to me," said Lydia, unimpressed. *' It is true that I 
 shall give you very expensive habits ; but I will of course enable 
 you to support them." 
 
 " I do not wish to contract expensive habits," said Alice re- 
 proachfully. " I shall have to content myself with frugal ones 
 throughout my life." 
 
 " Not necessarily. Tell me frankly: how had you proposed to 
 exert yourself? As a teacher, was it not ? " 
 
 Alice flushed, but assented. 
 
 " You are not at all fitted for it ; and you will end by marrying. 
 As a teacher you could not marry well. As an idle lady, with ex- 
 pensive habits, you will marry very well indeed. It is quite an art 
 to know how to be rich — an indispensable art, if you mean to 
 marry a rich man." 
 
 " I have no intention of marrying," said Alice loftily. She 
 thought it time to check this cool aristocrat. " If I come at all, I 
 shall come without any ulterior object." 
 
 " That is just what I had hoped. Come without conditions or 
 second thought of any kind." 
 
28 CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 •♦ But — ** began Alice, and stopped, bewildered by the pace at 
 which the negotiation was proceeding. She murmured a few 
 words, and waited for Lydia to proceed. But Lydia had said 
 her say, and evidently expected a reply, though she seemed assured 
 of having her own way, whatever Alice's views might be. 
 
 " I do not quite understand, Miss Carew. What duties ? — what 
 would you expect of me ? " 
 
 *• A great deal," said Lydia gravely. " Much more than I should 
 from a mere professional companion." 
 
 *' But I am a professional companion," protested Alice. 
 
 " Whose ? " 
 
 Ahce flushed again, angrily this time. '• I did not mean to 
 say—" 
 
 *' You do not mean to say that you will have nothing to do with 
 me," said Lydia, stopping her quietly. ** Why are you so 
 scrupulous. Miss Goff? You will be close to your home, and can 
 return to it at any moment if you become dissatisfied with your 
 position here." 
 
 Fearful that she had disgraced herself by ill manners ; loth to 
 be taken possession of as if her wishes were of no consequence 
 when a rich lady's whim was to be gratified ; suspicious — 
 since she had often heard gossiping tales of the dishonesty of people 
 in high positions — lest she should be cheated out of the salary she 
 had come resolved to demand ; and withal unable to defend herself 
 against Miss Carew, Alice caught at the first excuse that occurred 
 to her. 
 
 '• I should like a little time to consider," she said. 
 
 •• Time to accustom yourself to me, is it not ? You can have as 
 long as you plea " 
 
 "Oh, I can let you know to-morrow," interrupted AHce, 
 officiously. 
 
 •• Thank you, I will send a note to Mrs. GofF to say that she 
 need not expect you back until to-morrow." 
 
 ** But I did not mean — I am not prepared to stay," remonstrated 
 Alice, feeling that she was being entangled in a snare. 
 
 •* We shall take a walk after dinner, then, and call at your house, 
 where you can make your preparations. But I think I can supply 
 you with all you will require." 
 
 Alice dared make no further objection. " I am afraid," she 
 stammered, "you will think me horribly rude ; but I am so useless, 
 and you are so sure to be disappointed, that — that — " 
 
 '* You are not rude, Miss Goff ; but I find you very shy. You 
 want to run away and hide from new faces and new surroundings." 
 Alice, who was self-possessed and even overbearing in Wiltstoken 
 society, felt that she was misunderstood, but did not know how to 
 vindicate herself. Lydia resumed, " I have formed my habits in 
 the course of my travels, and so live without ceremony. We dine 
 early — at six." 
 
 Alice had dined at two, but did not feel bound to confess it. 
 
 •* Let me show you your room," said Lydia rising. ♦' This is a 
 curious drawing-room," she added, glancing around. ** I only use 
 it occasionally to receive visitors." She looked about her again 
 with some interest, as if the apartment belonged to someone else, 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 2Q 
 
 and led the way to a room on the first floor, furnished as a lady's 
 bed-chamber. " If you dislike this," she said, " or cannot arrange 
 it to suit you, there are others, of which you can have your choice. 
 Come to my boudoir when you are ready." 
 
 " Where is that ? " said Alice anxiously. 
 
 " It is — You had better ring for someone to shew you. I will 
 send you my maid." 
 
 Alice, even more afraid of the maid than of the mistress, declined 
 hastily. " I am accustomed to attend to myself, Miss Carow," 
 she added, with proud humility. 
 
 " You will find it more convenient to call me Lydia," said Miss 
 Carew. " Otherwise you will be supposed to refer to my grand 
 aunt, a very old lady." She then left the room. 
 
 Alice was fond of thinking that she had a womanly taste and 
 touch in making a room pretty. She was accustomed to survey 
 with pride her mother's drawing-room, which she had garnished 
 with cheap cretonnes, Japanese paper fans, and nic-nacs in 
 ornamental pottery. She felt now that if she slept once in the bed 
 before her, she could never be content in her mother's house again. 
 All that she had read and believed of the beauty of cheap and 
 simple ornament, and the vulgarity of costliness, recurred to her 
 as a hypocritical paraphrase of the " Sour grapes " of the fox in the 
 fable. She pictured to herself with a shudder the effect of a six- 
 penny Chinese umbrella in that fireplace, a cretonne valance to 
 that bed, or chintz curtains to those windows. There was in the 
 room a series of mirrors consisting of a great glass in which she 
 could see herself at full length, another framed in the carved oaken 
 dressing table, and smaller ones of various shapes fixed to jointed 
 arms that turned every way. To use them for the first time was 
 like having eyes in the back of the head. She had never seen herself 
 from all points of view before. As she gazed, she strove not to 
 be ashamed of her dress ; but even her face and figure, which usu- 
 ally afforded her unqualified delight, seemed robust and middle- 
 class in Miss Carew's mirrors. 
 
 " After all," she said, seating herself on a chair that was even 
 more luxurious to rest in than to look at ; " putting the lace out of 
 the question — and my old lace that belongs to mamma is quite as 
 valuable — her whole dress cannot have cost much more than 
 mine. At any rate, it is not worth much more, whatever she may 
 have chosen to pay for it." 
 
 But Alice was clever enough to envy Miss Carew her manners 
 more than her dress. She would not admit to herself that she was 
 not thoroughly a lady ; but she felt that Lydia, in the eye of a 
 stranger, would answer that description better than she. Still, as 
 far as she had observed. Miss Carew was exceedingly cool in her 
 proceedings, and did not take any pains to please those with whom 
 she conversed. Alice had often made compacts of friendship with 
 young ladies, and had invited them to call her by her Christian 
 name ; but on such occasions she had always called them " dear " 
 or "darling," and, whilst the friendship lasted (which was often 
 longer than a month ; for Alice was a steadfast girl), had never 
 met them without exchanging an embrace and a hearty kiss. 
 
 " And nothing," she said, springing from the chair as she thought 
 
30 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 of this, and speaking very resolutely, " shall tempt me to believe 
 that there is anything vulgar in sincere affection. I shall been my 
 guard against this woman." 
 
 Having settled that matter for the present, she resumed her ex- 
 amination of the apartment, and was more and more attracted by 
 it as she proceeded. For, thanks to her eminence as a local 
 beauty, she had not that fear of beautiful and rich things which 
 renders abject people incapable of associating costliness with 
 comfort. Had the counterpane of the bed been her own, she would 
 have unhesitatingly converted it into a ball dress. There were 
 toilet appliances of which she had never felt the need, and could 
 only guess the use. She looked with despair into the two large 
 closets, thinking how poor a show her three dresses, her ulster, 
 and her few old jackets would make there. There was also a 
 dressing room with a marble bath that made cleanliness a luxury 
 instead of one of the sternest of the virtues, as it seemed at home. 
 Yet she remarked that though every object was more or less orna- 
 mental, nothing had been placed in the rooms for the sake of orna- 
 ment alone. Miss Carew, judged by her domestic arrangements, 
 was a utilitarian before everything. There was a very handsome 
 chimneypiece ; but as there was nothing on the mantelboard, 
 Alice made a faint effort to believe that it was inferior in point of 
 taste to that in her own bedroom, which was covered with blue 
 cloth, surrounded by fringe and brass headed nails, and laden with 
 photographs in plush frames. 
 
 The striking of the hour reminded her that she had forgotten to 
 prepare for dinner. She hastily took off her hat ; washed her 
 hands ; spent another minute among the mirrors ; and was sum- 
 moning courage to ring the bell, when a doubt occurred to her. 
 Ought she to put on her gloves before going down or not ? This 
 kept her in perplexity for many seconds. At last she resolved to 
 put her gloves in her pocket, and be guided as to their further 
 disposal by the example of her hostess. Then, not daring to 
 hesitate any longer, she rang the bell, and was presently joined by 
 a French lady of polished manners — Miss Carew's maid — who 
 conducted her to the boudoir, an hexagonal apartment that, Alice 
 thought, a sultana might have envied. Lydia was there, reading. 
 Alice noted with relief that she had not changed her dress, and 
 that she was ungloved. 
 
 Miss Goff did not enjoy the dinner. There was a butler who 
 seemed to have nothing to do but stand at a buffet and watch 
 her. There was also a swift, noiseless footman who presented 
 himself at her elbow at intervals, and compelled her to choose on 
 the instant between unfamiliar things to eat and drink. She 
 envied these men their knowledge of society, and shrank from 
 their criticism. Once, after taking a piece of asparagus in her 
 hand, she was deeply mortified at seeing her hostess consume the 
 vegetable with the aid of a knife and fork ; but the footman's back 
 was turned to her just then ; and the butler, oppressed by the 
 heat of the weather, was in a state of abstraction bordering on 
 slumber. On the whole, by dint of imitating Miss Carew, who 
 didnot plague her with any hostess-like vigilance; she came oil 
 without discredit to her breeding. 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 51 
 
 Lydia, on her part, acknowledged no obligation to entertain her 
 guest by chatting, and enjoyed her thoughts and her dinner in 
 silence. Alice began to be fascinated by her, and to wonder what 
 she was thinking about. She fancied that the footman was not 
 quite free from the same influence. Even the butler might have 
 been meditating himself to sleep on the subject. Alice felt 
 tempted to offer her a penny for her thoughts. But she dared not 
 be so familiar as yet. And, had the offer been made and accepted, 
 butler, footman, and guest would have been plunged into equal 
 confusion by the explanation, which would have run thus : 
 
 ** I saw a vision of the Hermes of Praxiteles in a sylvan haunt 
 to-day ; and I am thinking of that." 
 
32 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Next day Alice accepted Miss Carew's invitation. Lydia, who- 
 seemed to regard all conclusions as foregone when she had once 
 once signified her approval of them, took the acceptance as a 
 matter of course. Alice thereupon thought fit to remind her that 
 there were other persons to be considered. So she said, 
 
 ** I should not have hesitated yesterday but for my mother. It 
 seems so heartless to leave her." 
 
 " You have a sister at home, have you not ?** 
 
 ** Yes. But she is not very strong ; and my mother requires a 
 great deal of attention." Alice paused, and'added in a lower voice, 
 '* She has never recovered from the shock of my father's death." 
 
 •* Your father is then not long dead ?" said Lydia in her usual 
 tone. 
 
 ** Only two years," said Alice coldly. " I hardly know how to 
 tell my mother that I am going to desert her." 
 
 ** Go and tell her to-day, Alice." ♦* You need not be afraid of 
 hurting her. Grief of two year's standing is only a bad habit." 
 
 Alice started, outraged. Her mother's grief was sacred to her ; 
 and yet it was by her experience of her mother that she recognized 
 the truth of Lydia's remark, and felt that it was unanswerable. 
 She frowned ; but the frown was lost : Miss Carew was not 
 looking at her. Then she rose and went to the door, where she 
 stopped to say, 
 
 " You do not know our family circumstances. I will go now 
 and try to prevail on my mother to let me stay with you." 
 
 *' Please come back in good time for dinner," said Lydia, 
 unmoved. •' I will introduce you to my cousin Lucian Webber. 
 I have just received a telegram from him. He is coming down 
 with Lord Worthington. I do not know whether Lord Worth- 
 ington will come to dinner or not. He has an invalid friend at the 
 Warren, and Lucian does not make it clear whether he is coming 
 to visit him or me. However, it is of no consequence : Lord 
 Worthington is only a young sportsman. Lucian is a clever man, 
 and will be an eminent one some day. He is secretary to a 
 Cabinet Minister, and is very busy ; but we shall probably see 
 him often whilst the Whitsuntide holidays last. Excuse my keep- 
 ing you waiting at the door to hear that long history. Adieu ! " 
 She waved her hand ; and Alice suddenly felt that it was possible 
 to be very fond of Miss Carew. 
 
 She spent an unhappy afternoon with her mother. Mrs. Goff 
 had had the good fortune to marry a man of whom she was afraid, 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 3 J 
 
 and who made himself very disagreeable whenever his house or his 
 children were neglected in the least particular. Making a virtue 
 of necessity, she had come to be regarded in Wiltstoken as a model 
 wife and mother. At last, when a drag ran over Mr. Goff and 
 killed him, she was left almost penniless, with two daughters on 
 her hands. In this extremity, she took refuge in grief, and 
 did nothing. Her daughters settled their father's affairs as best 
 they could; moved her into a cheap house; and procured a strange 
 tenant for that in which they had lived during many years. Janet,, 
 the elder sister, a student by disposition, employed herself as a 
 teacher of the scientific fashions in modern female education, 
 rumours of which had already reached Wiltstoken. Alice was 
 unable to teach mathematics and moral science ; but she formed 
 a dancing class, and gave lessons in singing and in a language 
 which she believed to be current in France, but which was not 
 intelligible to natives of that country travelling through Wiltstoken. 
 Both sisters were devoted to one another and to their mother^ 
 Alice, who had enjoyed the special affection of her self-indulgent 
 father, preserved some regard for his memory, though she could 
 not help wishing that his affection had been strong enough to 
 induce him to save a provision for her. She was ashamed, too, of 
 the very recollection of his habit of getting drunk at races, regattas, 
 and other national festivals, by an accident at one of which he had 
 met his death. 
 
 Alice went home from the Castle expecting to find the household 
 divided between joy at her good fortune and grief at losing her ; 
 for her views of human nature and parental feeling were as yet 
 pure superstitions. But Mrs. Goff at once became envious of the 
 luxury her daughter was about to enjoy, and overwhelmed 
 her with accusations of want of feeling, eagerness to desert 
 her mother, and vain love of pleasure. Alice, who loved 
 Mrs. Goff so well that she had often told her as many as 
 five different lies in the course of one afternoon to spare 
 her some unpleasant truth, and would have scouted as 
 infamous any suggestion that her parent was more selfish than 
 saintly, soon burst into tears, declaring that she would not return 
 to the Castle, and that nothing would have induced her to stay 
 there the night before had she thought that her doing so could give 
 pain at home. This alarmed Mrs. Goff, who knew by experience 
 that it was easier to drive Alice upon rash resolves than to shake 
 her in them afterwards. Fear of incurring blame in Wiltstoken 
 for wantonl}' opposing her daughter's obvious interests, and of 
 losing her share of Miss Carew's money and countenance, got the 
 better of her jealousy. She lectured AHce severely for her head- 
 strong temper, and commanded her on her duty not only to her 
 mother, but also and chiefly to her God, to accept Miss Carew's 
 offer with thankfulness, and to insist upon a definite salary as 
 soon as she had, by good behaviour, made her society indispen- 
 sable at the Castle. Alice, dutiful as she was, reduced Mrs. Goff 
 to entreaties, and even to symptoms of an outburst of violent grief 
 for the late Mr. Goff, before she consented to obey her. She 
 would wait, she said, until Janet, who was absent teaching, came 
 in, and promised to forgive her for staying away the previous 
 
 D 
 
3 |. CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 night (Mrs. Goff had falsely represented that Janet had been 
 deeply hurt, and had lain awake weeping during the small hours of 
 the morning). The mother, seeing nothing for it but either to get 
 rid of Alice before Janet's return, or to be detected in a spiteful 
 untruth, had to pretend that Janet was spending the evening with 
 some friends, and to urge the unkindness of leaving Miss Carew 
 lonely. At last Alice washed away the traces of her tears and 
 returned to the Castle, feeling very miserable, and trying to com- 
 fort herself with the reflection that her sister had been spared the 
 scene which had just passed. 
 
 Lucian Webber had not arrived when she reached the Castle, 
 Miss Carew glanced at her melancholy face as she entered, but 
 asked no questions. Presently, however, she put down her book; 
 considered for a moment ; and said, 
 
 ** It is nearly three years since I have had a new dress." Alice 
 looked up with interest. *' Now that I have you to help me to 
 choose, I think I will be extravagant enough to renew my entire 
 wardrobe. I wish you would take this opportunity to get some 
 things for yourself. You will find that my dressmaker, Madame 
 Smith, is to be depended on for work, though she is expensive and 
 dishonest. When we are tired of Wiltstoken we will go to Paris, 
 and be millinered there ; but in the meantime we can resort to 
 Madame Smith." 
 
 •• I cannot afford expensive dresses," said Alice. 
 
 '♦ I should not ask you to get them if you could not afford them. 
 I warned you that I should give you expensive habits." 
 
 Alice hesitated. She had a healthy inclination to take whatever 
 she could get on all occasions ; and she had suffered too much from 
 poverty not to be more thankful for her good fortune than humi- 
 liated by Miss Carew's bounty. But the thought of being driven, 
 richly attired, in one of the Castle carriages, and meeting Janet 
 trudging about her daily tasks in cheap black serge and mended 
 gloves, made Alice feel that she deserved all her mother's reproaches. 
 However, it was obvious that a refusal would be of no material 
 benefit to Janet, so she said, 
 
 '• Really I could not think of imposing on your kindness in this 
 ■wholesale fashion. You are too good to me." 
 
 *' I will write to Madame Smith this evening," said Lydia. 
 
 Alice was about to renew her protest more faintly, when a 
 servant entered and announced Mr. Webber. She stiffened herself 
 to receive the visitor. Lydia's manner did not alter in the least. 
 Lucian, whose demeanor resembled Miss Goff's rather than his 
 cousin's, went through the ceremony of introduction with solemnity, 
 and was received with a dash of scorn ; for Alice, though secretly 
 awe-stricken, bore herself tyrannically towards men from habit. 
 
 In reply to Alice, Mr. Webber thought the day cooler than 
 yesterday. In reply to Lydia, he admitted that the resolution of 
 which the Leader of the Opposition had given notice was tanta- 
 mount to a vote of censure on the Government. He was confident 
 that Ministers would have a majority. He had no news of any 
 importance. He had made the journey down v/ith Lord Worth- 
 ington, who had come to Wiltstoken to see the invalid at the 
 Warren. He had promised to return with him in the seven-thirty 
 train. 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 35 
 
 When they went down to dinner, Alice, profiting by her experi- 
 ence of the day before, faced the servants with composure, and 
 committed no solecisms. Unable to take part in the conversa- 
 tion, as she knew little of literature and nothing of politics, 
 which were the staple of Lucian's discourse, she sat silent and 
 reconsidered an old opinion of hers that it was ridiculous and ill- 
 bred in a lady to discuss anything that was in the newspapers. 
 She was impressed by Lucian's cautious and somewhat dogmatic 
 style of conversation, and concluded that he knew everything. 
 Lydia seemed interested in his information, but quite indifferent to 
 his opinions. 
 
 Towards half-past seven, Lydia proposed that they should walk 
 to the railway station, adding, as a reason for going, that she 
 wished to make some bets with Lord Worthington. Lucian looked 
 grave at this ; and Alice, to show that she shared his notions of 
 propriety, looked shocked. Neither demonstration had the slightest 
 effect on Lydia. On their way to the station he remarked, 
 
 " Worthington is afraid of you, Lydia — needlessly, as it seems." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because you are so learned, and he so ignorant. He has no 
 culture save that of the turf. But perhaps you have more sympathy 
 with his tastes than he supposes." 
 
 " I like him because I have not read the books from which he 
 has borrowed his opinions. Indeed, from their freshness, I should 
 not be surprised to learn that he had them at first hand from living 
 men, or even from his own observation of life." 
 
 " I may explain to you, Miss Goff," said Lucian, ♦' that Lord 
 Worthington is a young gentleman " 
 
 " Whose calendar is the racing calendar," interposed Lydia, 
 *' and who interests himself in favourites and outsiders much as 
 Lucian does in prime ministers and independent radicals. Would 
 you like to go to Ascot, Alice ? " 
 
 Alice answered, as she felt Lucian wished her to answer, that 
 she had never been to a race, and that she had no desire to go 
 to one. 
 
 " You will change your mind in time for next year's meeting. 
 A race interests everyone, which is more than can be said for the 
 opera or the Academy." 
 
 " I have been at the Academy," said Alice, who had made a trip 
 to London once. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Lydia. " Were you in the National Gallery ? " 
 
 ** The National Gallery ! I think not. I forget." 
 
 " I know many persons who never miss an Academy, and who 
 do not know where the National Gallery is. Did you enjoy the 
 pictures, Alice ? " 
 
 *' Oh, very much indeed." 
 
 '♦ You will find Ascot far more amusing." 
 
 *' Let me warn you," said Lucian to Alice, '• that my cousin's pet 
 caprice is to affect a distaste for art, to which she is passionately 
 devoted ; and for literature, in which she is profoundly read." 
 
 " Cousin Lucian," said Lydia : " should you ever be cut off from 
 your politics, and disappointed in your ambition, you will have an 
 Opportunity of living upon art and literature. Then I shall 
 
 D 2 
 
30 CASHRL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 respect your opinion of their satisfactoriness as a staff of life. As 
 yet you have only tried them as a sauce." 
 
 *' Discontented, as usual?" said Lucian. 
 
 '• Your one idea respecting me, as usual,'* replied Lydia patiently, 
 as they entered the station. 
 
 The train, consisting of three carriages and a van, was waiting 
 at the platform. The engine was humming subduedly ; and 
 the driver and fireman were leaning out : the latter, a young man, 
 tagerly watching two gentlemen who were standing before the 
 first-class carriage, and the driver sharing his curiosity in an 
 elderly, preoccupied manner. One of the persons thus observed 
 was a slight, fair-haired man of about twenty-five, in the afternoon 
 costume of a metropolitan dandy. Lydia knew the other 
 the moment she came upon the platform as the Hermes of the day 
 before, modernised by a straw hat, a canary-coloured scarf, and a 
 suit of a minute black-and-white chessboard pattern, with a 
 crimson silk handkerchief overflowing the breast pocket of the 
 coat. His hands were unencumbered by stick or umbrella ; he 
 carried himself smartly, balancing himself so accurately that he 
 seemed to have no weight ; and his expression was self-satisfied 
 and good humoured. But — ! Lydia felt that there was a But some- 
 where — that he must be something more than a handsome, power- 
 ful, and light-hearted young man. 
 
 *' There is Lord Worthington," she said, indicating the slight 
 gentleman. " Surely that cannot be his invalid friend with him ?" 
 
 " That is the man that lives at the Warren," said Alice. " I 
 know his appearance." 
 
 *' Which is certainly not suggestive of a valetudinarian," 
 remarked Lucian, looking hard at the stranger. 
 
 They had now come close to the two, and could hear Lord 
 Worthington, as he prepared to enter the carriage, saying, *♦ Take- 
 care of yourself, like a good fellow, wont you ? Remember ! if it 
 lasts a second over the fifteen minutes, I shall drop five hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 Hermes placed his arm round the shoulders of the young lortl, 
 and gave him a playful roll. Then he said with good accent and 
 pronunciation, but with a certain rough quality of voice, and 
 louder than English gentlemen usually speak, " Your money is as 
 safe as the Mint, my boy." 
 
 Evidently, Alice thought, the stranger was an intimate friend of 
 Lord Worthington. She resolved to be particular in her behaviour 
 before him, if introduced. 
 
 "* Lord Worthington," said Lydia. 
 
 At the sound of her voice he climbed hastily down from the step 
 of the carriage, and said in some confusion, " How de do, Miss 
 Carew. Lovely country and lovely weather — must agree awfully 
 well with you. Plenty of leisure for study, I hope." 
 
 " Thank you : I never study now. Will you make a book for me 
 at Ascot ?" 
 
 . He laughed and shook his head. " I am ashamed of my low 
 tastes," he said ; " but I havent the head to distinguish myself in 
 your Eh ? " 
 
 Miss Carew was saying in a low voice, " If your friend is my 
 tenant, introduce him to me." 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 37 
 
 Lord Worthington hesitated ; looked at Lucian ; seemed per- 
 plexed and amused at the same time; and at last said, 
 
 " You really wish it ? " 
 
 •* Of course," said Lydia. " Is there any reason " 
 
 •* Oh, not the least in the world, since you wish it," he replied 
 quickly, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he turned to his 
 companion, who was standing at the carriage door admiring Lydia, 
 and being himself admired by the stoker. "Mr. Cashel Byron: 
 Miss Carew." 
 
 Mr. Cashel Byron raised his straw hat and reddened a little ; 
 but, on the whole, bore himself like an eminent man who was not 
 proud. As however, he seemed to have nothing to say for him- 
 self, Lord Worthington hastened to avert silence by resuming 
 the subject of Ascot. Lydia listened to him, and looked at her new 
 acquaintance. Now that the constraint of society had banished 
 his former expression of easy good humour, there was something 
 formidable in him that gave her an unaccountable thrill of pleasure 
 The same impression of latent danger had occurred, less agreeably, 
 to Lucian, who was affected much as he might have been by the 
 proximity of a large dog of doubtful temper. Lydia thought that 
 Mr. Byron did not, at first sight, like her cousin ; for he was 
 looking at him obliquely, as though stealthily measuring him. 
 
 The group was broken up by the guard admonishing the gentle- 
 men to take their seats. Farewells were exchanged ; and Lord 
 Worthington cried, "Take care of yourself," to Cashel Byron, 
 who replied somewhat impatiently, and with an apprehensive glance 
 at Miss Carew, " All right ! all right ! Never you fear, sir." 
 Then the train went off ; and he was left on the platform with the 
 two ladies. 
 
 " We are returning to the Park, Mr. Cashel Byron," said Lydia. 
 
 "So am I," said he. "Perhaps " Here he broke down, 
 
 and looked at Alice to avoid Lydia's eye. Then they went out 
 together. 
 
 When they had walked some distance in silence : Alice 
 looking rigidly before her, recollecting with suspicion that he had 
 just addressed Lord Worthington as "sir"; whilst Lydia was 
 admiring his light step and perfect balance, which made him seem 
 like a man of cork ; he said, 
 
 " I saw you in the park yesterday ; and I thought you were a 
 ghost. But my trai — my man, I mean — saw you too. I knew by 
 that that you were genuine." 
 
 " Strange ! " said Lydia. " I had the same fancy about you." 
 
 " What ! You had ! " he exclaimed, looking at her. Whilst 
 thus unmindful of his steps, he stumbled, and recovered himself with 
 a stifled oath. Then he became very red, and remarked that it 
 was a warm evening. 
 
 Miss Goff, whom he had addressed, assented. " I hope," she 
 added, " that you are better." 
 
 He looked puzzled. Concluding, after consideration, that she 
 had referred to his stumble, he said, 
 
 " Thank you : I didnt hurt myself." 
 
 " Lord Worthington has been telling us about you," said Lydia. 
 He recoiled, evidently deeply mortified. She hastened to add, 
 
38 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFECSION. 
 
 •* He mentioned that you had come down here to recruit your 
 health : that is all." 
 
 Cashel's features relaxed into a curious smile. Hut presently he 
 became suspicious, and said anxiously, " He didnt tell you any- 
 thing else about me, did he ? " 
 
 Alice stared at him superciliously. Lydia replied, " No» 
 Nothing else." 
 
 '* I thought you might have heard my name somewhere," he 
 persisted. 
 
 " Perhaps I have; but I cannot recal in what connexion. Why? 
 Do you know any friends of mine ?" 
 
 " Oh no. Only Lord Worthington." 
 
 " I conclude then that you are celebrated, and that I have the 
 misfortune not to know it, Mr. Cashel Byron. Is it so ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it," he replied hastily. *' There's no reason why 
 you should ever have heard of me. I am much obliged to you 
 for your kind enquiries," he continued, turning to Alice. " I'm 
 quite well now, thank you. The country has set me right again." 
 
 Alice, who was beginning to have her doubts of Mr. Byron, in 
 spite of his familiarity with Lord Worthington, smiled falsely and 
 drew herself up a little. He turned away from her, hurt by her 
 manner, and so ill able to conceal his feelings that Miss Carew, 
 who was watching him, set him down privately as the most inept 
 dissimulator she had ever met. He looked at Lydia wistfully, as 
 if trying to read her thoughts, which now seemed to be with the 
 setting sun, or in some equally beautiful and mysterious region. 
 But he could see that there was no reflection of Miss Goff's scoru 
 in her face. ^ 
 
 ** And so you really took me for a ghost," he said, 
 
 " Yes. I thought at first that you were a statue." 
 
 »' A statue ! " 
 
 " You do not seem flattered by that." 
 
 ** It is not flattering to be taken for a lump of stone," he replied, 
 defully. 
 
 Lydia looked at him thoughtfully. Here was a man whom she 
 had mistaken for the finest image of manly strength and beauty in 
 the world ; and he was so devoid of artistic culture that he held a 
 statue to be a distasteful lump of stone. 
 
 ♦' I believe I was trespassing then," she said; "but I did so 
 unintentionally. I had gone astray ; for I am comparatively a 
 stranger here, and cannot find my way about the park yet." 
 
 " It didnt matter a bit," said Cashel impetuously. " Come as 
 often as you want. Mellish fancies that if any one gets a glimpse 
 of me he wont get any odds. You see he would like people to 
 
 think " Cashel checked himself, and added in some confusion, 
 
 *' Mellish is mad : that's about where it is." 
 
 Alice glanced significantly at Lydia. She had already suggested 
 that madness was the real reason of the seclusion of the tenants at 
 the Warren. Cashel saw the glance, and intercepted it by turning 
 to her, and saying, with an attempt at conversational ease, 
 
 " How do you young ladies amuse yourselves in the country ? 
 Do you play billiards ever ? " 
 
 " No," said Alice indignantly. The question, she thought, im- 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 39 
 
 plied that she was capable of spending her evenings on the first 
 floor of a public-house. To her surprise, Lydia remarked, 
 
 *' I play — a little. I do not care sufficiently for the game to 
 make myself proficient. You were equipped for lawn-tennis, I 
 think, when I saw you yesterday. Miss GofF is a celebrated 
 lawn-tennis player. She vanquished the Australian champion 
 last year." 
 
 It seemed that Byron, after all, was something of a courtier ; for 
 he displayed great astonishment at this feat. " The Australian 
 
 champion ! " he repeated. " And who may he Oh ! you mean 
 
 the lawn-tennis champion. To be sure. Well, Miss Goff, I con- 
 gratulate you. It is not every amateur that can brag of having 
 shewn a professional champion to a back seat." 
 
 Alice, outraged by the imputation of bragging, and certain that 
 slang was vulgar, whatever billiards might be, bore herself still 
 more loftily, and resolved to snub him explicitly if he addressed 
 her again. But he did not ; for they presently came to a narrow 
 iron gate in the wall of the park, at which Lydia stopped. 
 
 " Let. me open it for you," said Cashel. She gave him the key ; 
 and he seized one of the bars of the gate with his left hand, and 
 stooped as though he wanted to look into the keyhole. Yet he 
 opened it smartly enough. 
 
 Alice was about to pass in with a cool bow when she saw Miss 
 Carew offer Cashel her hand. Whatever Lydia did was done so 
 well that it seemed the right thing to do. He took it timidly and 
 gave it a little shake, not daring to meet her eyes. Alice put out 
 her hand stiffly. Cashel immediately stepped forward with his 
 right foot and enveloped her fingers with the hardest clump of 
 knuckles she had ever felt. Glancing down at this remarkable 
 fist, she saw that it was discolored almost to blackness. Then she 
 went in through the gate, followed by Lydia, who turned to close 
 it behind her. As she pushed, Cashel, standing outside, grasped 
 a bar and pulled. She at once relinquished to him the labour of 
 shutting the gate, and smiled her thanks as she turned away ; but 
 in that moment he plucked up courage to look at her. The sensa- 
 tion of being so looked at was quite novel to her, and very cujrious. 
 She was even a little out of countenance, but not so much so as 
 Cashel, who nevertheless could not take his eyes away. 
 
 " Do you think," said Alice, as they crossed the orchard, " that 
 that man is a gentleman ? " 
 
 ** How can I possibly tell ? We hardly know him." 
 
 " But what do you think ? There is always a certam something 
 about a gentleman that one recognizes by instinct." 
 
 " Is there ? I have never observed it." 
 
 *' Have you not ?" said Alice, surprised, and beginning uneasily 
 to fear that her superior perception of gentility was in some way 
 the effect of her social inferiority to Miss Carew. " I thought one 
 could always tell." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Lydia. ** For my own part I have found 
 the same varieties of address in every class. Some people enjoy a 
 native distinction and grace of manner — " 
 
 '♦ That is what I mean," said Alice. 
 
 ** — but they are seldom ladies and gentlemen ; often actors. 
 
40 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 gipsies, and Celtic or foreign peasants. Undoubtedly one can 
 make a fair guess, but not in the case of this Mr. Cashel Byron. 
 Are you curious about him ? " 
 
 ** 1 1 " exclaimed Alice superbly. " Not in the least." 
 
 ** I am. He interests me. I seldom see anything novel in 
 humanity ; and he is a very singular man." 
 
 " I meant," said Alice, crestfallen, " that I take no special 
 interest in him." 
 
 Lydia, not being curious as to the exact degree of Alice's 
 interest, merely nodded, and continued, " He may, as you suppose, 
 be a man of humble origin, who has seen something of society ; or 
 lie may be a gentleman unaccustomed to society. Probably the 
 latter. I feel no conviction either way." 
 
 •♦ Hut he speaks very roughly ; and his slang is disgusting. 
 His hands are hard and quite black. Did you not notice them ? ' 
 
 *• I noticed it all ; and I think that if he were a man of low condi- 
 tion he would be careful not to use slang. Self-made persons are 
 usually precise in their language : they rarely violate the written 
 laws of society. Besides, his pronunciation of some words is so 
 distinct, that an idea crossed me once that he might be an actor. 
 But then it is not uniformly distinct. I am sure that he has some 
 object or occupation in life : he has not the air of an idler. Yet 
 I have thought of all the ordmary professions, and he does not 
 ht one of them. That is perhaps what makes him interesting. He 
 is unaccountable." 
 
 *• He must have some position. He was very familiar with Lord 
 Worthington." 
 
 ♦* Lord Worthington is a sportsman, and is familiar with all sorts 
 of people." 
 
 *♦ Yes ; but surely he would not let a jockey, or anybody of that 
 class, put his arm round his neck, as we saw Mr. Byron do." 
 
 '♦ That is true," said Lydia thoughtfully. " Still," she added, 
 clearing her brow and laughing, " I am loth to believe that he is 
 an invalid student." 
 
 " I will tell you what he is," said Alice suddenly. " He is com- 
 panion and keeper to tha man with whom he lives. Do you recol- 
 lect his saying * Mellish is mad ' ? " 
 
 "That is possible," said Lydia. *' At all events we have got a 
 topic; and that is an important home comfort in the country." 
 
 Just then they reached the Castle. Lydia lingered for a moment 
 on the terrace. The Gothic chimneys of the Warren Lodge 
 stood up against the long crimson cloud into which the sun was 
 sinking. She smiled as if some quaint idea had occurred to her ; 
 raised her eyes for a moment to the black marble Egyptian gazing 
 with unwavering eyes into the sky ; and followed Alice indoors. 
 
 Later on, when it was quite dark, Cashel sat in a -spacious 
 l<itchen at the lodge, thinking. His companion, who had laid his 
 coat aside, was at the fire, smoking, and watching a saucepan that 
 simmered there. He broke the silence by remarking, after a glance 
 at the clock, ♦* Time to go to roost." 
 
 ♦' Time to go to the devil," said Cashel. " I am going out." 
 
 *' Yes, and get a chill. Not if I know it, you dont." 
 
 ** Well, go to bed yourself; and then you wont know it. I want 
 to take a walk round the place." 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 4I 
 
 " If you put your foot outside that door to-night, Lord Wortli- 
 ington will lose his five hundred pounds. You cant lick anyone 
 in fifteen minutes if you train on night air. Get licked yourse If 
 more likely." 
 
 " Will you bet two to one that I dont stay out all night and 
 knock the Flying Dutchman out of time in the first round after- 
 wards ? Eh ?" 
 
 *• Come," said Mellish coaxingly : " have some common sense. 
 I'm advising you for your good." 
 
 ♦* Suppose I dont want to be advised for my good. Eh ? Hand 
 me over that lemon. You neednt start a speech ; I'm not going to 
 eat it." 
 
 " Blest if he aint rubbing his 'ands with it ! " exclaimed Mellish, 
 after watching him for some moments. '* Why, you bloomin' fool, 
 lemon wont 'arden your 'ands. Aint I took enough trouble with 
 them ? " 
 
 "■ I want to whiten them," said Cashel, impatiently throwing the 
 lemon under the grate ; " but it's no use. I cant go about with my 
 lists like a nigger's. I'll go up to London to-morrow and buy a 
 pair of gloves." 
 
 "What ! Real gloves ? W^earin' gloves ? " 
 
 ** You thundering old lunatic," said Cashel, rising and putting 
 on his hat : " is it likely that I want a pair of mufflers ? Perhaps 
 you think you could teach me something with them. Ha ! ha ! 
 By the bye — now mind this, Mellish— dont let it out down here 
 that I'm a fighting man. Do you hear ? " 
 
 " Me let it out ! " cried Mellish indignantly. *• Is it likel)- ? 
 Now, I asts you, Cashel Byron, is it likely ? " 
 
 '* Likely or not, dont do it," said Cashel. " You might get 
 talking with some of the chaps about the Castle stables. They 
 are generous with their liquor when they can get sporting news 
 for it." 
 
 Mellish looked at him reproachfully ; and Cashel turned towards 
 the door. This movement changed the trainer's sense of injury 
 into anxiety. He renewed his remonstrances as to the folly 
 of venturing into the night air, and cited many examples of 
 pugilists who had suffered defeat in consequence of neglecting the 
 counsel of their trainers. Cashel expressed his disbelief in these 
 anecdotes in brief and personal terms ; and at last Mellish had to 
 content himself with proposing to limit the duration of the walk 
 to half-an-hour. 
 
 " Perhaps I will come back in half-an-hour," said Cashel. *' And 
 perhaps I wont." 
 
 ** W^ell, look here," said Mellish. ♦* We wont quarrel about a 
 minute or two ; but I feel the want of a walk myself, and I'll come 
 with you." 
 
 ♦* I'm damned if you shall," said Cashel. '• Here: let me out ; 
 and shut up. I'm not going further than the park. I have no 
 intention of making a night of it in the village, which is what you 
 are afraid of. I know you, you old dodger. If you dont get out of 
 my way, I'll seat you on the fire." 
 
 " But duty, Cashel, duty," pleaded Mellish persuasively. ** Every 
 man oughter do his duty. Consider your duty to your backers." 
 
4^ CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 ** Are vou going to get out of my way, or must I put you out of 
 it ? " said Cashel, reddening ominously. 
 
 Mellish went back to his chair ; bowed his head on his hands ; 
 ;ind wept. •• I'd sooner be a dog nor a trainer," he exclaimed. 
 " Oh ! the cussedness of bein' shut up for weeks with a fightin 
 man ! For the fust two days they're as sweet as treacle ; and then 
 their contrairyness comes out. Their tempers is puffict 'ell." 
 
 Cashel, additionally enraged by a sting of remorse, went out and 
 slammed the door. He made straight towards the Castle, and 
 watched its windows for nearly half an hour, keeping in constant 
 motion so as to avert a chill. At last an exquisitely toned bell 
 struck the hour from one of the minarets. To Cashel, accustomed 
 to the coarse jangling of ordinary English bells, the sound seemed 
 to belong to fairyland. He went slowly back to the Warren Lodge, 
 and found his trainer standing at the open door, smoking, and 
 anxiously awaiting his return. Cashel rebuffed certain conciliatory 
 advances with a haughty reserve more dignified, but much less 
 acceptable to Mr. Mellish, than his former profane familiarity, and 
 went contemplatively to bed. 
 
CASHEL BYKON S PKOtliSSlON, 
 
 43 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 One morning Miss Carew sat on the bank of a great pool in the 
 park, throwing pebbles two by two into the water, and intently 
 watching the intersection of the circles they made on its calm sur- 
 face. Alice was seated on a campstool a little way off, sketching 
 the Castle, which appeared on an eminence to the south-east. The 
 woodland rose round them like the sides of an amphitheatre ; but 
 the trees did not extend to the water's edge, where there was an 
 ample margin of bright greensward, and a narrow belt of gravel, 
 from which Lydia was picking her pebbles. 
 
 Presently, hearing a footstep, she looked back, and saw Cashel 
 Byron standing behind Alice, apparently much interested in her 
 drawing. He was dressed as she had last seen him, except that he 
 wore primrose gloves and an Egyptian red scarf. Alice turned, 
 and surveyed him with haughty surprise ; but he made nothing of 
 her looks ; and she, after glancing at Lydia to re-assure herself 
 that she was not alone, bade him good morning, and resumed her 
 work. 
 
 " Queer place," he remarked, after a pause, alluding to the Castle. 
 ** Chinese looking, isnt it ? " 
 
 ** It is considered a very fine building," said Alice. 
 
 " Oh, hang what it is considered ! " said Cashel. *' What is it ? 
 That is the point to look to." 
 
 " It is a matter of taste," said Alice, very coldly. 
 
 " Mr. Cashel Byron." 
 
 Cashel started and hastened to the bank. " How d'ye do. Miss 
 Carew," he said. " I didnt see you until you called me." She 
 looked at him ; and he, convicted of a foolish falsehood, quailed. 
 " There is a splendid view of the Castle from here," he continued, 
 to change the subject. *' Miss GofF and I have just been talking 
 about it." 
 
 " Yes. Do you admire it ?" 
 
 *' Very much indeed. It is a beautiful place. Everyone must 
 acknowledge that." 
 
 '• It is considered kind to praise my house to me, and to ridicule 
 it to other people. You do not say, ' Hang what it is considered,* 
 now." 
 
 Cashel, with an unaccustomed sense of getting the worst of an 
 encounter, almost lost heart to reply. Then he brightened, and 
 said, *• I can tell you how that is. As far as being a place to 
 sketch, or for another person to look at, it is Chinese enough. But 
 
44 CASHEL BYRON S PROFHSSION. 
 
 somehow your living in it makes a difference. That is what I 
 meant : upon my soul it is." 
 
 Lydia smiled ; but he, looking down at her, did not see the smile 
 because of her coronet of red hair, which seemed to flame in the 
 sunlight. The obstruction was unsatisfactory to him : he wanted 
 to see her face. He hesitated, and then sat down on the ground 
 beside her cautiously, as if getting into a very hot bath. 
 
 ** I hope you wont mind my sitting here," he said timidly. " It 
 seems rude to talk down at you from a height." 
 
 She shook her head and threw two more stones into the pool. 
 He could think of nothing further to say ; and as she did not 
 speak, but gravely watched the circles in the water, he began to 
 stare at them too ; and they sat in silence for some minutes, stead- 
 fastly regarding the waves, she, as if there were matter for infinite 
 thought in them, and he as though the spectacle wholly confounded 
 him. At last she said, 
 
 '* Have you ever realized what a vibration is ? " 
 
 *' No," said Cashel, after a blank look at her. 
 
 " 1 am glad to hear you make that admission. Science has 
 reduced everything nowadays to vibration. Light — sound — sensa- 
 tion — all the mysteries of nature are either vibrations or interference 
 of vibrations. There," she said, throwing another pair of pebbles 
 in, and pointing to the two sets of widening rings as they over- 
 lapped one another: **the twinkling of a star, and the pulsation in 
 a chord of music, are that. But I cannot picture the thing in my 
 own mind. I wonder whether the hundreds of writers of text- 
 books on physics, who talk so glibly of vibrations, realize them 
 any better than I do." 
 
 •* Not a bit of it. Not one of them. Not half so well," said 
 Cashel cheerfully, replying to as much of her speech as he 
 imderstood. 
 
 •* Perhaps the subject does not interest you," she said, turning 
 to him. 
 
 •' On the contrary : I like it of all things," said he boldly. 
 
 •' I can hardly say so much for my own interest in it. I am told 
 that you are a student, Mr. Cashel Byron. What are your 
 favorite studies ? — or rather, since that is generally a hard question 
 to answer, what are your pursuits ? " 
 
 Alice listened. 
 
 Cashel looked doggedly at Lydia, and his colour slowly deepened. 
 " I am a professor," he said. 
 
 •* A professor of what ? I know I should ask of where ; but that 
 would only elicit the name of a college, which would convey no 
 real information to me." 
 
 " I am a professor of science," said Cashel in a low voice, looking 
 down at his left fist, which he was balancing in the air before him, 
 and stealthily hitting his bent knee as if it were another person's 
 face. 
 
 " Physical or moral science ? " persisted Lydia. 
 
 "Physical science," said Cashel. "But there's more moral 
 science in it than people think." 
 
 " Yes," said Lydia seriously. " Though I have no real know- 
 ^dge of physics, I can appreciate the truth of that. Perhaps all 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 45 
 
 the science that is not at bottom physical science, is only pre- 
 tentious nescience. I have read much of physics, and have often 
 been tempted to learn something of them — to make the experi- 
 ments with my own hands — to furnish a laboratory — to wield the 
 scalpel even. For to master science thoroughly, I believe one 
 must take one's gloves off. Is that your opinion ? " 
 
 Cashel looked hard at her. " You never spoke a truer word," he 
 said. *• But you can become a very respectable amateur by working 
 with the gloves." 
 
 " I never should. The many who believe they are the wiser for 
 reading accounts of experiments, deceive themselves. It is as 
 impossible to learn science from hearsay as to gain wisdom from 
 proverbs. Ah, it is so easy to follow a line of argument, and so 
 difficult to grasp the facts that underlie it ! Our popular lecturers 
 on physics present us with chains of deductions so highly polished 
 that it is a luxury to let them slip from end to end through our 
 fingers. But they leave nothing behind but a vague memory of 
 the sensation they afforded. Excuse me for talking figuratively. 
 I perceive that you affect the opposite — a reaction on your part, I 
 suppose, against tall talk and fine writing. Pray, should I ever 
 carry out my intention of setting to work in earnest at science, 
 will you give me some lessons ? " 
 
 " Well," said Cashel with a covert grin, " I would rather you 
 came to me than to another professor ; but I dont think it would 
 suit you. I should like to try my hand on your friend there. She's 
 stronger and straighter than nine out of ten men." 
 
 " You set a high value on physical qualifications then. So do I." 
 
 " Only from a practical point of view, mind you," said Cashel 
 earnestly. " It isnt right to be always looking at men and women 
 as you should at horses. If you want to back them in a race or in 
 a fight, that's one thing ; but if you want a friend or a sweetheart, 
 that's another." 
 
 *' Quite so," said Lydia smiling. '* You do not wish to commit 
 yourself to any warmer feeling towards Miss Goff than a critical 
 appreciation of her form and condition." 
 
 " Just that," said Cashel, satisfied. " You understand me. Miss 
 Carew. There are some people that you might talk to all day, and 
 they'd be no wiser at the end of it than they were at the beginning. 
 You're not one of that sort." 
 
 " I wonder do we ever succeed really in communicating our 
 thoughts to one another. A thought must take a new shape to fit 
 itself into a strange mind. You, Mr. Professor, must have 
 acquired special experience of the incommunicability of ideas in 
 the course of your lectures and lessons." 
 
 Cashel looked uneasily at the water, and said in a lower voice, 
 " Of course you may call me just whatever you like ; but — if its all 
 the same to you — I wish you wouldnt call me Professor." 
 
 *' I have lived so much in countries where professors expect to 
 be addressed by their titles on all occasions, that I may claim to 
 be excused for having oftended on that point. Thank you for 
 telling me. But I am to blame for discussing science with you. 
 Lord Worthington told us that you had come down here expressly 
 to escape from it — to recruit yourself after an excess of work." 
 
4^ CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 *• It (loesnt matter," said Cashel. 
 
 •' I have not done harm enough to be greatly concerned ; but I 
 will not offend again. To change the subject, let us look at Miss 
 Goff 's sketch." 
 
 Miss Carew had hardly uttered this suggestion, when Cashel, in 
 a business-like manner, and without the slightest air of gallantry, 
 expertly lifted her and placed her on her feet. This unexpected 
 attention gave her a shock, followed by a thrill that was not 
 disagreeable. She turned to him with a faint mantling in her 
 cheeks. He was looking with contracted brows at the sky, as 
 tliough occupied with some calculation. 
 
 •* Thank you," she said ; *• but pray do not do that again. It is 
 a little humiliating to be lifted like a child. You are very strong." 
 
 •• There is not much strength needed to lift such a feather-weight 
 as you. Seven stone two, I should judge you to be about. But 
 there's a great art in doing these things properly. I have often had 
 to carry off a man of fourteen stone, resting him all the time as if 
 he was in bed." 
 
 " Ah," said Lydia : " I see you have had some hospital practice. 
 1 have often admired the skill 'with which trained nurses handle 
 their patients." 
 
 Cashel made no reply, but, with a sinister grin, followed her to 
 where Alice sat. 
 
 " It is very foolish of me, I know," said Alice presently ; ** but 
 I never can draw when anyone is looking at me." 
 
 ** You fancy that everybody is thinking about how you're doing 
 it," said Cashel, encouragingly. " That's always the way with 
 amateurs. But the truth is that not a soul except yourself is a 
 bit concerned about it. -E^-cuse me," he added, taking up the 
 drawing, and proceeding to examine it leisurely. 
 
 *• Please give me my sketch, Mr. Byron," she said, her cheeks 
 red with anger. Puzzled, he turned to Lydia for an explanation, 
 whilst Alice seized the sketch and packed it in her portfolio. 
 
 •* It is getting rather warm," said Lydia. *' Shall we return to 
 the castle ? " 
 
 ** I think we had better," said Alice, trembling with resentment 
 as she walked away quickly, leaving Lydia alone with Cashel, 
 who presently exclaimed, 
 
 "What in thunder have I done? " 
 
 ** You have made an inconsiderate remark with unmistakeable 
 sincerity." 
 
 '* I only tried to cheer her up. She must have mistaken what 
 I said." 
 
 *• I think not. Do you believe that young ladies like to be told 
 that there is no occasion for them to be ridiculously self-conscious ? " 
 
 *' I say that! I'll take my oath I never said anything of the 
 sort." 
 
 " You worded it differently. But you assured her that she need 
 not object to have her drawing overlooked, as it is of no im- 
 portance to anyone." 
 
 •' Well, if she takes offence at that, she must be a born fool. 
 Some people cant bear to be told anything. But they soon get 
 all that thin-skinned nonsense knocked out of them." 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 47 
 
 •' Have yoii any sisters, Mr. Cashel Byron ? " 
 
 " No. Why ? " 
 
 *• Or a mother ? " 
 
 ** I have a mother ; but I havent seen her for years ; and I dont 
 much care if I never see her. It was through her that I came to 
 be what I am." 
 
 '* Are you then dissatisfied with your profession ? " 
 
 *' No — I dont mean that. I am always saying stupid things." 
 
 '* Yes. That comes of your ignorance of a sex accustomed to 
 have its silUness respected. You will find it hard to keep on good 
 terms with my friend without some further study of womanly ways." 
 
 " As to her, I wont give in that I'm wrong unless I am wrong. 
 The truth's the truth." 
 
 ** Not even to please Miss Goff?" 
 
 " Not even to please you. You'd only think the worse of me 
 afterwards." 
 
 " Quite true, and quite right," said Lydia cordially. '* Good-bye, 
 Mr. Cashel Byron. I must rejoin Miss Goff." 
 
 " I suppose you will take her part if she keeps a down on me 
 for what I said to her." 
 
 •* What is * a down ' ? A grudge ? " 
 
 ** Yes. Something of that sort." 
 
 •* Colonial, is it not ? " pursued Lydia, with the air of a philo- 
 logist. 
 
 •' Yes ; I believe I picked it up in the colonies." Then he 
 added sullenly, ♦♦ I suppose I shouldnt use slang in speaking to 
 you. I beg your pardon." 
 
 " I do not object to it. On the contrary, it interests me. For 
 example, I have just learnt from it that you have been in Austraha." 
 
 *< So I have. But are you out with me because I annoyed Miss 
 Goff?" 
 
 *• By no means. Nevertheless I sympathize with her annoyance 
 at the manner, if not the matter, of your rebuke." 
 
 *' I cant, for the life of me, see what there was in what I said to 
 raise such a fuss about. I wish you would give me a nudge when- 
 ever you see me making a fool of myself. I will shut up at once 
 and ask no questions." 
 
 '- So that it will be understood that my nudge means ' Shut 
 up, Mr. Cashel Byron : you are making a fool of yourself ? " 
 
 "Just so. You understand me. I told you that before, didnt I?" 
 
 *' I am afraid," said Lydia, her face bright with laughter, " that 
 I cannot take charge of your manners until we are a little better 
 acquainted." 
 
 He seemed disappointed. Then his face clouded ; and he began, 
 " If 3'ou regard it as a liberty " 
 
 " Of course I regard it as a liberty," she said, neatly interrupt- 
 ing him. " Is not my own conduct a sufficient charge upon iny 
 attention ? Why should I voluntarily -assume that of a strong man 
 and learned professor as well ? " 
 
 ** By Jingo !" exclaimed Cashel, with sudden excitement, " I 
 dont care what you say to me. You have a way of giving things 
 a turn that makes it a pleasure to be shut up by you ; and if I were 
 a gentleman as I ought to be, instead of a poor devil of a protes- 
 
4^• CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 sional pug, I ^Vould " He recollected himself, and turned quite 
 
 pale. There was a pause. 
 
 ** Let me remind you," said Lydia composedly, though she too 
 had changed colour at the beginning of his outburst, " that we are 
 both wanted elsewhere at present: I by Miss Goff; and you by your 
 servant, who has been hovering about us and looking at you 
 anxiously for some minutes. 
 
 Cashel turned fiercely, and saw Mellish standing a little way off, 
 sulkily watching them. Lydia took the opportunity, and left the 
 place. As she retreated, she could hear that they were at high 
 words together ; but she could not distinguish what they were 
 saying. Fortunately so ; for their language was villainous. 
 
 She found Alice in the library, seated bolt upright in a chair that 
 would have tempted a good-humoured person to recline. Lydia 
 sat down in silence. Alice, presently looking at her, discovered 
 that she was in a fit of noiseless laughter. The effect, in contrast 
 to her habitual self-possession, was so strange that Alice almost 
 forgot to be offended. 
 
 *• I am glad to see that it is not hard to amuse you,'' she said. 
 
 Lydia waited to recover herself thoroughly, and then replied, 
 " I have not laughed so three times in my life. Now, Alice, put 
 aside your resentment of our neighbour's impudence for the moment ; 
 and tell me what you think of him." 
 
 *• I have not thought about him at all, I assure you," said Alice 
 disdainfully. 
 
 *' Then think about him for a moment to oblige me ; and let me 
 know the result." 
 
 ** Really, you have had much more opportunity of judging than I. 
 / have hardly spoken to him." 
 
 Lydia rose patiently and went to the bookcase. "You have a 
 cousin at one of the universities, have you not ? " she said, seeking 
 along the shelf for a volume. 
 
 '* Yes," replied Alice, speaking very sweetly to atone for her 
 want of amiability on the previous subject. 
 
 " Then perhaps you know something of university slang ? " 
 
 •* I never allow him to talk slang to me," said Alice quickly. 
 
 " You may dictate modes of expression to a single man, perhaps, 
 but not to a whole university," said Lydia, with a quiet scorn 
 that brought unexpected tears to Alice's eyes. " Do you know 
 what a pug is ? " 
 
 " A pug ! " said Alice vacantly. '* No : I have heard of a bull- 
 dog — a proctor's bulldog, but never of a pug." 
 
 " I must try my slang dictionary," said Lydia, taking down a 
 book and opening it. " Here it is. * Pug — A fighting man's idea of 
 the contracted word to be produced from pugilist.' What an 
 extraordinary definition ! A fighting man's idea of a contraction ! 
 Why should a man have a special idea of a contraction when he is 
 fighting ; or why should he think of such a thing at all under such 
 circumstances ? Perhaps ' fighting man ' is slang too. No : it is 
 not given here. Either I mistook the word, or it has some signifi- 
 cation unknown to the compiler of my dictionar3%" 
 
 "It seems quite plain to me," said Alice. " Pug means pugilist." 
 
 *♦ But pugilism is boxing : it is not a profession. I suppose all men 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 49 
 
 are more or less pugilists. I want a sense of the word in which it 
 denotes a calling or occupation of some kind. I fancy it means a 
 demonstrator of anatomy. However, it does not matter." 
 
 *• Where did you meet with it ? " 
 
 •' Mr. Byron used it just now." 
 
 " Do you really like that man ? " said Alice, returning to the 
 subject more humbly than she had quitted it. 
 
 " So far, I do not dislike him. He puzzles me. If the roughness 
 of his manner is an affectation, I have never seen one so successful 
 before." 
 
 •* Perhaps he does not know any better. His coarseness did not 
 strike me as being affected at all." 
 
 ** I should agree with you but for one or two remarks that fell 
 from him. They showed an insight into the real nature of 
 scientific knowledge, and an instinctive sense of the truths under- 
 lying words, which I have never met with except in men of consi- 
 derable culture and experience. I suspect that his manner is deli- 
 berately assumed in protest against the selfish vanity which is the 
 common source of social polish. It is partly natural, no doubt. 
 He seems too impatient to choose his words heedfully. Do you 
 ever go to the theatre ? " 
 
 '* No," said Alice, taken aback by this apparent irrelevance. 
 *• My father disapproved of it. But I was there once. I saw the 
 Lady of Lyons." 
 
 " There is a famous actress, Adelaide Gisborne " 
 
 •' It was she whom I saw as the Lady of Lyons. She did it 
 beautifully." 
 
 •' Did Mr. Byron remind you of her ? *' 
 
 Alice stared incredulously at Lydia. " I do not think there can 
 be two people in the world less like one another," she said. 
 
 " Nor do I," said Lydia meditatively. " But I think their dissi- 
 milarity owes its emphasis to some lurking likeness. Otherwise 
 how could he have reminded me of her ? " Lydia, as she spoke, 
 sat down with a troubled expression, as if trying to unravel her 
 thoughts. " And yet," she added presently, " my theatrical associ- 
 ations are so complex that " A long silence ensued, during 
 
 which Alice, conscious of some unusual stir in her patroness, 
 watched her furtively and wondered what would happen next. 
 
 " Alice." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ** My mind is exercising itself in spite of me on small and imper- 
 tinent matters — a sure symptom of failing mental health. My 
 presence here is only one of several attempts that I have made 
 to live idly since my father's death. They have all failed. Work 
 has become necessary to me. I will go to London to-morrow." 
 
 Alice looked up in dismay ; for this seemed equivalent to a 
 dismissal. But her face expressed nothing but polite indifference. 
 
 ♦' We shall have time to run through all the follies of the season 
 before June, when I hope to return here and set to work at a book I 
 have planned. I must collect the material for it in London. If I leave 
 town before the season is over, and you are unwilling to come awa}^ 
 with me, I can easily find someone who will take care of you as 
 long as you please to stay. I wish it were June already ! " 
 
 E 
 
^' 
 
 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 Alice preferred Lydia's womanly impatience to her fatalistic 
 calm. It relieved her sense of inferiority, which familiarity had 
 increased rather than diminished. Yet she was beginning to 
 persuade herself with some success that the propriety of Lydia's 
 jnanners was at least questionable. That morning Miss Carew 
 had not scrupled to ask a man what his profession was; and this, at 
 least, Alice congratulated herself on being too well bred to do. She 
 had quite lost her awe of the servants; and had begun to address 
 them with an unconscious haughtiness and a conscious polite- 
 ness that were making the word •* upstart " common in the 
 servants' hall. Bashville, the footman, had risked his popularity 
 there by opining that Miss Goff was a fine young woman. 
 
 Bashville was in his twenty-fourth year, and stood five feet ten 
 in his stockings. At the sign of the Green Man in the village 
 he was known as a fluent orator and keen political debater. 
 In the stables he was deferred to as an authority on sporting affairs, 
 and an expert wrestler in the Cornish fashion. The women servants 
 regarded him with undissembled admiration. They vied with one 
 another in inventing expressions of delight when he recited before 
 them, which, as he had a good memory and was fond of poetry, he 
 often did. They were proud to go out walking with him. But his 
 attentions never gave rise to jealousy ; for it was an open secret in 
 the servants' hall that he loved his mistress. He had never said 
 anything to that effect ; and no one dared allude to it in his presence, 
 much less rally him on his weakness ; but his passion was well 
 known for all that ; and it seemed by no means so hopeless to the 
 3'ounger members of the domestic staff as it did to the cook, the 
 butler, and Bashville himself. Miss Carew, who knew the value of 
 good servants, appreciated her footman's smartness, and paid him 
 accordingly ; but she had no suspicion that she was waited on by a 
 versatile young student of poetry and public affairs, distinguished 
 for his gallantry, his personal prowess, his eloquence, and his influ- 
 ence on local politics. 
 
 It was Bashville who now entered the library with a salver, 
 which he proffered to Alice, saying, *' The gentleman is waiting in 
 the round drawing-room. Miss." 
 
 Alice took the gentleman's card, and read, " Mr. , Wallace 
 Parker." "\"" 
 
 " Oh ! " she said, with vexation, glancing at Bashville as if to 
 divine his impression of the visitor. "My cousin — the one we 
 were speaking of just now — has come to see me." 
 
 " How fortunate ! " said Lydia. " He will tell me the meaning 
 of pug. Ask him to lunch with us." 
 
 ** You would not care for him," said Alice. ** He is not much used 
 to society. I suppose I had better go and see him." 
 
 Miss Carew did not reply, being plainly at a loss to understand 
 how there could be any doubt about the matter. Alice went to the 
 round drawinj^-room, where she found Mr. Parker examining a 
 trophy of Indian armour, and presenting a back view of a short 
 ^^entleman in a spruce blue frock-coat. A new hat and pair of 
 IG^loves were also visible as he stood looking upward with his 
 hands behind him. When he turned to greet Alice, he displayed 
 a face expressive of resolute self-esteem, with eyes whose watery 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 5 1 
 
 brightness, together with the bareness of his temples, from which 
 the hair was worn away, suggested late hours and either very 
 studious or very dissipated habits. He advanced confidently; 
 pressed Alice's hand warmly for several seconds ; and placed a chair 
 for her, without noticing the marked coldness with which she 
 received his attentions. 
 
 " I was surprised, Alice," he said, when he had seated himself 
 opposite to her, '* to learn from Aunt Emily that you had come to 
 live here without consulting me. I " 
 
 ** Consult you ! " she said, contemptuously interrupting him. " I 
 never heard of such a thing ! Why should I consult you as to my 
 movements ? " 
 
 " Well, I should not have used the word consult, particularly to 
 such an independent little lady as sweet Alice Goff. Still, I think 
 you might — merely as a matter of form, you know — have informed 
 me of the step you were taking. The relations that exist between 
 us give me a right to your confidence." 
 
 " What relations, pray ? " 
 
 " What relations ! " he repeated, with reproachful emphasis. 
 
 " Yes. What relations? " 
 
 He rose, and addressed her with tender solemnity. '* Alice," he 
 began : " I have proposed to you at least six times " 
 
 *• And have I accepted you once ? " 
 
 " Hear me to the end, Alice. I know that you have never 
 explicitly accepted me ; but it has always been understood that my 
 needy circumstances were the only obstacle to our happiness. We 
 
 Dont interrupt me, Alice : you little know what's coming. 
 
 That obstacle no longer exists, I have been made second master 
 at Sunbury College, with £s5^ ^ year, a house, coals, and gas. In 
 the course of time, I shall undoubtedly succeed to the head master- 
 ship — a splendid position, worth /"Soo a year. You are now free 
 from the troubles that have pressed so hard upon you since your 
 father's death ; and you can quit at once — now — instantly, your 
 dependent position here." 
 
 " Thank you : I am very comfortable here, I am staying on a visit 
 with Miss Carew." 
 
 Silence ensued ; and he sat down slowly. Then she added, " I 
 am exceedingly glad that you have got something good at last. It 
 must be a great rehef to your poor mother." 
 
 " I fancied, Alice — though it may have been only fancy — I fancied 
 that your mother was colder than usual in her manner this morning. 
 I hope that the luxuries of this palatial mansion are powerless to 
 corrupt your heart. I cannot lead you to a castle and place crowds 
 of liveried servants at your beck and call ; but I can make you 
 mistress of an honorable English home, independent of the bounty 
 of strangers. You can never be more than a lady, Alice." 
 
 " It is very good of you to lecture me, I am sure." 
 
 •* You might be serious with me," he said, rising in ill humor, 
 and walking a little way down the room. " I think the offer of a 
 man's hand ought to be received with respect." 
 
 " Oh ! I did not quite understand. I thought we agreed that 
 you are not to make me that offer every time we meet." 
 
 *' It was equally understood that the subject was only deferred 
 
 E 2 
 
5a CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 until I should be in a position to resume it without binding you to 
 a long engagement. That time has come now ; and I expect a 
 favourable answer at last. I am entitled to one, considering how 
 patiently I have waited for it." 
 
 '♦ For my part, Wallace, I must say I do not think it wise for 
 you to think of marrying with only /'350 a year." 
 
 ** With a house : remember that ; and coals, and gas ! You. are 
 becoming very prudent, now that you live with Miss Whatsher; 
 name here. I fear you no longer love me, Alice." 
 •* I never said I loved you at any time." 
 *' Pshaw ! You never said so, |>erhaps ; but you always gave me 
 
 to understand that " 
 
 *' I did nothing of the sort, Wallace ; and I wont have you 
 say so." 
 
 ** In short," he retorted bitterly, " you think you will pick up 
 some swell here who will be a better bargain than I am." 
 " Wallace ! How dare you ? " 
 
 " You hurt my feelings, Alice ; and I speak out. I know how to 
 behave myself quite as well as those who have the entree here ; but 
 when my entire happiness is at stake I do not stand on punctilio. 
 Therefore I insist on a straightforward answer to my fair, honour- 
 able proposal." 
 
 ♦* Wallace," said Alice, with dignity : " I will not be forced into 
 giving an answer against my will. I regard you as a cousin." 
 
 ** I do not wish to be regarded as a cousin. Have I ever 
 regarded you as a cousin ? " 
 
 " And do you suppose, Wallace, that I should permit you to call 
 me by my Christian name, and be as familiar as we have always 
 been together, if you were not my cousin. If so, you must have a 
 very strange opinion of me." 
 
 " I did not think that luxury could so corrupt " 
 
 " You said that before," said Alice pettishly. ** Do not keep 
 repeating the same thing over and over : you know it is one of 
 your bad habits. Will you stay to lunch ? Miss Carew told nie 
 to ask you." 
 
 " Indeed ! Miss Carew is very kind. Please inform her that I 
 am deeply honoured, and that I feel quite disturbed at being unable 
 to accept her patronage." 
 
 Alice poised her head disdainfully. *' No doubt it amuses you 
 to make yourself ridiculous," she said ; " but I must say I do not 
 see any occasion for it." 
 
 " I am sorry that my behaviour is not sufficiently good for you. 
 You never found any cause to complain of it when our surround- 
 ings were less aristocratic. I am quite ashamed of taking so much 
 of your valuable time. Good morning." 
 
 " Good morning. But I do not see why you aire in such a 
 rage." • 
 
 " I am not in a rage. I am only grieved to find that you are 
 corrupted by luxury. I thought your principles were higher. 
 Good morning, Miss GofF. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing 
 you again in this very choice mansion." 
 
 '' Are you really going, Wallace ? " said Alice, rising. 
 " Yes. Why should I stay ? " 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 53 
 
 She rang the bell, greatly disconcerting him; for he had 
 expected her to detain him and make advances for a reconciliation. 
 Before they could exchange^ore words, Bashville entered. 
 
 ** Good-bye," said Alice politely. 
 
 " Good-bye," he replied, through his teeth. He walked loftily 
 out, passing Bashville with marked scorn. 
 
 He had left the house, and was descending the terrace steps, 
 when he was overtaken by the footman, who said civilly, 
 
 '* Beg your pardon, sir. You've forgotten this, I think." And 
 he handed him a walking stick. 
 
 Parker's first idea was that his stick had attracted the man's 
 attention by the poor figure it made in the castle hall, and that 
 Bashville was requesting him, with covert superciliousness, to 
 remove his property. On second thoughts, his self-esteem rejected 
 this suspicion as too humiliating ; but he resolved to show Bash- 
 ville that he had a gentleman to deal with. So he took the stick, 
 and, instead of thanking Bashville, handed him five shillings. 
 
 Bashville smiled and shook his head. " Oh no, sir," he said : 
 ** thank you all the same. Those are not my views." 
 
 •• The more fool you," said Parker, pocketing the coins, and 
 turning away. 
 
 Bashville's countenance changed. ** Come come, sir," he said, 
 following Parker to the foot of the steps : " fair words deserve fair 
 words. I am no more a fool than you are. A gentleman should 
 know his place as well as a servant." 
 
 *' Oh, go to the devil," muttered Parker, turning very red, and 
 hurrying away. 
 
 *' If you werent my mistress's guest," said Bashville, looking 
 menacingly after him, " I'd send you to bed for a week for sending 
 me to the devil." 
 
CA8HEL BYRON S PROFKSSION. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Miss Carew remorselessly carried out her intention of going^ 
 to London, where she took a house in Regents Park, to the 
 ciisappointment of Alice, who had hoped to live in Mayfair, or at 
 least in South Kensington. But Lydia set great store by the high 
 northerly ground and open air of the Park; and Alice found 
 almost perfect happiness in driving through London in a fine 
 carriage and fine clothes. She liked that better than concerts of 
 classical music, which she did not particularly relish, or even than 
 the opera, to which they went often. The theatres pleased her 
 more, though the amusements there were tamer than she had ex- 
 pected. Society was delightful to her because it was real London 
 society. She acquired a mania for dancing; went out every night ; 
 and seemed to herself far more distinguishsd and attractive than 
 she had ever been in Wiltstoken, where she had nevertheless held 
 a sufficiently favourable opinion of her own manners and person. 
 
 Lydia did not share all these dissipations. She easily procured 
 invitations and chaperones for Alice, who wondered why so in- 
 telligent a woman would take the trouble to sit out a stupid 
 concert, and then go home, just as the real pleasure of the evening 
 was beginning. 
 
 One Saturday morning, at breakfast, Lydia said, 
 
 *• Your late hours begin to interfere with the freshness of your 
 complexion, Alice. I am getting a little fatigued, myself, with 
 literary work. I will go to the Crystal Palace to-day ; and wander 
 about the gardens for a while : there is to be a concert in the after- 
 noon for the benefit of Madame Szczympli9a, whose playing you do 
 not admire. Will you come with me?" 
 
 " Of course," said Alice, resolutely dutiful. 
 
 *' Of choice : not of course," said Lydia. "Are you engaged for 
 to-morrow evening?" 
 
 " Sunday ? Oh no. Besides, I consider all my engagements 
 subject to your convenience." 
 
 There was a pause, long enough for this assurance to fall per- 
 fectly flat. Alice bit her lip. Then Lydia said, " Do you know 
 Mrs. Hoskyn ? " 
 
 *• Mrs. Hosk)m who gives Sunday evenings ? Shall we go 
 there ?" said Alice eagerly. ** People often ask me whether I have 
 been at one of them. But I dont know her — though I have seen 
 her. Is she nice ?'* 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 55 
 
 *' She is a young woman who has read a great deal of art 
 criticism, and been deeply impressed by it. She has made her 
 house famous by bringing there all the clever people she meets, 
 and making them so comfortable that they take care to come again. 
 But she has not, fortunately for her, allowed her craze for art to 
 get the better of her common sense. She has married a prosperous 
 man of business, who probably never read anything but a news- 
 paper since he left school ; and there is probably not a happier 
 pair in England." 
 
 '• I presume she had sense enough to know that she could not 
 afford to choose," said Alice complacently. *' She is very ugly." 
 
 " Do you think so ? She has many admirers, and was, I am 
 told, engaged to Mr. Herbert, the artist, before she met Mr. 
 Hoskyn. We shall meet Mr. Herbert there to-morrow, and a 
 number of celebrated persons beside — his wife Madame 
 Szczympli9a, the pianiste, Owen Jack the composer, Hawkshaw 
 the poet, Conolly the inventor, and others. The occasion will be a 
 special one, as Herr Abendgasse, a remarkable German socialist 
 and art critic, is to deliver a lecture on ' The True in Art.' Be 
 careful, in speaking of him in society, to refer to him as a 
 sociologist, and not as a socialist. Are you particularly anxious 
 to hear him lecture ? " 
 
 " No doubt it will be very interesting," said Alice. " I should 
 not like to miss the opportunity of going to Mrs. Hoskyn's. 
 People so often ask me whether I have been there, and whether I 
 know this, that, and the other celebrated person, that I feel quite 
 embarrassed by my rustic ignorance." 
 
 " Because," pursued Lydia, " I had intended not to go until 
 after the lecture. Herr Abendgasse is enthusiastic and eloquent, 
 but not original ; and as I have imbibed all his ideas direct from 
 their inventors, I do not feel called upon to listen to his exposition 
 of them. So that unless you are specially interested — " 
 
 '• Not at all. If he is a socialist I should much rather not listen 
 to him, particularly on Sunday evening." 
 
 So it was arranged that they should go to Mrs. Hoskyn's after 
 the lecture. Meanwhile they went to Sydenham, where Alice went 
 through the Crystal Palace with provincial curiosity, and Lydia 
 answered her questions encyclopaedically. In the afternoon there 
 was a concert, at which a band played several long pieces of music, 
 which Lydia seemed to enjoy, though she found fault with the 
 performers. Alice, able to detect neither the faults in the execu- 
 tion nor the beauty of the music, did as she saw the others do — 
 pretended to be pleased, and applauded decorously. Madame 
 Szczympli9a, whom she expected to meet at Mrs. Hoskyn's, 
 appeared, and played a fantasia for pianoforte and orchestra by the 
 famous Jack, another of Mrs. Hoskyn's cjrcle. There was in 
 the pio:^'ramme an analysis of this composition from which Alice 
 learnt that by attentively listening to the adagio she could hear the 
 angels singing therein. She listened as attentively as she could, 
 but heard no angels, and was astonished when, at the conclusion 
 of the ! uitasia, the audience applauded Madame Szczympli9a as 
 if she h . d made them hear the music of the spheres. Even Lydia 
 seemed moved, and said, 
 
jfi CASHEI. BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 ♦' Strange, that she is only a woman like the rest of us, with just 
 the same narrow bounds to her existence, and just the same 
 prosaic cares — that she will go by train to Victoria, and from 
 thence home in a common vehicle instead of embarking in a great 
 shell, and being drawn by swans to some enchanted island. Her 
 playing reminds me of myself as I was when I believed in fairy- 
 land, and indeed knew little about any other land." 
 
 " They say," said Alice, •* that her husband is very jealous, and 
 that she leads him a terrible life." 
 
 •• They say anything that brings gifted people to the level of their 
 own experience. Doubtless they are right. I have not met Mr. 
 Herbert ; but I have seen his pictures, which suggest that he 
 reads everything and sees nothing ; for they all represent scenes 
 described in some poem. If one could only find an educated man 
 who had never read a book, what a delightful companion he would 
 be!" 
 
 When the concert was over, they did not return directly to town, 
 as Lydia wished to walk awhile in the gardens. In consequence, 
 when they left Sydenham, they got into a Waterloo train, and 
 so had to change at Clapham junction. It was a fine summer 
 evening ; and Alice, though she thought that it became ladies to 
 hide themselves from the public in waiting-rooms at railway 
 stations, did not attempt to dissuade Lydia from walking to and 
 fro at an unfrequented end of the platform, which terminated in a 
 bank covered with flowers. 
 
 " To my mind," said Lydia, " Clapham Junction is one of the 
 prettiest places about London." 
 
 •* Indeed ! " said Alice, a little maliciously. '• I thought that all 
 artistic people looked on junctions and railway lines as blots on 
 the landscape." 
 
 •* Some of them do," said Lydia ; " but they are not the artists 
 of our generation ; and those who take up their cry are no better 
 than parrots. If every holiday recollection of my youth — every 
 escape from town to country, be associated with the railway, I 
 must feel towards it otherwise than did my father, upon whose 
 middle age it came as a monstrous iron innovation. The locomo- 
 tive is one of the wonders of modern childhood. Children crowd 
 upon a bridge to see the train pass beneath. Little boys strut 
 along the streets puffing and whistling in imitation of the engine. 
 All that romance, silly as it looks, becomes sacred in after life. 
 Besides, when it is not underground in a foul London tunnel, 
 a train is a beautiful thing. Its pure white fleece of steam 
 harmonizes with every variety of landscape. And its sound ! 
 Have you ever stood on a sea coast skirted by a railway, and 
 listened as the train came into hearing in the far distance ? At first 
 it can hardly be distinguished from the noise of the sea: then 
 you recognise it by its variation ; one moment smothered in a deep 
 cutting, and the next sent echoing from some hillside. Sometimes 
 it runs smoothly for many minutes, and then breaks suddenly into 
 a rhythmic clatter, always changing in distance and intensity. 
 When it comes near, you should get into a tunnel, and stand there 
 whilst it passes. I did that once ; and it was like the last page of 
 an overture by Beethoven, thunderingly impetuous. I cannot 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 57 
 
 conceive how any person can hope to disparage a train by com- 
 paring it with a stage coach ; and I know something of stage 
 coaches, or, at least, of diligences. Their effect on the men em- 
 ployed about them ought to decide the superiority of steam with- 
 out further argument. I have never observed an engine driver who 
 did not seem an exceptionally intelligent mechanic, whilst the very 
 writers and artists who have preserved the memory of the coaching 
 days for us do not appear to have taken coachmen seriously, or to 
 have regarded them as responsible and civilized men. Abuse of 
 the railway from a pastoral point of view is obsolete. There are 
 millions of grown persons in England to whom the far sound of the 
 train is as pleasantly suggestive as the piping of a blackbird. 
 Again, — is not that Lord Worthington getting out of the train ? 
 
 Yes, that one, at the third platform from this. He " She 
 
 stopped. Alice looked, but could see neither Lord Worthington 
 nor the cause of a subtle but perceptible change in Lydia, who said 
 quickly, 
 
 '* He is probably coming to our train. Come to the waiting- 
 room." She walked swiftly along the platform as she spoke. 
 Alice hurried after her; and they had but just got into the room, 
 the door of which was close to the staircase which gave access to 
 the platform, when a coarse din of mens' voices shewed that a 
 noisy party were ascending the steps. Presently a man emerged 
 reeling, and at once began to execute a drunken dance, and to 
 sing as well as his condition and musical faculty allowed. Lydia 
 stood near the window of the room, and watched in silence. Alice, 
 following her example, recognized the drunken dancer as Mellish. 
 He was followed by three men, gaily attired, and highly elated, but 
 comparatively sober. After them came Cashel Byron, showily 
 dressed in a velveteen coat, and tightly fitting fawn-coloured panta- 
 loons that displayed the muscles of his legs. He also seemed 
 quite sober ; but he was dishevelled ; and his left eye blinked 
 frequently, the adjacent brow and cheek being much yellower than 
 his natural complexion, which appeared to advantage on the right 
 side of his face. Walking steadily to Mellish, who was now 
 asking each of the bystanders in turn to come and drink at his 
 expense, he seized him by the collar, and sternly bade him cease 
 making a fool of himself. Mellish tried to embrace him. 
 
 ** My own boy," he exclaimed affectionately. " He's my little 
 nonpareil. Cashel Byron again' the world at catch weight. Bob 
 Mellish's money " 
 
 '* You sot," said Cashel, rolling him about until he was giddy as 
 well as drunk, and then forcing him to sit down on a bench : " one 
 would think you never saw a mill or won a bet in your life before." 
 
 '* Steady, Byron," said one of the others. " Here's his lord- 
 ship." Lord Worthington was coming up the stairs, apparently 
 the most excited of the party. 
 
 " Fine man ! " he cried, patting Cashel on the shoulder. " Splendid 
 man ! You have won a monkey for me to-day ; and you shall have 
 your share of it, old boy." 
 
 *♦ I trained him," said Mellish, staggering forward again. " I 
 trained him. You know me, my lord. You know Bob Mellish. A 
 word with your lordship in c — confidence. You ask who knows 
 
58 CASHEL byron's profrssion. 
 
 liow to make the beef go and the muscle come. You ask 1 ask 
 
 your lordship's pard'n. What'U your lordship take ?" 
 
 '• Take care, for Heaven's sake ! " exclaimed Lord VVorthington, 
 clutching at him as he reeled backwards towards the line. *♦ Dont 
 you see the train ? " 
 
 •♦ / know," said Mellish gravely. *' I am all right : no man more 
 so. I am Bob Mellish. You ask " 
 
 "Here. Come out of this," said one of the party, a powerful 
 man with a scarred face and crushed nose, grasping Mellish and 
 thrusting him into the train. *♦ Y'U 'ave to clap a beefsteak on 
 that ogle of yours, where you napped the Dutchman's auctioneer, 
 Byron. It's got more yellow paint on it than y'li like to show in 
 church to-morrow." 
 
 At this they all gave a roar of laughter, and entered a third class 
 carriage. Lydia and Alice had but just time to take their places 
 in the train before it started. 
 
 •' Really I must say," said Alice, "that if those were Mr. Cashel 
 Byron's and Lord Worthington's associates, their tastes are ver>* 
 peculiar." 
 
 *' Yes," said Lydia, almost grimly. •* I am a fair linguist ; but I 
 did not understand a single sentence of their conversation, though 
 I heard it all distinctly." 
 
 " They were not gentlemen," said Alice. *' You say that no one 
 can tell by a person's appearance whether he is a gentleman or 
 not ; but surely you cannot think that those men are Lord Worth- 
 ington's equals." 
 
 '♦ 1 do not," said Lydia. •* They are ruffians ; and Cashel Byron 
 is the most unmistakeable ruffian of them all." 
 
 Alice, awestruck, did not venture to speak again until they left 
 the train at Victoria. There was a crowd outside the carriage in 
 which Cashel had travelled. They hastened past ; but Lydia 
 asked a guard whether anything was the matter. He replied that 
 a drunken man, alighting from the train, had fallen down upon the 
 rails, and that, had the carriage been in motion, he would have 
 been killed. Lydia thanked her informant, and, as she turned from 
 him, found Bashville standing before her, touching his hat. She 
 had given him no instructions to attend. However, she accepted 
 his presence as a matter of course, and inquired whether the 
 carriage was there. 
 
 *♦ No, madam," replied Bashville. " The coachman had no 
 orders." 
 
 " Quite right. A hansom, if you please." When he was gone, 
 she said to AHce, '* Did you tell Bashville to meet us ? " 
 
 " Oh dear no," said Alice. " I should not think of doing such a 
 thing." 
 
 " Strange ! However, he knows his duties better than I do ; so 
 I have no doubt that he has acted properly. He has bten waiting 
 all the afternoon, I suppose, poor fellow." 
 
 *' He has nothing else to do," said Alice carelessly. " Here he 
 is. He has picked out a capital horse for us too." 
 
 Meanwhile, Mellish had been dragged from beneath the train, 
 and seated on the knee of one of his companions. He was in a 
 stupor, and had a large lump on his brow. His eye was almost 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 5J 
 
 closed. The man with the crushed nose now shewed himself an 
 expert surgeon. Whilst Cashel supported the patient on the knee 
 of another man, and the rest of the party kept off the crowd by- 
 mingled persuasion and violence, he produced a lancet and sum- 
 marily reduced the swelling by lancing it. He then dressed the 
 pimcture neatly with appliances for that purpose which he carried 
 about him, and shouted in Mellish's ear to rouse him. But the 
 trainer only groaned, and let his head drop inert on his breast. 
 More shouting was resorted to, but in vain. Cashel impatiently 
 expressed an opinion that Mellish was shamming, and declared 
 that he would not stand there to be fooled with all the evening. 
 
 " If he was my pal 'stead o' yours," said the man with the broken 
 nose, " I'd wake him up fast enough." 
 
 " I'll save you the trouble," said Cashel, coolly stooping and 
 seizing between his teeth the cartilage of the trainer's ear. 
 
 '* That's the way to do it," said the other approvingly, as Mellish 
 screamed and started to his feet. " Now then. Up with you." 
 He took Mellish's right arm ; Cashel took the left ; and they brought 
 him away between them without paying the least heed to his tears, 
 his protestations that he was hurt, his plea that he was an old man, 
 or his bitter demand as to where Cashel would have been at that 
 moment without his care. 
 
 Lord Worthington had taken advantage of this accident to slip 
 away from his travelling companions, and drive alone to his 
 lodgings in Jermyn Street. He was still greatly excited ; and 
 when his valet, an old retainer with whom he was on familiar 
 terms, brought him a letter that had arrived during his absence, 
 he asked him four times whether anyone had called, and four times 
 interrupted him by scraps of information about the splendid day 
 he had had and the luck he was in. 
 
 '* I betted five hundred even that it would be over in quarter 
 of an hour ; and then I betted Byron two hundred and fifty to one 
 that it wouldnt. That's the way to do it : eh, Bedford ? Catch 
 Cashel letting two hundred and fifty slip through his fingers ! By 
 George though, he's an artful card. Attheend offourteen minutes I 
 thought my five hundred was corpsed. The Dutchman was full 
 of fight ; and Cashel suddenly turned weak and tried to back out 
 of the rally. You should have seen the gleam in the Dutchman's 
 eye when he rushed in after him. He made cock-sure of 
 finishing him straight off." 
 
 " Indeed, my lord. Dear me ! " 
 
 ** I should think so : I was taken in by it myself. It was only 
 done to draw the poor devil. By George, Bedford, you should 
 have seen the way Cashel put in his right. But you couldnt have 
 seen it : it was too quick. The Dutchman was asleep on the 
 grass before he knew he'd been hit. Byron had collected fifteen 
 pounds for him before he came to. His jaw must feel devilish 
 queer after it. By Jove, Bedford, Cashel is a perfect wonder. I'd 
 back him for every cent I possess against any man alive. He 
 makes you feel proud of being an Englishman." 
 
 Bedford looked on with submissive wonder as his master, trans- 
 figured with enthusiasm, went hastily to and fro through the room, 
 occasionally clenching his fist and smiting an imaginary Dutch- 
 
6o CASHEL BYRON*S PROFESSION. 
 
 man. The valet at last ventured to remind him that he had 
 forgotten the letter. 
 
 ♦•Oh, hang the letter ! "said.' Lord Worthington. *• It's Mrs. 
 Hoskyn's writing — an invitatibti; bi' some such rot. Here: let's 
 see it." 
 
 CiuHpden Hill Road. Saturday. 
 My dear Lord Worthin^ton, 
 
 I liave not forgotten my promise to obtain for yon a near view of the 
 famous Mrs. Herbert — Madame Simplicita, as you call her. She will be 
 with us to-morrow evening ; and we shall be very happy to see you then^ if 
 you care to cotne. At nine o'clock, Herr Abendgasse, a celebrated German 
 art critic and a great friend of mine, will read us a paper on ♦* The True in 
 A rt " ; but I will not pay you the compliment of pretending to believe that 
 tluit interests you J so you may come at ten or half -past ^by which hour all tlte 
 serious business of the evening will be over. 
 
 ** Well, there is nothing like cheek,** said Lord Worthington, 
 breaking off in his perusal. " These women think that because I 
 enjoy life in a rational way, I dont know the back of a picture 
 from the front, or the inside of a book from the cover. I shall go 
 at nine sharp." 
 
 // any of your acquaintances take an interest in art, I will gladly make 
 them welcome. Could you not bring me a celebrity or two ? I am very 
 anxious to have as good an audience as possible for Herr Abend gasse. How- 
 ever, as it is, he shall have no reason to complain, as I flatter myself that I 
 liave already secured a very distinguished assembly. Still, if you can add a 
 second illustrious nanu to my list, by all means do so, 
 
 '* Very good, Mrs. Hoskyn," said Lord Worthington, lookinj^ 
 cunningly at the bewildered Bedford. " You shall have a celebrity 
 — a real one — none of your mouldy old Germans — if I can only 
 get him to come. If any of her people dont like him, they can 
 tell him so. Eh, Bedford ? " 
 
 iViiliiiLi: Liii* Jiiji 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 6l 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Next evening, Lydia and Alice reached Mrs. Hoskyn's house in 
 Campden Hill Road a few minutes before ten o'clock. They found 
 Lord Worthington in the front garden, smoking and chatting with 
 Mr. Hoskyn. He threw away his cigar and returned to the house 
 with the two ladies, who observed that he was somewhat flushed 
 with wine. They went into a parlour to take off their wraps, 
 leaving him at the foot of the stairs. Presently they heard some- 
 one come down and address him excitedly thus, 
 
 ** Worthington. Worthington. He has begun making a speech 
 before the whole room. He got up the moment old Abendgasse 
 sat down. Why the deuce did you give him that glass of 
 champagne ? " 
 
 " Sh-sh-sh ! You dont say so ! Come with me ; and let us try 
 to get him away quietly." 
 
 " Did you hear that ? " said Alice, " Something must have 
 happened." 
 
 " I hope so," said Lydia. *' Ordinarily, the fault in these re- 
 ceptions is that nothing happens. Do not announce us, if you 
 please," she added, to thp servant, as they ascended the stairs. 
 ** Since we have come late, let us spare the feelings of Herr 
 Abendgasse by going in as quietly as possible." 
 
 They had no difficulty in entering unnoticed ; for Mrs. Hoskyn 
 considered obscurity beautiful ; and her rooms were but dimly 
 lighted by two curious lanterns of pink glass, within which were 
 vaporous flames. In the middle of the larger apartment was a 
 small table covered with garnet colored plush, with a reading desk 
 upon it, and two candles in silver candlesticks, the light of which, 
 being brighter than the lanterns, cast strong double shadows from 
 a group of standing figures about the table. The surrounding 
 space was crowded with chairs, occupied chiefly by ladies. Be- 
 hind them, along the wall, stood a row of men, among whom was 
 Lucian Webber. All were staring at Cashel Byron, who was 
 making a speech to some bearded and spectacled gentleman at the 
 table. Lydia, who had never before seen him either in evening 
 dress or quite at his ease, was astonished at his bearing. His eyes 
 were sparkling ; his confidence overbore the company ; and his 
 rough voice created the silence it broke. He was in high 
 good humour, and marked his periods by the swing of his extended 
 left arm, whilst he held his right hand close to his body and 
 occasionally pointed his remarks by slyly wagging its forefinger. 
 
M> 
 
 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 ♦' executive power," he was saying as Lydia entered. 
 
 *' That's a very good expression, gentlemen, and one that I can 
 tell you a lot about. We have been told that if we want to civilize 
 our neighbours, we must do it mainly by the example of our own 
 hves, by each becoming a living illustration of the highest culture 
 we know. But what I ask is, how is anybody to know that you're 
 an illustration of culture. You cant go about like a sandwicn man 
 with a label on your back to tell all the fine notions you have in 
 your head ; and you may be sure no person will consider your 
 mere appearance preferable to his own. You want an executive 
 power: that's what youVant. Suppose you walked along the 
 street and saw a man beating a woman, and setting a bad example 
 to the roughs. Well, you would be bound to set a good example 
 to them ; and, if you're men, you'd like to save the woman ; but you 
 couldnt do it by merely living ; for that would be setting the bad 
 example of passing on and leaving the poor creature to be beaten. 
 What is it that you need to know then, in order to act up to your 
 fine ideas ? Why, you want to know how to hit him, when to hit 
 him, and where to hit him ; and then you want the nerve to go in 
 and do it. That's executive power ; and that's what's wanted 
 worse than sitting down and thinking how good you are, which is 
 what this gentleman's teaching comes to after all. Dont you see? 
 You want executive power to set an example. If you leave all 
 that to the roughs, it's their example that will spread, and not 
 yours. And look at the politics of it. We've heard a good deal 
 about the French to-night. Well, they've got executive power. 
 They know how to make a barricade, and how to fight behind it 
 when they've made it. What's the result ? Why, the French, if 
 they only knew what they wanted, could have it to-morrow for the 
 asking — more's the pity that they dont know. In this country 
 we can do nothing ; and if the lords and the landlords, or any 
 other collection of nobs, were to drive us into the sea, what could 
 we do but go ? There's a gentleman laughing at me for saying 
 that ; but I ask him what would he do if the police or the soldiers 
 came this evening and told him to turn out of his comfortable 
 house into the Thames ? Tell 'em he wouldnt vote for their em- 
 ployers at the next election, perhaps? Or, if that didnt stop them, 
 tell 'em that he'd ask his friends to do the same ? That's a 
 pretty executive power ! No, gentlemen. Dont let yourself be 
 deceived by people that have staked their money against you. 
 The first thing to learn is how to fight. There's no use in buying 
 books and pictures unless you know how to keep them and your 
 own head as well. If that gentleman that laughed knew how to 
 fight, and his neighbors all knew how to fight too, he wouldnt need 
 to fear police, nor soldiers, nor Russians, nor Prussians, nor 
 any of the millions of men that may be let loose on him any day 
 of the week, safe though he thinks himself. But, says you, let's 
 have a division of labor. Let's not fight for ourselves, but pay 
 other men to fight for us. That shews how some people, when 
 they get hold of an idea, will work it to that foolish length that it's 
 wearisome to listen to them. Fighting is the power of self preser- 
 vation : another man cant do it for you. You might as well divide 
 the labor of eating your dinner, and pay one fellow to take the 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 63 
 
 beef, another the beer, and the third the potatoes. But let us put 
 it for the sake of argument that you do pay others to fight for you. 
 Suppose someone else pays them higher, and they fight a cross, or 
 turn openly against you ! You'd have only yourself to blame for 
 giving the executive power to money. And so long as the 
 executive power is money, the poor will be kept out of their corner 
 and fouled against the ropes, whereas, by what I understand, the 
 German professor wants them to have their rights. Therefore 1 
 say that a man's first duty is to learn to fight. If he cant do that, 
 he cant set an example ; he cant stand up for his own rights or his 
 neighbours' ; he cant keep himself in bodily health ; and if he sees 
 the weak ill-used by the strong, the most he can do is to sneak away 
 and tell the nearest policeman, who most likely wont turn up until 
 the worst of the mischief is done. Coming to this lady's drawing- 
 room, and making an illustration of himself, wont make him feel 
 like a man after that. Let me be understood though, gentlemen : 
 I dont intend that you should take everything I say too exactly — too 
 literally, as it were. If you see a man beating a woman, I think 
 you should interfere on principle. But dont expect to be thanked 
 by her for it ; and keep your eye on her : dont let her get behind 
 you. As for him, just give him a good one and go away. Never 
 stay to get yourself into a street fight ; for it's low, and generally 
 turns out badly for all parties. However, that's only a bit of 
 practical advice. It doesnt alter the great principle that you 
 should get an executive power. When you get that, you'll have 
 courage in you ; and, what's more, your courage will be of some use 
 to you. For though you may have courage by nature ; still, if you 
 havent executive power as well, your courage will only lead you 
 to stand up to be beaten by men that have both courage and 
 executive power ; and what good does that do you ? People say 
 that you're a game fellow ; but they wont find the stakes for you 
 unless you can win them. You'd far better put your game in your 
 pocket, and throw up the sponge while you can see to do it." 
 
 " Now, on this subject of game, I've something to say that will 
 ease the professor's mind on a point that he seemed anxious about. 
 I am no musician; but I'll just show you how a man 
 that understands one art understands every art. I made out from 
 the gentleman's remarks that there is a man in the musical line 
 named Wagner, who is what you might call a game sort of com- 
 poser ; and that the musical fancy, though they cant deny that his 
 tunes are first-rate, and that, so to speak, he wins his fights, yet 
 they try to make out that he wins them in an outlandish way, and 
 that he has no real science. Now I tell the gentleman not to mind 
 such talk. As I have just shewn you, his game wouldnt be any 
 use to him without science. He might have beaten a few second- 
 raters with a rush while he was )^oung; but he wouldnt have lasted 
 out as he has done unless he was clever as well. You will find 
 that those that run him down are either jealous, or they are old 
 stagers that are not used to his style, and think that anything new 
 must be bad. Just wait a bit, and, take my word for it, they'll 
 turn right round and swear that his style isnt new at all, and that 
 he stole it from someone they saw when they were ten years old. 
 History shews us that that is the way of such fellows in all ages, 
 
64 CASHEL BYRON's PROFtSSlON. 
 
 as the gentleman said ; and he gave you Beethoven as an example. 
 lint an example like tliat dont go home to you, because there isnt 
 one man in a million that ever heard of Beethoven. Take a man 
 that everybody has heard of — ^Jack Randall! The very same 
 things were said of him. After tnat, you neednt go to musicians 
 for an example. The truth is, that there are people in the world 
 with that degree of envy and malice in them that they cant bear to 
 allow a good man his merits ; and when they have to admit that he 
 can do one thing, they try to make out that there's something else 
 he cant do. Come : I'll put it to you short and business-like. This 
 German gentleman, who knows all about music, tells you that many 
 pretend that this Wagner has game, but no science. Well, I, 
 though I know nothing about music, will bet you twenty-five 
 pounds that there's others that allow him to be full of science, but 
 say that he has no game, and that all he does comes from his 
 head, and not from his heart. I will. I'll bet twenty-five pounds 
 on it ; and let the gentleman of the house be stakeholder, and the 
 German gentleman referee. Eh ? Well, I'm glad to see that there 
 are no takers." 
 
 '• Now we'll go to another little point that the gentleman forgot. 
 He recommended you to Uarn — to make yourselves better and 
 wiser from day to day. But hedidnt tell you why it is that you wont 
 learn, in spite of his advice. I suppo.'^e that, being a foreigner, 
 he was afraid of hurting your feelings by talking too freely to 
 you. But you're not so thinskinned as to take offence at a little 
 plain speaking, I'll be bound ; so I tell you straight out that the 
 reason you wont learn is not that you dont want to be clever, or 
 that you are lazier than many that have learnt a great deal, but 
 just because you'd like people to think that you know everything 
 already — because you're ashamed to be seen going to school ; and 
 you calculate that if you only hold your tongue and look wise, 
 you'll get through life without your ignorance being found out. 
 But Where's the good of lies and pretence ? What does it matter 
 if you get laughed at by a cheeky brat or two for your awkward 
 beginnings ? What's the use of always thinking of how you're 
 looking, when your sense might tell you that other people are 
 thinking about their own looks and not about yours ? A big boy 
 doesnt look well on a lower form, certainly ; but when he works 
 his way up he'll be glad he began. I speak to you more particularly 
 because you're Londoners ; and Londoners beat all creation for 
 thinking about themselves. However, I dont go with the gentle- 
 man in everything he said. All this struggling and striving to 
 make the world better is a great mistake ; not because it isnt a 
 good thing to improve the world if you know how to do it, but 
 because striving and struggling is the worst way you could set 
 about doing anything. It gives a man a bad style, and weakens 
 him. It shows that he dont believe in himself much. When I 
 heard the professor striving and struggling so earnestly to set you 
 to work reforming this, that, and the other, I said to myself * He's 
 got himself to persuade as well as his audience. That isnt the 
 language of conviction.' Whose " 
 
 •' Really, sir," said Lucian Webber, who had made his way to 
 the tatde, ** I think, as you have now addressed us at considerable 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. C^ 
 
 length, and as there are other persons present whose opinions 
 probably excite as much curiosity as yours " He was inter- 
 rupted by a "Hear, hear," followed by "No, no," and " Go on," 
 uttered in more subdued tones than are customary at public 
 meetings, but with more animation than is usually displayed 
 in drawing-rooms. Cashel, who had been for a moment 
 somewhat put out, turned to Lucian and said, in a tone in- 
 tended to repress, but at the same time humour his impatience,. 
 "Dont you be in a hurry, sir. You shall have your turn 
 presently. Perhaps I may tell you something you dont know- 
 before you stop." Then he turned again to the company, and re- 
 sumed. 
 
 •* We were talking about effort when this young gentleman took 
 it upon himself to break the ring. Now, nothing can be what you 
 might call artistically done, if it's done with an effort. If a thing 
 cant be done light and easy, steady and certain, let it not be done 
 at all. Sounds strange, doesnt it ? But I'll tell you a stranger 
 thing. The more effort you make, the less effect you produce. A 
 would-he artist is no artist at all. I see that in my own profession 
 (never mind what that profession is just at present, as the ladies 
 might think the worse of me for it). But in all professions, any 
 work that shows signs of labour, straining, yearning — as the 
 German gentleman said — ,or effort of any kind, is work beyond the 
 man's strength that does it, and therefore not well done. Perhaps 
 it's beyond his natural strength ; but it is more likely that he was 
 badly taught. Many teachers set their pupils on to strain and 
 stretch so that they get used up, body and mind, in a few months. 
 Depend upon it, the same thing is true in other arts. I once taught 
 a fiddler that used to get a hundred guineas for playing two or three 
 tunes ; and he told me that it was just the same thing with the 
 fiddle — that when you laid a tight hold on your fiddle-stick, or even 
 set your teeth hard together, you could do nothing but rasp like 
 the fellows that play in bands for a few shillings a night." 
 
 '* How much more of this nonsense must we endure ? " said 
 Lucian audibly, as Cashel stopped for breath. Cashel turned, and 
 looked at him. 
 
 "By Jove," whispered Lord Worthington to his companion^ 
 " that fellow had better be careful. I wish he would hold his 
 tongue." 
 
 " You think it's nonsense, do you ? " said Cashel, after a pause. 
 Then he raised one of the candles, and illuminated a picture that 
 hung on the wall. ** Look at that picture," he said. " You see 
 that fellow in armour — St. George and the dragon or whatever he 
 may be. He's jumped down from his horse to fight the other 
 fellow — that one with his head in a big helmet, whose horse has 
 tumbled. The lady in the gallery is half crazy with anxiety for 
 St. George ; and well she may be. There's a posture for a man to 
 fight in ! His weight isnt resting on his legs : one touch of a 
 child's finger would upset him. Look at his neck craned out in 
 front of him, and his face as flat as a full moon towards his man, 
 as if he was inviting him to shut up both his eyes with one blow. 
 You can all see that he's as weak and nervous as a cat, and that 
 he doesnt know how to fight. And why does he give you that 
 
 F 
 
66 CASiiEL byron's profession. 
 
 idea ? Just because he's all strain and stretch ; because heisnt at 
 his ease ; because he carries the weight of his body as foolishly as 
 one of the ladies here would carry a hod of bricks ; because he 
 isnt safe, steady, and light on his pins, as he woukl be if he could 
 forget himself for a minute and leave his body to find its proper 
 balance of its own accord. If the painter of that picture had 
 known his business, he would never have sent his man up to the 
 scratch in such a figure and condition as that. But you can see 
 with one eye that he didnt understand — I wont say the principles 
 of fighting, but the universal principles that I've told you of, that 
 case and strength, effort and weakness, go together. Now ! " 
 added Cashel, again addressing Lucian : ** do you still think that 
 notion of mine nonsense ? " And he smacked his hps with satis- 
 faction ; for his criticism of the picture had produced a marked 
 sensation ; and he did not know that this was due to the fact that 
 the painter, Mr. Adrian Herbert, was present. 
 
 Lucian tried to ignore the question ; but he found it impossible 
 to ignore the questioner. '* Since you have set the example of 
 expressing opinions without regard to considerations of common 
 courtesy," he said shortly, •' I may say that your theory, if it can 
 be called one, is manifestly absurd." 
 
 Cashel, apparently unruffled, but with more deliberation of 
 manner than before, looked about him as if in search of a fresh 
 illustration. His glance finally rested on the lecturer's seat, a 
 capacious crimson damask armchair that stood unoccupied at some 
 distance behind Lucian. 
 
 " I see you're no judge of a picture," said he good-humouredly, 
 putting down the candle, and stepping in front of Lucian, who 
 regarded him haughtily, and did not budge. •' But just look at it 
 in this way. Suppose you wanted to hit me the most punishing 
 blow you possibly could. What would you do ? Why, according 
 to your own notion, you'd make a great effort. * The more effort, the 
 more force,' you'd say to yourself. * I'll smash him even if I burst 
 myself in doing it.' And what would happen then ? You'd only 
 cut me and make me angry, besides exhausting all your strength 
 
 at one gasp. Whereas, if you took it easy — like this " Here 
 
 he made a light step forward, and placed his open palm gently 
 against the breast of Lucian, who instantly reeled back as if the 
 piston-rod of a steam-engine had touched him, and dropped into 
 the chair. 
 
 •* There ! " exclaimed Cashel, standing aside and pointing to 
 him. " It's like pocketing a bilHard ball ! " 
 
 A chatter of surprise, amusement, and remonstrance spread 
 through the rooms ; and the company crowded towards the table. 
 Lucian rose, white with rage, and for a moment entirely lost his 
 self control. Fortunately, the effect was to paralyze him : he 
 neither moved nor spoke, and only betrayed his condition by his 
 pallor, and the hatred in his expression. Presently he felt a touch 
 on his arm, and heard his name pronounced by Lydia. Her voice 
 calmed him. He tried to look at her ; but his vision was dis- 
 turbed : he saw double ; the lights seemed to dance before his 
 eyes ; and Lord Worthington's voice, saying to Cashel, 
 ** Rather too practical, old fellow," seemed to come from a remote 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 6/ 
 
 corner of the room, and yet to be whispered into his ear. He was 
 moving irresolutely in search of Lydia, when his senses and his 
 resentment were restored by a clap on the shoulder. 
 
 " You wouldnt have believed that now, would you? " said Cashel. 
 *' Dont look startled : you've no bones broken. You had your 
 little joke with me in your own way ; and I had mine in my own 
 way. That's only " 
 
 He stopped : his brave bearing vanished : he became limp and 
 shamefaced. Lucian, without a word, withdrew with Lydia to 
 the adjoining apartment, and left him staring after her with wistful 
 eyes and slackened jaw. 
 
 In the meantime Mrs. Hoskyn, an earnest looking young woman 
 with striking dark features and gold spectacles, was looking for 
 Lord Worthington, who betrayed a consciousness of guilt by 
 attempting to avoid her. But she cut off his retreat, and con- 
 fronted him with a steadfast gaze that compelled him to stand and 
 answer for himself. 
 
 " Who is that gentleman whom you introduced to me ? I do not 
 recollect his name." 
 
 *• I am really awfully sorry, Mrs. Hoskyn. It was too bad of 
 Byron. But Webber was excessively nasty." 
 
 Mrs. Hoskyn, additionally annoyed by apologies which she had 
 not invited, and which put her in the ignominious position of a 
 complainant, replied coldly, '* Mr. Byron! Thank you: I had 
 forgotten ", and was turning away when Lydia came up to intro- 
 duce Alice, and to explain why she had entered unannounced. 
 Lord Worthington then returned to the subject of Cashel, 
 hoping to improve his credit by claiming Lydia's acquaintance for 
 him. 
 
 " Did you hear our friend Byron's speech, Miss Carew ? Very 
 characteristic, I thought." 
 
 " Very," said Lydia. ** I hope Mrs. Hoskyn's guests are all 
 famiHar with his style. Otherwise they must find him a littl i 
 startling." 
 
 "Yes,'' said Mrs. Hoskyn, beginning to wonder whether Cashel 
 could be some well-known eccentric genius. " He is very odd. I 
 hope Mr. Webber is not offended." 
 
 " He is the less pleased as he was in the wrong," said Lydia. 
 ** Intolerant refusal to listen to an opponent is a species of vio- 
 lence that has no business in such a representative nineteenth 
 century drawing-room as yours, Mrs. Hoskyn. There was a fitness 
 in rebuking it by skilled physical violence. Consider the prodigious 
 tact of it too ! One gentleman knocks another half way across a 
 crowded room, and yet no one is scandalized." 
 
 " You see, Mrs. Hoskyn, the general verdict is * serve him right,' " 
 said Lord Worthington. 
 
 " With a rider to the effect that both gentlemen displayed 
 complete indifference to the comfort of their hostess," said Lydia. 
 " However, men so rarely sacrifice their manners to their minds 
 that it would be a pity to blame them. You do not encourage 
 conventionality, Mrs. Hoskyn ? " 
 
 •' I encourage good manners, though certainly not conventional 
 manners." 
 
 F 2 
 
iO CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 •* And you think there is a difference ? " 
 
 ** I feel that there is a difference, "(said Mrs. Hoskyn with dignity. 
 
 "So do I," said Lydia ; •* but one can hardly call others to 
 account for one's own subjective ideas." 
 
 Lydia went away to another part of the room without waiting 
 for a reply. Meanwhile, Cashel stood friendless in the middle 
 of the room, stared at by most of his neighbours, and spoken to by 
 none. Women looked at him coldly lest it should be suspected 
 that they were admiring him ; and men regarded him stiffly 
 according to the national custom. Since his recognition of Lydia, his 
 self-confidence had given place to a misgiving that he had been 
 making a fool of himself. He began to feel lonely and abashed; 
 and but for his professional habit of maintaining a cheerful counten- 
 ance under adverse circumstances, he would have hid himself in 
 the darkest corner of the room. He was getting sullen, and 
 seeking consolation in thoughts of how terribly he could handle 
 all these distantly-mannered black-coated gentleman if he chose, 
 when Lord Worthington came up to him. 
 
 " I had no idea you were such an orator, Byron," he said. 
 " You can go into the church whea you cut the other trade. Eh ? " 
 
 ** I wasnt brought up to the other trade," said Cashel ; '* and I 
 know how to talk to ladies and gentlemen as well as to what 
 you'd suppose to be my own sort. Dont you be anxious about 
 me, my lord. I know how to make myself at hom^." 
 
 " Oi course, of course," said Lord Worthington soothingly. 
 •* Everyone can see by your manners that you are a gentleman : 
 they recognise that even in the ring. Otherwise — I know you will 
 excuse my saying so — I darent have brought you here." 
 
 Cashel shook his head, but was pleased. He thought he hated 
 flattery: had Lord Worthington told him that he was the best 
 boxer in England — which he probably was — he would have 
 despised him. But he wished to believe the false compliment to 
 his manners, and was therefore perfectly convinced of its 
 sincerity. Lord Worthington perceived this, and retired, pleased 
 with his own tact, in search of Mrs. Hoskyn, to claim her promise 
 of an introduction to Madame Szczympli9a, which Mrs. Hoskyn 
 had, by way of punishing him for Cashel's misdemeanor, privately 
 determined not to redeem. 
 
 Cashel began to think he had better go. Lydia was surrounded 
 by men who were speaking to her in German. He felt his own 
 inability to talk learnedly even in English ; and he had, besides, a 
 conviction that she was angry with him for upsetting her cousin, 
 who was gravely conversing with Miss Goff. Suddenly a horrible 
 noise caused a ger^eral start and pause. Mr. Jack, the eminent 
 composer, had opened the pianoforte, and was illustrating some 
 points in a musical composition under discussion by making dis- 
 cordant sounds with his voice, accompanied by a few chords. 
 Cashel laughed aloud in derision as he made his way towards 
 the door through the crowd, which was now pressing round the 
 pianoforte, at which Madame Szczympli9a had just come to the 
 assistance of Jack. Near the door, and in a corner remote from 
 the instrument, he came upon Lydia and a middle aged gentleman, 
 evidently neither a professor nor an artist. 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 69 
 
 •* Ab'n'gas is a very clever man," the gentleman was saying. 
 ** I am sorry I didnt hear the lecture. But I leave all that to 
 Mary. She receives the people who enjoy high art upstairs ; and 
 I take the sensible men down to the garden or the smoking-room, 
 according to the weather." 
 
 ** What do the sensible women do ? " said Lydia. 
 
 *' They come late," said Mr. Hoskyn, and then laughed at his 
 repartee until he became aware of the vicinity of Cashel, whose 
 health he immediately inquired after, shaking his hand warmly and 
 receiving a numbing grip in return. As soon as he saw that Lydia 
 and Cashel were acquainted, he slipped away and left them to 
 entertain one another. 
 
 " I wonder how he knows me," said Cashel, heartened by her 
 gracious reception of a nervous bow. " I never saw him before in 
 my life." 
 
 ** He does not know you," said Lydia, with some sternness. 
 ** He is your host, and therefore concludes that he ought to know 
 you." 
 
 *' Oh ! That was it, was it ? " He paused, at a loss for conver- 
 sation. She did not help him. At last he added, '' I havent seen 
 you this long time. Miss Carew." 
 
 '* It is not very long since I saw you, Mr. Cashel Byron. I saw 
 you yesterday at some distance from London." 
 
 *' Oh Lord ! " exclaimed Cashel, " dont say that. You're joking, 
 aint you ? " 
 
 ♦* No. Joking, in that sense, does not amuse me." 
 
 Cashel looked at her in consternation. " You dont mean to say 
 
 that you went to see a — a — Where when did you see me ? 
 
 You might tell me." 
 
 *' Certainly. It was at Clapham Junction, at a quarter-past 
 six." 
 
 " Was anyone with me ? " 
 
 " Your friend Mr. Mellish, Lord Worthington, and some other 
 pe^pons." 
 
 *' Yes. Lord Worthington was there. But where were you ? " 
 
 *' In a waiting-room, close to you." 
 
 '* I never saw you," said Cashel, growing red as he recalled the 
 scene. *' We must have looked very queer. I had had an acci- 
 dent to my eye ; and Mellish was not sober. Did you think I was 
 in bad company ? " 
 
 *' That was not my business, Mr. Cashel Byron." 
 
 *' No," said Cashel, with sudden bitterness. " What did you 
 care what company I kept ? You're mad with me because I 
 made your cousin look like a fool, I suppose. That's what's the 
 matter." 
 
 Lydia looked around to see that no one was within earshot, 
 and, speaking in a low tone to remind him that they were not 
 alone, said, " There is nothing the matter, except that you are a 
 grown up boy rather than a man. I am not mad with you because 
 of your attack upon my cousin ; but he is very much annoyed ; and 
 so is Mrs. Hoskyn, whose guest you were bound to respect." 
 
 " I knew you'd be down on me. I wouldnt have said a word if 
 I'd known that you were here," said Cashel dejectedly. " Lie 
 
70 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 down and be walked over: that's what you think I'm fit for. 
 Another man would have twisted his head off." 
 
 ** Is it possible that you do not know that gentlemen never 
 twist one another's heads off in society, no matter how great may 
 be the provocation ? " 
 
 ** I know nothing," said Cashel, with plaintive sullenness. 
 ** Everything I do is wrong. There ! Will that satisfy you ? ' 
 
 Lydia looked up at him in doubt. Then, with steady patience, 
 she added : ** Will you answer me a question on your honour ? " 
 
 He hesitated, fearing that she was going to ask what he was. 
 
 ** The question is this," she said, observing the hesitation. 
 ** Are you a simpleton, or a man of science pretending to be a 
 simpleton for the sake of mocking me and my Iriends ? " 
 
 " I am not mocking you : honour bright ! All that about science 
 was only a joke — at least it's not what you call science. I'm a real 
 simpleton in drawing-room affairs; though I'm clever enough in 
 my own line.*' 
 
 "Then try to believe that I take no pleasure in making you 
 confess yourself in the wrong, and that you cannot have a lower 
 opinion of me than the contrary belief implies." 
 
 *• That's just where you're mistaken," said Cashel obstinately. 
 " I havent got a low opinion of you at all. There's such a thing 
 as being too clever." 
 
 ** You may not know that it is a low opinion. Nevertheless, it 
 is so." 
 
 " Well, have it your own way. I'm wrong again ; and you're 
 right." 
 
 *' So far from being gratified by that, I had rather that we 
 were both in the right and agreed. Can you understand that ? " 
 
 *' I cant say I do. But I give in to it. What more need you 
 care for ? " 
 
 " I had rather you understood. Let me try to explain. You 
 think that I like to be cleverer than other people. You are mis- 
 taken. I should like them all to know whatever I know." 
 
 Cashel laughed cunningly, and shook his head. " Dont you 
 make any mistake about that," he said. ** You dont want anybody 
 to be quite as clever as yourself: it isnt in human nature that you 
 should. You'd like people to be just clever enough to shew you 
 off — to be worth beating. But you wouldnt like them to be able 
 to beat you. Just clever enough to know how much cleverer you 
 are : that's about the mark. Eh ? " 
 
 Lydia made no further effort to enlighten him. She looked at 
 him thoughtfully, and said slowly, ♦' I begin to hold the clue to 
 your idiosyncrasy. You have attached yourself to the modern 
 doctrine of a struggle for existence, and look on life as a perpetual 
 combat." 
 
 " A fight ? Just so. What is life but a fight ? The curs forfeit 
 or get beaten ; the rogues sell the fight and lose the confidence of 
 their backers ; the game ones, and the clever ones, win the stakes, 
 and have to hand over the lion's share of them to the loafers ; and 
 luck plays the devil with them all in turn. That's not the way 
 they describe life in books ; but that's what it is." 
 
 " Oddly put, but perhaps true. Still, is there any need of 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROl'KSSION, 71 
 
 a Struggle? Is not the world large enough for us all to live peace- 
 fully in ? " 
 
 *♦ You may think so, because you were born with a silver spoon 
 in your mouth. But if you hadnt to fight for that silver spoon, 
 someone else had ; and no doubt he thought it hard that it should 
 be taken away from him and given to you. I was a snob myself 
 once, and thought the world was made for me to enjoy myself and 
 order about the poor fellows whose bread I was eating. But I was 
 left one day where I couldnt grab any more of their bread, and had 
 to make some for myself — ay, and some extra for loafers that had 
 the power to make me pay for what they didnt own. That took 
 the conceit out of me fast enough. But what do you know about 
 such things? " 
 
 " More than you think, perhaps. These are dangerous ideas t& 
 take with you into English society." 
 
 "Hmf!" growled Cashel. "They'd be more dangerous if I 
 could give every man that is robbed of half what he earns twelve 
 lessons — in science." 
 
 " So you can. Publish your lessons. Twelve lectures on 
 political economy, by Cashel Byron. I will help you to publish 
 them, if you wish." 
 
 " Bless your innocence ! " said Cashel: "the sort of political 
 economy I teach cant be learned from a book." 
 
 *♦ You have become an enigma again. But yours is not the creed 
 of a simpleton. You are playing with me — revealing your wisdom 
 from beneath a veil of infantile guilelessness. I have no more to- 
 say." 
 
 " May I be shot if I understand you ! I never pretended to 
 be guileless. Come : is it because I raised a laugh against your 
 cousin that you're so spiteful ? " 
 
 Lydia looked earnestly and doubtfully at him ; and he in- 
 stinctively put his head back, as if it were in danger. " You da 
 not understand, then ? " she said. " I will test the genuineness of 
 your stupidity by an appeal to your obedience." 
 
 ♦* Stupidity ! Go on." 
 
 ** But will you obey me, if I lay a command upon you ? " 
 
 ** I will go through fire and water for you." 
 
 Lydia blushed faintly, and paused to wonder at the novel 
 sensation before she resumed. " You had better not apologize to 
 my cousin : partly because you would only make matters worse : 
 chiefly because he does not deserve it. But you must make this 
 speech to Mrs. Hoskyn when you are going. * I am very sorry I 
 forgot myself — " 
 
 *' Sounds like Shakspere, doesnt it ?" observed Cashel. 
 
 " Ah ! the test has found you out : you are only acting after all. 
 But that does not alter my opinion that you should apologize." 
 
 •' All right. I dont know what you mean by testing and acting; 
 and I only hope you know yourself. But no matter: I'll apologize: 
 a man like me can aiford to. I'll apologize to your cousin too, if 
 you like." 
 
 " I do not like. But what has that to do with it ? I suggest these 
 things, as you must be aware, for your own sake and not for mine." 
 
 " As for my own, I dont care twopence : I do it all for you. I 
 dont even ask whether there is anything between you and him." 
 
72 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSlOKi 
 
 " Would you like to knoW ? " said Lydia deliberately, after k 
 pause of astonishment. 
 
 *' Do you mean to say you'll tell me ?" he exclaimed. ** If you do, 
 I'll say you're as good as gold." 
 
 *♦ Certainly I will tell you. There is an old friendship and 
 cousinship between us ; but we are not engaged, nor at all likt'ly 
 to be. I tell you so because, if I avoided the question, you would 
 draw the opposite and false conclusion." 
 
 ** I am glad of it, *' said Cashel, unexpectedly becoming very 
 gloomy. ** He isnt man enough for you. But he's your equal, 
 damn him I " 
 
 " He is my cousin, and, I believe, my sincere friend. Therefore 
 please do not damn him." 
 
 ** I know I shouldnt have said that. But I am only damning 
 my own luck." 
 
 " Which will not improve it in the least." 
 
 " I know that. You neednt have said it. I wouldnt have said 
 a thing like that to you, stupid as I am." 
 
 ** Evidently you suppose me to have meant more than I really 
 did. However, that does not matter. You are still an enigma to 
 me. Had we not better try to hear a little of Madame 
 Szczympli9a's performance ? " 
 
 ** I'm a pretty plain enigma, I should think," said Cashel mourn- 
 fully. " I would rather have you than any other woman in the 
 world ; but you're too rich and grand for me. If I cant have the 
 satisfaction of marrying you, I may as well have the satisfaction 
 of saying I'd like to." 
 
 ♦• Hardly a fair way of approaching the subject," said Lydia 
 composedly, but with a play of colour again in her cheeks. " Allow 
 me to forbid it unconditionally. I must be plain with you, Mr. 
 Cashel Byron. I do not know what you are or who you are ; and 
 I believe you have tried to mystify me on both points " 
 
 ** And you never shall find out either the one or the other if I 
 can help it," put in Cashel ; *' so that we're in a preciously bad 
 way of coming to a good understanding." 
 
 " True," assented Lydia. ** I do not make secrets ; I do not 
 keep them ; and I do not respect them. Your humour clashes with 
 my principle." 
 
 '* You call it a humour! " said Cashel angrily. ** Perhaps you 
 think I am a duke in disguise. If so, you may think better of it. 
 If you had a secret, the discovery of which would cause you to be 
 kicked out of decent society, you would keep it pretty tight. And 
 that through no fault of your own, mind you ; but through down- 
 right cowardice and prejudice in other people." 
 
 •* There are at least some fears and prejudices common in 
 society that I do not share," said Lydia, after a moment's re- 
 flection. " Should I ever find out your secret, do not too hastily 
 conclude that you have forfeited my consideration." 
 
 *' You are just the last person on earth by whom I want to be 
 found out. But you'll find out fast enough. Pshaw ! " cried 
 Cashel, with a laugh, ** I'm as well known as Trafalgar Square. 
 But I cant bring myself to tell you ; and I hate secrets as much as 
 you do ; so let's drop it and talk about something else." 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 73 
 
 " We have talked long enough. The music is over ; and the 
 people will return to this room presently, perhaps to ask me who 
 and what is the stranger who made them such a remarkable 
 speech." 
 
 *' Just a word. Promise me that you wont ask any of them 
 that." 
 
 ♦* Promise you ! No. I cannot promise that." 
 
 " Oh Lord ! " said Cashel, with a groan. 
 
 ** I have told you that I do not respect secrets. For the present 
 I will not ask ; but I may change my mind. Meanwhile we must 
 not hold long conversations. I even hope that we shall not meet. 
 There is only one thing that I am too rich and grand for. That 
 one thing — mystification. Adieu." 
 
 Before he could reply, she was away from him in the midst of a 
 number of gentlemen, and in conversation with one of them. 
 Cashel seemed overwhelmed. But in an instant he recovered him- 
 self, and stepped jauntily before Mrs. Hoskyn, who had just come 
 into his neighbourhood. 
 
 " I'm going, ma'am," he said. " Thank you for a pleasant 
 ■evening. I'm very sorry I forgot myself. Good-night." 
 
 Mrs. Hoskyn, naturally frank, felt some vague response within 
 herself to this address. But, though not usually at a loss for 
 words in social emergencies, she only looked at him ; blushed 
 slightly ; and offered her hand. He took it as if it were a tiny 
 baby's hand, and he afraid of hurting it ; gave it a little pinch ; 
 and turned to go. Mr. Adrian Herbert, the painter, was directly 
 in his way, with his back towards him. 
 
 ** liyou please, sir," said Cashel, taking him gently by the ribs, 
 and moving him aside. The artist turned indignantly ; but Cashel 
 was passing the doorway. On the stairs he met Lucian and Alice, 
 and stopped a moment to take leave of them. 
 
 '' Good-night, Miss Goff"," he said. *' It's a pleasure to see the 
 country roses in your cheeks." He lowered his voice as he added, 
 to Lucian, " Dont you worry yourself over that little trick I shewed 
 you. If any of your friends chaff you about it, tell them that it 
 was Cashel B57ron did it, and ask them whether they think they 
 could have helped themselves any better than you could. Dont 
 «ver let a person come within distance of you while you're standing 
 in that silly way on both your heels. Why, if a man isnt properly 
 planted on his pins, a broomhandle falling against him will upset 
 him. That's the way of it. Good-night." 
 
 Lucian returned the salutation, mastered by a certain latent 
 <langerousness in Cashel, suggestive that he might resent a snub 
 by throwing the offender over the balustrade. As for Alice, she 
 had entertained a superstitious dread of him ever since Lydia had 
 pronounced him a ruffian. Both felt relieved when the house 
 door, closing, shut them out of his reach. 
 
74 CA3UUL UYRON*8 PKOFLSSION. 
 
 CHAPTEK VII, 
 
 Society was much occupied during Alice s first season in 
 London with the upshot of an historical event of a common 
 kind. England, a few years before, had stolen a kingdom from 
 a considerable people in Africa, and seized the person of its 
 king. The conquest proved useless, troublesome, and expensive ; 
 and after repeated attempts to settle the country on impracticable 
 plans suggested to the Colonial Office by a popular historian who 
 had made a trip to Africa, and by generals who were tired of the 
 primitive remedy of killing the natives, it appeared that the 
 best course was to release the captive king and get rid of the 
 unprofitable booty by restoring it to him. In order, however, that 
 the impression made on hmi by England's shortsighted disregard 
 of her neighbour's landmark abroad might be counteracted by a 
 glimpse of the vastness of her armaments and wealth at home, it 
 was thought advisable to take him first to London, and shew 
 him the wonders of the town. But when the king arrived, 
 his freedom from English prepossessions made it difficult to 
 amuse, or even to impress him. A stranger to the idea that a 
 private man could own a portion of the earth and make others pay 
 him for permission to live on it, he was unable to understand why 
 such a prodigiously wealthy nation should be composed partly of 
 poor and uncomfortable persons toiling incessantly to create riches^ 
 and partly of a class that confiscated and dissipated the wealth 
 thus produced without seeming to be at all happier than the 
 unfortunate labourers at whose expense they existed. He was seized 
 with strange fears, first for his health, for it seemed to him that the air 
 of London, filthy with smoke, engendered puniness and dishonesty 
 in those who breathed it ; and eventually for his life when he 
 learned that kings in Europe were sometimes shot at by passers-by, 
 there being hardly a monarch there who had not been so imperilled 
 more than once ; that the queen of England, though accounted 
 the safest of all, was accustomed to this variety of pistol practice ; 
 and that the autocrat of an empire huge beyond all other European 
 countries, whose father had been torn asunder in the streets of 
 his capital, lived surrounded by soldiers who shot down all 
 strangers that approached him even at his own summons, and was 
 an object of compassion to the humblest of his servants. Under 
 these circumstances, the African King was with difficulty induced 
 to stir out of doors ; and he only visited Woolwich Arsenal — the 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 75 
 
 destructive resources of which were expected to influence his future 
 behaviour in a manner favourable to EngHsh supremacy — under 
 compulsion. At last the Colonial Office, which had charge of him» 
 was at its wit's end to devize entertainments to keep him in good 
 humour until the appointed time for his departure. 
 
 On the Tuesday following Mrs. Hoskyn's reception, Lucian 
 Webber called at his cousin's house in Regents Park, and said, in 
 the course of a conversation with the two ladies there, 
 
 " The Colonial Office has had an idea. The king, it appears, is 
 sometlnng of an athlete, and is curious to witness what Londoners 
 can do in that way. So a grand assault at arms is to be held for 
 him." 
 
 " What is an assault at arms ? " said Lydia. " I have never 
 been at one ; and the name suggests nothing but an affray with 
 bayonets." 
 
 '• It is an exhibition of swordsmanship, military drill, gymnastics, 
 and so forth." 
 
 '* I will go to that," said Lydia. " Will you come, Alice ? " 
 
 <' Is it usual for ladies to go to such exhibitions?" said Alice 
 cautiously. 
 
 " On this occasion ladies will go for the sake of seeing the king," 
 said Lucian. '* The Olympian gymnastic society, which has 
 undertaken the direction of the part of the assault that is to show 
 off the prowess of our civilians, expects what they call a flower- 
 show audience." 
 
 " Will you come, Lucian ? " 
 
 " If I can be spared, yes. If not, I will ask Worthington to go 
 with you. He understands such matters better than I." 
 
 '* Then let us have him, by all means," said Lydia. 
 
 '* I cannot see why you are so fond of Lord Worthington," said 
 Alice. "His manners are good; but there is nothing in him. 
 Besides, he is so 3^oung. I cannot endure his conversation. He 
 has begun to talk about Goodwood already." 
 
 "He will grow out of his excessive addiction to sport," said 
 Lucian. 
 
 " Indeed," said Lydia. " And what will he grow into ? " 
 
 "Possibly into a more reasonable man," said Lucian gravely. 
 
 " I hope so," said Lydia ; " but I prefer a man who is interested 
 in sport to a gentleman who is interested in nothing." 
 
 " Much might indubitably be said from that point of view. But 
 it is not necessary that Lord Worthington should waste his energy 
 on horse-racing. I presume you do not think political life, for 
 which his position peculiarly fits him, unworthy his attention." 
 
 " Party tactics are both exciting and amusing, no doubt. But 
 are they better than horse-racing ? Jockeys and horse-breakers at 
 least know their business : our legislators do not. Is it pleasant 
 to sit on a bench — even though it be the treasury bench — and 
 listen to either absolute nonsense or childish disputes about con- 
 clusions that were foregone in the minds of all sensible men a 
 hundred years ago ? " 
 
 " You do not understand the duties of a government, Lydia. 
 You never approach the subject without confirming my opinion 
 that women are constitutionally incapable of comprehending it." 
 
y6 CASHEL Byron's profession. 
 
 •' It is natural for you to think s«, Lucian. The House of Com- 
 mons is to you the goal of existence. To me it is only an 
 assemblage of ill-informed gentlemen who have botched every 
 business they have ever undertaken, from the first committee of 
 supply down to the last land act ; and who arrogantly assert that 
 I am not good enough to sit with them." 
 
 '* Lydia," said Lucian, annoyed : *' you know that I respect women 
 in their own sphere " 
 
 ** Then give thpm another sphere, and perhaps they will earn 
 your respect in that also. I am sorry to say that men, in their 
 sphere, have not won my respect. Enough of that for the present. 
 I have to make some domestic arrangements, which are of more 
 immediate importance than the conversion of a good politician into 
 a bad philosopher. Excuse me for five minutes." 
 
 She left the room. Lucian sat down and gave his attention to 
 Alice, who had still enough of her old nervousness to make her 
 straighten her shoulders and look stately. But he did not object 
 to this: a little stiffness of manner gratified his taste. 
 
 *• I hope," he said, •• that my cousin has not succeeded in 
 inducing you to adopt her peculiar views." 
 
 *• No," said Alice. " Of course her case is quite exceptional — 
 she is so wonderfully accomplished. In general, I do not think 
 women should have views. There are certain convictions which 
 every lady holds : for instance, we know that Roman Catholicism 
 is wrong. But that can hardly be called a view ; indeed it would 
 be wicked to call it so, as it is one of the highest truths. What I 
 mean is that women should not be political agitators." 
 
 " I understand, and quite agree with you. Lydia's is, as you 
 say, an exceptional case. She has lived much abroad ; and her 
 father was a very singular man. Even the clearest heads, when 
 removed from the direct influence of English life and thought, 
 contract extraordinary prejudices. Her father at one time actually 
 attempted to leave a large farm to the government in trust for the 
 people ; but fortunately he found that it was impossible : no such 
 demise was known to the English law or practicable by it. He 
 subsequently admitted the folly of this by securing Lydia's rights 
 as his successor as stringently as he could. It is almost a pity 
 that such strength of mind and extent of knowledge should be 
 fortified by the dangerous independence which great wealth 
 confers. Advantages like these bring with them certain duties to 
 the class that has produced them — duties to which Lydia is not 
 merely indifferent, but absolutely hostile." 
 
 •• I never meddle with her ideas on — on these subjects. I am 
 too ignorant to understand them. But Miss Carew's generosity 
 to me has been unparalleled. And she does not seem to know that 
 she is generous. I owe more to her than I ever can repay." ** At 
 least," Alice added to herself, " I am not ungrateful." 
 
 Miss Carew now reappeared, dressed in a long grey coat and 
 plain beaver hat, and carrying a roll of writing materials. 
 
 *• I am going to the British Museum to read," said she. 
 
 ** To walk 1 — alone ! " said Lucian, looking at her costume. 
 
 " Yes. Prevent me from walking, and you deprive me of my 
 health. Prevent me from going alone wh«re I please and when 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 77 
 
 I please, and you deprive me of my liberty — tear up Magna Charta, 
 in effect. But I do not insist upon being alone in this instance. 
 If you can return to your office by way of Regents Park and Gower 
 Street without losing too much time, I shall be glad of your 
 company." 
 
 Lucian decorously suppressed his eagerness to comply by looking 
 at his watch, and pretending to consider his engagements. In 
 conclusion, he said that he should be happy to accompany her. 
 
 It was a fine summer afternoon ; and there were many people in 
 the park. Lucian was soon incommoded by the attention his 
 cousin attracted. In spite of the black beaver, her hair shone like 
 fire in the sun. Women stared at her with unsympathetic curiosity, 
 and turned as they passed to examine her attire. Men resorted to 
 various subterfuges to get a satisfactory look without rudely 
 betraying their intention. A few stupid youths gaped ; and a few 
 impudent ones smiled. Lucian would gladly have kicked them all 
 without distinction. He at last suggested that they should leave 
 the path, and make a short cut across the greensward. As they 
 emerged from the shade of the trees, he had a vague impression 
 that the fineness of the weather and the beauty of the park made 
 the occasion romantic, and that the words by which he hoped to 
 make the relation between him and his cousin dearer and closer 
 would be well spoken there. But he immediately began to talk, in 
 spite of himself, about the cost of maintaining the public parks, of 
 the particulars of which he happened to have some official know- 
 ledge. Lydia, readily interested by facts of any sort, thought the 
 subject not a bad one for a casual afternoon conversation, and 
 pursued it until they left the turf and got into the Euston Road, 
 where the bustle of traffic silenced them for a while. When they 
 escaped from the din into the respectable quietude of Gower Street, 
 he suddenly said, 
 
 ** It is one of the evils of great wealth in the hands of a woman, 
 that she can hardly feel sure — " His ideas fled suddenly. He 
 stopped ; but he kept his countenance so well that he had the air 
 of having made a finished speech, and being perfectly satisfied 
 with it. 
 
 '• Do you mean that she can never feel sure of the justice of her 
 title to her riches ? That used to trouble me ; but it no longer 
 does so." 
 
 ** Nonsense 1 " said Lucian. " I alluded to the disinterestedness 
 of your friends." 
 
 "That does not trouble me either. Absolutely disinterested 
 friends I do not seek, as I should only find them among idiots or 
 somnambulists. As to those whose interests are base, they do not 
 know how to conceal their motives from me. For the rest, I am 
 not so unreasonable as to object to a fair account being taken of 
 my wealth in estimating the value of my friendship." 
 
 " Do you not believe in the existence of persons who would like 
 you just as well if you were poor ? " 
 
 *' Such persons would, merely to bring me nearer to themselves, 
 wish me to become poor ; for which I should not thank them. I 
 set great store by the esteem my riches command, Lucian. It is 
 the only set-off I hav^ against the envy they inspire." 
 
yS CASHEL byron's profession. 
 
 " Then you would refuse to believe in the disinterestedness of any 
 man who — who — " 
 
 •* Who wanted to marry me ? On the contrary : I should be the 
 last person to believe that a man could prefer my money to myself. 
 [{ he were independent, and in a fair way to keep his place in the 
 world without my help, I should despise him if he hesitated to 
 approach me for fear of misconstruction. I do not think a man is 
 ever thoroughly honest until he is superior to that fear. But if he had 
 no profession, no money, and no aim except to live at my expense, 
 then I should regard him as an adventurer, and treat him as one — 
 unless I fell in love with him." 
 
 '♦ Unless you fell in love with him ! " 
 
 *' That — assuming that such things really happen — would make 
 a difference in my feeling, but none in my conduct. I would not 
 marry an adventurer under any circumstances. I could cure 
 myself of a misdirected passion, but not of a bad husband." 
 
 Lucian said nothmg : he walked on with long irregular steps, 
 lowering at the pavement as if it were a difficult problem, and 
 occasionally thrusting at it with his stick. At last he looked up, 
 and said, 
 
 '* Would you mind prolonging your walk a little by going round 
 Bedford Square with me ? 1 have something particular to say." 
 
 She turned and complied without a word ; and they had traversed 
 one side of the square before he spoke again, in these terms. 
 
 •♦ On second thoughts, Lydia, this is neither the proper time nor 
 place for an important communication. Excuse me for having 
 taken you out of your way for nothing." 
 
 '• I do not like this, Lucian. Important communications — in this 
 case — corrupt good manners. If your intended speech is a sensible 
 one, the present is as good a time, and Bedford Square as good a 
 place, as you are likely to find for it. If it is otherwise, confess 
 that you have decided to leave it unsaid. But do not postpone it. 
 Reticence is always an error — even on the Treasury bench. It is 
 doubly erroneous in dealing with me ; for I have a constitutional 
 antipathy to it." 
 
 ♦' Yes," he said hurriedly ; *' but give me one moment — until 
 the policeman has passed." 
 
 The policeman went leisurely by, striking the flags with his 
 heels, and slapping his palm with a white glove. 
 
 " The fact is, Lydia, that—. I feel great difficulty—." 
 
 " What is the matter ? " said Lydia, after waiting in vain for 
 further particulars. *• You have broken down twice in a speech." 
 There was a pause. Then she looked at him quickly, and added, 
 incredulously, " Are you going to get married ? Is that the secret 
 that ties your practised tongue ? " 
 
 ** Not unless you take part in the ceremony." 
 
 " Very gallant ; and in a vein of humour that is new in my 
 experience of you. But what have you to tell me, Lucian ? 
 Frankly, your hesitation is becoming ridiculous." 
 
 •* You have certainly not made matters easier for me, Lydia. 
 Perhaps you have a womanly intuition of my purpose, and are 
 intentionally discouraging me." 
 
 ** Not the least. I am not good at speculations of that sort. On 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 79 
 
 my word, if you do not confess quickly, I will hurry away to the 
 Museum." 
 
 " I cannot find a suitable form of expression," said Lucian, in 
 painful perplexity. *• I am sure you will not attribute any sordid 
 motive to my — well, to my addresses, though the term seems 
 absurd. I am too well aware that there is little, from the usual 
 point of view, to tempt you to unite yourself to me. Still — " 
 
 A rapid change in Lydia's face shewed him that he had said 
 enough. " I had not thought of this," she said, after a silence 
 that seemed long to him. *' Our observations are so meaningless 
 until we are given the thread to string them on ! You must think 
 better of this, Lucian. The relation that at present exists between 
 us is the very best that our different characters will admit of. 
 Why do you desire to alter it ? " 
 
 " Because I would make it closer and more permanent. I do 
 not wish to alter it otherwise." 
 
 " You would run some risk of simply destroying it by the method 
 you propose," said Lydia, with composure. *' We could not co- 
 operate. There are differences of opinion between us amounting 
 to differences of principle." 
 
 " Surely you are not serious. Your political opinions, or notions, 
 are not represented by any party in England ; and therefore they 
 are practically ineffective, and could not clash with mine. And 
 such differences are not personal matters." 
 
 " Such a party might be formed a week after our marriage — will, 
 I think, be formed a long time before our deaths. In that case I 
 fear that our difference of opinion would become a very personal 
 matter." 
 
 He began to walk more quickly as he replied, " It is too absurd 
 to set up what you call your opinions as a serious barrier between 
 us. You have no opinions, Lydia. The impracticable crotchets 
 you are fond of airing are not recognized in England as sane poli- 
 tical convictions." 
 
 Lydia did not retort. She waited a minute in pensive silence, 
 and then said, 
 
 " Why do you not marry Alice Goff ? " 
 
 •'Oh, hang Alice Goff! " 
 
 *' It is so easy to come at the man beneath the veneer by expertly 
 chipping at his feelings," said Lydia, laughing. " But I was 
 serious, Lucian. Alice is energetic, ambitious, and stubbornly 
 upright in questions of principle. I believe she would assist you 
 steadily at every step of your career. Besides, she has physical 
 robustness. Our student-stock needs an infusion of that." 
 
 '• Many thanks for the suggestion ; but I do not happen to want 
 to marry Miss Goff." 
 
 ** I invite you to consider it. You have not had time yet to form 
 any new plans." 
 
 "New plans! Then you absolutely refuse me — without a 
 moment's consideration ? " 
 
 " Absolutely, Lucian. Does not your instinct warn you that it 
 would be a mistake for you to marry me ? " 
 
 " No : I cannot say that it does." 
 
 " Then trust to min^, which gives forth no uncertain note on this 
 question, as your favourite newspapers are fond of saying." 
 
So CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSiON. 
 
 ** It is a question of leeling," he said, in a constrained voice. 
 
 " Is it ? " she repHed, with interest. '• You have surprised me 
 somewhat, Lucian. I have never observed any of the extrava- 
 gances of a lover in your conduct." 
 
 *' And you have surprised me very unpleasantly, Lydia. I do- 
 not think now that I ever had much hope of success ; but I 
 thoug^ht, at least, that my disillusion would be gently accom- 
 plished." 
 
 " What ! Have I been harsh ? " 
 
 ** I do not complain." 
 
 " I was unlucky, Lucian ; not malicious. Besides, the artifices 
 by which friends endeavour to spare one another's feelings are 
 petty disloyalties. I am frank with you. Would you have me 
 otherwise ? " 
 
 •* Of course not. I have no right to be offended." 
 
 " Not the least. Now add to that formal admission a sincere 
 assurance that you are not offended." 
 
 " I assure you I am not," said Lucian, with melancholy resigna- 
 tion. 
 
 They had by this time reached Charlotte Street ; and Lydia 
 tacitly concluded the conference by turning towards the Museum, 
 and beginning to talk upon indifferent subjects. At the corner of 
 Russell Street he got into a cab and drove away, dejectedly 
 acknowledging a smile and wave of the hand with which Lydia 
 tried to console him. She then went to the national library, where 
 she forgot Lucian. The effect of the shock of his proposal was in 
 store for her ; but as yet she did not feel it ; and she worked 
 steadily until the library was closed and she had to leave. As 
 she had been sitting for some hours, and it was still light, she 
 did not take a cab, and did not even walk straight home. She had 
 heard of a bookseller in Soho who had for sale a certain scarce 
 volume which she wanted ; and it occurred to her that the 
 present was a good opportunity to go in search of him. Now, 
 there was hardly a capital in Western Europe that she did 
 not know better than London. She had an impression that Soho 
 was a region of quiet streets and squares, like Bloomsbury. Her 
 mistake soon became apparent ; but she felt no uneasiness in the 
 narrow thoroughfares ; for she was free from the common pre- 
 judice of her class that poor people are necessarily ferocious, 
 though she often wondered why they were not so. She got 
 as far as Great Pulteney Street in safety ; but in leaving it she took 
 a wrong turning and lost herself in a labyrinth of courts where a 
 few workmen, a great many workmens' wives and mothers, and 
 innumerable workmens' children, were passing the summer evening 
 at gossip and play. She explained her predicament to one of the 
 women, who sent a little boy with her to guide her. Business 
 being over for the day, the street to which the boy led her was 
 almost deserted. The only shop that seemed to be thriving was a 
 public house, outside which a few roughs were tossing for pence. 
 
 Lydia's guide, having pointed out her way to her, prepared to 
 return to his playmates. She thanked him, and gave him the 
 smallest coin in her purse, which happened to be a shiUing. He, 
 in a transport at possessing what was to him a fortune, uttered a 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 3 1 
 
 piercing yell, and darted off to shew the coin to a covey of small 
 ragamuffins who had just raced into view round the corner at 
 which the public house stood. In his haste, he dashed against one 
 of the group outside, a powerfully built young man, who turned 
 and cursed him. The boy retorted passionately, and then, over- 
 come by pain, began to cry. When Lydia came up, the child 
 •tood whimpering directly in her path ; and she, pitying him, 
 patted him on the head and reminded him of all the money he had 
 to spend. He seemed comforted, and scraped his eyes with his 
 knuckles in silence ; but the man, who, having received a sharp 
 kick on the ancle, was stung by Lydia's injustice in according to 
 the aggressor the sympathy due to himself, walked threateningly 
 up to her, and demanded, with a startling oath, whether h& had 
 offered to do anything to the boy. And, as he refrained from 
 applying any epithet to her, he honestly believed that in deference 
 to Lydia's sex and personal charms, he had expressed himself with 
 studied moderation. She, not appreciatmg his forbearance, 
 recoiled, and stepped into the roadway in order to pass him. 
 Indignant at this attempt to ignore him, he again placed himself 
 in her path, and was repeating his question with increased sternness, 
 when a jerk in the pit of his stomach caused him a severe internal 
 qualm, besides disturbing his equilibrium so rudely that he nar- 
 rowly escaped a fall against the kerbstone. When he recovered 
 himself he saw before him a showily dressed young man, who 
 accosted him thus. 
 
 *• Is that the way to talk to a lady, eh ? Isnt the street wide 
 enough for two ? Where's your manners ? " 
 
 ** And who are you ; and where are you shoving your elbow 
 to ? " said the man, with a surpassing imprecation. 
 
 *• Come, come," said Cashel Byron admonitorily. " You'd better 
 keep your mouth clean if you wish to keep your teeth inside it. 
 Never you mind who I am." 
 
 Lydia, foreseeing an altercation, and alarmed by the threatening 
 aspect of the man, attempted to hurry away and send a policeman 
 to Cashel's assistance. But, on turning, she discovered that a 
 crowd had already gathered, and that she was in the novel position 
 of a spectator in the inner ring at what promised to be a street 
 fight. Her attention was recalled to the disputants by a violent 
 demonstration on the part of her late assailant. Cashel seemed 
 alarmed ; for he hastily retreated a step without regard to the toes 
 of those behind him, and exclaimed, waving the other off with his 
 open hand. 
 
 " Now, you just let me alone. I dont want to have anything to 
 say to you. Go away from me, I tell you." 
 
 '* You dont want to have nothink to say to me ! Oh ! And for 
 why ? Because you aint man enough : that's why. Wot do you 
 mean by coming and shoving your elbow into a man's breadbasket 
 for, and then wanting to sneak off? Did you think I'd 'a bin 
 frightened of your velvet coat ? " 
 
 " Very well," said Cashel pacifically : ** we'll say that I'm not 
 man enough for you. So that's settled. Are you satisfied ? " 
 
 But the other, greatly emboldened, declared with many oaths 
 that he would have Cashel's heart out, and also that of Lydia, to 
 
Sa CASHEL byron's profession. 
 
 whom he alluded in coarse terms. The crowd cheered, and called 
 upon him to " go it." Cashel then said sullenly, 
 
 '• Very well. But dont you try to make out afterwards that I 
 forced a quarrel on you. And now," he added, with a ^rim change 
 of tone that made Lydia shudder, and shifted her fears to the 
 account of his antagonist, " I'll make you wish you'd bit your tongue 
 out before you said what you did a moment ago. So take care of 
 yourself." 
 
 ••Oh, I'll take care of myself," said the man, defiantly. *♦ Put 
 up your hands." 
 
 Cashel surveyed his antagonist's attitude with unspeakable dis- 
 paragement. *• You will know when my hands are up by the feel 
 of the pavement," he said at last. •' Better keep your coat on. 
 You'll fall softer." 
 
 The rough expressed his repudiation of this counsel by beginning 
 to strip energetically. A thrill of delight passed through the 
 crowd. Those who had bad places pressed forward ; and those 
 who formed the inner ring pressed back to make room for the com- 
 batants. Lydia, who occupied a coveted position close to Cashel, 
 hoped to be hustled out of the throng ; for she was beginning to 
 feel faint and ill. But a handsome butcher, who had made his way 
 to her side, gallantly swore that she should not be deprived of her 
 place in the front row, and bade her not be frightened, assuring 
 her that he would protect her, and that the fight would be well 
 worth seeing. As he spoke, the mass of faces before Lydia seemed 
 to give a sudden lurch. To save herself from falling, she slipt her 
 arm through the butcher's ; and he, much gratified, tucked her 
 close to him, and held her up effectually. His support was 
 welcome, because it was needed. 
 
 Meanwhile, Cashel stood motionless, watching with unrelenting 
 contempt the movements of his adversary, who rolled up his dis- 
 coloured shirt sleeves amid encouraging cries of •• Go it, Teddy," 
 " Give it 'im, Ted," and other more precise suggestions. But 
 Teddy's spirit was chilled : he advanced with a presentiment 
 that he was courting destruction. He dared not rush on his 
 foe, whose eye seemed to discern his impotence. When at last 
 he ventured to strike, the blow fell short, as Cashel evidently knew 
 it would ; for he did not stir. There was a laugh and a murmur 
 of impatience in the crowd. 
 
 •• Are you waiting for the copper to come and separate you ? " 
 shouted the butcher. ** Come out of your corner and get to work, 
 cant you ? " 
 
 This reminder that the police might baulk him of his prey seemed 
 to move Cashel. He took a step forward. The excitement of the 
 crowd rose to a climax ; and a little man near Lydia cut a frenzied 
 caper and screamed, "Go it, Cashel Byron." 
 
 At these words Teddy was terror-stricken. He made no 
 attempt to disguise his condition. " It aint fair," he exclaimed, 
 retreating as far as the crowd would permit him. '* I give in. Cut 
 it, master : you're too clever for me." But his comrades, with a 
 pitiless jeer, pushed him towards Cashel, who advanced remorse- 
 lessly. Teddy dropped on both knees. *• Wot can a man say 
 more than that he's had enough ? " he pleaded. '• Be a English- 
 man, master ; and dont hit a man when he's down." 
 
eASHitf£> BYRbN*S PROFESSION. 83 
 
 " Down ! " said Cashel. '* How long will you stay down if I 
 choose to have you up ? " And, suiting the action to the word, 
 he seized Teddy with his left hand, lifted him to his feet, threw 
 him into a helpless position across his knee, and poised his right 
 fist like a hammer over his upturned face. " Now," he said, ** you're 
 not down. What have you to say for yourself before I knock your 
 face down your throat ? " 
 
 " Dont do it, gov'nor," gasped Teddy. ** I didnt mean no harm. 
 How was I to know that the young lady was a pal o' yourn." 
 Here he struggled a little ; and his face assumed a darker hue. 
 " Let go, master," he cried, almost inarticulately. " You're ch — 
 choking me." 
 
 '* Pray let him go,'* said Lydia, disengaging herself from the 
 butcher and catching Cashel's arm. 
 
 Cashel, with a start, relaxed his grasp ; and Teddy rolled on the 
 ground. He went away thrusting his hands into his sleeves, and 
 outfacing his disgrace by a callous grin. Cashel, without speak- 
 ing, offered Lydia his arm ; and she, seeing that her best course 
 was to get away from that place with as few words as possible, 
 accepted it, and then turned and thanked the butcher, who blushed 
 and became speechless. The little man whose exclamation had 
 interrupted the combat, now waved his hat, and cried, 
 
 ** The British Lion for ever ! Three cheers for Cashel Byron.** 
 
 Cashel turned upon him curtly, and said, " Dont you make so 
 free with other people's names, or perhaps you may get into trouble 
 yourself." 
 
 The little man retreated hastily ; but the crowd responded with 
 three cheers as Cashel, with Lydia on his arm, withdrew through 
 a lane of disreputable-looking girls, roughs of Teddy's class, white- 
 aproned shopmen who had left their counters to see the fight, and 
 a few pale clerks, who looked with awe at the prize-fighter, and 
 with wonder at the refined appearance of his companion. The two 
 were followed by a double file of boys, who, with their eyes fixed 
 earnestly on Cashel, walked on the footways whilst he conducted 
 Lydia down the middle of the narrow street. Not one of them 
 turned a somersault or uttered a shout. Intent on their hero, they 
 pattered along, coming into collision with every object that la}?' in 
 their path. At last Cashel stopped. They instantly stopped too. 
 He took some bronze coin from his pocket, rattled it in his hand, 
 and addressed them. 
 
 • Boys." Dead silence. ** Do you know what I have to do to 
 keep up my strength ? " The hitherto steadfast eyes wandered un- 
 easily. •* I have to eat a little boy for supper every night, the 
 last thing before going to bed. Now, I havent quite made up my 
 mind which of you would be the most to my taste ; but if one of 
 you comes a step further, I'll eat him. So away with you." And 
 he jerked the coins to a considerable distance. There was a 
 yell and a scramble ; and Cashel and Lydia pursued their way 
 unattended. 
 
 Lydia had taken advantage of the dispersion of the boys to 
 detach herself from Cashel's arm. She now said, speaking to him 
 for the first time since she had interceded for Teddy, 
 
 ** I am sorry to have given you so much trouble, Mr. Cashel 
 
 G 2 
 
Slf CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 Byron. Thank you for interfering to protect me ; but I was in no 
 real danger. I would gladly have borne with a few rough words 
 for the sake of avoiding a disturbance." 
 
 rr( " There !" cried Cashel. *' I knew it. You'd a deal rather I 
 had minded my own business and not interfered. You're sorry for 
 the poor fellow I treated so badly : aint you now ? That's a 
 woman all over." 
 
 " I have not said one of these things." 
 ' . •' Well, I dont see what else you mean. It's no pleasure to me 
 .to fight chance men in the streets for nothing: I dont get my living 
 that way. And now that I have done it for your sake, you as good 
 as tell me I ought to have kept myself quiet." 
 
 •' Perhaps I am wrong. I hardly understand what passed. 
 You seemed to drop from the clouds." 
 
 jhI ,*' Aha ! You were glad when you found me at your elbow, in 
 [ilpite of your talk. Come now : werent you glad to see me ? " 
 .;! ** I was — very glad indeed. But by what magic did you so 
 suddenly subdue that man ? And was it necessary to sully your 
 hands by throtthng him ? " 
 
 *' It was a satisfaction to me ; and it served him right." 
 
 " Surely a very poor satisfaction ! Did you notice that some 
 one in the crowd called out your name ; and that it seemed to 
 frighten the man terribly? " 
 
 " Indeed. Odd, wasnt it ? But you were saying that you 
 thought I dropped from the sky. Why, I had been following you 
 for five minutes before ! What do you think of that ? If I may 
 take the liberty of asking, how did you come to be walking round 
 Soho at such an hour with a little ragged boy ? " 
 
 Lydia explained. W hen she finished, it was nearly dark ; and 
 they had reached Oxford Street, where, like Lucian in Regent's 
 Park that afternoon, she became conscious that her companion 
 was an object of curiosity to many of the young men who were 
 lounging in that thoroughfare. 
 
 " Alice will think that I am lost," she said, making a signal to a 
 cabman. " Good-bye ; and many thanks. I am always at home 
 on Fridays, and shall be very happy to see you." 
 
 She handed him a card. He took it ; read it ; looked at the 
 back to see if there was anything written there ; and then said 
 dubiously, 
 
 " I suppose there will be a lot of people." 
 
 ** Yes : you will meet plenty of people." 
 
 '• Hm ! I wish you'd let me see you home now. I wont ask to 
 go any further than the gate." 
 
 Lydia laughed. *' You should be very welcome, ' she said ; " but 
 I am quite safe, thank you. I need not trouble you." 
 ; i " But suppose the cabman bullies you for double fare," persisted 
 .>Cashel. "I have business up in Finchley ; and your place is 
 right in my way there. Upon my soul I have," he added, sus- 
 pecting that she doubted him. " I go every Tuesday evening 
 ,to the St. John's Wood Cestus Club." 
 
 r , *'I am hungry and in a hurry to get home," said Lydia. "*I 
 must begone and live, or stay and die.' Come if you will ; but 
 in any case let us go at once." 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. >' 85 
 
 She got into the cab ; and Cashel followed, making some re- 
 mark which she did not quite catch about its being too dark for 
 anyone to recognize him. They spoke little during the drive, 
 which was soon over. Bashville was standing at the open door 
 as they came to the house. When Cashel got out, the footman 
 looked at him with interest and some surprise. But when Lydia 
 alighted, he was so startled that he stood open-mouthed, although 
 he was trained to simulate insensibility to everything except his 
 own business, and to do that as automatically as possible. Cashel 
 bade Lydia good-bye, and shook hands with her. As she went into 
 the house, she asked Bashville whether Miss Goff was within. To 
 her surprise, he paid no attention to her, but stared after the re- 
 treating cab. She repeated the question. 
 
 " Madame," he said, recovering himself with a start : "■ she har, 
 asked for you four times." 
 
 Lydia, relieved of a disagreeable suspicion that her usually 
 faultless footman must be drunk, thanked him and went upstairs. 
 
&6 CASH£L BYKON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 One morning, a handsome young man, elegantly dressed, pre« 
 sented himself at Downing Street, and asked to see Mr. Lucian 
 Webber. He declined to send in a card, and desired to be 
 announced simply as '• Bashville." Lucian ordered him to be ad- 
 mitted at once, and, when he entered, nodded affably to him and 
 invited him to sit down. 
 
 " I thank you, sir," said Bashville, seating himself. It struck 
 Lucian then, from a certain strung-up resolution in his visitor's 
 manner, that he had come on some business of his own, and not,, 
 as he had taken for granted, with a message from his mistress. 
 
 ♦♦ I have come, sir, on my own responsibility this morning. I 
 hope you will excuse the liberty." 
 
 '* Certainly. If I can do anything for you, Bashville, dont be- 
 afraid to ask. But be as brief as you can. I am so busy that 
 every second I give you will probably be subtracted from mj- 
 night's rest. Will ten minutes be enough ? " 
 
 •♦ More than enough, sir, thank you. I only wish to ask one 
 question. I own that I am stepping out of my place to ask it ; 
 but I'll risk that. Does Miss Carew know what the Mr. Cashel 
 Byron is that she receives every Friday with her other friends ? " 
 
 " No doubt she does," said Lucian at once becoming cold in 
 his manner, and looking severely at Bashville. " What business 
 is that of yours? " 
 
 ♦* Do you know what he is, sir ? " said Bashville, returning 
 Lucian's gaze steadily. Lucian changed countenance, and re- 
 placed a pen that had slipped from a rack on his desk. " He is 
 not an acquaintance of mine," he said. *' I only know him as a 
 friend of Lord Worthington's." 
 
 "Sir," said Bashville, with sudden vehemence, "he is no more 
 to Lord Worthington than the racehorse his lordship bets on. / 
 might as well set up to be a friend of his lordship because I, after 
 a manner of speaking, know him. Byron is in the ring, sir. A 
 common prize-fighter ! " 
 
 Lucian, recalling what had passed at Mrs. Hoskyn's, and Lord 
 Worthington's sporting habits, believed the assertion at once. 
 But he made a faint effort to resist conviction. " Are you sure of 
 this, Bashville?" he said. " Do you know that your statement is a 
 very serious one ? " 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 87 
 
 ** There is no doubt at all about it, sir. Go to any sporting 
 public-house in London and ask who is the best known fighting 
 man of the day, and they'll tell you Cashel Byron. I know all 
 about him, sir. Perhaps you have heard tell of Ned Skene, 
 who was champion, belike, when you were at school." 
 
 ♦* I believe I have heard the name." 
 
 " Just so, sir. Ned Skene picked up this Cashel Byron in the 
 streets of Melbourne, where he was a common sailor boy, and 
 trained him for the ring. You may have seen his name in the 
 papers, sir. The sporting ones are full of him ; and he was 
 mentioned in the Times a month ago." 
 
 " I never read articles on such subjects. I have hardly time to 
 glance through the ones that concern me." 
 
 *♦ That's the way it is with everybody, sir. Miss Carew never 
 thinks of reading the sporting intelligence in the papers ; and so 
 he passes himself off on her for her equal. He's well known for 
 his wish to be thought a gentleman, sir, I assure you." 
 
 ♦* I have noticed his manner as being odd, certainly." 
 
 " Odd, sir ! Why, a child might see through him; for he has 
 not the sense to keep his own secret. Last Friday he was in the 
 library ; and he got looking at the new biographical dictionary 
 that Miss Carew contributed the article on Spinoza to. And 
 what do you think he said, sir? 'This is a blessed book,' he says, 
 * Here's ten pages about Napoleon Bonapart, and not one about 
 Jack Randall ; as if one fighting man wasnt as good as another ! ' 
 I knew by the way the mistress took up that saying, and drew him 
 out, so to speak, on the subject, that she didnt know who she had 
 in her house ; and then I determined to tell you, sir. I hope you 
 wont think that I come here behind his back out of malice against 
 him. All I want is fair play. If I passed myself off on Miss 
 Carew as a gentleman, I should deserve to be exposed as a cheat ; 
 and when he tries to take advantages that dont belong to him, I 
 think I have a right to expose him." 
 
 *' Quite right, quite right," said Lucian, who cared nothing for 
 Bashville's motives. " I suppose this Byron is a dangerous man 
 to have any personal unpleasantness with." 
 
 '' He knows his business, sir. I am a better judge of wrestling 
 than half of these London professionals ; but I never saw the man 
 that could put a hug on him. Simple as he is, sir, he has a genius 
 for fighting, and has beaten men of all sizes, weights, and colours. 
 There's a new man from the black country, named Paradise, who 
 says he'll beat him ; but I wont believe it till I see it." 
 
 " Well," said Lucian rising, *' I am much indebted to you, 
 Bashville, for your information ; and I will take care to let Miss 
 Carew know how you have " 
 
 ♦* Begging your pardon, sir," said Bashville ; '' but, if you please, 
 no. I did not come to recommend myself at the cost of another 
 man ; and perhaps Miss Carew might not think it any great 
 recommendation neither." Lucian looked quickly at him, and 
 seemed about to speak, but checked himself. Bashville continued^ 
 *♦ If he denies it, you may call me as a witness, and I will tell him 
 to his face that he lies — and so I would if he were twice as 
 dangerous ; but, except in that way, I would ask you, sir, as a 
 favour, not to mention my name to Miss Carew." 
 
88 CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 " As you please," said Lucian, taking out his purse. " Perhaps 
 you are right. However, you shall not have your trouble for 
 nothing." 
 
 ** I couldnt really, sir," said Bashville, retreating a step. ** You 
 will agree with me, Tm sure, that this is not a thing that a man 
 should take payment for. It is a personal matter between me and 
 Byron, sir." 
 
 Lucian, displeased that a servant should have any personal 
 feelings on any subject, much more one that concerned his mistress, 
 put back his purse without comment, and said, " Will Miss Carew 
 be at home this afternoon between three and four ? " 
 
 *' I have not heard of any arrangement to the contrary, sir. 
 I will telegraph to you if she goes out — if you wish." 
 
 *• It does not matter. Thank you. Good morning." 
 
 " Good morning, sir," said Bashville respectfully, as he with- 
 drew. Outside the door his manner changed. He put on a pair 
 of primrose gloves ; took up a silver mounted walking stick that 
 he had left in the corridor ; and walked from Downing Street into 
 Whitehall. A party of visitors from the country, who were 
 standing there examining the buildings, guessed that he was a 
 junior lord of the Treasury. 
 
 He waited in vain that afternoon for Lucian to appear at the 
 house in Regent's Park. There were no callers; and he wore 
 away the time by endeavouring, with the aid of a library that Miss 
 Carev/ had placed at the disposal of her domestics, to unravel the 
 philosophy of Spinoza. At the end of an hour, feeling satisfied 
 that he had mastered that author's views, he proceeded to 
 vary the monotony of the long summer's day by polishing Lydia's 
 plate. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lucian was considering how he could best make 
 Lydia not only repudiate Cashel's acquaintance, but feel thoroughly 
 ashamed of herself for having encouraged him, and wholesomely 
 mistrustful of her own judgment for the future. His parliamentary 
 experience had taught him to provide himself with a few well 
 arranged relevant facts before attempting to influence the opinions 
 of others on any subject. He knew no more of prize-fighting 
 than that it was a brutal and illegal practice, akin to cockfighting, 
 and, like it, generally supposed to be obsolete. Knowing how 
 prone Lydia was to suspect any received opinion of being a pre- 
 judice, he felt that he must inform himself more particularly. To 
 Lord Worthington's astonishment, he not only asked him to dinner 
 next evening, but listened with interest whilst he descanted to his 
 heart's content on his favorite topic of the ring. 
 
 As the days passed, Bashville became nervous, and sometimes 
 wondered whether Lydia had met her cousin and heard from him 
 of the interview at Downing Street. He fancied that her manner 
 towards him was changed ; and he was once or twice on the point 
 of asking the most sympathetic of the housemaids whether she had 
 noticed it. On Wednesday his suspense ended. Lucian came, 
 and had a long conversation with Lydia in the library. Bashville 
 was too honourable to listen at the door ; but he felt a strong temp- 
 tation to do so, and almost hoped that the sympathetic housemaid 
 might prove less scrupulous. But Miss Carew's influence extended 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. i^g 
 
 farther than her bodily presence ; and Lucian's revelation was 
 made in complete privacy. 
 
 When he entered the library, he looked so serious that she asked 
 him whether he had neuralgia, from which he occasionally suffered. 
 He replied with some indignation that he had not, and that he had 
 a communication of importance to make to her. 
 
 " What ! Another ! " 
 
 " Yes, another," he said, with a sour smile ; " but this time it 
 does not concern m5^self. May I warn you as to the character of 
 one of your guests without overstepping my privilege ? " 
 
 " Certainly. But perhaps you mean Vernet. If so, I am per- 
 fectly aware that he is an exiled Communard." 
 
 *' I do not mean Monsieur Vernet. You understand, I hope, that 
 1 do not approve of him, nor of your strange fancy for Nihilists, 
 Fenians, and other doubtful persons ; but I think that even you 
 might draw the line at a prize-fighter." 
 
 Lydia lost colour, and said, almost inaudibly, *' Cashel Byron ! '* 
 
 "Then you knew!" exclaimed Lucian, scandalized. 
 
 Lydia waited a moment to recover ; settled herself quietly in 
 her chair ; and replied calmly, " I know what you tell me — nothing 
 more. And now, will you explain to me exactly what a prize- 
 fighter is?" 
 
 *' He is simply what his name indicates. He is a man who 
 fights for prizes." 
 
 " So does the captain of a man-of-war. And yet society does 
 not place them in the same class : — at least I do not think so." 
 
 *' As if there could be any doubt that society does not! There 
 is no analogy whatever between the two cases. Let me endeavour 
 to open your eyes a little, if that be possible, which I am some- 
 times tempted to doubt, A prize-fighter is usually a man of natur- 
 ally ferocious disposition, who has acquired some reputation among 
 his associates as a bully ; and who, by constantly quarrelling, has 
 acquired some practice in fighting. On the strength of this repu- 
 tation, he can generally find some gambler willing to stake a sum 
 of money that he will vanquish a pugilist of established fame in 
 single combat. Bets are made between the admirers of the two 
 men ; a prize is subscribed for, each party contributing a share ; 
 the combatants are trained as racehorses, gamecocks, or their like 
 are trained ; they meet, and beat each other as savagely as they 
 can until one or the other is too much injured to continue the 
 combat. This takes place in the midst of a mob of such persons 
 as enjoy spectacles of the kind : that is to say, the vilest black- 
 guards whom a large city can afford to leave at large, and many 
 whom it can not. As the prize-money contributed by each side 
 often amounts to upwards of a thousand pounds ; and as a suc- 
 cessful pugilist commands far higher terms for giving tuition in 
 boxing that! a tutor at one of the universities does for coaching ; 
 you will see that such a man, while his youth and luck last, may 
 have plenty of money, and may even, by aping the manners of the 
 gentlemen whom he teaches, deceive careless people — especially 
 those who admire eccentricity — as to his true character and 
 position," 
 
 " What is his true position ? I mean before he becomes a prize- 
 fighter." 
 
go CASHBL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 '• Well, he maybe a handicraftsman of some kind : a journeyman 
 butcher, skinner, tailor, or baker. Possibly a soldier, sailor, 
 policeman, gentleman's servant, or what not ? But he is generally 
 a common labourer. The waterside is prolific of such heroes." 
 
 •* Do they never come from a higher rank ? " 
 
 *' Never even from the better classes in their own. Broken 
 down gentlemen are not likely to succeed at work that needs the 
 strength and endurance of a bull, and the cruelty of a butcher." 
 
 *• And the end of a prize-fighter. What is that like ? " 
 
 •* He soon has to give up his trade. For, if he be repeatedly 
 beaten, no one will either bet on him or subscribe to provide him 
 with a stake. If he is invariably successful, those, if any, who 
 dare fight him find themselves in a like predicament. In either 
 case his occupation is gone. If he has saved money, he opens a 
 sporting public-house, where he sells spirits of the worst descrip- 
 tion to his old rivals and their associates, and eventually drinks 
 himself to death or bankruptcy. If, however, he has been improvi- 
 dent or unfortunate, he begs from his former patrons and gives 
 lessons. Finally, when the patrons are tired of him and the pupils 
 fail, he relapses into the labouring class with a ruined constitution, 
 a disfigured face, a brutalized nature, and a tarnished reputation." 
 
 Lydia remained silent so long after this that Lucian's 
 expression of magisterial severity first deepened, then wavered, and 
 finally gave way to a sense of injury; for she seemed to have 
 forgotten him. He was alx)ut to protest against this treatment, 
 when she looked at him again, and said, 
 
 ** Why did Lord Worthington introduce a man of this class to 
 me?" 
 
 " Because you asked him to do so. Probably he thought that H 
 you chose to make such a request without previous inquiry, you 
 should not blame him if you found yourself saddled with an undesir- 
 able acquaintance. Recollect that you asked for the introduction 
 on the platform at Wiltstoken, in the presence of the man himself. 
 Such a ruffian would be capable of making a disturbance for much 
 less offence than an explanation and refusal would have given him." 
 
 *• Lucian," said Lydia, in a tone of gentle admonition : " I asked 
 to be introduced to my tenant, for whose respectability you had 
 vouched by letting the Warren Lodge to him." Lucian reddened. 
 " How does Lord Worthington explain Mr. Byron's appearance at 
 Mrs. Hoskyn's ? " 
 
 *' it was a stupid joke. Mrs. Hoskyn had worried Worthington 
 to bring some celebrity to her house ; and, in revenge, he took his 
 pugilistic protege.*' 
 
 «'Hm!" 
 
 ** I do not defend Worthington. But discretion is hardly to be 
 expected from him." 
 
 " He has discretion enough to understand a case of this kind 
 thoroughly. But let that pass. I have been thinking upon what 
 you tell me about these singular people, whose existence I hardly 
 knew of before. Now, Lucian, in the course of my reading I have 
 come upon denunciations of every race and pursuit under the sun. 
 Very respectable and well informed men have held that Jews, 
 Irishmen, Christians, atheists, lawyers, doctors, politicians, actors^ 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 9I 
 
 artists, flesh eaters, and spirit drinkers, are all of necessity degraded 
 beings. Such statements can be easily proved by taking a black 
 sheep from each flock, and holding him up as the type. It is more 
 reasonable to argue a man's character from the nature of his pro- 
 fession ; and yet even that is very unsafe. War is a cruel business ; 
 but soldiers are not necessarily bloodthirsty and inhuman men. j 
 am not quite satisfied that a prize-fighter is a violent and dangerous 
 man because he follows a violent and dangerous profession — I 
 suppose they call it a profession." 
 
 Lucian was about to speak ; but she interrupted him by con- 
 tinuing, 
 
 *' And yet that is not what concerns me at present. Have you 
 found out anything about Mr. Byron personally ? Is he an ordinary 
 representative of his class ? " 
 
 ** No : I should rather think — and hope — that he is a very extra- 
 ordinary representative of it. I have traced his history back to his 
 boyhood, when he was a cabin-boy. Having apparently failed to 
 recommend himself to his employers in that capacity, he became 
 errand boy to a sort of mditrc d'armes at Melbourne. Here he 
 discovered where his genius lay ; and he presently appeared in the 
 ring with an unfortunate young man named Ducket, whose jaw he 
 fractured. This laid the foundation of his fame. He fought 
 several battles with unvarying success ; but at last he allowed his 
 valour to get the better of his discretion so far as to kill an English- 
 man who contended with him with desperate obstinacy for two 
 hours. I am informed that the particular blow by which he felled 
 the poor wretch for the last time is known in pugilistic circles as 
 * Cashel's killer,' and that he has attempted to repeat it in all his 
 subsequent! encounters, without, however, achieving the same 
 fatal result. The failure has doubtless been a severe disappoint- 
 ment to him. He fled from Australia, and re-appeared in America, 
 where he resumed his victorious career, distinguishing himself 
 specially by throwing a gigantic opponent in some dreadful fashion 
 that these men have, and laming him for life. He then — " 
 
 " Thank |you, Lucian," said Lydia, rather faintly. *' That is 
 quite enough. Are you sure that it is all true ? " 
 
 " My authority is Lord Worthington, and a number of news- 
 paper reports which he shewed me, Byron himself will probably 
 be proud to give you the fullest confirmation of the record. I 
 should add, in justice to him, that he is looked upon as a model — 
 to pugilists — of temperance and general good conduct." 
 
 " Do you remember my remarking a few days ago, on another 
 subject, how meaningless our observations are until we are given 
 the right thread to string them on ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Webber, disconcerted by the allusion. 
 
 ** My acquaintance with this man is a case in point. He has 
 obtruded his horrible profession upon me every time we have met. 
 I have actually seen him publicly cheered as a pugilist-hero ; and 
 yet, being off" the track, and ignorant of the very existence of 
 such a calling, I have looked on and seen nothing." 
 
 Lydia then narrated her adventure in Soho, and listened with 
 the perfect patience of indifference to his censure of her imprudence 
 in going there alone. 
 
92 CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 " And now, Lydia," he added, •♦ may I ask what you intend to 
 do in this matter? '* 
 
 •' What would you have me do? " 
 
 •' Drop his acquaintance at once. Forbid him your house in the 
 most expHcit terms." 
 
 "A pleasant task!" said Lydia ironically. " But I will do it — 
 not so much, perhaps, because he is a prizefighter, as because he 
 is an impostor. Now go to the writing table, and draft me a 
 proper letter to send him." 
 
 Lucian*s face elongated. '• I think," he said, '♦ you can do that 
 better for yourself. It is a delicate sort of thing." 
 
 " Yes. It is not so easy as you implied a moment ago. Other- 
 wise I should not require your assistance. As it is — " She 
 pointed again to the table. 
 
 Lucian was not ready with an excuse. He sat down reluctantly, 
 and, after some consideration, indited the following. 
 
 " Miss C a rew presents lut complinunts to Mr. Caslul Byron^ and begs to 
 inform him thai she will not be at Jwme during the remainder of the season 
 as heretofore, Sfte therefore regrets tliat sJu cannot fuive the pleasure oj 
 receiving him on Friday afternoon.'' 
 
 •• I think yon will find that sufficient," said Lncian. 
 
 " Probably," said Lydia, smiling as she read it. " But what 
 shall I do if he takes offence ; calls here ; breaks the windows ; and 
 beats Bashville. Were I in his place, that is what such a letter 
 would provoke me to do." 
 
 •• He dare not give any trouble. But I will warn the police if 
 you feel anxious." 
 
 ** By no means. We must not shew ourselves inferior to him in 
 courage, which is, I suppose, his cardinal virtue." 
 
 •' If you write the note now, I will post it for you." 
 
 " No, thank you. I will send it with my other letters." 
 
 Lucian would rather have waited ; but she would not write 
 whilst he was there. So he left, satisfied on the whole with the 
 success of his mission. When he was gone, she took a pen, 
 endorsed his draft neatly, placed it in a drawer, and wrote to 
 Cashel thus : — 
 
 ** Dear Mr. Cashel Byron^ 
 
 I have just discovered your secret. I am sorry; but you must not come 
 again. Farewell. Yours faithfully 
 
 Lydia Carew.** 
 
 Lydia kept this note by her until next morning, when she read 
 it through carefully. She then sent Bashville to the post with it. 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 93 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Cashel's pupils frequently requested him to hit them hard— 
 not to play with them — to accustom them to regular, right 
 down, severe hitting, and no nonsense. He only pretended to 
 comply ; for he knew that a black eye or loosened tooth would be 
 immoderately boasted of if received in combat with a famous 
 pugilist, and that the sufferer's friends would make private notes to 
 avoid so rough a professor. But when Miss Carew's note reached 
 him, he made an exception to his practice in this respect. A young 
 guardsman, whose lesson began shortly after the post arrived, re- 
 marked that Cashel was unusually distraught. He therefore 
 exhorted his instructor to wake up and pitch into him in earnest. 
 Immediately he received a blow in the epigastrium that stretched 
 him almost insensible on the floor. Rising with his complexion 
 considerably whitened, he recollected an appointment which would 
 prevent him from finishing his lesson, and withdrew, declaring in a 
 somewhat shakj^ voice that that was the sort of bout he reall}^ 
 enjoyed. 
 
 Cashel did not at first make any profitable use of the leisure thus 
 earned. He walked to and fro, cursing, and occasionally stopping 
 to read the letter. His restlessness only increased his agitation. 
 The arrival of a Frenchman whom he employed to give lessons in 
 fencing made the place unendurable to him. He changed his attire ; 
 went out ; called a cab ; and bade the driver, with an oath, drive 
 to Lydia's house as fast as the horse could go. The man made all 
 the haste he could, and was presently told impatiently that 
 there was no hurry. Accustomed to this sort of incon- 
 sistency, he was not surprised when, as they approached the 
 house, he was told not to stop, but to drive slowly past. Then, in 
 obedience to further instructions, he turned and repassed the door. 
 As he did so, a lady appeared for an instant at a window. Imme- 
 diately his fare, with a groan of mingled rage and fear, sprang from 
 the moving vehicle ; rushed up the steps of the mansion ; and rang 
 the bell violently. Bashville, faultlessly dressed and impassibly 
 mannered, opened the door. In reply to Cashel's half inarticulate 
 inquiry, he said, 
 
 " Miss Carew is not at home." 
 
 " You lie," said Cashel, his eyes suddenly dilating. *' I saw her.'* 
 
 Bashville reddened, but replied coolly, " Miss Carew cannot see 
 you to-day." 
 
94 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 *' Go and ask her," returned Cashel sternly, advancing. 
 
 Bashville, with compressed lips, seized the door to shut him out ; 
 but Cashel forced it back against him ; sent him reeling some paces 
 by its impact ; went in ; and shut the door behind him. He had 
 to turn from Bashville for a moment to do this, and, before he 
 could face him again, he was clutched, tripped, and flung down 
 upon the tesselated pavement of the hall. When Cashel gave 
 him the lie, and pushed the door against him, the excitement 
 he had been suppressing since his visit to Lucian exploded. 
 He had thrown Cashel in Cornish fashion, and now desperately 
 awaited the upshot. 
 
 Cashel got up so rapidly that he seemed to rebound from the 
 flags. Bashville, involuntarily cowering before his onslaught, just 
 escaped his right fist, and felt as though his heart had been drawn 
 with it as it whizzed past his ear. He turned and fled frantically 
 upstairs, mistaking for the clatter of pursuit the noise with which 
 Cashel, overbalanced by his ineffectual blow, stumbled against 
 the bannisters. 
 
 Lydia was in her boudoir with Alice when Bashville darted in 
 and locked the door. Alice rose and screamed. Lydia, though 
 startled, and that less by the unusual action than by the change in 
 a familiar face which she had never seen influenced by emotion 
 before, sat still, and quietly asked what was the matter. Bashville 
 checked himself for a moment. Then he spoke unintelligibly, and 
 went to the window, which he oj>ened. Lydia divined that he was 
 about to call for help to the street. 
 
 •♦ Bashville," she said authoritatively : " be silent ; and close the 
 window. I will go downstairs myself." 
 
 Bashville then ran to prevent her from unlocking the door ; but 
 she paid no attention to him. He did not dare to oppose her 
 forcibly. He was beginning to recover from his panic, and to feel 
 the first stings of shame for having yielded to it. 
 
 •♦ Madam," he said : " Byron is below ; and he insists on seeing 
 you. He's dangerous ; and he's too strong for me. I have done 
 my best — on my honour I have. Let me call the police. Stop," 
 lie added, as she opened the door. ♦' If either of us goes, it must 
 be me." 
 
 " I will see him in the library," said Lydia composedly. " Tell 
 him so ; and let him wait there for me — if you can approach him 
 without running any risk." 
 
 '* Oh pray let him call the police," urged Alice. ** Dont attempt 
 to go to that man." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Lydia good-humouredly. " I am not in the 
 least afraid. We must not fail in courage when we have a prize- 
 fighter to deal with." 
 
 Bashville, white, and preventing with difficulty his knees from 
 knocking together, went downstairs and found Cashel leaning 
 upon the balustrade, panting, and looking perplexedly about 
 him as he wiped his dabbled brow. Bashville approached him 
 with the firmness of a martyr ; halted on the third stair ; and 
 said, 
 
 *♦ Miss Carew will see you in the library. Come this way, please." 
 
 Cashel's lips moved, but no sound came from them : he followed 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 95 
 
 Bashville in silence. When they entered the library, Lydia was 
 already there. Bashville withdrew without a word. Then Cashel 
 sat down, and, to her consternation, bent his head on his hand, and 
 yielded to a hysterical convulsion. Before she could resolve how 
 to act, he looked up at her with his face distorted and discoloured, 
 and tried to speak. 
 
 '' Pray be calm," said Lydia. " I am told that you wish to 
 speak to me.'' 
 
 " I dont wish to speak to you ever again," said Cashel hoarsely. 
 *• You told your servant to throw me down the steps. That's 
 enough for me." 
 
 Lydia caught from him the tendency to sob which he was 
 struggling with ; but she repressed it, and answered firmly, " If 
 my servant has been guilty of the least incivility to you, Mr. 
 Cashel Byron, he has exceeded his orders." 
 
 *' It doesnt matter," said Cashel. " He may thank his luck that 
 he has his head on. If I had planted on him that time — but 
 he doesnt matter. Hold on a bit — I cant talk — I shall get my 
 second wind presently, and then — " Cashel stopped a moment to 
 pant, and then asked, *' Why are you going to give me up ? " 
 
 Lydia ranged her wits in battle array, and replied, " Do you 
 remember our conversation at Mrs. Hoskyn's ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You admitted then that if the nature of your occupation be- 
 came known to me, our acquaintance should cease. That has no\v 
 come to pass." 
 
 ** That was all very fine talk to excuse my not telling you. But 
 I find, like many another man when put to the proof, that I didnt 
 mean it. Who told you I was a fighting man ? " 
 
 " I had rather not tell you that ? " 
 
 " Aha ! " said Cashel, with a triumph that was half choked by 
 the remnant of his hysteria. ** Who is trying to make a secret now, 
 I should like to know ? " 
 
 ** I do so in this instance because I am afraid to expose a friend 
 to your resentment." 
 
 *' And why ? He's a man, of course : else you wouldnt be 
 afraid. You think that I'd go straight off and murder him. Per- 
 haps he told you that it would come quite natural to a man like me 
 — a ruffian like me — to smash him up. That comes of being a 
 coward. People run my profession down, not because there is a 
 bad one or two in it — there's plenty of bad bishops, if you come to 
 that — but because they're afraid of us. You may make yourself 
 easy about your friend. I am accustomed to get well paid for the 
 beatings I give ; and your own common sense ought to tell you 
 that anyone who is used to being paid for a job is just the last 
 person in the world to do it for nothing." 
 
 " I find the contrary to be the case with first-rate artists," said 
 Lydia. 
 
 "Thank you," retorted Cashel sarcastically. "I ought to make 
 you a bow for that. I'm glad you acknowledge that it is an art." 
 
 ** But," said Lydia seriously, " it seems to me that it is an art 
 wholly anti-social and retrograde. And I fear that you have forced 
 this interview on me to no purpose." 
 
9^ CASHEL BYRON's PROIKSSION, 
 
 " I dont know whether it's anti-social or not. But I think it 
 hard that I should be put out of decent society when fellows that 
 <lo far worse than I are let in. Who did I see here last Friday » 
 I he most honoured of your guests? Why, that Frenchman with 
 the gold spectacles. What do you think I was told when I asked 
 what his little game was ? Baking dogs in ovens to see how long 
 a dog could live red hot 1 I'd like to catch him doing it to a dog 
 of mine. Aye ; and sticking a rat full of nails to see how much 
 pain a rat could stand. Why, it's just sickening. Do you think 
 I'd have shaken hands with that chap ? If he hadnt been a 
 guest of yours, I'd have given him a notion of how much pain a 
 Frenchman can stand without any nails in him. And his to be 
 received and made much of, whilst I am kicked out ! Look at your 
 relation the general. What is he but a fighting man, I should like 
 to know ? Isnt it his pride and boast that as long as he is paid so 
 much a day, he'll ask no questions whether a war is fair or unfair, 
 but just walk out and put thousands of men in the best way to kill 
 and be killed ; — keeping well behind them himself all the time» 
 mind you. Last year he was up to his chin in the blood of a 
 lot of poor blacks that were no more a match for his armed men 
 than a feather-weight would be for me. Bad as I am, I wouldnt 
 attack a feather-weight, or stand by and see another heavy man 
 do it. Plenty of your friends go pigeon-shooting to Hurlingham. 
 There's a humane and manly way of spending a Saturday afternoon ! 
 Lord Worthington, that comes to see you when he likes, though 
 he's too much of a man or too little of a shot to kill pigeons, thinks 
 nothing of fox-hunting. Do you think foxes like to be hunted, or 
 that the people that hunt them have such fine feelings that they 
 can afford to call prize-fighters names } Look at the men that get 
 killed or lamed every year at steeple-chasing, fox-hunting, cricket, 
 and football ! Dozens of them ! Look at the thousands killed in 
 battle ! Did you ever hear of anyone being killed in the ring ? 
 Why from first to last, during the whole century that prize-fighting 
 lias been going on, there's not been six fatal accidents at really 
 respectable fights. It's safer than dancing : many a woman has 
 danced her skirt into the fire and been burnt. I once fought a man 
 who had spoiled his constitution with badHving; and he exhausted 
 himself so by going on and on long after he was beaten that he 
 died of it, and nearly finished me too. If you'd heard the fuss that 
 even the oldest fighting men made over it, you'd have thought that 
 a baby had died from falling out of its cradle. A good milling 
 does a man more good than harm. And if all these damned dog 
 bakers, and soldiers, and pigeon-shooters, fox-hunters, and the 
 rest of them, are made welcome here, why am I shut out like a 
 brute beast ? " 
 
 '♦ Truly I do not know," said Lydia, puzzled ; " unless it be that 
 your colleagues have failed to recommend themselves to society by 
 their extra-professional conduct as the others have." 
 
 " I grant you that fighting men arnt gentlemen, as a rule. No 
 more were painters or poets, once upon a time. But what I want 
 to know is this. Supposing a fighting man has as good manners 
 as your friends, and is as well born, why shouldnt he mix with them 
 and be considered their equal ? " 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 97 
 
 ** The distinction seems arbitrary, I confess. But perhaps the 
 true remedy would be to exclude the vivisectors and soldiers, in- 
 stead of admitting the prize-fighters. Mr. Cashel Byron," added 
 Lydia, changing her manner, " I cannot discuss this with you. 
 Society has a prejudice against you. I share it ; and I cannot 
 overcome it. Can you find no nobler occupation than these fierce 
 and horrible encounters by which you condescend to gain a living? " 
 
 " No," said Cashel flatly. " I cant. That's just where it is." 
 
 Lydia looked grave, and said nothing. 
 
 " You dont see it ? " said Cashel. " Well, I'll just tell you all 
 about myself, and then leave you to judge. May I sit down while 
 I talk ? " He had risen in the course of his remarks on Lydia's 
 scientific and military acquaintances. 
 
 She pointed to a chair near her. Something in the action 
 brought colour to his cheeks. 
 
 " I believe I was the most unfortunate devil of a boy that ever 
 walked," he began, when he was seated. " My mother was — and 
 is — an actress, and a tiptop crack in her profession. One of the 
 first things I remember is sitting on the floor in the corner of a 
 room where there was a big glass, and she flaring away before it, 
 attitudinizing and spouting Shakspere like mad. I was afraid of 
 her, because she was very particular about my manners and 
 appearance, and would never let me go near a theatre. I know 
 very little about either my people or hers ; for she boxed my ears 
 one day for asking who my father was, and I took good care not 
 to ask her again. She was quite young when I was a child : 
 at first I thought her a sort of angel — I should have been fond of 
 her, I think, if she had let me. But shedidnt, somehow; and I had 
 to keep my affection for the servants. I had plenty of variety in that 
 way ; for she gave her whole establishment the sack about once 
 every two months, except a maid who used to bully her, and gave 
 me nearly all the nursing I ever got. I believe it was my crying 
 about some housemaid or other who went away that first set her 
 abusing me for having low tastes — a sort of thing that used to cut 
 me to the heart, and which she kept up til the very day I left her 
 for good. We were a precious pair : I sulky and obstinate ; she 
 changeable and hot-tempered. She used to begin breakfast some- 
 times by knocking me to the other side of the room with a slap, 
 and finish it by calling me her darling boy and promising me all 
 manner of toys and things. I soon gave up trying to please her 
 or like her, and became as disagreeable a young imp as you'd ask 
 to see. My only thought was to get all I could out of her when she 
 was in a good humour, and to be sullen and stubborn when she 
 was in a tantrum. One day a boy in the street threw some mud 
 at me ; and I ran in crying, and complained to her. She told me I 
 was a little coward. I havent forgiven her for that yet — perhaps, 
 because it was one of the few true things she ever said to me. I 
 was in a state of perpetual aggravation ; and I often wonder that I 
 wasnt soured for life at that time. At last I got to be such a little 
 fiend that when she hit me I used to guard ofl"her blows, and look so 
 wicked that I thmk she got afraid of me. Then she put me to 
 school, telling me that I had no heart, and teUing the master that 
 I was an ungovernable young brute. So I, like a little fool, cried 
 
 H 
 
98 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 at leaving her ; and she, like a big one, cried back again over me, — 
 just after telling the master what a bad one I was, mind you — and 
 off she went, leaving her darling boy and blessed child howling at 
 his good luck in getting rid of her." 
 
 *' I was a nice boy to let loose in a school. I could speak as 
 well as an actor, as far as pronunciation goes ; but I could hardly 
 read words of one syllable ; and as to writing, I couldnt make 
 pothooks and hangers respectably. To this day, I can no more 
 spell than old Ned Skene can. What was a worse sort of igno- 
 rance was that I had no idea of fair play. I thought that all 
 servants would be afraid of me ; and that all grown-up people 
 would tyrannize over me. I was afraid of everybody ; afraid that 
 my cowardice would be found out ; and as angry and cruel in my 
 ill-tempers as cowards always are. Now you'll hardly believe 
 this ; but what saved me from going to the bad altogether was my 
 finding out that I was a good one to fight. The bigger boys were 
 given to fighting, and used to have mills every Saturday afternoon, 
 with seconds, bottleholders, and everything complete, except the 
 ropes and stakes. We little chaps used to imitate them among 
 ourselves as best we could. At first, when they made me fight, I 
 shut my eyes and cried ; but for all that I managed to catch the 
 other fellow tight round the waist and throw him. After that, it 
 became a regular joke to make me fight; for I always cried. But 
 the end of it was that I learnt to keep my eyes open and hit 
 straight. I had no trouble about fighting then. Somehow, I 
 could tell by instinct when the other fellow was going to hit me ; 
 and I always hit him first. It's the same with me now in the ring : 
 I know what a man is going to do before he rightly knows him- 
 self. The power that this gave me, civilized me. It made me 
 cock of the school ; and I had to act accordingly. I had enough 
 good nature left to keep me from being a bully ; and, as cock, I 
 couldnt be mean or childish. There would be nothing like fighting 
 for licking boys into shape if everyone could be cock ; but every- 
 one cant ; so I suppose it does more harm than good." 
 
 " I should have enjoyed school well enough if I had worked at 
 my books. But I wouldnt study ; and the masters were all down 
 on me as an idler — though I shouldnt have been like that if they 
 had known how to teach — I have learnt since what teaching is. 
 As to the holidays, they were the worst part of the year to me. 
 When I was left at school I was savage at not being let go home ; 
 and when I went home, my mother did nothing but find fault with 
 my schoolboy manners. I was getting too big to be cuddled as 
 her darling boy, you understand. In fact, her treatment of 
 me was just the old game with the affectionate part left out. It 
 wasnt pleasant, after being cock of the school, to be made feel 
 like a good-for-nothing little brat tied to her apron strings. When 
 she saw that I was learning nothing, she sent me to another school 
 at a place in the north called Pauley. I stayed there until I was 
 seventeen ; and then she came one day ; and we had a row, as 
 usual. She said she wouldnt let me leave school until I was 
 nineteen ; and so I settled that question by running away the 
 same night. I got to Liverpool, where I hid in a ship bound for 
 Australia. When I was starved out, they treated me better than 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 99 
 
 I expected ; and I worked hard enough to earn my passage and my 
 victuals. But when I was left ashore in Melbourne, I was in a 
 pretty pickle. I knew nobody, and 1 had no money. Everything 
 that a man could live by was owned by someone or other. I 
 walked through the town {looking for a place where they might 
 want a boy to run errands or to clean the windows. But somehow 
 I hadnt the cheek to go into the shops and ask. Two or three 
 times, when I was on the point of trying, I caught sight of some 
 cad of a shopman, and made up my mind that I wouldnt be 
 ordered about by hiffty and that since I had the whole town to 
 choose from I might as well go on to the next place. At last, 
 quite late in the afternoon, I saw an advertisement stuck up on a 
 gymnasium, and, while I was reading it, I got talking to old Ned 
 Skene, the owner, who was smoking at the door. He took a 
 fancy to me, and offered to have me there as a sort of lad of all 
 work. I was only too glad to get the chance ; and I closed with 
 him at once. As time went on, I became so clever with the gloves 
 that Ned matched me against a light weight named Ducket, and 
 bet a lot of money that I would win. Well, I couldnt disappoint 
 him after his being so kind to me — Mrs. Skene had made as much 
 of me as if I was her own son. What could I do but take my 
 bread as it came to me ? I was fit for nothing else. Even if I had 
 been able to write a good hand and keep accounts, I couldnt have 
 brought myself to think that quilldriving and counting other 
 peoples' money was a fit employment for a man. It's not what a 
 man would like to do that he must do in this world, it's what he 
 can do ; and the only mortal thing I could do properly was to fight. 
 There was plenty of money and plenty of honour and glory among 
 my acquaintance to be got by fighting. So I challenged Ducket, 
 and knocked him all to pieces m about ten minutes. I half killed 
 him because I didnt know my own strength and was afraid of him. 
 I have been at the same work ever since. I was training for a 
 fight when I was down at Wiltstoken ; and Mellish was my 
 trainer. It came off the day you saw me at Clapham : that was 
 how I came to have a bad eye. Wiltstoken did for me. With all 
 my nerve and science, I'm no better than a baby at heart ; and ever 
 since I found out that my mother wasnt an angel, I have always had 
 a notion that a real angel would turn up some day. You see, I 
 never cared much about women. Bad as my mother was as far 
 as being what you might call a parent went, she had something in 
 her looks and manners that gave me a better idea of what a nice 
 woman was like than I had of most things ; and the girls I met in 
 Australia and America seemed very small potatoes to me in com- 
 parison with her. Besides, of course they were not ladies. I was 
 fond of Mrs. Skene because she was good to me ; and I made 
 myself agreeable, for her sake, to the girls that came to see her ; 
 but in reality I couldnt stand them. Mrs. Skene said that they 
 all were setting their caps at me — women are death on a crack 
 fighter — but the more they tried it on the less I liked them. It was 
 no go : I could get on with the men well enough, no matter how 
 common they were; but the snobbishness of my breed came 
 out with [regard to the women. When I saw you that day at 
 Wiltstoken walk out of the trees and stand looking so quietly at 
 
 H 2 
 
lOO CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 me and Mellish, and then go back out of sight without a word, I'm 
 blessed if I didnt think you were the angel come at last. Then 1 
 met you at the railway station and walked with you. You put the 
 angel out of my head quick enough ; for an angel, after all, is 
 only a shadowy, childish notion — I believe it's all gammon about 
 there being any in heaven — but you gave me a better idea than 
 mamma of what a woman should be, and you came up to that idea 
 and went beyond it. I have been in love with you ever since ; and 
 if 1 cant have you, I dont care what becomes of me. I know I am 
 a bad lot, and have always been one; but when I saw you taking 
 pleasure in the society of fellows just as bad as myself, I didnt see 
 wh}' I should keep away when I was dying to come. I am no 
 worse than the dog baker, anyhow. And hang it, Miss Lydia, I 
 dont want to brag ; but I never fought a cross or struck a foul 
 blow in my life; and I have never been beaten, though I'm only a 
 middle weight, and have stood up with the best fourteen stone men 
 in the Colonies, the States, or in England." 
 
 Cashel ceased. As he sat eyeing her wistfully, Lydia, who 
 had been perfectly still, said bemusedly, 
 
 •* Strange ! that I should be so much more prejudiced than I 
 knew. What will you think of me when I tell you that your 
 profession does not seem half so shocking now that I know you to 
 be the son of an artist, and not a journeyman butcher or a labourer, 
 as my cousin told me." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Cashel. " That lantern-jawed fellow told 
 you I was a butcher ! " 
 
 '* I did not mean to betray him ; but, as I have already said, I 
 am bad at keeping secrets. Mr. Lucian Webber is my cousin and 
 friend, and has done me many services. May I rest assured that 
 he has nothing to fear from you ? " 
 
 ** He has no right to tell lies about me. He is sweet on you too : 
 I twigged that at W^iltstoken. I have a good mind to let him 
 know whether I am a butcher or not." 
 
 " He did not say so. What he told me of you, as far as it went, 
 is exactly confirmed by what you have said yourself. But I 
 happened to ask him to what class men of your calling usually 
 belonged ; and he said that they were labourers, butchers, and so 
 forth. Do you resent that ? " 
 
 " [ see plainly enough that you wont let me resent it. I should 
 like to know what else he said of me. But he was right enough 
 about the butchers. There are all sorts of blackguards in the ring : 
 there's no use in denying it. Since it's been made illegal, decent 
 men wont go into it. But, all the same, it's not the fighting men, 
 but the betting men, that bring discredit on it. I wish your cousin 
 had held his confounded tongue." 
 
 " I wish you had forestalled him by telling me the truth." 
 
 " I wish I had, now. But what's the use of wishing ? I didnt 
 dare run the chance of losing you. See how soon you forbade me 
 the house when you did find out." 
 
 " It made little difference," said Lydia gravely. 
 
 " You were always friendly to me," said Cashel plaintively. 
 
 " More so than you were to me. You should not have deceived 
 me. And now I think we had better part. I am glad to know your 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. Id 
 
 history ; and I admit that when you embraced your profession you 
 made perhaps the best choice that society offered you. I do not 
 blame you." 
 
 '* But 5'ou give me the sack. Is that it ? " 
 
 •* What do you propose, Mr. Cashel Byron ? Is it to visit my 
 house in the intervals of battering and maiming butchers and 
 labourers?" 
 
 '* No, it's not," retorted Cashel. •♦ You're very aggravating. I 
 wont stay much longer in the ring now, because my luck is too 
 good to last. I shall have to retire soon, luck or no luck, because 
 no one can match me. Even now there's nobody except Bill 
 Paradise that pretends to be able for me ; and I'll settle him in 
 September if he really means business. After that, I'll retire. I 
 expect to be worth ten thousand pounds then. Ten thousand 
 pounds, I'm told, is the same as five hundred a year. Well, I 
 suppose, judging from the style you keep here, that you're worth 
 as much more, besides your place in the country ; so, if you will 
 marry me, we shall have a thousand a year between us. I dont 
 know much of money matters ; but at any rate we can live like 
 fighting cocks on that much. That's a straight and business like 
 proposal, isnt it ? " 
 
 ** And if I refuse ? " said Lydia, with some sternness. 
 
 ♦' Then you may have the ten thousand pounds to do what you 
 like with," said Cashel despairingly. " It wont matter what 
 becomes of me. I wont go to the devil for you or any woman if I 
 can help it ; and I — but where's the good of saying if you refuse. 
 I know I dont express myself properly : I'm a bad hand at senti- 
 mentality ; but if I had as much gab as a poet, I couldnt be any 
 fonder of you, or think more highly of you." 
 
 " But you are mistaken as to the amount of my income." 
 
 " That doesnt matter a bit. If you have more, why, the more 
 the merrier. If you have less, or if you have to give up all your 
 property when you're married, I will soon make another ten 
 thousand to supply the loss. Only give me one good word, and, 
 by George, I'll fight the seven champions of Christendom, one 
 down and t'other come on, for five thousand a side each. Hang 
 the money ! " 
 
 " I am richer than you suppose," said Lydia, unmoved. " I 
 cannot tell you exactly how much I possess ; but my income is 
 about forty thousand pounds." 
 
 '* Forty thousand pounds! " ejaculated Cashel, " Holy Moses ! 
 I didnt think the Queen had so much as that." 
 
 He paused a moment, and became very red. Then, in a voice 
 broken by mortification, he said, '* I see I have been making a fool 
 of myself," and took his hat and turned to go. 
 
 " It does not follow that you should go at once without a word," 
 said Lydia, betraying nervousness for the first time during the in- 
 terview. 
 
 *' Oh, that's all rot," said Cashel. " I may be a fool whilst my 
 eyes are shut, but I'm sensible enough when they're open. I have 
 no business here. I wish to the Lord I had stayed in Australia." 
 
 " Perhaps it would have been better," said Lydia, troubled. 
 ** But since we have met, it is useless to deplore it; and — Let 
 
I02 CA8HEL BVRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 lue remind you of one thing. You have pointed out to me that I 
 have made friends of men whose pursuits are no better than yours. 
 I do not wholly admit that ; but there is one respect in which they 
 are on the same footing as you. They are all, as far as worldly 
 gear is concerned, much poorer than I. Many of them, I fear, 
 are much poorer than you are." 
 
 Cashel looked up quickly with returning hope ; but it lasted only 
 a moment. He shook his head dejectedly. 
 
 " I am at least grateful to you," she continued, ** because you 
 have sought me for my own sake, knowing nothing of my wealth." 
 
 ** I should think not," groaned Cashel. ♦* Your wealth may be 
 a very fine thing for the other fellows ; and I'm glad you have it, for 
 your own sake. But it's a settler for me. It's knocked me out of 
 time, so it has. I shant come up again ; and the sooner the sponge 
 is chucked up in my corner, the better. So good-bye." 
 
 " Good-bye," said Lydia, almost as pale as he had now become, 
 " since you will have it so." 
 
 " Since the devil will have it so," said Cashel ruefully. " It's no 
 use wishing to have it any other way. The luck is against me. 
 I hope, Miss Carew, that you'll excuse me for making such an ass 
 of myself. It's all my blessed innocence : I never was taught 
 any better." 
 
 " I have no quarrel with you except on the old score of hiding 
 the truth from me ; and that I forgive you — as far as the evil of 
 it affects me. As for your declaration of attachment to me per- 
 sonally, I have received many similar ones that have flattered me less. 
 But there are certain scruples between us. You will not court a 
 woman a hundred-fold richer than yourself; and I will not enter- 
 tain a prize-fighter. My wealth frightens every man who is not a 
 knave ; and your profession frightens every woman who is not a 
 fury." 
 
 " Then you — . Just tell me this," said Cashel eagerly. " Suppose 
 I were a rich swell, and were not a " 
 
 ** No," said Lydia, peremptorily interrupting him. ** I will 
 suppose nothing but what is." 
 
 Cashel relapsed into melancholy. ** If you only hadnt been kind 
 to me ! " he said. " I think the reason I love you so much is that 
 you're the only person that is not afraid of me. Other people are 
 civil because they darent be otherwise to the cock of the ring. 
 It's a lonely thing to be a champion. You knew nothing about 
 that ; and you knew I was afraid of you ; and yet you were as good 
 as gold." 
 
 ** It is also a lonely thing to be a very rich woman. People are 
 afraid of my wealth, and of what they call my learning. We two 
 have at least one experience in common. Now do me a great 
 favour, by going. We have nothing further to say." 
 
 "I'll go in two seconds. But I dont believe much in your being 
 lonely. That's only fancy." 
 
 *' Perhaps so. Most feelings of this kind are only fancies." 
 
 There was a pause. Then Cashel said, 
 
 " I dont feel half so downhearted as I did a minute ago. Are 
 you sure that you're not angry with me ? " 
 
 •* Quite sure. Pray let me say good-bye." 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. IO3 
 
 ** And may I never see you again ? Never at all ? — world with- 
 out end, Amen ? " 
 
 " Never as the famous prize-fighter. But if a day should come 
 when Mr. Cashel Byron will be something better worthy of his 
 birth and nature, I will not forget an old friend. Are you satisfied 
 now?" 
 
 Cashel's face began to glow, and the roots of his hair to tingle. 
 " One thing more," he said. *' If you meet me by chance in the 
 street before that, will you give me a look ? I dont ask for a regular 
 bow, but just a look to keep me going? " 
 
 " I have no intention of cutting you," said Lydia gravely. 
 ** But do not place yourself purposely in my way." 
 
 •' Honour bright, I wont. I'll content myself with walking 
 through that street in Soho occasionally. Now I'm off: — I know 
 you're in a hurry to be rid of me. So good-b — Stop a bit, though. 
 Perhaps when that time you spoke of comes, you will be married." 
 
 " It is possible ; but I am not likely to marry. How many more 
 things have you to say, that you have no right to say ? " 
 
 *' Not one," said Cashel, with a laugh that rang through the 
 house. *' I never was happier in my Hfe, though I'm crying inside 
 all the time. I'll have a try for you yet. Good-bye. No," he 
 added, turning fro'm her proffered hand : " I darent touch it : I 
 should eat you afterwards." And he ran out of the room. 
 
 In the hall was Bashville, pale and determined, waiting there to 
 rush to the assistance of his mistress at her first summons. He 
 had a poker concealed at hand. Having just heard a great laugh, 
 and seeing Cashel come downstairs in high spirits, he stood stock 
 still, and did not know what to think. 
 
 " Well, old chap," said Cashel boisterously, slapping him on the 
 shoulder : *' so you're alive yet. Is there anyone in the dining- 
 room ? " 
 
 *' No," said Bashville. 
 
 "There's a thick carpet there to fall soft on," said Cashel, 
 pulling Bashville into a room. " Come along. Now shew me 
 that little trick of yours again. Come, dont be afraid. Down 
 with me. Take care you dont knock my head against the fire- 
 irons.'* 
 
 iiBut " 
 
 " But be hanged. You were spry enough at it before. Come ! " 
 
 Bashville, after a moment's hesitation, seized Cashel, who 
 immediately became grave and attentive, and remained imper- 
 turbably so whilst Bashville expertly threw him. He sat thinking 
 for a moment on the hearthrug before he rose. " / see," he said 
 then, getting up. *» Now do it again." 
 
 ** But it makes such a row," remonstrated Bashville. 
 
 ** Only once more. There'll be no row this time." 
 
 ** Well, you are an original sort of cove," said Bashville, comply- 
 ing. But instead of throwing his man, he found himself wedged 
 into a collar formed by Cashel's arms, the least constriction of 
 which would have strangled him. Cashel again roared with 
 laughter as he released him. 
 
 '♦ That's the way, aint it? " he said. *• You cant catch an old 
 fox twice in the same trap. Do you know any more falls ? " ofiiL-! 
 
304 CASH EL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 *♦ I do," said Bashville ; •• but I really cant shew them to you 
 here. I shall get into trouble on account of the noise." 
 
 " You come down to me whenever you have an evening out," 
 said Cashel, handing him a card, ** to that address, and shew me 
 what you know, and I'll see what I can do with you. There's the 
 making of a man in you." 
 
 *♦ You're very kind," said Bashville, pocketing the card with a 
 ^rin. 
 
 " And now let me give you a word of advice that will be of use 
 to you as long as you live," said Cashel impressively. " You did 
 a very silly thing to-day. You threw a man down — a fighting 
 man — and then stood looking at him like a fool, waiting for him 
 to get up and kill you. If ever you do that again, fall on him as 
 heavily as you can the instant he's off his legs. Drop your 
 shoulder well into him, and, if he pulls you over, make play with 
 the back of your head. If he's altogether too big for you, put 
 your knee on his throat as if by accident. But on no account 
 stand and do nothing. It's flying in the face of Providence." 
 
 Cashel emphasized these counsels by taps of his forefinger on 
 one of Bashville's buttons. In conclusion, he nodded ; opened the 
 house-door ; and walked away in buoyant spirits. 
 
 Lydia, standing near the library window, saw him pass, and 
 observed how his lipfht alert step, and a certain gamesome assurance 
 of manner, marked him off from a genteelly promenading middle- 
 aged gentleman, a trudging workman, and a vigorously striding 
 youth who were also passing by. The iron railings through which 
 she saw him reminded her of the admirable and dangerous creatures 
 which were passing and repassing behind iron bars in the park 
 yonder. But she exulted, in her quiet manner, in the thought 
 that, dangerous as he was, she had no fear of him. When his cab- 
 man had found him and driven him off, she went to her desk, 
 opened a private drawer in it, took out her father's last letter, and 
 sat for some time looking at it without unfolding it. 
 
 "It would be a strange thing, father," she said, as if he were 
 actually there to hear her, " if your paragon should turn aside from 
 her friends the artists, philosophers, and statesmen, to give herself 
 to an illiterate prize-fighter. I felt a pang of absolute despair 
 when he replied to my forty-thousand pounds a year with an un- 
 answerable good-bye." 
 
 She locked up her father, as it were, in the drawer again, and 
 rang the bell. Bashville appeared, somewhat perturbed. 
 
 •* If Mr. Byron calls again, admit him if I am at home." 
 
 "Yes, madam." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 " Begging your pardon, madam, but may I ask has any complaint 
 been made of me ? " 
 
 " None." Bashville was reluctantly withdrawing when she 
 added, •* Mr. Byron gave me to understand that you tried to pre- 
 vent his entrance by force. You exposed yourself to needless risk 
 by doing so ; and you may make a rule in future that when people 
 are importunate, and will not go away when asked, they had better 
 come in until you get special instructions from me. I am not 
 finding fault : on the contrary, I approve of your determination to 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. IO5 
 
 carry out your orders ; but under exceptional circumstances you 
 may use your own discretion." 
 
 '* He shoved the door into my face ; and I acted on the impulse 
 of the moment, madam. I hope you will forgive the liberty I took 
 in locking the door of the boudoir. He is older and heavier than 
 I am, madam ; and he has the advantage of being a professional. 
 Else I should have stood my ground." 
 
 '* I am quite satisfied," said Lydia a little coldly, as she left the 
 room. 
 
 " How long you have been ! " cried Alice, almost in hysterics, 
 as Lydia entered. "Is he gone? What were those dreadful 
 noises ? Is anything the matter ? " 
 
 •' Dancing and late hours are the matter," said Lydia coolly. 
 *' The season is proving too much for you, Alice." 
 
 " It is not the season : it is the man," said AHce, with a sob. 
 
 '* Indeed ? I have been in conversation with the man for more 
 than half an hour ; and Bashville has been in actual combat with 
 him : yet we are not in hysterics. You have been sitting here at 
 your ease, have you not ? " 
 
 " I am not in hysterics," said Alice indignantly. 
 
 " So much the better," said Lydia gravely, placing her hand on 
 the forehead of Alice, who subsided with a sniff. 
 
I06 CASHEL BYKON'S FROl ESSION. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mrs. Byron, under her stage name of Adelaide Gisborne, was 
 now, for the second time in her career, much talked of in London, 
 where she had been for many years almost forgotten. The metro- 
 jx)litan managers of her own generation had found that her success 
 in new parts was very uncertain ; that she was more capricious 
 than the most petted favourites of the public ; and that her in- 
 variable reply to a business proposal was that she detested the 
 stage, and was resolved never to set foot upon it again. So they 
 had managed to do without her for so long, that the younger 
 London playgoers knew her by reputation only as an old-fashioned 
 actress who wandered through the provinces palming herself off 
 on the ignorant inhabitants as a great artist, and boring them with 
 performances of the plays of Shakspere. It suited Mrs. Byron 
 well to travel with the nucleus of a dramatic company from town 
 to town, staying a fortnight in each, and repeating half a dozen 
 characters in which she was very effective, and which she knew so 
 well that she never thought about them except when, as indeed 
 often happened, she had nothing else to think about. Most of the 
 provincial populations received her annual visits with enthusiasm. 
 Among them she found herself more excitingly applauded before 
 the curtain, her authority more despotic behind it, her expenses 
 smaller, and her gains greater than in London, for which she 
 aiccordingly cared as little as London cared for her. As she grew 
 older she made more money and spent less. When she complained 
 to Cashel of the cost of his education, she was rich. Since he 
 had relieved her of that cost, she had visited America, Egypt, 
 India, and the colonies, and had grown constantly richer. From 
 this great tour she had returned to England on the day when 
 Cashel added the laurels of the Flying Dutchman to his trophies ; 
 and the next Sunday's paper had its sporting column full of the 
 prowess of Cashel Byron, and its theatrical column full of the 
 genius of Adelaide Gisborne. But she never read sporting columns, 
 nor he theatrical ones. 
 
 The managers who had formerly avoided Mrs. Byron were by 
 this time dead, bankrupt, or engaged in less hazardous pursuits. 
 One of their successors had lately restored Shakspere to popularity 
 as signally as Cashel had restored the prize ring. He was anxious 
 to produce the play of *' King John," being desirous of appearing 
 
CASHEL BVRON S PROFESSION. TO7 
 
 as Faiilconbridge, a part for which he was physically unfitted. 
 Though he had no suspicion of his unfitness, he was awake to the 
 * fact that the favourite London actresses, though admirable in 
 modern comedy, were not mistresses of what he called, after Sir 
 Walter Scott, the ** big bow-wow " style required for the part of 
 Lady Constance in Shakspere's history. He knew that he could 
 find in the provinces many veteran players who knew every 
 gesture and inflexion of voice associated by tradition with the 
 part ; but he was afraid that they would remind Londoners of 
 Richardson's show, and get Faulconbridge laughed at. Then he 
 thought of Adelaide Gisborne. For some hours after the idea 
 came to him, he was gnawed at by the fear that her performance 
 would throw his into the shade. But his confidence in his own 
 popularity helped his love of good acting to prevail ; and he made 
 the newly returned actress a tempting offer, instigating some 
 journalist friends of his at the same time to lament over the decay of 
 he grand school of acting, and to invent or republish anecdotes 
 of Mrs. Siddons. 
 
 This time Mrs. Byron said nothing about detesting the stage. 
 She had really detested it once ; but by the time she was rich 
 enough to give up the theatre she had worn that feeling out, and 
 had formed a habit of acting which was as irksome to shake off as 
 any other habit. She also found a certain satisfaction in making 
 money with ease and certainty ; and she made so much that at 
 last she began to trifle with plansof retirement, of playing in Paris, 
 of taking a theatre in London, and other whims. The chief public 
 glory of her youth had been a sudden triumph in London on the 
 occasion of her first appearance on any stage ; and she now felt a 
 mind to repeat this and crown her career where it had begun. So 
 she accepted the manager's offer, and even went the length of 
 reading the play of " King John " in order to ascertain what it 
 was all about. 
 
 The work of advertisement followed her assent. Portraits of 
 Adelaide Gisborne were displayed throughout the town. Para- 
 graphs in the papers mentioned large sums as the cost of mounting 
 the historical masterpiece of the national bard. All the available 
 seats in the theatre — except some six or seven hundred in the pit 
 and gallery — were said to be already disposed of for the first month 
 of the expected run of the performance. The prime minister 
 promised to be present on the opening night. Absolute archaeo- 
 logic accuracy was promised. Old paintings were compared to 
 ascertain the dresses of the period. A scene into which the artist 
 had incautiously painted a pointed arch, was condemned as an 
 anachronism. Many noblemen gave the actor-manager access to 
 their collections of armour and weapons in order that his accoutre- 
 ment should exactly counterfeit that of a Norman baron. Nothing 
 remained doubtful except the quality of the acting. 
 
 It happened that one of the most curious documents of the 
 period in question was a scrap of vellum containing a fragment of 
 a chronicle of Prince Arthur, with an illuminated portrait of his 
 mother. It had been purchased for a trifling sum by the late Mr. 
 Carew, and was now in the possession of Lydia, to whom the 
 actor-manager applied for leave to inspect it. Leave being readily 
 
10^ CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 given, he visited the house in Regent's Park, which he declared to be 
 an inexhaustible storehouse of treasure. He deeply regretted, he 
 said, that he could not show the portrait to Miss Gisborne. Lydia 
 replied that if Miss Gisborne would come and look at it, she should 
 be very welcome. Two days later, at noon, Mrs. Byron 
 arrived, and found Lydia alone ; Alice having contrived to be out, 
 as she felt that it was better not to meet an actress^one could 
 never tell what they might have been. 
 
 The years that had elapsed since Mrs. Byron's visit to Dr. 
 Moncrief had left no perceptible trace on her : indeed she looked 
 younger now than on that occasion, because she had been at the 
 trouble of putting on an artificial complexion. Her careless re- 
 finement of manner was so different from the studied dignity and 
 anxious courtesy of the actor-manager, that Lydia could hardly 
 think of them as belonging to the same profession. Her voice 
 was not her stage voice : it gave a subtle charm to her most 
 commonplace remarks ; and it was as different as possible from 
 Cashel's rough tones. Yet Lydia was convinced by the first note 
 of it that she was Cashel's mother. Besides, their eyes were so hke 
 that they might have made an exchange without altering their ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 Mrs. Byron, coming to the point without delay, at once asked 
 to see the drawing. Lydia brought her to the library, where 
 several portfolios were ready for inspection. The precious frag- 
 ment of vellum was uppermost. 
 
 •• Very interesting indeed," said Mrs. Byron, throwing it aside 
 after one glance at it, and turnmg over some later prints, whilst 
 Lydia, amused, looked on in silence. •' Ah," she said presently : 
 " here is something that will suit me exactly. I shall not trouble 
 to go through the rest of your collection, thant you. They must 
 do that robe for me in violet silk. What is your opinion of it. 
 Miss Carew ? I have noticed — from one or two trifles — that your 
 taste is exquisite." 
 
 " For what character do you intend the dress ? ** 
 
 •• Constance, in * King John.' " 
 
 " But silk was not made in Western Europe until three hundred 
 years after Constance's death. And that drawing is a sketch of 
 Marie de Medicis by Rubens." 
 
 '* Never mind," said Mrs. Byron, smoothly. " What does a 
 dress three hundred years out of date matter when the woman 
 inside it is seven hundred years out ? What can be a greater 
 anachronism than the death of Prince Arthur three months hence 
 on the stage of the Panopticon Theatre ? I am an artist giving life 
 to a character in romance, I suppose : certainly ^not a grown-up 
 child playing at being somebody out of Mrs. Markham's history 
 of England. I wear whatever becomes me. I cannot act when I 
 feel dowdy." 
 
 •* But what will the manager say ? " 
 
 ** I doubt if he will say anything. He will hardly venture to 
 press on me anything copied from that old parchment As he will 
 wear a suit of armour obviously made the other day in Birming- 
 ham, why ! " Mrs. Byron shrugged her shoulders, and did not 
 
 take sufficient interest in the manager's opinion to finish her sen- 
 ence. 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. IO9 
 
 ''After all, Shakspere concerned himsell very little about such 
 matters," said Lydia conversationally. 
 
 " No doubt. I seldom read him." 
 
 ♦' Is this part of Lady Constance a favourite one of yours ? " 
 
 *' Troublesome, my dear," said Mrs. Byron absently. " The 
 men look ridiculous in it ; and it does not draw." 
 
 " No doubt," said Lydia, watching her face. " But I spoke 
 
 rather of your personal feeling towards the character. Do you, 
 
 for instance, like portraying maternal tenderness on the stage ? " 
 
 ' Maternal tenderness," said Mrs. Byron with sudden nobleness, 
 
 'is far too sacred a thing to be mimicked. Have you any 
 
 children? " 
 
 ' No," said Lydia demurely. " I am not married." 
 
 " Of course not. You should get married. Maternity is a liberal 
 ed'ucation in itself." 
 
 " Do you think that it suits every woman ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly. Without exception. Only think, dear Miss 
 Carew, of the infinite patience with which you must tend a child— 
 of the necessity of seeing with its little eyes and with your own 
 wise ones at the same time — of bearing without a reproach the 
 stabs it innocently inflicts — of forgiving its hundred little selfish- 
 nesses — of living in continual fear of wounding its exquisite sensi- 
 tiveness, or rousing its bitter resentment of injustice and caprice. 
 Think of how you must watch yourself ; check yourself ; exercise 
 and develop everything in you that can help to attract and retain 
 the most jealous love in the world ! Believe me, it is a priceless 
 trial to be a mother. It is a royal compensation for having been 
 born a woman." 
 
 " Nevertheless," said Lydia, '* I wish I had been born a man. 
 Since you seem to have thought deeply into these problems, I will 
 venture to ask you a question. Do you not think that the acquire- 
 ment of an art demanding years of careful self study and training — 
 such as yours, for example — is also of great educational value ? 
 Almost a sufficient discipline to make one a good mother ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Mrs. Byron decidedly. " People come into 
 the world ready made. 1 went on the stage when I was eighteen, 
 and succeeded at once. Had I known anything of the world, or 
 been four years older, I should have been weak, awkward, timid, 
 and flat : it would have taken me twelve years to crawl to the front. 
 But I was young, passionate, beautiful, and indeed terrible ; for I 
 had run away from home two years before, and been cruelly de- 
 ceived. I learned the business of the stage as easily and thought- 
 lessly as a child learns a prayer : the rest came to me by nature. 
 I have seen others spend years in struggling with bad ^^oices, 
 uncouth figures, and diffidence ; besides a dozen detects that 
 existed only in their imaginations. Their struggles may have 
 educated them ; but had they possessed sufficient genius they 
 would have had neither struggle nor education. Perhaps that 
 is why geniuses are such erratic people, and mediocrities so re- 
 spectable. I grant you that I was very limited when I first came 
 out : I was absolutely incapable of comedy. But I never took any 
 trouble about it ; and by-and-by, when I began to mature a little* 
 and see the absurdity of most of the things I had been makmg a 
 
I lO CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 fuss about, comedy came to me unsought, as romantic tragedy had 
 come before. I suppose it would have come just the same if I had 
 been labouring to acquire it, except that I would have attributed 
 its arrival to my own exertions. Most of the laborious people 
 think they have made themselves what they are — much as if a 
 child should think it had made itself grow." 
 
 ♦• You are the first artist I ever met," said Lydia, " who did not 
 claim art as the most laborious of all avocations. They all deny 
 the existence of genius, and attribute everything to work." 
 
 " Of course one picks up a great deal from experience ; and 
 there is plenty of work on the stage. But it is my genius which 
 enables me to pick up things, and to work on the stage instead of 
 in a kitchen or laundry." 
 
 •• You must be very fond of your profession." 
 
 •• I do not mind it now : I have shrunk to fit it. I began because 
 I couldnt help myself; and I go on because, being an old woman, 
 I have nothing else to do. Bless me, how I hated it after the first 
 month ! I must retire soon now. People are growing weary of 
 me." 
 
 •• I doubt that. I am bound to assume that you are an old 
 woman, since you say so ; but you must be aware, flattery apart, 
 that you hardly seem to have reached your prime yet." 
 
 ** I might be your mother, my dear. I might be a grandmother. 
 Perhaps I am." There was a plaintive tone in the last sentence ; 
 and Lydia seized the opportunity. 
 
 •* You spoke of maternity then from experience, Miss Gisborne ? " 
 
 ♦• I have one son — a son who was sent to me in my eighteenth 
 year." 
 
 " I hope he inherits his mother's genius and personal grace." 
 
 '♦ I am sure I dont know," said Mrs. Byron pensively. ** He 
 was a perfect devil. I fear I shock you, Miss Carew ; but really I 
 did everything for him that the most devoted mother could do ; 
 and yet he ran away from me without making a sign of fare- 
 well. Little wretch ! " 
 
 ** Boys do cruel things sometimes in a spirit of adventure," said 
 Lydia, watching her visitor's face narrowly. 
 
 *• It was not that. It was his temper, which was ungovernable. 
 He was sulky and vindictive. It is quite impossible to love a 
 sulky child. 1 kept him constantly near me when he was a tiny 
 creature , and when he got too big for that I spent oceans of money 
 on his education. All in vain ! He never showed any feeling to- 
 wards me except a sense of injury that no kindness could remove. 
 And he had nothing to complain of. Never was there a worse 
 son." 
 
 Lydia remained silent and grave. Mrs. Byron looked rather 
 beside her than at her. Suddenly she added, 
 
 ♦' My poor darling Cashel," (Lydia repressed a start) " what a 
 shame to talk of you so ! You see I love him in spite of his 
 wickedness." Mrs. Byron took out her pocket-handkerchief; and 
 Lydia for a moment was alarmed by the prospect of tears. But 
 Miss Gisborne only blew her nose with perfect composure, and 
 rose to take her leave. Lydia, who, apart from her interest in 
 Cashel's mother, was attracted and amused by the woman herself, 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. Ill 
 
 induced her to stay for luncheon, and presently discovered from 
 her conversation that she had read much romance of the Werther 
 sort in her youth, and had, since then, employed her leisure in read- 
 ing every book that came in her way without regard to its quality. 
 Her acquirements were so odd, and her character so unreasonable, 
 that Lydia, whose knowledge was unusually well organized, and 
 who was eminently reasonable, concluded that she was a woman 
 of genius. For Lydia knew the vanity of her own attainments, 
 and believed herself to be merely a patient and well taught plod- 
 der. Mrs. Byron happening to be pleased with the house, the 
 luncheon, and Lydia's intelligent listening, her unaccountable 
 natural charm became so intensified by her good humour that 
 Lydia became conscious of it, and began to wonder what its force 
 might have been if some influence — that of a lover, for instance — 
 had ever made Mrs. Byron ecstatically happy. She surprised her- 
 self at last in the act of speculating whether she could ever make 
 Cashel love her as his father must, for a time at least, have loved 
 her visitor. 
 
 When Lydia was alone, she considered whether she was justified 
 in keeping Mrs. Byron apart from her son. It seemed plain 
 that at present Cashel was a disgrace to his mother, and had better 
 remain hidden from her. But if he should for any reason abandon 
 his ruffianly pursuits, as she had urged him to do, then she could 
 bring about a meeting between them ; and the truant's mother 
 might take better care of him in the future, besides making him 
 pecuniarily independent of prizefighting. This led Lydia to ask 
 herself what new profession Cashel could adopt, and what likeli- 
 hood there was of his getting on with his mother any better than 
 formerly. No satisfactory answer was forthcoming. So she went 
 back to the likelihood of his reforming himself for her sake. On 
 this theme her imagination carried her so far from all reason- 
 able probability, that she was shaking her head at her own folly 
 when Bashville appeared and announced Lord Worthington, who 
 came into the room with Alice. Lydia had not seen him since her 
 discovery of the true position of the tenant he had introduced to 
 her ; and he was consequently a little afraid to meet her. To 
 cover his embarrassment, he began to talk quickly on a number 
 of commonplace topics. But when some time had elapsed, he 
 began to shew signs of fresh uneasiness. He looked at his watch, 
 and said, 
 
 " I dont wish to hurry you, ladies ; but this affair commences at 
 three." 
 
 " What affair ? " said Lydia, who had been privately wondering 
 why he had come. 
 
 " The assault at arms. King Whatshisname's affair. Webber 
 told me he had arranged that you should come with me." 
 
 "Oh, you have come to take us there. I had forgotten. Did I 
 promise to go ? " 
 
 " Webber said so. He was to have taken you himself; but, 
 failing that, he promised to do a good thing for me and put me in 
 his place. He said you particularly wanted to go, hang him ! " 
 
 Lydia then rose promptly and sent for her carriage. " There is 
 no hurry," she said. " We can drive to St. James's Hall in twelve 
 minutes." 
 
Ill CA8HEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 " But we have to go to Islington, to the Agfricultural Hall. 
 There will be cavalry charges, and all sorts of fun." 
 
 " Bless me ! " said Lydia. *' Will there be any boxing ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Lord Worthington, reddening, but unabashed. 
 " Lots of it. It will be by gentlemen, though, except perhaps one 
 bout to shew the old king our professional form." 
 
 •• Then excuse me whilst I go for my hat," said Lydia, leaving 
 the room. Alice had gone some time before to make a complete 
 change in her dress, as the occasion was one for display of that 
 kind. 
 
 " You look awfully fetching. Miss Goff," Lord Worthington 
 said as he followed them into the carriage. Alice did not deign to 
 reply, but tossed her head superbly, and secretly considered 
 whether people would, on comparison, think her overdressed or 
 Lydia underdressed. Lord Worthington thought they both looked 
 I heir best, and reflected for several seconds on the different 
 styles of different women, and how what would suit one would 
 not do at all for another. It seemed to him that Miss Carew's 
 presence made him philosophical. 
 
 The Agricultural Hall struck Alice at first sight as an immense 
 barn round which heaps of old packing cases had been built into 
 racecourse stands, scantily decorated with red cloth and a few 
 flags. She was conducted to a front seat in one of these balconies, 
 which overhung the tan strewn arena. Just below her were the 
 palisades, ornamented at intervals with evergreens in tubs, and 
 pressed against from without by a crowd who had paid a shilling 
 apiece for the privilege of admission. She remarked that it was 
 little to the credit of the management that these people should be 
 l)laced so close beneath her that she could hear their conversa- 
 tion ; but as Lydia did not seem to share her disgust, she turned 
 her attention to the fashionable part of the audience. On the 
 opposite side of the arena the balconies seemed like beds of 
 flowers in bloom : blacknesses formed here and there by the hats 
 and coats of gentlemen representing the interspaces of clay. In 
 the midst of the flowers was a gaudy dais, on which a powerfully- 
 built black gentleman sat in a raised chair, his majestic impassivity 
 contrasting with the overt astonishment with which a row of 
 savagely ugly attendant chiefs grinned and gaped on either side 
 of him. 
 
 " What a pity we are not nearer the king ! " said Alice. " I can 
 hardly see the dear old fellow.';' 
 
 " You will find these the best seats^ for seeing the assault. It 
 will be all right," said Lord Worthington. 
 
 Lydia's attention was caught by something guilty in his manner. 
 Following a furtive glance of his, she saw in the arena, not far 
 from her, an enclosure about twenty feet square, made with ropes 
 and stakes. It was unoccupied ; and there were a few chairs, a 
 basin, and a sponge, near it. 
 
 " What is that ? " she asked. 
 
 *' That 1 Oh, that's the ring." 
 
 " It is not a ring. It is a square." 
 
 " They call it the ring. They have succeeded in squaring the 
 circle." 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 11^ 
 
 Here there was a piercing bugle call ; and a troop of cavalry 
 trotted into the arena. Lydia found it pleasant enough to sit 
 lazily admiring the horses and men, and comparing the members 
 of the Olympian Club, who appeared when the soldiers retired, 
 to the marble gods of Athens, and to the Bacchus or David of 
 Michael Angelo. They fell short of the Greek statues in refine- 
 ment, and of the Italian in impressiveness as they vaulted over a 
 wooden horse, and swung upon horizontal bars, each cheapening 
 the exploits of his forerunner by outdoing them. Lord Worthing- 
 ton, who soon grew tired of this, whispered that when all that 
 rubbish was over, a fellow would cut a sheep in two with a sword, 
 after which there would be some boxing. 
 
 ** Do you mean to say," said Lydia indignantly, *' that they 
 are going to turn a sheep loose and hunt it on horseback with 
 swords ? " 
 
 Lord Worthington laughed and said yes ; but it presently 
 appeared that by a sheep was meant a lean carcass of mutton. 
 A stalwart sergeant cut it in half as a climax to slicing lemons, 
 bars of lead, and silk handkerchiefs; and the audience, accus- 
 tomed to see much more disgusting sights in butchers' shops, 
 liberally applauded him. 
 
 Two gentlemen of the Olympian Club now entered the enclosure 
 which Lord Worthington called the ring. After shaking hands with 
 one another as well as their huge padded gloves permitted, they 
 hugged themselves with their right arms as if there were some 
 danger of their stomachs falling out if not held tightly in ; and 
 danced round one another, throwing out and retracting their left 
 fists like pawing horses. They were both, as Lydia learned from 
 the announcement of their names and achievements by the master 
 of the ceremonies, amateur champions. She thought their pawing 
 and dancing ridiculous ; and when they occasionally rushed 
 together and scuffled, she could distinguish nothing of the leading 
 off, stopping, ducking, countering, guarding, and getting away to 
 which Lord Worthington enthusiastically invited her attention, 
 and which elicited alternate jeers and applause from the shilling 
 audience below. She laughed outright when, at the expiration of 
 three minutes, the two dropped supine into chairs at opposite 
 corners of the ring as if they had sustained excessive fatigue. At 
 the end of a minute, someone hoarsely cried " Time ! " and they 
 rose and repeated their previous performance for three minutes 
 more. Another minute of rest followed ; and then the dancing and 
 pawing proceeded for four minutes, after which the champions 
 again shook hands and left the arena. 
 
 " And is that all ? " said Lydia. 
 
 •* That's all," said Lord Worthington. *' It's the most innocent 
 thing in the world, and the prettiest." 
 
 " It does not strike me as being pretty," said Lydia ; " but it 
 seems as innocent as inanity can make it." Her mind misgave 
 her that she had ignorantly and unjustly reproached Cashel Byron 
 with ferocity merely because he practised this harmless exercise. 
 
 The show progressed through several phases of skilled violence. 
 Besides single combats between men armed in various fashions,, 
 there were tilts, tent-peggings, driUing and singlestick practice by 
 
 I 
 
114 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 squads of British tars, who were loudly cheered, and more boxing 
 and vaulting by members of the club. Lydia's attention soon 
 began to wander from the arena. Looking down at the crowd 
 outside the palisades, she saw a small man whom she vaguely 
 remembered, though his face was turned from her. In conversa- 
 tion with him was a powerful man dressed in a yellow tweed suit 
 and green scarf. He had a coarse strong voice, and his companion 
 a shrill mean one, so that their remarks could be heard by an 
 attentive listener above the confused noise of the crowd. 
 
 '• Do you admire that man ? " said Lord Worthington, following 
 Lydia's gaze. 
 
 " No. Is he anybody in particular ? " 
 
 •* He was a great man once — in the days of the giants. He was 
 champion of England. He has a special interest for us as tlie 
 preceptor of a mutual friend of ours." 
 
 •• Please name him," said Lydia, intending that the mutual 
 friend should be named. 
 
 •* Ned Skene," said Lord Worthington, taking her to mean the 
 man below. '• He has done so well in the colonies that he has 
 indulged himself and his family with a trip to England. His arrival 
 made quite a sensation in this country : last week he had a crowded 
 benefit, at which he sparred with our mutual friend and knocked 
 him about like a baby. Our mutual behaved very well on the 
 occasion in letting himself be knocked about. You see he could 
 have killed old Skene if he had tried in earnest." 
 
 ♦* Is that Skene ? " said Lydia, looking at him with an earnest 
 interest that astonished Lord Worthington. •' Ah ! Now I 
 recognize the man with him. He is one of my tenants at the 
 Warren Lodge — I believe I am indebted to you for the intro- 
 duction." 
 
 '• Mellish the trainer ? " said Lord Worthington, looking a little 
 foolish. '* So it is. What a lovely bay that lancer has ! — the 
 second from the far end." 
 
 But Lydia would not look at the lancer's horse. " Paradise ! " 
 she heard Skene exclaim just then with scornlul incredulity. ** Aint 
 it likely ? " It occurred to her that if he was alluding to his own 
 chance of arriving there, it was not likely. 
 
 '• Less likely things have happened," said Mellish. ** I wont say 
 that Cashel B3a-on is getting stale ; but I will say that his luck is 
 too good to last ; and I know for a fact that he's gone quite melan- 
 choly of late." 
 
 " Melancholy be bio wed ! " said Skene. '* What should he go 
 melancholy for ? " 
 
 *' Oh, / know," said Mellish reticently. 
 
 "You know a lot," retorted Skene with contempt. "I s'pose 
 you mean the young *oman he's always talking to my missis 
 about." 
 
 '* I mean a young woman that he aint likely to get. One of the 
 biggest swells in England — a little un with a face like the inside of 
 a oyster shell, that he met down at Wiltstoken, where 1 trained 
 him to fight the Flying Dutchman. He went right off his training 
 after he met her — wouldnt do anything I told him. I made so 
 cock sure that he'd be licked that I hedged every penny I had laid 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. II5 
 
 on him except twenty pound that 1 got a flat to bet again' him 
 down at the fight after I had changed my mind. Curse that 
 woman : I lost a hundred pound by her." 
 
 ** And serve 3^ou right too, you old stupid. You was wrong then ; 
 and you're wrong now, with your blessed Paradise." 
 
 " Paradise has never been licked yet." 
 
 " No more has my boy." 
 
 " Well, we'll see." 
 
 '* We'll see ! I tell you I've seed for myself. I've seed Billy 
 Paradise spar ; and it aint fighting : it's ruffianing : that's what it 
 is. Ruffianing ! Why, my old missis has more science." 
 
 ** Mebbe she has," said Mellish. "But look at the men he's 
 licked that were chock full of science. Shepstone, clever as he is, 
 only won a fight from him by claiming a foul, because Billy lost 
 his temper and spiked him. That's the worst of Billy : he cant 
 keep his feelings in. But no fine-lady sparrer can stand afore that 
 ugly rush of his. Do you think he'll care for Cashel's showy long 
 shots ? Not he : he'll just take 'em on that mahogany nut of his, 
 and give him back one o' them smashers that he settled poor Dick 
 Weeks with." 
 
 '* I'll lay you any money he dont. If he does, I'll go back into 
 the ring myself, and bust his head off for it." Here Skene, very 
 angry, applied several epithets to Paradise, and became so excited 
 that Mellish had to soothe him by partially retracting his fore- 
 bodings, and asking how Cashel had been of late. 
 
 •'He's not been taking care of himself as he oughter," said 
 Skene gloomily. " He's showing the London fashions to the 
 missis and Fanny — they're here in the three-and-sixpenny seats, 
 among the swells. Theatres every night ; and walks every day to 
 see the Queen drive through the park, or the like. My Fan likes 
 to have him with her on account of his being such a gentleman : 
 she dont hardly think her own father not good enough to walk 
 down Piccadilly with. Wants me to put on a black coat, and 
 make a parson of myself. The missis just idolizes him. She 
 thinks the boy far too good for the young 'oman you was speak- 
 ing of, and tells him that she's only letting on not to care for him 
 to raise her price, just as I used to pretend to be getting beat, to 
 set the flats betting agin me. The women always made a pet of 
 him. In Melbourne it was not what / liked for dmner: it was 
 always what the boy 'ud like, and when it 'ud please him to have 
 it. I'm blest if I usent to have to put him up to ask for a thing 
 when I wanted it myself. And j^ou tell me that that's the lad 
 that's going to let Billy Paradise lick him, I s'pose. Walker ! " 
 
 Lydia, with Mrs. Byron's charm fresh upon her, wondered what 
 manner of woman this Mrs. Skene could be who had supplanted 
 her in the affections of her son, and yet was no more than a prize- 
 fighter's old missis. Evidently she was not one to turn a young 
 man from a career in the ring. Again the theme of Cashel's occu- 
 pation and the chances of his quitting it ran away with Lydia's 
 attention. She sat with her e3'es fixed on the arena, without seeing 
 the soldiers, swordsmen, or athletes who were busy there ; her 
 mind wandered further and further from the place ; and the chat- 
 tering of the people resolved itself into a distant hum and was 
 forgotten. i 2 
 
*a6 cashf.l byron's profession. 
 
 Suddenly she saw a dreadful looking man coming towards her 
 across the arena. His face had the surface and colour of blue granite : 
 his protruding jav/s and retreating forehead were like those of 
 an ouran-outang. She started from her reverie with a shiver, 
 and, recovering her hearing as well as her vision of external things, 
 became conscious of an attempt to applaud this apparition by a 
 few persons below. The man grinned ferociously ; placed one 
 hand on a stake of the ring ; and vaulted over the ropes. Lydia 
 now remarked that, excepting his hideous head and enormous 
 hands and feet, he was a well-made man, with loins and shoulders 
 that shone in the light, and gave him an air of great strength and 
 activity. 
 
 "Ainthe a picture?' she heard Mellish exclaim ecstatically. 
 •' There's condition for you ! " 
 
 •* Ah ! " said Skene disparagingly. " But aint he the gentleman ! 
 Just look at him. Its like the Prince of Wales walking down 
 Pall Mall." 
 
 Lydia, hearing this, looked again, and saw Cashel Byron, exactly 
 as she had seen him for the first time in the elm vista at Wiltstoken, 
 approaching the ring with the indifferent air of a man going 
 through some tedious public ceremony. 
 
 '* A god coming down to compete with a gladiator," whispered 
 Lord Worthington eagerly. ** Isnt it, Miss Carew ? Apollo and 
 the satyr ! You must admit that our mutual friend is a splendid 
 looking fellow. If he could go into society like that, by Jove, the 
 women — " 
 
 *' Hush," said Lydia, as if his words were intolerable. 
 
 Cashel did not vault over the ropes. He stepped through them 
 languidly, and, rejecting the proffered assistance of a couple of 
 officious friends, drew on a boxing glove fastidiously, like an 
 exquisite preparing for a fashionable promenade. Having thus 
 muffled his left hand so as to make it useless for the same service 
 to his right, he dipped his fingers into the other glove, gripped it 
 between his teeth, and dragged it on with the action of a tiger tear- 
 ing its prey. Lydia shuddered again. 
 
 '*Bob Mellish," said Skene: " I'll lay you twenty to one he stops 
 that rush that you think so much of. Come : twenty to one ! " 
 
 Mellish shook his head. Then the master of the ceremonies, 
 pointing to the men in succession, shouted, " Paradise : a professor. 
 Cashel Byron : a professor. Time ! " 
 
 Cashel now looked at Paradise, of whose existence he had not 
 before seemed to be aware. The two men advanced towards the 
 centre of the ring ; shook hands at arms length ; cast off each other's 
 grasp suddenly ; ifell back a step ; and began to move warily round 
 one another from left to right like a pair of panthers. 
 
 ** I think they might learn manners from the gentlemen, and 
 shake hands cordially," said Alice, trying to appear unconcerned, 
 but oppressed by a vague dread of Cashel. 
 
 "That's the traditional manner," said Lord Worthington. *' It 
 is done that way to prevent one from holding the other ; pulling 
 him over ; and hitting him with the disengaged hand before he could 
 get loose." 
 
 •* What abominable treacherj I " exclaimed Lydia. 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. II7 
 
 " It's never done, you know," said Lord Worthington apolo- 
 getically. •* Only it might be." 
 
 Lydia turned away from him, and gave all her attention to the 
 boxers. Of the two, Paradise shocked her least. He was 
 evidently nervous and conscious of a screwed up condition as to 
 his courage ; but his sly grin implied a wild sort of good humour, and 
 seemed to promise the spectators that he would shew them some 
 fun presently. Cashel watched his movements with a relentless 
 vigilance and a sidelong glance in which, to Lydia's apprehension, 
 there was something infernal. 
 
 Suddenly the eyes of Paradise lit up : he lowered his head ; made 
 a rush ; baulked himself purposely ; and darted at Cashel. There 
 was a sound like the pop of a champagne cork, after which Cashel 
 was seen undisturbed in the middle of the ring, and Paradise, flung 
 against the ropes and trying to grin at his discomfiture, shewed 
 his white teeth through a mask of blood. 
 
 " Beautiful ! " cried Skene with emotion. " Beautiful ! There 
 aint but me and my boy in the world can give the upper cut like 
 that ! I wish I could see my old missis's face now ! This is nuts 
 to her." 
 
 ** Let us go away," said Alice. 
 
 " That was a very different blow to any that the gentlemen gave,'* 
 said Lydia, without heeding her, to Lord Worthington. " The 
 man is bleeding horribly." 
 
 ** It's only his nose," said Lord Worthington. ** He's used to it.'* 
 
 Meanwhile Cashel had followed Paradise to the ropes. 
 
 " Now he has him," chuckled Skene. " My boy's got him agin 
 the ropes ; and he means to keep him there. Let him rush now if 
 he can. See what it is to have a good judgment." 
 
 Mellish shook his head again despondently. The remaining 
 minutes of the round were unhappy ones for Paradise. He struck 
 viciously at his opponent's ribs ; but Cashel stepped back just out 
 his reach, and then returned with extraordinary swiftness and dealt 
 him blows from which, with the ropes behind him, he had no room 
 to retreat, and which he was too slow to stop or avoid. His attempts 
 to reach his enemy's face were greatly to the disadvantage of his 
 own ; for Cashel's blows were never so tremendous as when he 
 turned his head deftly out of harm's way, and met his advancing 
 foe with a counter hit. He showed no chivalry and no mercy, and 
 revelled in the hardness of his hitting : his gloves either resounding 
 on Paradise's face or seeming to go almost through his body. 
 There was little semblance of a contest : to Lydia there was noth- 
 ing discernible but a cruel assault by an irresistible athlete on a 
 helpless victim. The better sort among the spectators were dis- 
 gusted by the sight ; for, as Paradise bled profusely, and as his blood 
 besmeared the gloves and the gloves besmeared the heads and 
 bodies of both combatants, they were soon stained with it from 
 their waists upward. The managers held a whispered consultation 
 as to whether the sparring exhibition had not better be stopped ; 
 but they decided to let it proceed on seeing the African king, who 
 had watched the whole entertainment up to the present without 
 displaying the least interest, now raise his hands and clap them 
 with delight. 
 
Il8 CASHEL BVRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 •' Billy dont look half pleased with hisself," observed Mellish, as 
 the two boxers sat down. " He looks just like he did when he spiked 
 Shepstone." 
 
 ♦* What does spiking mean ? " said Lydia. 
 
 ♦' Treading on a man's foot with spiked boots," replied Lord 
 Worthington. " Dont be alarmed : they have no spikes in their 
 shoes to-day. It is not my fault that they do such things, Miss 
 Carew. Really, j'ou make me feel quite criminal when you look at 
 me in that way." 
 
 Time was now called ; and the pugilists, who had, by dint of 
 sponging, been made somewhat cleaner, rose with mechanical 
 promptitude at the sound. Cashel had hardly advanced two steps^ 
 when, though his adversary seemed far out of his reach, he struck 
 him on the forehead with such force as to stagger him, and then 
 jumped back laughing. Paradise rushed forward ; but Cashel eluded 
 him, and fled round the ring, looking back derisively over his 
 shoulder. Paradise now dropped all pretence of good humour. 
 With an expression of reckless ferocity, he dashed at Cashel ; 
 endured a startling blow without flinching ; and engaged him at 
 close quarters. For a moment the falling of their blows reminded 
 Lydia of the rush of raindrops against a pane in a sudden gust of 
 wind. The next moment Cashel was away ; and Paradise, whose 
 blood was again flowing, was trying to repeat his manoeuvre, to be 
 met this time by a blow that brought him upon one knee. He had 
 scarcely risen when Cashel sprang at him ; dealt him four blows 
 with dazzling rapidity ; drove him once more against the ropes ; but 
 this time, instead of keeping him there, ran away in the manner of 
 a child at play. Paradise, with foam as well as blood at his lipt;, 
 uttered a howl, and tore off his gloves. There was a shout of 
 protest from the audience ; and Cashel, warned by it, tried to get 
 off" his gloves in turn. But Paradise was upon him before he 
 could accomplish this ; and the two men laid hold of one another 
 amid a great clamour. Lord Worthington and others rising and 
 excitedly shouting, *' Against rules ! No wrestling ! " followed 
 by a roar of indignation as Paradise was seen to seize Cashel's 
 shoulder in his teeth as they struggled for the throw. Lydia, 
 for the first time in her life, screamed. Then she saw Cashel, 
 his face fully as fierce as Paradise's, get his arm about his 
 neck ; lift him as a coalheaver lifts a sack ; and fling him over 
 his back, heels over head, to the ground, where he instantly 
 dropped on him with his utmost weight and impetus. The two 
 were at once separated by a crowd of managers, umpires, police- 
 men, and others who had rushed towards the ring when Paradise 
 had taken off his gloves. A distracting wrangle followed. Skene 
 had climbed over the palisade, and was hurling oaths, threats, and 
 epithets at Paradise, who, unable to stand without assistance, 
 was trying to lift his leaden eyelids and realize what had 
 happened to him. A dozen others were trying to bring him to his 
 senses; remonstrating with him on his conduct; or trying to 
 pacify Skene. Cashel, on the other side, raged at the managers, 
 who were reminding him that the rules of glove fighting did not 
 allow wrestling and throwing. 
 
 " Rules be damned," Lydia heard him shouting. '* He bit me ; 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. II > 
 
 and I'll throw him to — " Then everybody spokeat once; and she 
 could only conjecture where he would throw him to. He seemed 
 to have no self-control : Paradise, when he came to himself, 
 behaved better. Lord Worthington descended into the ring, and 
 tried to calm the hubbub ; but Cashel shook his hand fiercely from 
 his arm ; menaced a manager who attempted to call him sternly to 
 order ; frantically pounded his wounded shoulder with his clenched 
 fist ; and so outswore and outwrangled them all, that even Skene 
 began to urge that there had been enough fuss made. Then 
 Lord Worthington whispered a word more ; and Cashel suddenly 
 subsided, pale and ashamed, and sat down on a chair in his corner 
 as if to hide himself. Five minutes afterwards, he stept out from 
 the crowd with Paradise, and sViook hands with him amid much 
 cheering. Cashel was the humbler of the two. He did not raise 
 his eyes to the balcony once ; and he seemed in a hurry to retire. 
 But he was intercepted by an officer in uniform, accompanied by a 
 black chief, who came to conduct him to the dais and present him 
 to the African King : an honour which he was not permitted to 
 decline. 
 
 The king informed him, through an interpreter, that he had been 
 unspeakably gratified by what he had just witnessed ; expressed 
 great surprise that Cashel, notwithstanding his prowess, was neither 
 in the army nor in parliament ; and finally offered to provide him 
 with three handsome wives if he would come out to Africa in his 
 suite. Cashel was much embarrassed ; but he came off with credit, 
 thanks to the interpreter, who was accustomed to invent appro- 
 priate speeches for the king on public occasions, and was kind 
 enough to invent equally appropriate ones for Cashel on this. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lord Worthington had returned to his place. *• It 
 is all settled now," he said to Lydia. " Byron shut up when I told 
 him his aristocratic friends were looking at him ; and Paradise has 
 been so bullied that he is crying in a corner downstairs. He has 
 apologized ; but he still maintains that he can beat our mutual 
 friend without the gloves ; and his backers apparently think so too, 
 for it is understood that they are to fight in the autumn for a 
 thousand a side." 
 
 " To fight ! Then he has no intention of giving up his 
 profession ? " 
 
 '* No ! " said Lord Worthington, astonished. " Why on earth 
 should he give it up ? Paradise's money is as good as in his 
 pocket. You have seen what he can do." 
 
 " I have seen enough. Alice : I am ready to go as soon as 
 you are.'* 
 
 Early in the following week Miss Carew returned to Wiltstoken. 
 Miss Goff remained in London to finish the season in charge of a 
 friendly lady who, having married off" all her own daughters, was 
 willing to set to work again to marry Alice sooner than remain idle. 
 
120 CASHHL UVKON S PROFRSSION. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Alice was more at her ease during the remnant of the London season. 
 Though she had been proud of her connexion with Lydia, she had 
 always felt eclipsed in her presence ; and now that Lydia was gone, 
 the pride remained and the sense of inferiority was forgotten. Her 
 freedom emboldened and improved her. She even began to con- 
 sider her own judgment a safer guide in the affairs of everyday 
 than the example of her patroness. Had she not been right in 
 declaring Cashel Byron an ignorant and common man 
 when Lydia, in spite of her warning, had actually invited him 
 to visit them ? And now all the newspapers were confirming the 
 opinion she had been trying to impress on Lydia for months past. 
 On the evening of the assault-at-arms, the newsmen had shouted 
 through the streets, '• Disgraceful scene between two pugilists at 
 Islington in the presence of the African king." Next day the 
 principal journals commented on the recent attempt to revive the 
 brutal pastime of prizefighting ; accused the authorities of conniv- 
 ing at it ; and called on them to put it down at once with a strong 
 hand. " Unless," said a clerical organ, *♦ this plague spot be 
 rooted out from our midst, it will no longer be possible for our 
 missionaries to pretend that England is the fount of the Gospel of 
 Peace." Alice collected these papers, and forwarded them to 
 Wiltstoken. 
 
 On this subject one person at least shared her bias. Whenever 
 she met Lucian Webber, they talked about Cashel, invariably 
 coming to the conclusion that though the oddity of his behaviour 
 had gratified Lydia's unfortunate taste for eccentricity, she had 
 never regarded him with serious interest, and would not now, under 
 any circumstances, renew her intercourse with him. Lucian found 
 little solace in these conversations, and generally suffered from a 
 vague sense of meanness after them. Yet next time they met 
 he would drift into discussing Cashel over again ; and he always 
 rewarded Alice for the admirable propriety of her views by dancing 
 at least three times with her when dancing was the business 
 of the evening. The dancing was still less congenial than the 
 conversation. Lucian, who had at all times too much of the 
 solemnity of manner for which Frenchmen reproach Englishmen, 
 danced stiffly and unskilfully. Alice, whose muscular power and 
 energy were superior to anything of the kind that Mr. Mellish 
 could artificially produce, longed for swift motion and violent 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 121 
 
 exercise, and, even with an expert partner, could hardly lame her- 
 self to the quietude of dancing as practised in London. When 
 waltzing with Lucian she felt as though she were carrying a stick 
 round the room in the awkward fashion in which Punch carries 
 his baton. In spite of her impression that he was a man of 
 unusually correct morals and great political importance, and 
 greatly to be considered in private life because he was Miss 
 Carew's cousin, it was hard to spend quarter-hours with him that 
 some of the best dancers in London asked for. 
 
 She began to tire of the subject of Cashel and Lydia. She 
 began to tire of Lucian's rigidity. She began to tire exceedingly 
 of the vigilance she had to maintain constantly over her own man- 
 ners and principles. Somehow, this vigilance defeated itself; for 
 she one evening overheard a lady of rank speak of her as a stuck- 
 up country girl. The remark gave her acute pain : for a week 
 afterwards she did not utter a word or make a movement in society 
 without first considering whether it could by any malicious 
 observer be considered rustic or stuck-up. But the more she 
 strove to attain perfect propriety of demeanour, the more odious 
 did she seem to herself, and, she inferred, to others. She longed 
 for Lydia's secret of always doing the right thing at the right 
 moment, even when defying precedent. Sometimes she blamed 
 the dulness of the people she met for her shortcomings. It was 
 impossible not to be stiff with them. When she chatted with an 
 entertaining man, who made her laugh and forget herself for 
 a while, she was conscious afterwards of having been at her best 
 with him. But she saw others who, in stupid society, w^ere 
 pleasantly at their ease. vShe began to fear at last that she was 
 naturally disqualified by her comparatively humble birth from 
 acquiring the well bred air for which she envied those amongst 
 whom she moved. 
 
 One day she conceived a doubt whether Lucian was so safe an 
 authority and example in matters of personal deportment as she 
 had hitherto unthinkingly believed. He could not dance: his con- 
 versation was priggish : it was impossible to feel at ease when 
 speaking to him. Was it courageous to stand in awe of his 
 opinion ? Was it courageous to stand in awe of anybody ? x\lice 
 closed her lips proudly and began to feel defiant. Then a remini- 
 scence, which had never before failed to rouse indignation in her, 
 made her laugh. She recalled the scandalous spectacle of Lucian's 
 formal perpendicularity overbalanced and doubled up into Mrs. 
 Hoskyn's gilded armchair in illustration of the prizefighter's theory 
 of effort defeating itself. After all, what was that caressing touch 
 of Cashel's hand in comparison with the tremendous rataplan he 
 had beaten on the ribs of Paradise ? Could it be true that effort 
 defeated itself — in personal behaviour, for instance ? A ray of the 
 truth that underlay Cashel's grotesque experiment was flickering 
 in her mind as she asked herself that question. She thought a 
 good deal about it ; and one afternoon, when she looked in at 
 four at-homes in succession, she studied the behaviour of the 
 other guests from a new point of view, comparing the most man- 
 nered with the best mannered, and her recent self with both. The 
 result half convinced her that she had been occupied during her 
 
122 CASHEL DVRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 first London season m displaying, at great pains, a very unripe 
 self-consciousness — or, as she phrased it, in making an insufferable 
 fool of herself. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, she met Lucian at a Cinderella, or dancing 
 party concluding at midnight. He came at eleven, and, as usual, 
 gravely asked whether he might have the pleasure of dancing with 
 her. This form of address he never varied. To his surprise, 
 she made some difficulty about granting the favour, and eventually 
 offered him '• the second extra." He bowed. Before he could 
 resume a vertical position, a young man came up ; remarked that 
 he thought this was his turn ; and bore Alice away. Lucian smiled 
 indulgently, thinking that though Alice's manners were wonder- 
 fully good, considering her antecedents, yet she occasionally 
 betrayed a lower tone than that which he sought to exemplify in 
 his own person. 
 
 " 1 wish you would learn to reverse," said Alice unexpectedly to 
 him, when they had gone round the room twice to the strains of 
 the second extra. 
 
 '* I do reverse," he said, taken aback, and a little indignant. 
 
 •* Everybody does, — that way." 
 
 This silenced him for a moment. Then he said slowly, " Per- 
 haps I am rather out of practice. I am not sure that reversing is 
 quite desirable. Many people consider it bad form." 
 
 When they stopped — Alice was always willing to rest during a 
 waltz with Lucian — he asked her whether she had heard from 
 I .ydia. 
 
 ** You always ask me that," she replied. " Lydia never writes 
 except when she has something particular to say, and then only a 
 few lines." 
 
 " Precisely. But she might have had something particular to 
 say since we last met." 
 
 ** She hasnt had," said Alice, provoked by an almost arch smile 
 from him. 
 
 ** She will be glad to hear that I have at last succeeded in 
 recovering possession of the Warren Lodge from its undesirable 
 tenants." 
 
 " I thought they went long ago," said Alice indifferently. 
 
 " The men have not been there for a month or more. The 
 difficulty was to get them to remove their property. However, we 
 are rid of them now. The only relic of their occupation is a bible, 
 with half the leaves torn out, and the rest scrawled with records of 
 bets, receipts for sudorific and other medicines, and a mass of 
 unintelligible memoranda. One inscription, in faded ink, runs 'To 
 Robert Mellish, from his affectionate mother, with her sincere hope 
 that he may ever walk in the ways of this book.' I am afraid 
 that hope was not fulfilled." 
 
 " How wicked of him to tear a bible ! " said Alice seriously. 
 Then she laughed, and added. •' I know I shouldnt ; but I 
 cant help it." 
 
 '* The incident strikes me rather as being pathetic," said Lucian, 
 who liked to shew that he was not deficient in sensibility. '* One 
 can picture the innocent faith of the poor woman in her boy's 
 future, and so forth." 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. li} 
 
 ** Inscriptions in books are like inscriptions on tombstones," said 
 Alice disparagingly. " They dont mean much." 
 
 " I am glad that these men have no further excuse for going to 
 Wiltstoken. It was certainly most unfortunate that Lydia should 
 have made the acquaintance of one of them." 
 
 " So you have said at least fifty times," replied Alice deliberately. 
 ** I believe you are jealous of that poor boxer." 
 
 Lucian became quite red. Alice trembled at her own audacity, 
 but kept a bold front. 
 
 " Really — it's too absurd," he said, betraying his confusion b)- 
 assuming a carelessness quite foreign to his normal manner. " In 
 what way could I possibly be jealous. Miss Goff ? " 
 
 " That is best known to yourself." 
 
 Lucian now saw plainly that there was a change in Alice, ami 
 that he had lost ground with her. The smarting of his wounded 
 vanity suddenly obliterated his impression that she was, in the 
 main, a well conducted and meritorious young woman. But in 
 its place came another impression that she was a spoiled beauty. 
 And, as he was by no means fondest of the women whose behaviour 
 accorded best with his notions of propriety, he found, without at 
 once acknowledging to himself, that the change was not in all 
 respects a change for the worse. Nevertheless, he could not 
 forgive her last remark, though he took care not to let her see how 
 it stung him. 
 
 '* I am afraid I should cut a poor figure in an encounter with my 
 rival," he said, smiling. 
 
 " Call him out and shoot him," said Alice vivaciously. " Very 
 likely he does not know how to use a pistol." 
 
 He smiled again ; but had Alice known how seriously he enter- 
 tained her suggestion for some moments before dismissing it as 
 impracticable, she would not have offered it. Putting a bullet 
 into Cashel struck him rather as a luxury which he could not 
 afford than as a crime. Meanwhile, Alice, being now quite 
 satisfied that this Mr. Webber, on whom she had wasted so much 
 undeserved awe, might be treated as inconsiderately as she used 
 to treat her beaux at Wiltstoken, proceeded to amuse herself 
 by torturing him a little. 
 
 " It is odd," she said reflectively, *' that a common man like 
 that should be able to make himself so very attractive to Lydia. 
 It w^as not because he was such a fine man ; for she does not care 
 in the least about that. I dont think she would give a second 
 look at the handsomest man in London, she is so purely in- 
 tellectual. And yet she used to delight in talking to him." 
 
 " Oh, that is a mistake. Lydia has a certain manner which 
 leads people to believe that she is deeply interested in the person 
 she happens to be speaking to ; but it is only manner — it means 
 nothing." 
 
 " I know that manner of hers perfectly well. But this was 
 something quite different." 
 
 Lucian shook his head reproachfully. " I cannot jest on so 
 serious a matter," he said, resolving to make an attempt to re- 
 establish his dignity with AHce. " I think, Miss Goff, that you 
 perhaps hardly know how absurd your supposition is. There are 
 
1 24 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 not many men of distinction in Europe with whom my cousin is 
 not personally acquainted. A very young girl, who had seen little 
 of the world, might possibly be deceived by the exterior of such 
 a man as Byron. A woman accustomed to associate with writers, 
 thinkers, artists, statesmen, and diplomatists could make no such 
 mistake. No doubt the man's vulgarity and uncouth address 
 amused her for a moment ; but " 
 
 '• But why did she ask him to come to her Friday afternoons?" 
 
 ** A mere civility which she extended to him because he assisted 
 her in some difficulty she got into in the streets." 
 
 " She might as well have asked a policeman to come to see her. 
 I dont believe that was it." 
 
 Lucian at that moment hated Alice. ** I am sorry you think 
 such a thing possible," he said. " Shall we resume our waltz ? " 
 
 Alice was not yet able to bear an implication that she did not 
 imderstand society sufficiently to appreciate the distance between 
 Lydia and Cashel. 
 
 ** Of course I know it is impossible," she said, in her old manner. 
 *♦ I did not mean it." 
 
 Lucian found some difficulty in gathering from this what she 
 did mean ; and they presently took refuge in waltzing. Subsequently 
 Alice, fearing that her new lights had led her too far, drew back a 
 little ; led the conversation to political matters ; and expressed her 
 amazement at the extent and variety of the work he performed in 
 Downing Street. He accepted her compliments with perfect serious- 
 ness ; and she felt satisfied that she had, on the whole, raised 
 herself in his esteem by her proceedings during the evening. But 
 she was mistaken. She knew nothing of politics or official work, 
 and he knew the worthlessness of her pretended admiration of his 
 share in them, although he felt that it was right that she should 
 revere his powers from the depths of her ignorance. What stuck 
 like a burr in his mind was that she thought him small enough to 
 be jealous of the poor boxer, and found his dancing awkward. 
 
 After that dance Alice thought much about Lucian, and also 
 about the way in which society regulated marriages. Before 
 Miss Carew sent for her, she had often sighed because all 
 the nice men she knew of moved in circles into which an 
 obscure governess had no chance of admission. She had 
 received welcome attentions from them occasionally at sub- 
 scription balls ; but for sustained intimacy and proposals of 
 marriage she had been dependent on the native youth of Wilt- 
 stoken, whom she looked upon as louts or prigs, and among whom 
 Wallace Parker had shone pre-eminent as a university man, 
 scholar, and gentleman. And now that she was a privileged 
 beauty in society which would hardly tolerate Wallace Parker, 
 she found that the nice men were younger sons, poor and extra- 
 vagant, far superior to Lucian Webber as partners for a waltz, 
 but not to be thought of as partners in domestic economy. Alice 
 had experienced the troubles of poverty, and had never met with 
 excellence in men except in poems, which she had long ago been 
 taught to separate from the possibilities of actual life. She had 
 therefore no conception of any degree of merit in a husband being 
 sufficient to compensate for slender means of subsistence. She 
 
CASHP:L BYRON' S PROFESSION. 1 25 
 
 was not baseminded : nothing could have induced her to marry 
 a man, however rich, whom she thought wicked. She wanted 
 money ; but she wanted more than money ; and here it was that 
 she found supply failing to answer to demand. For not only were 
 all the handsome, gallant, well-bred men getting deeply into debt 
 by living beyond smaller incomes than that with which Wallace 
 Parker had tempted her ; but many of those who had inherited 
 both riches and rank were as inferior to him both in appearance 
 and address as they were in scholarship. No man, possessing both 
 v/ealth and amiability, had yet shown the least disposition to fall 
 in love with her. 
 
 One bright forenoon in July, Alice, attended by a groom, went 
 to the Park on horseback. The Row looked its best. The fresh- 
 ness of morning was upon horses and riders : there were not yet 
 any jaded people lolling supine in carriages, nor discontented 
 spectators sitting in chairs to envy them. Alice, who was a better 
 horsewoman than might have been expected from the little practice 
 she had had, appeared to advantage in the saddle. She had just 
 indulged in a brisk canter from the Corner to the Serpentine, when 
 she saw a large white horse approaching with Wallace Parker on 
 its back. 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed, expertly wheeling his steed and taking 
 off his hat at the same time with an intentional display of gal- 
 lantry and horsemanship. " How are you, Alice ? " 
 
 " Goodness ! " cried Alice, forgetting her manners in her astonish- 
 ment. *' What brings you here ; and where on earth did you get 
 that horse ? " 
 
 " I presume, Alice," said Parker, satisfied with the impression 
 he had made, " that I am here for much the same reason as you 
 are — to enjoy the morning in proper style. As for Rozinante, I 
 borrowed him. Is that chestnut yours ? Excuse the rudeness of 
 the question." 
 
 " No," said Alice, colouring a little. " This seems such an 
 unlikely place to meet you." 
 
 " Oh no. I always take a turn in the season. But certainly it 
 would have been a very unlikely place for us to meet a year ago." 
 
 So far, Alice felt, she was getting the worst of the conversa- 
 tion. She changed the subject. " Have you been to Wiltstoken 
 since I last saw you ? " 
 
 " Yes. I go there once every week at least." 
 
 " Every week ! Janet never told me." 
 
 Parker implied by a cunning air that he thought he knew the 
 reason of that ; but he said nothing. Alice, piqued, would not 
 condescend to make inquiries. So he said presently, 
 
 •' How is Miss Thingumbob ? " 
 ' I do not know any one of that name." 
 
 '• You know very well whom I mean. Your aristocratic patron, 
 IMiss Carew." 
 
 Alice flushed. " You are very impertinent, Wallace," she said, 
 grasping her riding whip. " How dare, you call Miss Carew my 
 patron? '/.""* ;V 
 
 Wallace suddenly became solemiil""''*' I did not know that you 
 objected to be reminded of all you owe her," he said. " Janet 
 
126 CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 never speaks ungratefully of her, though she has done nothing for 
 Janet." 
 
 ** I have not spoken ungratefully," protested Alice, almost in 
 tears. ** I feel sure that you are never tired of speaking ill of me 
 to them at home." 
 
 " That shows how little you understand my real character. I 
 always make excuses for you." 
 
 '♦ Excuses for what ? What have I done ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 •'Oh, I dont mean anything, if you dont. I thought from your 
 beginning to defend yourself that you felt yourself to be in the 
 wrong." 
 
 *' I did not defend myself; and I wont have you say so, Wallace. ' 
 
 '* Always your obedient humble servant," he replied with com- 
 placent irony. 
 
 She pretended not to hear him, and whipped up her horse to a 
 smart trot. The white steed being no trotter, Parker followed at 
 a lumbering canter. Alice, possessed by a shamefaced fear that 
 he was making her ridiculous, soon checked her speed ; and the 
 white horse subsided to a walk, marking its paces by deliberate 
 liobs of its unfashionably long mane and tail. 
 
 •' I have something to tell you," said Parker at last. 
 
 Alice did not deign to reply. 
 
 " I think it better to let you know at once," he continued. 
 •' The fact is, I intend to marry Janet." 
 
 "Janet wont," said Alice promptly, retorting first, and then 
 reflecting on the intelligence, which surprised her more than it 
 pleased her. 
 
 Parker smiled conceitedly, and said, " I dont think she will 
 raise any difficulty if you give her to understand that it is all 
 over between j*s." 
 
 *• That what is all over ? " 
 
 " Well, if you prefer it, that there never has been anything 
 between us. Janet believes that we were engaged. So did a good 
 many other people until you went into high life." 
 
 '* I cannot help what people thought." 
 
 '* And they all know that I, at least, was ready to perform my 
 part of the engagement honourably." 
 
 '♦ Wallace," she said, with a sudden change of tone : " I think 
 we had better separate. It is not right for me to be riding about 
 the park with you when I have nobody belonging to me here 
 except a manservant." 
 
 " Just as you please," he said coolly, halting. '• May I assure 
 Janet that you wish her to marry me ? " 
 
 " Most certainly not. I do not wish anyone to marry you, much 
 less my own sister. I am far inferior to Janet ; and she deserves 
 a much better husband than I do." 
 
 '* I quite agree with you, though I dont quite see what that has 
 to do with it. As far as I understand you, you will neither marry 
 me yourself — mind, I am quite willing to fullfil my engagement 
 still — nor let anyone else have me. Is that so ? " 
 
 " You may tell Janet," said Alice vigorously, her face glowing, 
 "that if we — you and I — were condemned to live for ever on a 
 
 desert isl No : I will write to her. That will be the best 
 
 way. Good morning." 
 
CASHEL BYKON S PROFESSION. I27 
 
 Pa ker, hitherto imperturbable, now showed signs of alarm. *' I 
 beg, Alice," he said, " that you will say nothing unfair to her of 
 me. You cannot with truth say anything bad of me." 
 
 ♦* Do you really care for Janet ? " said Alice, wavering. 
 
 " Of course," he replied indignantly. "Janet is a very superior 
 girl." 
 
 " I have always said so," said Alice, rather angry because some- 
 one else had forestalled her with the meritorious admission. " I 
 will tell her the simple truth — that there has never been anything 
 between us except what is between all cousins ; and that there 
 never could have been anything more on my part. I must go now. 
 I dont know what that man must think of me already." 
 
 ♦* I should be sorry to lower you in his esteem," said Parker 
 maliciously. " Good-bye, Alice." Uttering the last words in a 
 careless tone, he again pulled up the white horse's head, raised his 
 hat, and sped away. It was not true that he was in the habit ot 
 riding in the park every season. He had learnt from Janet that 
 Alice was accustomed to ride there in the forenoon ; and he had 
 hired the white horse in order to meet her on equal terms, 
 feeling that a gentleman on horseback in the road by the Serpen- 
 tine could be at no social disadvantage with any lady, however 
 e called her associates. 
 
 As for Alice, she went home with his reminder that Miss Carew 
 was her patron rankling in her. The necessity for securing an 
 independent position seemed to press imminently upon her. And 
 as the sole way of achieving this was by marriage, she felt for the 
 time willing to marry any man, without regard to his person, age, 
 or disposition, if only he could give her a place equal to that of 
 Miss Carew in the world of which she had lately acquired the 
 manners and customs. 
 
ia9 CASHEL BYRON 'S PROFESSION. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 When the autumn set in, Alice was in Scotland, learning to 
 shoot ; and Lydia was at Wiltstoken, preparing her father's 
 letters and memoirs for publication. She did not write at the 
 Castle, all the rooms in which were either domed, vaulted, gilded, 
 galleried, three sided, six sided, anything except four sided, or io 
 some way suggestive of the Arabian nights' entertainments and 
 out of keeping with the associations of her father's life. In her 
 search for a congruous room to work in, the idea of causing a 
 pavilion to be erected in the elm vista recurred to her. But she 
 had no mind to be disturbed just then by the presence of a troop 
 of stonemasons, slaters, and carpenters, nor any time to lose in 
 waiting for the end of their operations. So she had the Warren 
 Lodge cleansed and limewashed, and the kitchen transformed into 
 a comfortable library, where, as she sat facing the door at her 
 writing table in the centre of the room, she could see the elm vista, 
 through one window and through another a tract of wood and 
 meadow land intersected by the high-road and by a canal, beyond 
 which the prospect ended in a distant green slope used as a sheep run. 
 The other apartments were used by a couple of maidservants, who 
 kept the place well swept and dusted ; prepared Miss Carew's lunch ; 
 answered her bell and went on her errands to the castle ; and, 
 failing any of these employments, sat outside in the sun, reading 
 novels. 
 
 When Lydia had worked in this retreat daily for two months, 
 her mind became so full of the old life with her father, that the 
 interruptions of the servants often recalled her to the present with 
 a shock. On the twelfth of August, she was bewildered for a 
 moment when Phoebe, one of the maids, entered and said, 
 
 " If you please. Miss, Bashful is wishville to know can he speak 
 to you a moment ? " 
 
 Permission being given, Bashville entered. Since his wrestle 
 with Cashel he had never quite recovered his former imperturba- 
 bility. His manner and speech were as smooth and respectful 
 as before ; but his countenance was no longer stedfast : he was on 
 bad terms with the butler because he had been reproved by him for 
 blushing. On this occasion he came to beg leave to absent him- 
 self during the afternoon. He seldom asked favours of this kind. 
 and was of course never refused. 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. I29- 
 
 ** The road is quite thronged to-day," she observed, as he 
 thanked her. *' Do you know why ? " 
 
 <' No, madam," said Bashville, and blushed. 
 
 " People begin to shoot on the twelfth," she said ; " but I 
 suppose it cannot have anything to do with that. Is there a race, 
 or a fair, or any such thing in the neighbourhood ? " 
 
 " Not that I am aware of, madam." 
 
 Lydia dipped her pen in the ink and thought no more of the 
 subject. Bashville returned to the castle ; attired himself like a 
 country gentleman of sporting tastes ; and went out to enjoy his 
 holiday. 
 
 The forenoon passed away peacefully. There was no sound in 
 the Warren Lodge except the scratching of Lydia's pen ; the 
 ticking of her favourite skeleton clock ; an occasional clatter of 
 crockery from the kitchen ; and the voices of the birds and maids 
 without. The hour for lunch approached ; and Lydia became a 
 little restless. She interrupted her work to look at the clock, and 
 brushed a speck of dust from its dial with the feather of her quill. 
 Then she looked absently through the window along the elm vista,, 
 where she had once seen, as she had thought, a sylvan god. This 
 time she saw a less romantic object — a policeman. She looked 
 again incredulously : there he was still, a black-bearded helmeted 
 man, making a dark blot in the green perspective, and surveying 
 the landscape cautiously. Lydia rang the bell ; and bade Phoebe 
 ask the man what he wanted. 
 
 The girl soon returned out of breath, with the news that 
 there were a dozen more constables hiding in the road, and 
 that the one she had spoken to had given no account of himself, 
 but had asked her how many gates there were to the park ; whether 
 they were always locked ; and whether she had seen many people 
 about. She felt sure that a murder had been committed some- 
 where. Lydia shrugged her shoulders, and ordered luncheon, 
 during which Phoebe gazed eagerly through the window, and left 
 her mistress to wait on herself. 
 
 ** Phoebe," said Lydia, when the dishes were removed : *' you 
 may go to the gate lodge, and ask them there what the policemen 
 want. But do not go any further. Stay. Has Ellen gone to 
 the castle with the things ? " 
 
 Phoebe reluctantly admitted that Ellen had. 
 
 " Well, you need not wait for her to return ; but come back as 
 quickly as you can, in case I should want anybody." 
 
 " Directly, miss," said Phoebe, vanishing. 
 
 Lydia, left alone, resumed her work leisurely, occasionally 
 pausing to gaze at the distant woodland, and note with transient 
 curiosity a flock of sheep on the slope, or a flight of birds above 
 the tree tops. Something more startling occurred presently. A 
 man, apparently half-naked, and carrying a black object under 
 his arm, darted through a remote glade with the swiftness of a stag, 
 and disappeared. Lydia concluded that he had been disturbed 
 whilst bathing in the canal, and had taken to flight with his 
 wardrobe under his arm. She laughed at the idea ; turned to her 
 manuscript again ; and wrote on. Suddenly there was a rustle 
 and a swift footstep without. Then the latch was violently jerked. 
 
 K 
 
130 CASHEL BYRON S PROFF.SSION. 
 
 up ; and Cashel Byron rushed in as far as the threshold, where he 
 stood, stupefied at the presence of Lydia, and the change in the 
 appearance of the room. 
 
 He was himself remarkably changed. He was dressed in a 
 pea-jacket, which evidently did not belong to him ; for it hardly 
 reached his middle, and the sleeves were so short that his fore- 
 arms were half bare, showing that he wore nothing beneath this 
 borrowed garment. Below it he had on white knee-breeches, 
 with green stains of bruised grass on them. The breeches were 
 made with a broad flap in front, under which, and passing round his 
 waist, was a scarf of crimson silk. From his knees to his socks, 
 the edges of which had fallen over his laced boots, his legs were 
 visible, naked and muscular. On his face was a mask of sweat, dust, 
 and blood, partly rubbed away in places by a sponge, the borders of 
 its passage marked by black streaks. Underneath his left 
 eye was a mound of blueish flesh nearly as large as a walnut. 
 The jaw below it, and the opposite cheek, were severely bruised ; 
 and his lip was cut through at one corner. He had no hat ; his 
 close-croppsd hair was disordered ; and his ears were as though 
 they had been rubbed with coarse sand-paper. 
 
 Lydia looked at him for some seconds, and he at her, speechless. 
 Then she tried to speak ; failed ; and sank into her chair. 
 
 " I didnt know there was anyone here," he said, in a hoarse, 
 panting whisper. •♦ The police are after me. I have fought for 
 an hour, and run over a mile; and I'm dead beat — I can go no 
 further. Let me hide in the back room ; and tell them you 
 havent seen anyone, will you ? " 
 
 " What have you done ? " she said, conquering her weakness 
 with an efibrt, and standing up. 
 
 *' Nothing," he replied, groaning occasionally as he recovered 
 breath. ** Business— that's all." 
 
 ** Why are the police pursuing you ? Why are you in such a 
 dreadful condition ? " 
 
 Cashel seemed alarmed at this. There was a mirror in the lid 
 of a paper-case on the table. He took it up, and looked at himself 
 anxiously, but was at once relieved by what he saw. "I'm all 
 right," he said. "I'm not marked. That mouse" — he pointed 
 gaily to the lump under his eye — *' will run away to-morrow. I am 
 pretty tidy, considering. But it's bellows to mend with me at 
 present. Whoosh ! My heart is as big as a bullock's, after that 
 run." 
 
 "You ask me to shelter you," said Lydia sternly. "What have 
 you done ? Have you committed murder ? ' 
 
 " No ! " exclaimed Cashel, trying to open his eyes widely in his 
 astonishment, but only succeeding with one, as the other was 
 gradually closing. " I tell you I have been fighting ; and it's 
 illegal. You dont want to see me in prison, do you ? Confound 
 him," he added, reverting to her question with sudden wrath : " a 
 steam-hammer wouldnt kill him. You might as well hit a sack of 
 nails. And all my money, my time, my training, and my day's 
 trouble gone for nothing ! It's enough to make a man cry." 
 
 " Go," said Lydia, with uncontrollable disgust. " And do not 
 let me see which way you go. How dare you come to me ? " 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. I3I 
 
 The sponge marks on Cashel's face grew whiter ; and he began 
 to pant heavily again. " Very well," he said. " I'll go. There 
 isnt a boy in your stables that would give me up like that." 
 
 As he spoke, he opened the door ; but he involuntarily shut it 
 again immediately. Lydia looked through the window, and saw a 
 crowd of men, police and others, hurrying along the elm vista. 
 Cashel cast a glance round, half piteous, half desperate, like a 
 hunted animal. Lydia could not resist it. •' Quick !" she cried, 
 opening one of the inner doors. " Go in there, and keep quiet— 
 if you can." And, as he sulkily hesitated a moment, she stamped 
 vehemently. He slunk in submissively. She shut the door, and 
 resumed her place at the writing table : her heart beating with a 
 kind of excitement she had not felt since, in her early childhood, 
 she had kept guilty secrets from her nurse. 
 
 There was a tramping without, and a sound of voices. Then 
 two peremptory raps at the door. 
 
 '* Come in," said Lydia, more composedly than she was aware 
 of. The permission was not waited for. Before she ceased 
 speaking, a policeman opened the door, and looked quickly round 
 the room. He seemed rather taken aback by what he saw, and 
 finally touched his helmet to signify respect for Lydia. He was 
 about to speak, when Phoebe, flushed with running, pushed past 
 him, put her hand on the door, and pertly asked what he wanted. 
 
 " Come away from the door, Phoebe," said Lydia. " Wait here 
 with me until I give 3^ou leave to go," she added, as the girl moved 
 towards the inner door. " Now," she said, turning courteously to 
 the policeman, " what is the matter ? " 
 
 " I ask your pardon, mum," said the constable agreeably. " Did 
 you happen to see anyone pass hereabouts lately ? " 
 
 '• Do you mean a man only partly dressed, and carrying a black 
 coat ? " said Lydia. 
 
 " That's him, miss," said the policeman, greatly interested. 
 " Which way did he go ? " 
 
 " I will shew you where I saw him," said Lydia, quietly rising 
 and going with the man to the door, outside which she found a 
 crowd of rustics, and five policemen, having in custody two men, 
 one of whom was Mellish (without a coat), and the other a hook- 
 nosed man, whose like Lydia had seen often on racecourses. She 
 pointed out the glade across which she had seen Cashel run, and 
 felt as if the guilt of the deception she was practising was wrench- 
 ing some fibre in her heart from its natural order. But she spoke 
 with apparent self-possession ; and no shade of suspicion fell on 
 the minds of the police. 
 
 Several peasants now came forward, each professing to know 
 exactly whither Cashel had been making when he crossed the 
 glade. Whilst they were disputing, many persons, resembling the 
 hooknosed captive in general appearance, sneaked into the crowd 
 and regarded the police with furtive hostility. Soon after, a 
 second detachment of police came up, with another prisoner and 
 another crowd, among whom was Bashville. 
 
 '* Better go in, mum," said the policeman who had spoken to 
 Lydia first. " We must keep together, being so few ; and he aint 
 fit for you to look at." 
 
 K 2 
 
132 CASHEL BYROS S PROFESSION. 
 
 tint Lydia had looked already, and had guessed that the last 
 prisoner was Paradise, although his countenance was damaged 
 beyond recognition. His costume was like that of Cashel, 
 except that he was girt with a blue handkerchief with white spots ; 
 and his shoulders were wrapped in a blanket, through one of the 
 folds of which his naked ribs could be seen, tinged with every hue 
 that a bad bruise can assume. A shocking spectacle appeared 
 where his face had formerly been. A crease and a hole in the 
 midst of a cluster of lumps of raw flesh indicated the presence of 
 an eye and a mouth : the rest of his features were indiscernible. 
 He could still see a little ; for he moved his puffed and lacerated 
 hand to arrange his blanket, and demanded hoarsely, and with 
 greatly impeded articulation, whether the lady would standa dra n 
 to a poor fighting man wot had done his best for his backers. On 
 this someone produced a flask ; and Mellish volunteered, provided 
 he were released for a moment, to get the contents down Paradise's 
 throat. As soon as the brandy had passed his swollen lips, he 
 made a few preliminary sounds, and then shouted, 
 
 " He sent for the coppers because he couldnt stand another 
 round. I am ready to go on." 
 
 The policemen bade him hold his tongue ; closed round him ; 
 and hid him from Lydia, who, without shewing the mingled pity 
 and loathing with which his condition inspired her, told them to 
 bring him to the castle, and have him attended to there. She 
 added that the whole party could obtain refreshment at the same 
 time. The sergeant, who was very tired and thirsty, wavered in 
 his resolution to continue the pursuit. Lydia, as usual, treated 
 the matter as settled. 
 
 ♦* Bashville," she said : " will you please shew them the way,^ 
 and see that they are satisfied." 
 
 '* Some thief has stole my coat,** said Mellish sullenly to 
 Bashville. •* If you'll lend me one, governor, and these blessed 
 policemen will be so kind as not to tear it ofif my back, Pll send it 
 down to you in a day or two. I'm a respectable man, and have been 
 her ladyship's tenant here." 
 
 '* Your pal wants it worse than you," said the sergeant. " If 
 there was an old coachman's cape or anything to put over him, 
 I would see it returned safe. I dont want to bring him round the 
 country in a blanket, like a wild Injin." 
 
 *• I have a cloak inside," said Bashville. " I'll get it for you." 
 And before Lydia could devise a pretext for stopping him, he 
 went out, and she heard him re-entering the lodge by the back 
 door. It seemed to her that a silence fell on the crowd, as if her 
 deceit was already discovered. Then Mellish, who had been wait- 
 ing for an opportunity to protest against the last remark of the 
 policeman, said angrily, 
 
 " Who are you calling my pal ? I hope I may be struck dead 
 for a liar if ever I set eyes on him in my life before." 
 
 Lydia looked at him as a martyr might look at a wretch to whom 
 she was to be chained. He was doing as she had done — lying. 
 Then Bashville, having passed through the other rooms, came into 
 the library b}- the inner door, with an old livery cloak on his arm. 
 
 •' Put that on him," he said ; " and come along to the castle 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 133 
 
 with me. You can see the roads for five miles round, from 
 the south tower, and recognize every man on them, through the 
 big telescope. By your leave, madam, I think Phoebe had better 
 come with us to help." 
 
 ** Certainly," said Lydia, looking stedfastly at him. 
 
 •' I'll get clothes at the castle for the man that wants them," he 
 added, trying to return her gaze, but failing with a blush. " Now 
 boys. Come along." 
 
 " I thank your ladyship," said the sergeant. " We have had a 
 hard morning of it ; and we can do no more at present than drink 
 your health." He touched his helmet again; and Lydia bowed to 
 him. " Keep close together, men," he shouted, as the crowd moved 
 off with Bashville. 
 
 " Ah," sneered Mellish, " keep close together, like the geese do. 
 Things has come to a pretty pass when an Englishman is run in 
 for stopping when he sees a crowd." 
 
 *' All right," said the sergeant. " I have got that bundle of 
 coloured handkerchiefs you were selling; and I'll find the other 
 man before you're a day older. It's a pity, seeing how you've 
 behaved so well and havent resisted us, that you wont drop a hint 
 of where those ropes and stakes are hid. I might have a good 
 word at the sessions for any one who would put me in the way of 
 finding them." 
 
 " Ropes and stakes ! Fiddlesticks and grandmothers ! There 
 werent no ropes and no stakes. It was only a turn-up — that is, if 
 there was any fighting at all. / didnt see none ; but I s'pose you 
 did. But then you're clever, and I'm not." 
 
 By this time the last straggler of the party had disappeared from 
 Lydia, who had watched their retreat from the door of the Warren 
 Lodge. When she turned to go in she saw Cashel cautiously 
 entering from the room in which he had lain concealed. His 
 excitement had passed off : he looked cold and anxious, as if a 
 reaction were setting in. 
 
 '* Are they all gone ?" he said. " That servant of yours is a 
 good sort. He has promised to bring me some clothes. As for 
 you, you're better than — What's the matter ? Where are you 
 going to ? " 
 
 Lydia had put on her hat, and was swiftly wrapping herself in 
 a shawl. Wreaths of rosy colour were chasing each other through 
 her cheeks ; and her eyes and nostrils, usually so tranquil, were 
 dilated. 
 
 " Wont you speak to me ? " he said irresolutely. 
 
 "Just this," she replied, with passion. ** Let me never see you 
 again. The very foundations of my life are loosened : I have told 
 a lie. I have made my servant — an honourable man — my accom- 
 plice in a lie. We are worse than you ; for even your wild-beast's 
 handiwork is a less evil than the bringing of a falsehood into the 
 world. This is what has come to me out of our acquaintance. I 
 have given you a hiding-place. Keep it. I will never enter it 
 again." 
 
 Cashel, appalled, shrank back with an expression such as a 
 child wears when, in trying to steal sweetmeats from a high shell, 
 it pulls the whole cupboard down about its ears. He neither spoke 
 nor stirred as she left the Lodge. 
 
134 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 blinding herself presently at the castle, she went to her boudoir, 
 where she found her maid, the French lady, from whose indignant 
 description of the proceedings below she gathered that the police- 
 men were being regaled with bread and cheese and beer ; and that 
 the attendance of a surgeon had been dispensed with. Paradise's 
 wounds having been dressed skilfully by Mellish. Lydia bade 
 her send Bashville to the Warren Lodge to see that there were no 
 strangers loitering about it, and ordered that none of the female 
 servants should return there until he came back. Then she sat 
 down, and tried not to think. But she could not help thinking ; so she 
 sul»mitted, and tried to think the late catastrophe out. An idea 
 that she had disjointed the whole framework of things by creating 
 a false belief, filled her imagination. The one conviction that she 
 had brought out of her reading, observing, reflecting, and living, 
 was that the concealment of a truth, with its resultant false beliefs, 
 must produce mischief, even though the beginning of that mischief 
 might be as inconceivable as the end. She made no distinction 
 between the subtlest philosophical misconception and the vulgarest 
 lie. The evil of Cashel's capture was measurable, the evil of a lie 
 beyond all measure. She felt none the less assured of that evil 
 because she could not foresee one bad consequence likely to ensue 
 from what she had done. Her misgivings pressed heavily upon 
 her ; for her father, a determined sceptic, had taught her his own 
 views; and she was therefore destitute of the consolations 
 which religion has for the wrongdoer. It was plainly her duty to 
 send for the policeman and clear up the deception she had practised 
 on him. But this she could not do. Her will, in spite of her 
 reason, acted in the opposite direction. And in this paralysis of 
 her moral power she saw the evil of the lie beginning. She had 
 given it birth, and nature would not permit her to strangle the 
 monster. 
 
 At last her maid returned and informed her that the canaille had 
 gone away. When she was again alone, she rose, and walked 
 slowly to and fro through the room, forgetting the lapse of time in 
 the restless activity of her mind, until she was again interrupted, 
 this time by Bashville. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 He was daunted by her tone ; for he had never before heard her 
 speak haughtily to a servant. He did not understand that he had 
 changed subjectively, and was now her accomplice. 
 
 " He's given himself up." 
 
 "What do you mean ? " she said, with sudden dismay. 
 
 " Byron, madam. I brought some clothes to the Lodge for him ; 
 but when I got there he was gone. I went round to the gates in 
 search of him, and found him in the hands of the police. They 
 told me he'd just given himself up. He wouldnt give any account 
 of himself ; and he looked — well, sullen and beaten-down like." 
 
 " What will they do with him ? " she asked, turning quite pale. 
 
 " A man got six weeks' hard labour last month for the same 
 offence. Most probably that's what he'll get. And very little for 
 what he's done, as you'd say if you saw him doing it, madam." 
 
 '* Then," said Lydia sternly, "it was to see this" — she shrank 
 from naming it — "this fight, that you asked my permission to 
 go out ! " 
 
CASHEL BVRON's PROFESSION. I35 
 
 " Yes, madam, it was," said Bashville, with some bitterness. 
 *' I recognized Lord Worthington and plenty more noblemen and 
 gentlemen there.' 
 
 Lydia was about to reply sharply ; but she checked herself; and 
 her usual tranquil manner came back as she said, " That is no 
 reason why you should have been there." 
 
 Bashville's colour began to waver, and his voice to need 
 increased control. " It's in human nature to go to such a thing 
 once," he said ; " but once is enough, at least for me. You'll 
 excuse my mentioning it, madam ; but what with Lord Worth- 
 ington and the rest of Byron's backers screaming oaths and abuse 
 at the other man, and the opposite party doing the same to Byron 
 — well, I may not be a gentleman ; but I hope I can conduct my- 
 self like a man, even when I'm losing money." 
 
 " Then do not go to such an exhibition again, Bashville. I must 
 not dictate to you what your amusements shall be ; but I do not 
 think you are likely to benefit yourself by copying Lord 
 Worthington's tastes." 
 
 " I copy no lord's tastes,' said Bashville, reddening. "You hid 
 the man that was fighting. Miss Carew. Why do you look down 
 on the man that was only a bystander ? " 
 
 Lydia's colour rose too. Her first impulse was to treat this out- 
 burst as rebellion against her authority, and crush it. But her 
 sense of justice witheld her. " Would you have had me betray a 
 fugitive who took refuge in my house, Bashville ? You did not 
 l^tray him." 
 
 " No," said Bashville, his expression subdued to one of rueful 
 pride. " When I am beaten by a better man, I have courage 
 enough to get out of his way and take no mean advantage of 
 him." 
 
 Lydia, not understanding, looked inquiringly at him. He 
 made a gesture as if throwing something from him, and continued 
 recklessly, 
 
 " But one way I'm as good as he, and better. A footman is 
 held more respectable than a prizefighter. He's told you that he's 
 in love with you ; and if it is to be my last word, I'll tell you that 
 the ribbon round your neck is more to me than your whole body 
 and soul is to him or his like. When he took an unfair advantage 
 of me, and pretended to be a gentleman, I told Mr. Lucian of him, 
 and shewed him up for what he was. But when I found him to- 
 day hiding in the pantry at the Lodge, I took no advantage of 
 him, though I knew well that if he'd been no more to you than 
 any other man of his sort, you'd never have hid him. You know 
 best why he gave himself up to the police after your seeing his 
 day's work. But I will leave him to his luck. He is the best man : 
 let the best man win. I am sorry," added Bashville, recovering 
 his ordinary suave manner with an effort, '* to inconvenience you 
 by a short notice, but I should take it as a particular favour if I 
 might go this evening." 
 
 " You had better," said Lydia, rising quite calmly, and keeping 
 resolutely away from her the strange emotional result of being 
 astonished, outraged, and loved at one unlooked-for stroke. " It 
 is not advisable that you should stay after what you have just '* 
 
136 CASHEL BYRON's PROFKSSION. 
 
 '* 1 knew that when I said it," interposed Bashville hastily and 
 doggedly. 
 
 '* In going away you will be taking precisely the course that 
 would be adopted by any gentleman who had spoken to the same 
 effect. I am not offended by your declaration : I recognize your 
 right to make it. If you need my testimony to further your future 
 arrangements, I shall be happy to say that I believe you to be a 
 man of honour." 
 
 Bashville bowed, and said in a low voice, very nervously, that he 
 had no intention of going into service again, but that he should 
 always be proud of her good opinion. 
 
 " You are fitted for better things," she said. " If you embark in 
 any enterprise requiring larger means than you possess, I will be 
 your surety. I thank you for your invariable courtesy to me in 
 the discharge of your duties. Good bye." 
 
 She bowed to him and left the room. Bashville, awestruck, 
 returned her salutation as best he could, and stood motionless after 
 she disappeared : his mind advancing on tiptoe to grasp what 
 had just j>assed. His chief sensation was one of relief. He no 
 longer dared to fancy himself in love with such a woman. Her 
 sudden consideration for him as a suitor overwhelmed him with a 
 sense of his unfitness for such a part. He saw himself as a very 
 young, very humble, and very ignorant man, whose head had been 
 turned by a pleasant place and a kind mistress. Wakened from 
 Ills dream, he stole away to pack his trunk, and to consider how 
 l>est to account to his fellow-servants for his departure. 
 
 f.T.!aflr'.'.a''?, j i.y 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Lydia resumed her work next day with shaken nerves and a 
 longing for society. Many enthusiastic young ladies of her 
 acquaintance would have brought her kisses and devotion by the 
 next mail in response to a telegram ; and many more practical 
 people would have taken considerable pains to make themselves 
 agreeable to her for the sake of spending the autumn at Wiltstoken 
 Castle. But she knew that they would only cause h«: to regret her 
 former solitude. She shrank from the people who attached themselves 
 to her strength and riches even when they had not calculated their 
 gain, and were conscious only of admiration and gratitude. Alice, 
 as a companion, had proved a failure. She was too young, and too 
 much occupied with the propriety of her own behaviour, to be 
 anything more to Lydia than an occasional tax upon her patience. 
 Lydia, to her own surprise, thought several times of Miss Gisborne, 
 and felt tempted to invite her, but was restrained by mistrust 
 of the impulse to communicate with Cashel's mother, and re- 
 luctance to trace it to its source. Eventually she resolved to 
 conquer her loneliness, and apply lierself with increased diligence 
 to the memoir of her father. To restore her nerves, she walked 
 for an hour every day in the neighbourhood, and drove out in a 
 pony carriage in the evening. Bashville's duties were now ful- 
 filled by the butler and Phoebe, Lydia being determined to admit 
 no more young footmen to her service. 
 
 One afternoon, returning from one of her daily walks, she 
 found a stranger on the castle terrace, in conversation with the 
 butler. As it was warm autumn weather, Lydia was surprised to 
 see a woman wearing a black silk mantle trimmed with fur, and 
 heavily decorated with spurious jet beads. However, as the 
 female inhabitants of Wiltstoken always approached Miss Carew 
 in their best raiment, without regard to hours or seasons, she 
 concluded that she was about to be asked for a subscriprion to a 
 school treat, a temperance festival, or perhaps a testimonial to one 
 of the Wiltstoken curates. 
 
 When she came nearer, she saw that the stranger was an elderly 
 lady — or possibly not a lady — with crimped hair, and ringlets 
 hanging at each ear in a fashion then long obsolete. 
 
 ** Here is Miss Carew," said the butler shortly, as if the old lady 
 had tried his temper. " Yoa had better talk to her yourself." 
 
13^ CASHEL BYRON's PKOI'tSSION. 
 
 At this she seemed fluttered, and made a solemn curtsy. Lydia, 
 noticing the curtsy and the curls, guessed that her visitor kept a 
 dancig academy. Yet a certain contradictory hardihood in her 
 frame and bearing suggested that perhaps she kept a tavern. 
 However, as her face was, on the whole, an anxious and a good 
 face, and as her attitude towards the lady of the castle was one of 
 embarrassed humility, Lydia acknowledged her salutation kindly, 
 and waited for her to speak. 
 
 " I hope you wont consider it a liberty," said the stranger 
 tremulously. " I'm Mrs. Skene." 
 
 Lydia became ominously grave ; and Mrs. Skene reddened a 
 little. Then she continued, as if repeating a carefully prepared 
 and rehearsed speech, •* It would be esteemed a favour if I mi^ht 
 have the honour of a few words in private with your ladyship." 
 
 Lydia looked and felt somewhat stern ; but it was not in her 
 nature to rebuff anyone without strong provocation. She invited 
 her visitor to enter, and led the way to the circular drawing-room, 
 the strange decorations of which exactly accorded with Mrs. 
 Skene's ideas of aristocratic splendour. As a professor of deport- 
 ment and etiquette, the ex-champion's wife was nervous under the 
 observation of such an expert as Lydia ; but she got safely seated 
 without having made a mistake to reproach herself with. For, 
 although entering a room seems a simple matter to many persons, 
 it was to Mrs. Skene an operation governed by the strict laws of 
 the art she professed, and one so elaborate, that few of her pupils 
 mastered it satisfactorily with less than a month's practice. Mrs. 
 Skene soon dismissed it from her mind. She was too old to dwell 
 upon such vanities when real anxieties were pressing upon her. 
 
 ** Oh, miss," she began appealingly, *' the boy ! " 
 
 Lydia knew at once who was meant. But she repeated, as if at 
 a loss, " The boy ? " And immediately accused herself of insincerity, 
 
 ** Our boy, maam. Cashel." 
 
 ** Mrs. Skene ! " said Lydia, reproachfully. 
 
 Mrs. Skene understood all that Lydia's tone implied. " I know, 
 maam," she pleaded. " I know well. But what could I do but 
 come to you ? Whatever you said to him, it has gone to his heart ; 
 and he's dying." 
 
 '* Pardon me," said Lydia promptly : " men do not die of such 
 things ; and Mr. Cashel Byron is not so deficient either in robust- 
 ness of body or hardness of heart as to be an exception to that 
 rule." 
 
 ** Yes, miss," said Mrs. Skene sadly. " You are thinking of the 
 profession. You cant believe he has any feelings because he 
 fights. Ah Miss, if you only knew them as I do ! More tender 
 hearted men dont breathe. Cashel is like a young child, his feelings 
 are that easily touched ; and I have known stronger than he to die 
 of broken hearts only because they were unlucky in their calling. 
 Just think what a high-spirited youhg man must feel when a lady 
 calls him a wild beast. That was a cruel word, miss: it was 
 indeed." 
 
 Lydia was so disconcerted by this attack that she had to pause 
 awhile before replying. Then she said, " Are you aware, Mrs. 
 Skene, that my knowledge of Mr. Byron is very slight — that I 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. I39 
 
 have not seen him ten times in my life ? Perhaps you do not 
 know the circumstances in which I last saw him. I was greatly 
 shocked by the injuries he had inflicted on another man ; and I 
 believe I spoke of them as the work of a wild beast. For your 
 sake, I am sorry I said so ; for he has told me that he regards you 
 as his mother ; and — " 
 
 ** Oh no ! Far from it, miss. I ask your pardon a thousand 
 times for taking the word out of your mouth ; but me and Ned is 
 no more to him than your housekeeper or governess might be to 
 you. That's what I'm afraid you dont understand, miss. He's 
 no relation of ours. I do assure you that he's a gentleman 
 born and bred ; and when we go back to Melbourne next Christ- 
 mas, it will be just the same as if he had never known us." 
 
 " I hope he will not be so ungrateful as to forget you. He has 
 told me his history." 
 
 " That's more than he ever told me, miss ; so you may judge 
 how much he thinks of you." 
 
 A pause followed this. Mrs. Skene felt that the first exchange 
 was over, and that she had got the better in it. 
 
 " Mrs. Skene," said Lydia then, penetratingly : ** when you came 
 to pay me this visit, what object did you propose to yourself? 
 What do you expect me to do ? " 
 
 " Well, maam," said Mrs. Skene, troubled, ** the poor lad has 
 had crosses lately. There was the disappointment about you — 
 the first one, I mean — that had been preying on his mind for 
 a long time. Then there was that exhibition spar at the Agri- 
 cultural Hall, when Paradise acted so dishonorable. Cashel heard 
 that you were looking on ; and then he read the shameful way the 
 newspapers wrote of him ; and he thought you'd believe it all. I 
 couldnt get that thought out of his head. I said to him, over and 
 over again — " 
 
 " Excuse me," said Lydia, interrupting. *' We had better be 
 frank with one another. It is useless to assume that he mistook my 
 feeling on that subject. I was shocked by the severity with which 
 he treated his opponent." 
 
 " But bless you, that's his business," said Mrs. Skene, opening 
 her eyes widely. " I put it to you, miss," she continued, as it 
 mildly reprobating some want of principle on Lydia's part, 
 " whether an honest man shouldnt fulfil his engagements. I assure 
 you that the pay a respectable professional usually gets for a 
 spar like that is half a guinea ; and that was all Paradise got. 
 But Cashel stood on his reputation, and wouldnt take less than 
 ten guineas ; and he got it too. Now many another in his position 
 would have gone into the ring, and fooled away the time pretend- 
 ing to box, and just swindling those that paid him. But Cashel 
 is as honest and highminded as a king. You saw for yourself the 
 trouble he took. He couldnt have spared himself less if he had 
 been fighting for a thousand a side and the belt, instead of for 
 a paltry ten guineas. Surely you dont think the worse of him for 
 his honesty, miss?" 
 
 " I confess," said Lydia, laughing in spite of herself, " that your 
 view of the transaction did not occur to me." 
 
 ** Of course not, maam : no more it wouldnt to anyone, without 
 
140 CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION. 
 
 they were accustomed to know the right and wrong of the profes- 
 sion. Well, as I was saying, miss, that was a fresh disappoint- 
 ment to him. It worrited him more than you can imagine. Then 
 came a deal of bother about the match with Paradise. First 
 Paradise could only get five hundred pounds ; and the boy wouldnt 
 agree for less than a thousand. I think it's on your account that 
 he's been so particular about the money of late ; for he was never 
 covetous before. Then Mellish was bent on its coming off down 
 hereabouts ; and the poor lad was so mortal afraid of its getting 
 to your ears, that he wouldnt consent until they persuaded him you 
 would be in foreign parts in August. Glad I was when the articles 
 were signed at last, before he was worrited into his grave. All the 
 time he was training he was longing for a sight of you ; but he 
 went through with it as steady and faithful as a man could. And 
 he trained beautiful. I saw him on the morning of the fight ; and 
 he was like a shining angel : it would have done a lady's heart 
 good to look at him. Ned went about like a madman offering 
 twenty to one on him : if he had lost, we should have been ruined 
 at this moment. And then to think of the police coming just as 
 he was finishing Paradise. I cried like a child when I heard of it : 
 1 dont think there was ever anything so cruel. And he could have 
 finished him quarter of an hour sooner, only he held back to make 
 the market for Ned." Here Mrs. Skene, overcome, blew her nose 
 before proceeding. •' Then, on the top pf that, came what passed 
 betwixt you and him, and made him give himself up to the police. 
 Lord Worthington bailed him out ; but what with the disgrace, 
 and the disappointment, and his time and money thrown away, 
 and the sting of your words, all coming together, he was quite 
 brokenhearted. And now he mopes and frets; and neither me 
 nor Ned nor Fan can get any good of him. They tell me that he 
 wont be sent to prison ; but if he is " — here Mrs. Skene broke 
 down and began to cry — " it will be the death of him, and God 
 forgive those that have brought it about." 
 
 Sorrow always softened Lydia ; but tears hardened hei again : 
 she had no patience with them. 
 
 •' And the other man ? " she said. '• Have you heard anything 
 of him ? I suppose he is in some hospital." 
 
 *' In hospital ! " repeated Mrs. Skene, checking her tears in 
 alarm. " Who ? " 
 
 ** Paradise," replied Lydia, pronouncing the name reluctantly. 
 
 '♦ He in hospital ! Why, bless your innocence, miss, I saw him 
 yesterday looking as well as such an ugly brute could look — not a 
 mark on him, and he bragging what he would have done to Cashel 
 if the police hadnt come up. He's a nasty low fighting man, so 
 he is ; and I'm only sorry that our boy demeaned himself to strip 
 with the like of him. I hear that Cashel made a perfect picture 
 of him, and that you saw him. I suppose you were frightened, 
 maam, and very naturally too, not being used to such sights. I 
 have had my Ned brought home to me in that state that I have 
 poured brandy into his eye, thinking it was his mouth ; and even 
 Cashel, careful as he is, has been nearly blind for three days. It 
 is not to be expected that they could have all the money for 
 nothing. Dont let it prey on your mind, miss. If you married — 
 
CASHEL BYRON'S PROFESSION'. I4I 
 
 I am only supposing it," said Mrs. Skene in soothing parenthesis 
 as she saw Lydia shrink from the word — " if you were married to 
 a great surgeon, as you might be without derogation to your high 
 rank, you'd be ready to faint if you saw him cut off a leg or 
 an arm, as he would have to do every day for his livelihood ; but 
 you'd be proud of his cleverness in being able to do it. That's how 
 I feel with regard to Ned. I tell you the truth, maam, I shouldnt 
 like to see him in the ring no more than the lady of an officer in 
 the Guards would like to see her husband in the field of battle 
 running his sword into the poor blacks or into the French ; but as 
 it's his profession, and people think so highly of him for it, I make 
 up my mind to it ; and now I take quite an interest in it, particu- 
 larly as it does nobody any harm. Not that I would have you 
 think that Ned ever took the arm or leg off a man : Lord forbid — 
 or Cashel either. Oh maam, I thank you kindly, and I'm sorry 
 you should have given yourself the trouble." This referred to the 
 entry of a servant with tea. 
 
 " Still," said Lydia, when they were at leisure to resume the 
 conversation, " I do not quite understand why you have come to 
 me. Personally you are quite welcome ; but in what way did you 
 expect to relieve Mr. Byron's mind by visiting me ? Did he ask 
 you to come ? " 
 
 " He'd have died first. I came down of my own accord, knowing 
 what was the matter with him." 
 
 "And what then?" 
 
 Mrs. Skene looked around to satisfy herself that they were alone. 
 Then she leaned towards Lydia, and said in an emphatic whisper, 
 
 " Why wont you marry him, miss ? " 
 
 " Because I dont choose, Mrs. Skene," said Lydia, with perfect 
 good humour. 
 
 " But consider a little, miss. Where will you ever get such 
 another chance ? Only think what a man he is ! champion of the 
 world and a gentleman as well. The two things have never 
 happened before, and never will again. I have known lots of 
 champions ; but they were not fit company for the like of you. 
 Ned was champion when I married him; and my family thought 
 that I lowered myself in doing it, although I was only a pro- 
 fessional dancer on the stage. The men in the ring are common 
 men mostly ; and so, though they are the best men in the kingdom* 
 ladies are cut off from their society. But it has been your good 
 luck to take the fancy of one that's a gentleman. What more 
 could a lady desire ? Where will you find his equal in health, 
 strength, good looks or good manners ? As to his character, I can 
 tell you about that. In Melbourne, as you may suppose, all the 
 girls and women were breaking their hearts for his sake. I declare 
 to you that I used to have two or three of them in every evening 
 merely to look at him, and he, poor innocent lad, taking no more 
 notice of them than if they were cabbages. He used to be glad 
 to get away from them by going into the saloon and boxing with 
 the gentlemen ; and then they used to peep at him through the 
 door. They never got a wink from him. You were the firsts 
 Miss Carew ; and, believe me, you will be the last. If there had 
 ever been another, he couldnt have kept it from me ; because his 
 
142 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 disposition is as open as a child's. And his honesty is beyond 
 everything you can imagine. I have known him to be offered 
 eight hundred pounds to lose a fight that he could only get two 
 hundred by winning, not to mention his chance of getting nothing 
 at all if he lost honestly. You know — for I see you know the 
 world, maam — how few men would be proof against such a 
 temptation. There are men high up in their profession — so high 
 that you'd as soon susp>ect the queen on her throne of selling her 
 country's battles as them — that fight cross on the sly when it's 
 made worth their while. My Ned is no low prizefighter, as is 
 well known ; but when he let himself be beat by that little Kil- 
 iarney Primrose, and went out and bought a horse and trap next 
 day, what could I think ? There, maam : I tell you that of my 
 own husband ; and I tell you that Cashel never was beaten, 
 although times out of mind it would have paid him better to lose 
 than to win, along of those wicked betting men. Not an angry 
 word have I ever had from him, nor the sign of liquor have I ever 
 seen on him, except once on Ned's birthday ; and then nothing 
 but fiin came out of him in his cups, when the truth comes out of 
 all men. Oh do just think how happy you ought to be, miss, if 
 you would only bring yourself to look at it in the proper light. 
 A gentleman born and bred, champion of the world, sober, honest, 
 spotless as the unborn babe, able to take his own part and your's 
 in any society, and mad in love with you ! He thinks you an 
 angel from heaven — and so I am sure you are, miss, in your heart. 
 I do assure you that my Fan gets quite put out because she thinks 
 he draws comparisons to her disadvantage. I dont think you 
 can be so hard to please as to refuse him, miss." 
 
 Lydia leaned back in her chair, and looked at Mrs. Skene with 
 a curious expression which soon brightened into an irrepressible 
 smile. Mrs. Skene smiled very slightly in complaisance, but 
 conveyed by her serious brow that what she had said was no 
 laughing matter. 
 
 *' I must take some time to consider all that you have so 
 eloquently urged," said Lydia. ** I am in earnest, Mrs. Skene : 
 you have produced a great effect upon me. Now let us talk of 
 something else for the present. Your daughter is quite well, I hope." 
 
 ** Thank you kindly, maam, she enjoys her health." 
 
 " And you also ? " 
 
 '* I am as well as can be expected,' said Mrs. Skene, too fond o 
 commiseration to admit that she was perfectly well. 
 
 " You must have a rare sense of security," said Lydia, watching 
 her, " being happily married to so celebrated a — a professor of 
 boxing as Mr. Skene. Is it not pleasant to have a powerful 
 protector ? " 
 
 •' Ah miss, you little know," exclaimed Mrs. Skene, falling into 
 the trap baited by her own grievances, and losing sight of Cashel's 
 interests. " The fear of his getting into trouble is never off my 
 mind. Ned is quietness itself until he has a drop of drink in him ; 
 and then he is like the rest — ready to fight the first that provokes 
 him. And if the police get hold of him he has no chance. There's 
 no justice for a fightmg man. Just let it be said that he's a profes- 
 sional, and that's enough for the magistrate : away with him to prison , 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. I43 
 
 and goodbye to his pupils and his respectability at once. That's 
 what I Hve in terror of. And as to being protected, I'd let myself 
 be robbed fifty times over sooner than say a word to him that 
 might bring on a quarrel. Many a time when we were driving 
 liome of a night have I overpaid the cabman on the sly, afraid 
 he would grumble and provoke Ned. It's the drink that does it 
 all. Gentlemen are proud to be seen speaking with him in public; 
 and they come up one after another asking what he'll have, until 
 the next thing he knows is that he's in bed with his boots on, his 
 wrist sprained, and maybe his eye black, trying to remember what 
 he was doing the night before. What I suffered the first three 
 years of our marriage none can tell. Then he took the pledge, 
 and ever since that he's been very good — I havent seen him what 
 you could fairly call drunk, not more than three times a year. It 
 was the blessing of God, and a beating he got from a milkman in 
 Westminister, that made him ashamed of himself. I kept him to 
 it and made him emigrate out of the way of his old friends. Since 
 that, there has been a blessing on him ; and we've prospered." 
 
 " Is Cashel quarrelsome? " 
 
 At the tone of this question Mrs. Skene suddenly realized the 
 untimeHness of her complaints. " NO; no," she protested. " He 
 never drinks ; and as to fighting, if you can believe such a thing, 
 miss, I dont think he has had a casual turn-up three times in his 
 life — not oftener, at any rate. All he wants is to be married ; and 
 then he'll be steady to his grave. But if he's left adrift now. Lord 
 knows what will become of him. He'll mope first — he's moping at 
 present — ; then he'll drink : then he'll lose his pupils, get out of 
 condition, be beaten, and — One word from you, miss, would save 
 him. If I might just tell him — " 
 
 " Nothing," said Lydia. " Absolutely nothing. The only 
 assurance I can give you is that you have softened the hard opinion 
 that I had formed of some of his actions. But that I should 
 marry Mr. Cashel Byron is simply the most improbable thing in 
 the world. All questions of personal inclination apart, the mere 
 improbability is enough in itself to appal an ordinary woman." 
 
 Mrs. Skene did not quite understand this ; but she understood 
 sufficient for her purpose. She rose to go, shaking her head des- 
 pondently, and saying, *' I see how it is, maam. You think him 
 beneath you. Your relations wouldnt like it." 
 
 *' There is no doubt that my relatives would be greatly shocked ; 
 and I am bound to take that into account — for what it is worth." 
 
 *' We should never trouble you," said Mrs. Skene, lingering. 
 " England will see the last of us in a month or two." 
 
 " That will make no difference to me, except that I shall regret 
 not being able to have a pleasant chat with you occasionally." 
 This was not true ; but Lydia fancied that she was beginning to 
 take a hardened delight in lying. 
 
 Mrs. Skene was not to be consoled by compliments. She again 
 shook her head. ** It is very kind of you to give me good words, 
 miss," she said ; '' but if I might have one for the boy, you could 
 say what you liked to me." 
 
 Lydia considered far before she replied. At last she said, " I 
 am sorry I spoke harshly to him, since, driven as he was by cir- 
 
144 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 cuinstances, I cannot see how he could have acted otherwise than 
 he did. And I overlooked the economic conditions of his profes- 
 sion. In short, I am not used to fisticuffs ; and what I saw shocked 
 me so much that I was unreasonable. But," continued Lydia, 
 checking Mrs. Skene's rising hope with a warning finger, *' how, 
 if you tell hira this, will you make him understand that I say so as 
 an act of justice, and not in the least as a proffer of affection ? " 
 
 " A crumb of comfort will satisfy him, miss. I'll just tell him 
 that I've seen you, and that you meant nothing by what you said 
 
 the other day ; and " 
 
 " Mrs. Skene," said Lydia, interrupting her softly: "tell him 
 nothing at all as yet. I have made up my mind at last. If he 
 does not hear from me within a fortnight, you may tell him what 
 you please. Can you wait so long ? " 
 
 ♦' Of course. Whatever you wish, maam. But Mellish's benefit 
 
 is to be to-morrow night ; and " 
 
 ** What have I to do with Mellish or his benefit ? " 
 Mrs. Skene, abashed, murmured apologetically that she was only 
 wishful that the boy should do himself credit. 
 
 '* If he is to benefit Mellish by beating somebody, he will not l)e 
 behindhand. Remember : you are not to mention me for a fort- 
 night. Is that a bargain ? " 
 
 " Whatever you wish, maam," repeated Mrs. Skene, hardly 
 satisfied. But Lydia gave her no further comfort ; so she begged 
 to take her leave, expressing a hope that things would turn out to 
 the advantage of all parties. Then Lydia insisted on her partaking 
 of some solid refreshment, and afterwards drove her to the railway 
 station in the pony-carriage. Just before they parted, Lydia, 
 suddenly recurring to their former subject, said, 
 " Does Mr. Byron ever think ? " 
 
 " Think ! " said Mrs. Skene emphatically. ** Never. There 
 isnt a more cheerful lad in existence, miss." 
 
 Then Mrs. Skene was carried away to London, wondering 
 whether it could be quite right for a young lady to live in a gor- 
 geous castle without any elder of her own sex, and to speak freely 
 and civilly to her inferiors. When she got home, she said nothing 
 of her excursion to Mr. Skene, in whose disposition valor so 
 entirely took the place of discretion that he had never been known 
 to keep a secret except as to the whereabouts of a projected fight. 
 But she sat up late with her daughter Fanny, tantalizing her 
 by accounts of the splendour of the castle, and consoling her by 
 describing Miss Carew as a slight creature with red hair and no 
 figure (Fanny having jet black hair, fine arms, and being one of 
 Cashel's most proficient pupils). 
 
 " All the same, Fan," added Mrs. Skene, as she took her candle- 
 stick at two in the morning, " if it comes off, Cashel will never be 
 master in his own house." 
 
 " I can see that very plain," said Fanny ; '♦ but if respectable 
 professional people are not good enough for him, he will have only 
 himself to thank if he gets himself looked down upon by empty- 
 headed swells." 
 
 Meanwhile, Lydia, on her return to the castle after a long drive 
 round the country, had attempted to overcome an attack of rest- 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 145 
 
 lessness by setting to work on the biography of her father.. 
 With a view to preparing a chapter on his taste in Hterature 
 she had lately been examining his favourite books for 
 marked passages. She now resumed this search, not setting metho- 
 dically to work, but standing perched on the library ladder, taking 
 down volume after volume, and occasionally dipping into the 
 contents for a few pages or so. At this desultory work the time 
 passed as imperceptibly as the shadows lengthened. The last 
 book she examined was a volume of poems. There were no marks 
 in it ; but it opened at a page which had evidently lain open 
 often before. The first words Lydia saw were these : — 
 
 " What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through 
 Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do ; 
 Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of all." 
 
 Lydia hastily stepped down from the ladder, and recoiled until 
 she reached a chair, where she sat and read and re-read these 
 lines. The failing light roused her to action. She replaced the 
 book on the shelf, and said as she went to the writing table, ''If 
 such a doubt as that haunted my father, it will haunt me, unless I 
 settle what is to be my heart's business now and for ever. If it be 
 possible for a child of mine to escape this curse of autovivisection, 
 it must inherit its immunity from its father, and not from me — from 
 the man of emotion who never thinks, and not from the woman of 
 introspection, who cannot help thinking. Be it so." 
 
146 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Before many days had elapsed, a letter came for Cashel as he sat 
 taking tea with the Skene family. When he saw the handwriting, 
 a deep red colour mounted to his temples. 
 
 •♦ Oh Lor' ! " said Miss Skene, who sat next him. '' Let's 
 read it." 
 
 *• Go to the dickens," cried Cashel, hastily baffling her as she 
 snatched at it. 
 
 ** Dont worrit him, Fan," said Mrs. Skene tenderly. 
 
 " Not for the world, poor dear," said Miss Skene, putting her 
 hand affectionately on his shoulder. '* Let me just peep at the 
 name — to see who it's from. Do, Cashel diarJ" 
 
 "It's from nobody," said Cashel. "Here: get out. If you 
 dont let me alone, I'll make it warm for you the next time you 
 come to me for a lesson." 
 
 " Very likely," said Fanny contemptuously. " Who had the 
 best of it to-day, I should like to know." 
 
 '* Gev' him a hot un on the chin with her right as ever I see," 
 observed Skene, with hoarse mirth. 
 
 Cashel went away from the table, out of Fanny's reach ; and 
 read the letter, which ran thus : 
 
 Regent's Park. 
 
 Dear Mr. Cashel Byron 
 
 I am desirous that you sJwuld nuet a lady friend of mine. She 
 will he here at thre-e o'clock to-morrow afternoon. You would oblige me 
 greatly by calling on nu at that hour. 
 
 yours faithfully 
 
 Lydia Carew. 
 
 There was a long pause, during which there was no sound in 
 the room except the ticking of the clock and the munching of 
 shrimps by the ex-champion. 
 
 " Good news, I hope, Cashel," said Mrs. Skene at last, 
 tremulously. 
 
 *' Blow me if I understand it," said Cashel. " Can you make it 
 out ? " And he handed the letter to his adopted mother. Skene 
 ceased eating to see his wife read, a feat which was to him one of 
 the wonders of science. 
 
 " I think the lady she mentions must be herself,' said Mrs. 
 5kene, after some consideration. 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. I47 
 
 ** No," said Cashel, shaking his head. ** She always says what 
 she means." 
 
 '* Ah," said Skene cunningly ; " but she cant write it though. 
 That's the worst of writing : no one cant never tell exactly what it 
 means. I never signed articles yet that there werent some mis- 
 understanding about ; and articles is the best writing that can be 
 had anywhere." 
 
 " You'd better go and see what it means," said Mrs. Skene. 
 
 '* Right," said Skene. " Go and have it out with her, my 
 boy." 
 
 ** It is short, and not particularly sweet," said Fanny. " She 
 might have had the civility to put her crest at the top." 
 
 "What would you give to be her?" said Cashel derisively, 
 catching the letter as she tossed it disdainfully to him. 
 
 " If I was, I'd respect myself more than to throw myself at yaur 
 head." 
 
 ** Hush, Fanny," said Mrs. Skene: " j^ou're too sharp. Ned: 
 you oughtnt to encourage her by laughing." 
 
 Next day Cashel rose early ; went for a walk ; paid extra atten- 
 tion to his diet ; took some exercise with the gloves ; had a bath 
 and a rub down ; and presented himself at Regent's Park at three 
 o'clock in excellent condition. Expecting to see Bashville, he was 
 surprised when the door was opened by a female servant. 
 
 *' Miss Carew at home ? " 
 
 *' Yes, sir," said the girl, falHng in love with him at first sight. 
 *' Mr. Byron, sir ? " 
 
 " That's me," said Cashel. " I say : is there anyone with her ? " 
 
 ** Only a lady, sir." 
 
 " Oh damn ! Well, it cant be helped. Never say die." 
 
 The girl led him then to a door ; opened it ; and when he entered 
 shut it softly without announcing him. The room in which he 
 found himself was a long one, lighted from the roof. The walls 
 were hung with pictures. At the far end, with their backs toward 
 him, were two ladies : Lydia, and a woman whose noble carriage and 
 elegant form would have raised hopes of beauty in a man less pre- 
 occupied than Cashel. But he, after advancing some distance 
 with his eyes on Lydia, suddenly changed countenance ; stopped ; 
 and was actually turning to fly when the ladies, hearing his light 
 step, faced about and rooted him to the spot. As Lydia offered 
 him her hand, her companion, who had surveyed the visitor first 
 with indifference, and then with incredulous surprise, exclaimed, 
 with a burst of delighted recognition, like a child finding a long 
 lost plaything, " My darling boy ! " And, going to Cashel with 
 the grace of a swan, she clasped him in her arms. In acknow- 
 ledgement of which, he thrust his red discomfited face over her 
 shoulder ; winked at Lydia with his tongue in his cheek ; and said, 
 
 " This is what you may call the voice of nature, and no mistake." 
 
 " What a splendid creature you are ! " said Mrs. Byron, holding 
 him a little away from her, the better to admire him. " Do you 
 know how handsome you are, you wretch ? " 
 
 *' How d'ye do, Miss Carew," said Cashel, breaking loose, and 
 turning to Lydia. '* Never mind her: it's only my mother. At 
 least," he added, as if correcting himself, " she's my mamma." 
 
 I. 2 
 
148 CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 " And where have you come from ? Where have you been ? 
 Do you know that I have not seen you for seven years, you un- 
 natural boy ? Think of his being my son, Miss Carew. Give me 
 another kiss, my own," she continued, grasping his arm affectio- 
 nately. " What a muscular creature you are ! " 
 
 ♦♦ Kiss away as much as you like," said Cashel, struggling with 
 the old school-boy sullenness as it returned oppressively upon him. 
 " I suppose you're well. You look right enough." 
 
 ** Yes," she said mockingly, beginning to despise him for his 
 inabihty to act up to her in this thrilling scene : '* I am right enough. 
 Your language is as refined as ever. And why do you get your 
 hair cropped close like that ? You must let it grow, and — " 
 
 *' Now look here," said Cashel, stopping her hand neatly as she 
 raised it to re-arrange his locks. " You just drop it, or I'll walk 
 out at that door and you wont see me again for another seven 
 years. You can either take me as you find me, or let me alone. 
 Absolom and Dan Mendoza came to grief through wearing their 
 hair long ; and I am going to wear mine short." 
 
 Mrs. Byron became a shade colder. " Indeed ! " she said. 
 " Just the same still, Cashel?" 
 
 '• Just the same, both one and other of us," he replied. " Before 
 you spoke six words, I felt as if we'd parted only yesterday." 
 
 *• I am rather taken aback by the success of my experiment," 
 interposed Lydia. ** I invited you purposely to meet one another. 
 The resemblance between you led me to suspect the truth ; and 
 my suspicion was confirmed by the account Mr. Byron gave me of 
 his adventures." 
 
 Mrs. Byron's vanity was touched. *' Is he like me ? " she said, 
 scanning his features. He, without heeding hf^r, said to Lydia 
 with undisguised mortification, 
 
 *' And was that why you sent for me ? " 
 
 " Are you disappointed ? " said Lydia. 
 
 " He is not in the least glad to see me," said Mrs. Byron plain- 
 tively. '• He has no heart." 
 
 ♦' Now she'll go on for the next hour," said Cashel, looking to 
 Lydia, obviously because he found it much pleasanter than looking 
 at his mother. '• However, if youdont care, I dont. So fire away, 
 mamma. 
 
 " And you think we are really like one another ? " said Mrs. 
 Byron, not heeding him. " Yes : I think we are. There is a cer- 
 tain — Are you married, Cashel ? " with sudden mistrust. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" shouted Cashel. "No; but I hope to be, some 
 day," he added, venturing to glance again at Lydia, who was, 
 however, attentively observing Mrs. Byron. 
 
 " Well, tell me everything about yourself. What are you ? 
 Now I do hope, Cashel, that you have not gone upon the stage." 
 
 "The stage ! " said Cashel contemptuously. " Do I look like it ? " 
 
 "You certainly do not," said Mrs. Byron whimsically, " — although 
 you have a certain odious professional air too. What did yoxi do 
 when you ran away so scandalously from that stupid school in the 
 north ? How do you earn your living ? Or do you earn it ? " 
 
 " I suppose I do, unless I am fed b}^ ravens, as Elijah was. 
 What do you think I was best fitted for by my education and 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. I49 
 
 bringing up ? Sweep a crossing, perhaps ! When I ran away 
 from Panley, I went to sea." 
 
 " A sailor, of all things ! You dont look like one. And pray, 
 what rank have you attained in your profession ? " 
 
 '' The front rank. The top of the tree," said Cashei shortly. 
 
 " Mr. Byron is not at present following the profession of a 
 sailor, nor has he done so for some years," said Lydia. 
 
 Cashei looked at her, half in appeal, half in remonstrance. 
 
 " Something very different indeed," pursued Lydia, with quiet 
 obstinacy. " And something very startling." 
 
 ** Cant you shut up," exclaimed Cashei. •' I should have ex- 
 pected more sense from you. What's the use of setting her on to 
 make a fuss and put me in a rage. I'll go away if you dont stop." 
 
 "What is the matter?" said Mrs. Byron. "Have you been 
 •doing anything disgraceful, Cashei ? " 
 
 *' There she goes : I told you so. I keep a gymnasium, that's 
 all. There's nothing disgraceful in that, I hope." 
 
 " A gymnasium ? " repeated Mrs. Byron, with imperious disgust. 
 •** What nonsense ! You must give up everything of that kind, 
 Cashei. It is very silly, and very low. You were too ridiculously 
 proud, of course, to come to me for the means of keeping yourself 
 in a proper position. 1 suppose I shall have to provide you with — " 
 
 " If I ever take a penny from you, may I " Cashei caught 
 
 Lydia's anxious look, and checked himself. He paused and got 
 away a step, a cunning smile flickering on his lips. " No," he 
 said : " it's just playing into your hands to lose temper with you. 
 You think you know me; and you want to force the fighting. 
 Well, we'll see. Make me angry now if you can." 
 
 *' There is not the slightest reason for anger," said Mrs. Byron, 
 angry herself. " Your temper seems to have become ungovern- 
 able — or rather to have remained so ; for it was never remarkable 
 for sweetness." 
 
 " No," retorted Cashei, jeering good-humouredly. " Not the 
 slightest occasion to lose my temper! Not when I am told that I 
 am silly and low ! Why, I think you must fancy that you're 
 talking to your little Cashei, that blessed child you were so fond of. 
 But you're not. You're talking — now for a screech. Miss Carew ! 
 — to the champion of Australia, the United States, and England ; 
 holder of three silver belts and one gold one (which you can have 
 to wear in * King John ' if you think it'll become you) ; professor 
 ■of boxing to the nobility and gentry of St. James's ; and common 
 prizefighter to the whole globe without reference to weight or 
 colour for not less than ;^50o a side. That's Cashei Byron." 
 
 Mrs. Byron recoiled, astounded. After a pause, she said " Oh, 
 Cashei, how could you ? " Then, approaching him again, " Do you 
 mean to say that you go out and fight those great rough savages ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 " And that you beat them ? " 
 
 " Yes. Ask Miss Carew how Billy Paradise looked after 
 standing before me for an hour." 
 
 " You wonderful boy ! What an occupation ! And have you 
 done all this in your own name ? " 
 
 "Of course I have. I am not ashamed of it. I often wondered 
 whether you had seen my name in the papers? " 
 
150 GASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 *' I never read the papers. But you must have heard of my 
 return to England. Why did you not come to see me ? " 
 
 " I wasnt quite certain that you would like it,' said Cashel 
 uneasily, avoiding hej eye. •' Hallo ! " he exclaimed, as he 
 attempted to refresh himself by another look at Lydia : "she's 
 given us the slip." 
 
 ** She is quite right to leave us alone together under the circum- 
 stances. And now tell me why my precious boy should doubt that 
 his own mother wished to see him." 
 
 '* I dont know why he should," said Cashel, with melancholy 
 submission to her affection. •* But he did." 
 
 '* How insensible you are ! Did you not know that you were 
 always my cherished darling — my only son ? " 
 
 Cashel, who was now sitting beside her on an ottoman, groaned, 
 and moved restlessly, but said nothing. 
 
 ** Are you glad to see me ? " 
 
 ** Yes," said Cashel dismally, ** I suppose I am. I By 
 
 Jingo," he cried, with sudden animation, ** perhaps you can give me 
 a lift here. I never thought of that. I say, mamma : I am in 
 great trouble at present ; and I think you can help me if you will.*' 
 
 Mrs. Byron looked at him satirically. But she said soothingly, 
 ** Of course I will help you — as far as I am able — my precious one. 
 All I possess is yours." 
 
 Cashel ground his feet on the floor impatiently, and then sprang 
 up. After an interval, during which he seemed to be swallowing 
 some indignant protest, he said, 
 
 " You may put your mind at rest, once and for all, on the subject 
 of money. I dont want anything of that sort." 
 
 ** I am glad you are so indep>endent, Cashel." 
 
 •♦So am I." 
 
 ** Do, pray, be more amiable." 
 
 " I am amiable enough," he cried desperately, *' only you wont 
 listen." 
 
 *' My treasure," said Mrs. Byron remorsefully. •• What is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 ♦* W^ell," said Cashel, somewhat mollified, ♦' it is this. I want 
 to marry Miss Carew : that's all." 
 
 *♦ You marry Miss Carew ! " Mrs. Byron's tenderness had van- 
 ished ; and her tone was shrewd and contemptuous. " Do you 
 know, you silly boy, that — " 
 
 " I know all about it," said Cashel determinedly, *' — what she is ; 
 and what I am ; and the rest of it. And I want to marry her; and, 
 what s more, I will marr>' her, if 1 have to break the neck of every 
 swell in London first. So you can either help me or not, as you 
 please ; but if you wont, never call me your precious boy any more. 
 Now ! " 
 
 Mrs. Byron abdicated her dominion there and then for ever. 
 She sat with quite a mild expression for some time in silence. 
 Then she said, 
 
 '♦ After all, I do not see why you should not. It would be a very 
 good match for you." 
 
 " Yes ; but a deuced bad one for her." 
 
 *' Really I do not see that, Cashel. W^hen your uncle dies, I 
 suppose you will succeed to the Dorsetshire property." 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. I5I 
 
 " I the heir to a property ! Are you in earnest ? " 
 
 *' Of course. Dont you know who your people are ? " 
 
 "How could I ? You never told me. Do you mean to say that 
 I have an uncle ? " 
 
 " Old Bingley Byron ? Certainly." 
 
 "Well, lam blowed. But — but — I mean — . Supposing he is 
 my uncle, am I his lawful heir ? " 
 
 " Yes. Walford Byron, the only other brother of your father, 
 died years ago, whilst you were at Moncrief's ; and he had no sons. 
 Bingley is a bachelor." 
 
 " But," said Cashel cautiously, " wont there be some bother 
 about my — at least — " 
 
 " My dearest child, what are you thinking or talking about ? 
 Nothing can be clearer than your title." 
 
 " Well, " said Cashel blushing, " a lot of people used to make 
 out that you werent married at all." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Mrs. Byron indignantly. " Oh, they dare 
 not say so ! Impossible. Why did you not tell me at once ? " 
 
 " I didnt think about it," said Cashel, hastily excusing himself. 
 " I was too young to care. It doesnt matter now. My father is 
 dead, isnt he ? " 
 
 " He died when you were a baby. You have often made me 
 angry with you, poor little innocent, by reminding me of him. Do 
 not talk of him to me." 
 
 " Not if you dont wish. Just one thing though, mamma. Was 
 he a gentleman ? " 
 
 •' Of course. What a question ! " 
 
 " Then I am as good as any of the swells that think themselves 
 her equals ? She has a cousin in a government office : a fellow 
 who gives out that he is the Home Secretary, and most likely sits 
 in a big chair in a hall and cheeks the public. Am I as good as he 
 is ? " 
 
 " You are perfectly well connected by your mother's side, Cashel. 
 The Byrons are only commoners ; but even they are one of the 
 oldest county families in England." 
 
 Cashel began to show signs of excitement. " How much a year 
 are they worth ? " he demanded. 
 
 " I do not know how much they are worth now : your father was 
 always in difficulties ; and so was his father. But Bingley is a 
 miser. Five thousand a year, perhaps." 
 
 '* That's an independence. That's enough. She said she couldnt 
 expect a man to be so thunderingly rich as she is." 
 
 " Indeed ? Then you have discussed the question with her ? ' 
 
 Cashel was about to speak, when a servant entered to say that 
 Miss Carew was in the library, and begged that they would come 
 to her as soon as they were quite disengaged. When the maid 
 withdrew, he said eagerly, 
 
 " I wish you'd go home, mamma, and let me catch her in the 
 librar}^ by herself. Tell me where you live, and I'll come in 
 the evening and tell you all about it. That is, if you have no 
 objection." 
 
 " What objection could I possibly have, dearest one ? Are you 
 sure that you are not spoiling your chance by too much haste ? 
 She has no occasion to hurry, Cashel ; and she knows it." 
 
152 CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. 
 
 •' I am dead certain that now is my time or never. I always 
 know by instinct when to go in and finish. Here's your mantle." 
 
 " In such a hurry to get rid of your poor old mother, Cashel ? " 
 
 '• Oh bother ! you're not old. You wont mind my wanting you 
 to go for this once, will you ? " 
 
 She smiled affectionately ; put on her mantle ; and turned her 
 cheek towards him to be kissed. The unaccustomed gesture 
 alarmed him : he retreated a step, and involuntarily assumed 
 an attitude of self-defence, as if the problem before him were a 
 pugilistic one. Recovering himself immediately, he kissed her, 
 and impatiently accompanied her to the house door, which he 
 closed softly behind her, leaving her to walk in search of her 
 carriage alone. Then he stole upstairs to the library, where he 
 found Lydia readmg. 
 
 *• She's gone," he said. 
 
 Lydia put down her book ; looked up at him ; saw what was 
 coming ; looked down again to hide a spasm of terror ; and 
 said, with a steady severity that cost her a great effort, " I 
 hope you have not quarrelled." 
 
 " Lord bless you, no ! We kissed one another like turtle doves. 
 At odd moments she wheedles me into feeling fond of her in spite 
 of myself. She went away because 1 asked her to." 
 
 •* And why do you ask my guests to go away ? " 
 
 ** Because I wanted to be alone with you. Dont look as if you 
 didnt understand. She's told me a whole heap of things about 
 myself that alter our affairs completely. My birth is all right ; I'm 
 heir to a county family that came over with the conqueror ; and I 
 shall have a decent income. I can afford to give away weight to 
 old Webber now." 
 
 •• Well," said Lydia sternly. 
 
 " Well, said Cashel unabashed, '* the only use of all that to 
 me is that I may marry if I like. No more fighting or teaching 
 now." 
 
 " And when you are married, will you be as tender to your wife 
 as you are to your mother ? " 
 
 Cashel's elation vanished. "I knew you'd think that," he said. 
 *' I am always the same with her : I cant help it. She makes me 
 look like a fool, or like a brute. Have I ever been so with you ? " 
 
 •' Yes," said Lydia. *' Except," she added, " that you have 
 never shewn absolute dislike to me." 
 
 '* Ah ! Except ! That's a very big except. But I dont disHke 
 her. Blood is thicker than water ; and I have a softness for her ; 
 only I wont put up with her nonsense. But it's different with 
 you. I dont know how to say it: I'm not good at sentiment — not 
 that there's any sentiment about it. At least, I dont mean that ; 
 but — You're fond of me in a sort of way, aint you ? " 
 
 " Yes : I'm fond of you in a sort of way." 
 
 "Well, then," he said uneasily, "wont you marry me? I'm 
 not such a fool as you think ; and you'll like me better after a 
 while." 
 
 Lydia became very pale. " Have you considered," she said, 
 *' that henceforth you will be an idle man, and that I shall always 
 be a busy woman, pre-occupied with work that may seem very 
 dull to you ? " 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. I53 
 
 " I wont be idle. There's lots of things I can do besides boxing. 
 We'll get on together, never fear. People that are fond of one 
 another never have any difficulty ; and people that hate each other 
 never have any comfort. I'll be on the look out to make you 
 happy. You neednt fear my interrupting your Latin and Greek : 
 I wont expect you to give up your whole life to me. Why should 
 I ? There's reason in everything. So long as you are mine, and 
 nobody else's, I'll be content. And I'll be yours and nobody 
 else's. What's the use of supposing half-a-dozen accidents that 
 may never happen. Let's sign reasonable articles, and then take 
 our chance. You have too much good nature ever to be nasty." 
 
 "It would be a hard bargain," she said doubtfully; "tor 
 you would have to give up your occupation ; and I should give up 
 nothing but my unfruitful liberty." 
 
 " I will swear never to fight again ; and you neednt swear any- 
 thing. If that is not an easy bargain, I dont know what is." 
 
 " Easy for me : yes. But for you ? " 
 
 " Never mind me. You do whatever you like ; and I'll do what- 
 ever you like. You have a conscience ; so I know that whatever 
 you like will be the best thing. I have the most science ; but you 
 have the most sense. Come ! " 
 
 Lydia looked around, as if for a means of escape. Cashel waited 
 anxiously. There was a long pause. 
 
 " It cant be," he said pathetically, " that you are afraid of me 
 because I was a prizefighter." 
 
 " Afraid of you ! No : I am afraid of myself; afraid of the future ; 
 Sikaid for you. But my mind is already made up on this subject. 
 When [ brought about this meeting between you and your mother, 
 I determined to marry you if you asked me again." 
 
 She stood up quietly, and waited. The rough hardihood of the 
 ring fell from him like a garment : he blushed deeply, and did not 
 know what to do. Nor did she ; but without willing it she came a 
 step closer to him, and turned up her face towards his. He, nearly 
 blind with confusion, put his arms about her and kissed her. Sud- 
 denly she broke loose from his arms, seized the lappels of his coat 
 tightly in her hands, and leaned back until she nearly hung from 
 him with all her weight. 
 
 " Cashel," she said, " we are the silliest lovers in the world, I 
 believe — we know nothing about it. Are 570U really fond of me ? " 
 
 She recovered herself immediately, and made no further demon- 
 stration of the kind. He remained shy, and was so evidently 
 anxious to go, that she presently asked him to leave her for a while, 
 though she was surprised to feel a faint pang of disappointment 
 when he consented. 
 
 On leaving the house, he hurried to the address which his mothei' 
 had given him : a prodigious building in Westminster, divided into 
 residential flats, to the seventh floor of v»rhich he ascended in a lift. 
 As he stepped from it, he saw Lucian Webber walking away from 
 him along a corridor. Obeying a sudden impulse, he followed, and 
 overtook him just as he was entering a room. Lucian, finding that 
 someone was resisting his attempt to close the door, looked out ; 
 recognized Cashel ; turned white ; and hastily retreated into the 
 apartment, where, getting behind a writing table, he snatched a 
 
r54 CASHEL byron's profession. 
 
 revolver from a drawer. Cashel recoiled, amazed and frightened, 
 with his right arm up as if to ward off a blow. 
 
 ** Hallo!" he cried, "Drop that damned thing, will you! If 
 you dont, I'll shout for help." 
 
 ** If you approach me, I will fire," said Lucian excitedly. '* I 
 will teach you that your obsolete brutality is powerless against the 
 weapons Science has put into the hands of civilized men. Leave 
 my apartments. I am not afraid of you ; but I do not choose 
 to be disturbed by your presence." 
 
 ♦* Confound your cheek," said Cashel indignantly : *♦ is that the 
 way you receive a man who comes to make a friendly call on 
 you ? " 
 
 " Friendly now, doubtless, when you see that I am well pro- 
 tected." 
 
 Cashel gave a long whistle. "Oh," he said: "you thought I 
 came to pitch into you. Ha ! ha ! And you call that science — to 
 draw a pistol on a man. But you darent fire it, and well you know 
 it. You'd better put it up, or you may let it off without intending 
 to : I never feel comfortable when I see a fool meddling with fire- 
 arms. I came to tell you that I'm going to be married to your 
 cousin. Aint you glad ? " 
 
 Lucian s face changed. He believed ; but he said obstinately, 
 " I dont credit that statement. It is a lie." 
 
 This outraged Cashel. ** I tell you again," he said, in a menac- 
 ing tone, " that your cousin is engaged to me. Now call me a 
 Har, and hit me in the face, if you dare. Look here," he added, 
 taking a leather case from his pocket, and extracting from it a bank 
 note : " I'll give you that twenty-pound note if you will hit me one 
 blow." 
 
 Lucian, sick with fury, and half paralyzed by a sensation which 
 he would not acknowledge as fear, forced himself to come forward. 
 Cashel thrust out his jaw invitingly, and said, with a sinister grin 
 " Put it in straight, governor. Twenty pounds, remember." 
 
 At that moment Lucian would have given all his political and 
 social chances for the courage and skill of a prizefighter. He 
 could see only one way to escape the torment of Cashel's jeering, 
 and the self-reproach of a coward. He desperately clenched his 
 fist and struck out. The blow wasted itself on space ; and he 
 stumbled forward against his adversary, who laughed uproariously ; 
 grasped his hand ; clapped him on the back ; and exclaimed, 
 
 " Well done, my boy. I thought you were going to be mean ; 
 but you've been game ; and you're welcome to the stakes. I'll tell 
 Lydia that you have fought me for twenty pounds and won 
 on your merits. Aint you proud of yourself for having had a go at 
 the champion ? " 
 
 " Sir " began Lucian. But nothing coherent followed. 
 
 *' You just sit down for quarter of an hour, and dont drink 
 anything ; and you'll be all right. When you recover you'll be 
 glad you showed pluck. So good night for the present — I know 
 how you feel, and I'll be ofT. Be sure not to try to settle yourself 
 with wine : it'll only make you worse. Ta-ta ! " 
 
 As Cashel withdrew, Lucian collapsed into a chair, shaken by 
 the revival of passions and jealousies which he had thought as 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. I55 
 
 completely outgrown as the schoolboy jackets in which he had 
 formerly experienced them. He tried to think of some justification 
 of his anger — some better reason for it than the vulgar taunt of a 
 bully. He told himself presently that the idea of Lydia marrying 
 such a man had maddened him to strike. As Cashel had 
 predicted, he was beginning to plume himself on his pluck. This 
 vein of reflection, warring with his inner knowledge that he 
 had been driven by fear and hatred into a paroxysm of wrath 
 against a man to whom he should have set an example of 
 dignified self-control, produced an exhausting whirl in his thoughts, 
 which were at once quickened and confused by the nervous shock 
 of bodily violence, to which he was quite unused. Unable to sit 
 still, he rose ; put on his hat ; went out ; and drove to the house in 
 Regent's Park. 
 
 Lydia was in her boudoir, occupied with a book, when he 
 entered. He was not an acute observer : he could see no change 
 in her. She was as calm as ever : her eyes were not even fully 
 open ; and the touch of her hand subdued him as it had always 
 done. Though he had never entertained any hope of possessing 
 her since the day when she had refused him in Bedford Square, a 
 sense of intolerable loss came upon him as he saw her for the first 
 time pledged to another — ^and such another ! 
 
 " Lydia," he said, trying to speak vehemently, but failing to 
 shake oflf the conventional address of which he had made a second 
 nature, " I have heard something that has filled me with in- 
 expressible dismay. Is it true ? " 
 
 "The news has travelled fast," she said. *'Yes: it is true.'* 
 She spoke composedly, and so kindly that he choked in trying to 
 reply. 
 
 *' Then, Lydia, you are the chief actor in a greater tragedy than 
 I have ever witnessed on the stage." 
 
 " It is strange, is it not ? " she said, smiling at his effort to be 
 impressive. 
 
 "Strange! It is calamitous. I trust I may be allowed to say 
 so. And you sit there reading as calmly as though nothing had 
 happened." 
 
 She handed him the book without a word. 
 
 " ' Ivanhoe ' ! " he said. " A novel ! " 
 
 " Yes. Do you remember once, before you knew me very well, 
 telling me that Scott's novels were the only ones that you liked to 
 see in the hands of ladies ? " 
 
 " No doubt I did. But I cannot talk of literature just " 
 
 *' I am not leading you away from what you want to talk about. 
 I was about to tell you that I came upon ' Ivanhoe ' by chance 
 half an hour ago when I was searching — I confess it — lor some- 
 thing very romantic to read. ' Ivanhoe ' was a prizefighter — the 
 first half of the book is a description of a prize-fight. I was 
 wondering whether some romancer of the twenty-fourth century 
 will hunt out the exploits of my husband, and present him to the 
 world as a sort of English nineteenth century Cid, with all the 
 glory of antiquity upon his deeds." 
 
 Lucian made a gesture of impatience. " I have never been able 
 to understand," he said, " how it is that a woman of your ability 
 
156 CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 can habitually dwell on perverse and absurd ideas. Oh, Lydia, 
 is this to be the end of all your great gifts and attainments ? For- 
 give me if I touch a painful chord ; but this marriage seems to me 
 so unnatural that I must speak out. Your father made you one of 
 the richest and best educated women in the world. Would he ap- 
 prove of what you are about to do ? " 
 
 '• It almost seems to me that he educated me expressly to some 
 such end. Whom would you have me marry ? " 
 
 •' Doubtless few men are worthy of you, Lydia. But this man 
 least of all. Could you not marry a gentleman ? If he were even 
 an artist, a poet, or a man of genius of any kind, I could bear to 
 think of it ; for indeed I am not influenced by class prejudice in 
 
 the matter. But a 1 will try to say nothing that you must not 
 
 in justice admit to be too obvious to be ignored — a man of the 
 lower orders, pursuing a calling which even the lower orders 
 despise ; illiterate, rough, awaiting at this moment a disgraceful 
 sentence at the hands of the law ! Is it fKDSsible that you have con- 
 sidered all these things ? '* 
 
 *' Not very deeply : they are not of a kind to concern me much. 
 I can console you as to one of them. I have always recognized 
 him as a gentleman, in your sense of the word. He proves to be 
 so — one of considerable position, in fact. As to his approaching 
 trial, I have spoken with Lord Worthington about it, and also 
 with the lawyers who have charge of the case; and they say 
 positively that, owing to certain proofs not being in the hands of 
 the police, a defence can be set up that will save him from im- 
 prisonment." 
 
 *• There is no such defence possible," said Lucian, angrily. 
 
 '* Perhaps not. As far as I understand it, it is rather an aggra- 
 vation of the offence than an excuse for it. But if they imprison 
 him, it will make no difference. He can console himself by the 
 certainty that I will marry him at once when he is released." 
 
 Lucian's face lengthened. He abandoned the argument, and 
 said blankly, " I cannot suppose that you would allow yourself to 
 be deceived. If he is a gentleman of position, that of course alters 
 the case completely." 
 
 *' Very little indeed from my point of view. Hardly at all. 
 And now, worldly cousin Lucian, I have satisfied you that I am 
 not going to connect you by marriage with a butcher, bricklayer, or 
 other member of the trades from which Cashel's profession, as you 
 warned me, is usually recruited. Stop a moment : I am going to 
 do justice to you. You want to say that my unworldly friend 
 Lucian is far more deeply concerned at seeing the phoenix of 
 modern culture throw herself away on a man unworthy of her." 
 
 •• That is what I mean to say, except that you put it too modestly. 
 It is a case of the phoenix, not only of modern culture, but of natural 
 endowment and of every happy accident of the highest civilization, 
 throwing herself away on a man specially incapacitated by his 
 tastes and pursuits from comprehending her or entering the circle 
 in which she moves." 
 
 *' Listen to me patiently, Lucian, and I will try to explain the 
 mystery to you, leaving the rest of the world to misunderstand me 
 as it pleases. First, you will grant me that even a phoenix must 
 
CASHEL BYRON S PROFESSION. I57 
 
 marry someone in order that she may hand on her torch to her 
 children. Her best course would be to marry another phoenix ; 
 but as she — poor girl ! — cannot appreciate even her own phoenixity, 
 much less that of another, she must perforce be content with a 
 mere mortal. Who is the mortal to be ? Not her cousin Lucian ; 
 for rising young politicians must have helpful wives, with feminine 
 politics and powers of visiting and entertaining: a description inap- 
 plicable to the phoenix. Not, as you just now suggested, a man of 
 letters. Thephcenixhashadher share of playing helpmeet to a man 
 of letters, and does not care to repeat that experience. She is sick 
 to death of the morbid introspection and womanish self-conscious- 
 ness of poets, novelists, and their like. As to artists, all the good 
 ones are married ; and ever since the rest have been able to read 
 in hundreds of books that the}' are the most gifted and god-like of 
 men, they are become almost as intolerable as their literary flatterers. 
 No, Lucian : the phoenix has paid her debt to literature and art 
 by the toil of her childhood. She will use and enjoy both of them in 
 future as best she can ; but she will never again drudge in their 
 laboratories. You say that she might at least have married a 
 gentleman. But the gentlemen she knows are either amateurs of the 
 arts, having the egotism of professional artists without their ability ; 
 or the}' are men of pleasure, which means that they are dancers, 
 tennis players, butchers, and gamblers. I leave the nonentities 
 out of the question. Now, in the eyes of a phoenix, a prizefighter 
 is a hero in comparison with a wretch who sets a leash of grey- 
 hounds upon a hare. Imagine, now, this poor phoenix meeting 
 with a man who had never been guilty of self-analysis in his hfe — 
 who complained when he was annoyed, and exulted when he was 
 glad, like a child (and unlike a modern man) — who was honest and 
 brave, strong and beautiful. You open your eyes, Lucian : you do 
 not do justice to Cashel's good looks. He is twenty-five ; and yet 
 there is not a line in his face. It is neither thoughful, nor poetic, 
 nor wearied, nor doubting, nor old, nor self-conscious, as so many 
 of his contemporaries' faces are — as mine, perhaps, is. The face 
 of a pagan god, assured of eternal youth, and absolutely disquali- 
 fied from comprehending Faust. Do you understand a word of 
 what I am saying, Lucian ? " 
 
 ** I must confess that I do not. Either you have lost your 
 reason, or I have. I wish you had never taken to reading Faust.'' 
 
 " It is my fault. I began an explanation, and rambled off, 
 womanlike, into praise of my lover. However, I will not attempt 
 to complete my argument ; for if you do not understand me from 
 what I have already said, the further you follow, the wider you will 
 wander. The truth, in short, is this. I practically believe in the 
 doctrine of heredity ; and as my body is frail and my brain mor- 
 bidly active, I think my impulse towards a man strong in body 
 and untroubled in mind, a trustworthy one. You can under- 
 stand that : it is a plain proposition in eugenics. But if I tell you 
 that I have chosen this common pugilist because, after seeing half 
 the culture of Europe, I despaired of finding a better man, you will 
 only tell me again that I have lost my reason." 
 
 " I know that you will do whatever you have made up your 
 mind to do," said Lucian desolately. 
 
158 CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. 
 
 *' And you will make the best of it, will you not ? " 
 
 *• The best or worst of it does not rest with me. I can only 
 accept it as inevitable." 
 
 " Not at all. You can make the worst of it by behaving dis- 
 tantly to Cashel ; or the best of it by being friendly with him." 
 
 Lucian reddened and hesitated. She looked at him, mutely 
 encouraging him to be generous. 
 
 *'I had better tell you," he said. *' I have seen him since — 
 since — " Lydia nodded. •* I mistook his object in coming into 
 my room as he did, unannounced. In fact, he almost forced his 
 way in. Some words arose between us. At last he taunted me 
 beyond endurance, and offered me — characteristically — £20 to 
 strike him. And I am sorry to say that I did so." 
 
 •' You did so ! And what followed ? " 
 
 •* I should say rather that I meant to strike him ; for he avoided 
 me, or else I missed my aim. He only gave me the money and 
 went away, evidently with a high opinion of me. He left me with 
 a very low one of myself." 
 
 ** What ! He did not retaliate ! ** exclaimed Lydia, recovering 
 her colour, which had fled. ♦' And you ziruck him ! " she added. 
 
 ** He did not," replied Lucian, passing by the reproach. '♦ Pro- 
 bably he despised me too much." 
 
 '*That is not fair, Lucian. He behaved very well — for a prize- 
 fighter ! Surely you do not grudge him his superiority in the very 
 art you condemn him for professing." 
 
 *' I was wrong, Lydia ; but I grudged him you. I know I have 
 acted hastily ; and I will apologize to him. I wish matters had 
 fallen out otherwise." 
 
 " They could not have done so ; and I believe you will yet 
 acknowledge that they have arranged themselves very well. And 
 now that the phcenix is disposed of, I want to read you a letter I 
 have received from Alice Goff, which throws quite a new light on 
 her character. I have not seen her since June ; and she seems to 
 have gained three years mental growth in the interim. Listen to 
 this, for example." 
 
 And so the conversation turned upon Alice. 
 
 When Lucian returned to his chambers, he wrote the following 
 note, which he posted to Cashel Byron before going to bed. 
 
 Dear Sir 
 
 I heg to oiclose you a bank note which you left here this evening. I 
 fed hound to express my regret for wJtat passed on that occasion, and to 
 assure you tliat it proceeded from a misapprehension of your purpose in calling 
 on me. The nervous disorder into which the severe mental application and 
 late hours of tlie past session have thrown me must be my excuse. I hope 
 to have the pleasure of meeting you again soon, and offering you personally 
 my congratulations on your approaching marriage. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 yours truly, 
 
 Lucian Webber, 
 
159 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 In the following month Cashel Byron, William Paradise, and 
 Robert Mellish appeared in the dock together, the first two for 
 having been principals in a prizefight, and Mellish for having acted 
 as bottleholder to Paradise. These offences were verbosely de- 
 scribed in a long indictment which had originally included the 
 fourth man who had been captured, but against whom the grand 
 jury had refused to find a true bill. The prisoners pleaded not 
 guilty. 
 
 The defence was that the fight, the occurrence of which was 
 admitted, was not a prizefight, but the outcome of an enmity which 
 had subsisted between the two men since one of them, at a public 
 exhibition at Islington, had attacked and bitten the other. In 
 support of this, it was shown that Byron had occupied a house at 
 Wiltstoken, and had lived there with Mellish, who had invited 
 Paradise to spend a holiday with him in the country. This ac- 
 counted for the presence of the three men at Wiltstoken on the 
 day in question. Words had arisen between Byron and Paradise 
 on the subject of the Islington affair ; and they had at last agreed 
 to settle the dispute in the old English fashion. They had adjourned 
 to a field, and fought fairly and determinedly until interrupted by 
 the police, who were misled by appearances into the belief that the 
 affair was a prizefight. 
 
 Prizefighting was a brutal pastime, Cashel Byron's counsel said ; 
 but a fair stand-up fight between two unarmed men, though 
 doubtless technically a breach of the peace, had never been severely 
 dealt with by a British jury or a British judge ; and the case would 
 be amply met by binding over the prisoners, who were now on the 
 best of terms with one another, to keep the peace for a reasonable 
 period. The sole evidence against this view of the case, he argued, 
 was police evidence ; and the police were naturally reluctant to 
 admit that they had found a mare's nest. In proof that the fight 
 had been premeditated, and was a prizefight, they alleged that it 
 had taken place within an enclosure formed with ropes and stakes. 
 But where were those ropes and stakes ? They were not forth- 
 coming ; and he (counsel) submitted that the reason was not, as 
 had been suggested, because they had been spirited away, for that 
 was plainly impossible ; but because they had existed only in the 
 excited imagination of the posse of constables who had arrested 
 the prisoners. 
 
 xVgain, it had been urged that the prisoners were in fighting 
 
l6o CASH 111. BYRON 'S PROFESSION. 
 
 costume. But cross-examination had elicited that fighting costume 
 meant practically no costume at all : the men had simply stripped 
 in order that their movements might be unembarrassed. It had 
 been proved that Paradise had been — well, in the traditional cos- 
 tume of Paradise (roars of laughter) until the police borrowed a 
 blanket to put upon him. 
 
 That the constables had been guilty of gross exaggeration was 
 shewn by their evidence as to the desperate injuries the combatants 
 had inflicted upon one another. Of Paradise in particular it had 
 been alleged that his features were obliterated. The jury had before 
 them in the dock the man whose features had been obliterated 
 only a few weeks previously. If that were true, where had the 
 prisoner obtained the unblemished lineaments which he was now, 
 full of health and good humor, presenting to them ? (Renewed 
 laughter. Paradise grinning in confusion.) It was said that these 
 terrible injuries, the traces of which had disappeared so miracu- 
 lously, were inflicted by the prisoner Byron, a young gentleman 
 tenderly nurtured, and visibly inferior in strengtli and hardihood 
 to his herculean opponent. Doubtless Byron had been emboldened 
 by his skill in mimic combat to try conclusions, under the very 
 different conditions of real fighting, with a man whose massive 
 shoulders and determined cast of features ought to have convinced 
 him that such an enterprise was nothing short of desperate. Fortu- 
 nately the police had interfered before he had suffered severely for 
 his rashness. Yet it had been alleged that he had actually worsted 
 Paradise in the encounter — obliterated his features. That was a 
 fair sample of the poHce evidence, which was throughout con- 
 sistently incredible and at variance with the dictates of common 
 sense. 
 
 Attention was then drawn to the honourable manner in which 
 Byron had come forward and given himself up to the police the 
 moment he became aware that they were in search of him. Para- 
 dise would, beyond a doubt, have adopted the same course had he 
 not been arrested at once, and that too without the least effort at 
 resistance on his part. That was hardly the line of conduct that 
 would have suggested itself to two lawless prizefighters. 
 
 A.n attempt had been made to prejudice the prisoner Byron by 
 the statement that he was a notorious professional bruiser. But 
 no proof of that was forthcoming ; and if the fact were really 
 notorious there could be no difficulty in proving it. Such notoriety 
 as Mr. Eyron enjoyed was due, as appeared from the evidence of 
 Lord Worthington and others, to his approaching marriage to a 
 lady of distinction. Was it credible that a highly connected 
 gentleman in this enviable position would engage in a prizefight, 
 risking disgrace and personal disfigurement, for a sum of money 
 that could be no object to him, or for a glory that would appear 
 to all his friends as little better than infamy ? 
 
 The whole of the evidence as to the character of the prisoners 
 went to shew that they were men of unimpeachable integrity 
 and respectability. An impression unfavourable to Paradise 
 might have been created by the fact that he was a professional 
 pugilist and a man of hasty temper ; but it had also transpired that 
 he had on several occasions rendered assistance to the police, 
 
CASHEL BYRON's PROFESSION. l6l 
 
 thereby employing his skill and strength in the interests of law and 
 order. As to his temper, it accounted for the quarrel which the 
 police — knowing his profession — had mistaken for a prizefight. 
 
 Mellish was a trainer of athletes, and hence the witnesses to his 
 character were chiefly persons connected with sport ; but they were 
 not the less worthy of credence on that account. 
 
 In fine, the charge would have been hard to believe even if sup- 
 ported by the strongest evidence. But when there was no evidence 
 — when the police had failed to produce any of the accessories of 
 a prizefight — when there were no ropes nor posts — no written 
 articles — no stakes nor stakeholders — no seconds except the unfor- 
 tunate man Mellish, whose mouth was closed b}^ a law which, in 
 defiance of the obvious interests of justice, forbade a prisoner to 
 speak and clear himself — nothing, in fact, but the fancies of con- 
 stables who had, under cross-examination, not only contradicted 
 one another, but shewn the most complete ignorance (a highly 
 creditable ignorance) of the nature and conditions of a prizefight ; 
 then counsel would venture to say confidently that the theory of 
 the prosecution, ingenious as it was, and ably as it had been put 
 forward, was absolutely and utterly untenable. 
 
 This, and much more argument of equal value, was delivered 
 with relish by a comparatively young barrister, whose spirits rose 
 as he felt the truth change and fade whilst he re-arranged its 
 attendant circumstances. Cashel listened for some time anxiously. 
 He flushed and looked moody when his marriage was alluded to ;. 
 but when the whole defence was unrolled, he was awestruck, and 
 stared at his advocate as if he half feared that the earth would 
 gape and swallow such a reckless perverter of patent facts. Even 
 the Judge smiled once or twice ; and when he did so the jurymen 
 grinned, but recovered their solemnity suddenly when the bench 
 recollected itself and became grave again. Everyone in court 
 knew that the police were right — that there had been a prizefight 
 — -that the betting on it had been recorded in all the sporting 
 papers for weeks beforehand — that Cashel was the most terrible 
 fighting man of the day, and that Paradise had not dared to pro- 
 pose a renewal of the interrupted contest. And they listened with 
 admiration and delight whilst the advocate proved that these things 
 were incredible and nonsensical. 
 
 It remained for the Judge to sweep away the defence, or 
 to favour the prisoners by countenancing it. Fortunately for them,, 
 he w^as an old man ; and could recal, not without regret, a time 
 when the memory of Cribb and Molyneux was yet green. He began 
 his summing-up by teUing the jury that the police had failed to 
 prove that the fight was a prizefight. After that, the public, by 
 indulging in roars of laughter whenever they could find a pretext 
 for doing so without being turned out of court, shewed that they 
 had ceased to regard the trial seriously. 
 
 Finally the juiy acquitted Mellish, and found Cashel and Para- 
 dise guilty of a common assault. They were sentenced to twa 
 days' imprisonment, and bound over to keep the peace for twelve 
 months in sureties of £150 each. The sureties were forthcoming ; 
 and as the imprisonment was supposed to date from the beginning 
 of the sessions, the prisoners were at once released. 
 
J 62 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 Miss Carew, averse to the anomalous relations of courtshij), 
 made as little delay as possible in getting married. Cashels luck 
 was not changed by the event, liingley Byron died three weeks 
 after the ceremony (which was civil and private) ; and Cashel had 
 to claim possession of the property in Dorsetshire, in spite of his 
 •expressed wish that the lawyers would take themselves and the 
 property to the devil, and allow him to enjoy his honeymoon in 
 peace. The transfer was not, however, accomplished at once. 
 Owing to his mother's capricious reluctance to give the necessary 
 information without reserve, and to the law's delay, his first 
 child was born some time l)efore his succession was fully established. 
 And the doors of his ancestral hall opened to him. The conclusion 
 of the business was a great relief to his attorneys, who had been 
 unable to shake his conviction that the case was clear enough, but 
 that the referee had been squared. By this he meant that the 
 Lord Chancellor had been bribed to keep him out of his property. 
 * His marriage proved an unusually happy one. To make up for 
 the loss of his occupation, he farmed, and lost six thousand pounds by 
 it ; tried gardening with better success ; began to meddle in com- 
 mercial enterprise, and became director of several trading com- 
 panies in the city ; and was eventuall}' mvited to represent a 
 Dorsetshire constituency in Parliament in the Radical interest. 
 He was returned by a large majority ; and, having a loud voice and 
 an easy manner, he soon acquired some reputation both in and out of 
 the House of Commons by the popularity of his own views, and 
 the extent of his wife's information, which he retailed at second- 
 hand. He made his maiden speech in the House unabashed the 
 first night he sat there. Indeed, he was afraid of nothing except 
 burglars, big dogs, doctors, dentists, and street-crossings. When- 
 ever any accident occurred through any of these, he preserved the 
 newspaper in which it was reported ; read it to Lydia very seriously ; 
 and repeated his favourite assertion that the only place in which a 
 man was safe was the ring. As he objected to most field sports 
 on the ground of inhumanity, she, fearing that he would sufter in 
 health and appearance from want of systematic exercise, suggested 
 that he should resume the practice of boxing with gloves. But he 
 was lazy in this matter, and had a prejudice that boxing did not 
 become a married man. His career as a pugilist was closed 
 by his marriage. 
 
 His admiration for his wife survived the ardour of his first love 
 
CASHEL HYRON'S PROFESSION. 1 63 
 
 for her ; and she employed all her forethought not to disappoint 
 his reliance on her judgment. She led a busy life; and wrote 
 some learned monographs, as well as a work in which she denounced 
 education as practised in the universities and public schools. Her 
 children inherited her acuteness and refinement with their father's 
 robustness and aversion to study. They were precocious and im- 
 pudent ; had no respect for Cashel ; and showed any they had for 
 their mother principally by running to her when they were in 
 difficulties. She never punished nor scolded them ; but she con- 
 trived to make their misdeeds recoil naturally upon them so in- 
 evitably that the}' soon acquired a lively moral sense which re- 
 strained them much more effectually than the usual methods of 
 securing order in the nursery. Cashel treated them kindly for the 
 purpose of conciliating them : and when Lydia spoke of them to 
 him in private, he seldom said more than that the imps were too 
 sharp for him, or that he was blest if he didnt believe that they 
 were born older than their father. Lydia often thought so too ; 
 but the care of this troublesome family had one advantage for her. 
 It left her little time to think about herself, or about the fact that 
 when the illusion of her love passed away, Cashel fell in her 
 estimation. J3ut the children were a success ; and she soon came 
 to regard him as one of them. When she had leisure to consider 
 the matter at all, which seldom occurred, it seemed to her that, on 
 the whole, she had chosen wisely. 
 
 Alice Goff, when she heard of Lydias projected marriage, saw 
 that she must return to Wiltstoken, and forget her brief social 
 splendour as soon as possible. She therefore thanked Miss Carew 
 for her bounty, and begged to relinquish her post of companion. 
 Lydia assented, but managed to delay this sacrifice to a sense of 
 duty and necessity until a day earty in winter, when Lucian gave* 
 way to a hankering after domestic joys that possessed him, and 
 allowed his cousin to persuade him to offer his hand to Alice. 
 She indignantly refused — not that she had any reason to complain 
 of him, but because the prospect of returning to Wiltstoken made 
 her feel ill-used, and she could not help revenging her soreness 
 upon the first person whom she could find a pretext for attacking. 
 He, lukew^arm before, now became eager, and she was induced to 
 relent without much difficulty. Lucian was supposed to have made a 
 brilliant match ; and, as it proved, he made a fortunate one. She kept 
 his house, entertained his guests, and took charge of his social con- 
 nexions so ably that in course of time her invitations came to be 
 coveted by people who were desirous of moving in good society. 
 She was even better looking as a matron than she had been as a 
 girl ; and her authority in matters of etiquette inspired nervous 
 novices with all the terrors she had herself felt when she first 
 visited Wiltstoken Castle. She invited her brother-in-law and his 
 wife to dinner twice a 3'ear — at Midsummer and Easter; but she 
 never admitted that either Wallace Parker or Cashel Byron were 
 gentlemen, although she invited the latter freely, notwithstanding 
 the frankness with which he spoke to strangers after dinner of his 
 former exploits, without deference to their professions or prejudices. 
 Her respect for Lydia remained so great that she never complained 
 to her of Cashel save on one occasion, when he had shown a 
 
164 CASHEL BVKUS'b PROFESSION. 
 
 bishop, whose house had been recently broken into and robbed, 
 how to break a burglar's back in the act of grappling with him. 
 
 The Skenes returned to Australia and went their way there, as 
 Mrs. Byron did in England, in the paths they had pursued for 
 years before. Cashel spoke always of Mrs. Skene as " mother." 
 and of Mrs. Byron as " mamma." 
 
 William Paradise, though admired by the fair sex for his 
 strength, courage and fame, was not, like Cashel and Skene, wise 
 or fortunate enough to get a good wife. He drank so exceedingly 
 that he had but few sober intervals after his escape from the law. 
 He claimed the title of champion of England on Cashel's retire- 
 ment from the ring, and challenged the world. The world re- 
 sponded in the persons of sundry young labouring men with a 
 thirst for j'lory and a taste for fighting. Paradise fought and pre- 
 vailed twice. Then he drank whilst in training, and was beaten. 
 But by this time the ring had again fallen into the disrepute from 
 which Cashel's unusual combination of pugilistic genius with 
 honesty had temporarily raised it ; and the law, again seizing 
 Paradise as he was borne vanquished from the field, atoned for its 
 former leniency by incarcerating him for six months. The 
 abstinence thus enforced restored him to health and vigour ; and 
 he achieved another victory before he succeeded in drinking him- 
 self into his former state. This was his last triumph. With his 
 natural ruffianism complicated by drunkeness, he went rapidly 
 down the hill into the valley of Humiliation. After becoming noted 
 for his readiness to sell the victories he could no longer win, he 
 only appeared in the ring to test the capabilities of untried youths, 
 who beat him to their hearts' content. He became a potman, and 
 was immediately discharged as an inebriate. He had sunk into 
 beggary when, hearing in his misery that his former antagonist was 
 contesting a parliamentary election, he applied to him for alms. 
 Cashel at the time was in Dorsetshire ; but Lydia relieved the 
 destitute wretch, whose condition was now far worse than it had 
 been at their last meeting. At his next application, which fol- 
 lowed soon, he was confronted by Cashel, who bullied him fiercely; 
 threatened to break every bone in his skin if he ever again dared 
 to present himself before Lydia ; flung him five shillings ; and bade 
 him begone. For Cashel retained for Paradise that contemptuous 
 and ruthless hatred in which a duly qualified professor holds a 
 quack. Paradise bought a few pence-worth of food, which he 
 could hardly eat ; and spent the rest m brandy, which he drank as 
 fast as his stomach would endure it. Shortly afterwards, a few 
 sporting papers reported his death, which they attributed to "con- 
 sumption, brought on by the terrible injuries sustained by him m 
 his celebrated fight with Cashel Byron." 
 London, 1882-3. 
 
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