iERKELBY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 f 
 
 /r 
 
 
TOXIN 
 
 CENTURY LIBRARY 
 

OUIDA 
 
 TOXIN 
 
 qA sketch 
 
 4L 
 
 LONDON 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 
 M DCCC XCV 
 
Copyright by T. FISHER UNWIN 
 for Great Britain. 
 
 Copyright by THE FREDERICK. A. 
 
 STOKES CO. 
 
 for the United States of America. 
 
76^ 
 
 861 
 
I. 
 
 (H ! my necklace ! " cried 
 a fair woman as she 
 leaned over the side of 
 her gondola. 
 
 A string of opals, 
 linked and set in gold, had been 
 loosened from her throat, and 
 had slid down into the water of 
 the lagoon, midway between the 
 Lido and the city of Venice. 
 But the gondola was moving 
 swiftly under the impulsion of a 
 rower fore and aft, and, though 
 they stopped a few moments after 
 at her cry, the spot where it had 
 fallen was already passed and left 
 
8 TOXIN. 
 
 behind. She was vexed and pro- 
 voked. She had many jewels, 
 but the opal necklace was an 
 heirloom, and of fine and curious 
 workmanship. The gondoliers 
 did their best to find it, but in 
 vain. They were in the deeper 
 water of the sailing roads, which 
 were marked out by the lines of 
 poles, and the necklace, a slight 
 thing, had been borne away by 
 the current setting in from the 
 open sea. 
 
 It was a pale afternoon in late 
 summer; the heat was still great; 
 the skies and the waters were of 
 the same soft, dreamy, silvery 
 hue, and the same transparency 
 and ethereality were on the dis- 
 tant horizons of the hills, west 
 and east. The only colour there 
 was came from the ruddy painted 
 sails of some fruit-laden market 
 boats which were passing to lee- 
 ward. 
 
*<*u*MHE) 
 
TOXIN. 9 
 
 Neither of the men could 
 swim ; many Venetians cannot ; 
 but they got over the side, and 
 waded up to their waists in the 
 water, and with their oars struck 
 and sounded the sandy bottom, 
 whilst she encouraged them with 
 praise and extravagant promise 
 of reward. Their efforts were of 
 no avail. The lagoon, which has 
 been the grave of so many, kept 
 the drowned opals. 
 
 " We will go back and send 
 divers," she said to her men 
 who, wet to their waists, were 
 well content to turn the head of 
 the gondola back to the city. 
 
 They wore white clothes with 
 red sashes and red ribbons round 
 their straw hats ; they were in 
 her private service ; they steered 
 quickly home again over the calm 
 water-way, and in and out the 
 crowded craft by the Schiavone 
 past the Customs House, and S. 
 
IO TOXIN. 
 
 Giorgio, and the Salvatore, until 
 they reached a palace on the 
 Grand Canal, which was their 
 mistress's residence, with poles 
 painted red and white, with coro- 
 nets on their tops, marking the 
 landing stairs in the old Venetian 
 fashion. 
 
 " I have lost my opals in the 
 water ! " she cried to a friend 
 who was on one of the balconies 
 of the first floor. 
 
 "I am glad you have lost 
 them," replied her friend. "They 
 are stones of misfortune." 
 
 " Nonsense ! They were beau- 
 tiful, and they were Ninetta 
 Zaranegra's, poor Carlo's great- 
 great-grandmother ; they were 
 one of her nuptial presents a 
 hundred and twenty years ago. 
 I must have the men dive and 
 dredge till they are found. The 
 water is so shallow. I cannot 
 think how the collar can have 
 
TOXIN. 1 1 
 
 vanished so completely in such 
 a moment 01 time.*' 
 
 She ascended her palace steps, 
 and dismissed her gondoliers with 
 a gesture, as she paused in the 
 entrance-hall to tell her major- 
 domo of her loss, and consult 
 him as to the best means to 
 recover the necklace. The hall 
 was painted in fresco, with beau- 
 tiful Moorish windows, and a 
 groined and gilded ceiling, and a 
 wide staircase of white marble, 
 uncarpeted. Opposite the en- 
 trance was a latticed door through 
 which was seen the bright green 
 of acacias, Crataegus, and laurel 
 growing in a garden. 
 
 On the morrow, when it was 
 known through Venice that the 
 rich and generous Countess Zara- 
 negra had lost her jewels, all the 
 best divers hurried to the place 
 where the opals had dropped, and 
 worked sedulously from daybreak 
 
12 TOXIN, 
 
 to find it, sailors and fishermen 
 and boatmen all joining in the 
 search, in hope to merit the re- 
 ward she promised. But no one 
 of them succeeded. Their efforts 
 were useless. The tenacious 
 water would not yield up its 
 prey. The opals were gone, like 
 spindrift. 
 
hi 
 
 H winter came and w Venice In 
 
 miiU 
 
II. 
 
 HE winter came and 
 went, wrapping Venice 
 in its mists, driving 
 the sea-birds into the 
 inland canals, making 
 the pigeons sit ruffled and sad 
 on the parapets of the palaces, 
 and leaving many a gondolier 
 unemployed, to warm his hands 
 over little fires of driftwood under 
 the snow-sprinkled rafters and 
 naked vine-branches of his tra- 
 ghetto. The gondoliers of the 
 Ca' Zaranegra were more for- 
 tunate ; they could sit round the 
 great bronze brazier in the hall 
 
 3 
 
14 TOXIN. 
 
 of their lady's house, and the 
 gondola was laid up high and 
 dry to await the spring, and 
 their wages were paid with regu- 
 larity and liberality by the silent 
 and austere major-domo who 
 reigned in the forsaken palace, 
 for their lady was away on 
 warmer shores than the wind- 
 beaten, surge-drowned, sea-walls 
 of their city. 
 
 The winter was hard; snow 
 lay long on the Istrian hills and 
 on the Paduan pastures; there 
 was ice on the rigging of the 
 Greek brigs in the Giudecca, 
 and the huge ocean steamers 
 from the east looked like un- 
 couth prehistoric beasts, black 
 and gigantic, as they loomed 
 through the fogs, moving slowly 
 towards the docks under cautious 
 pilotage. There were laughter 
 and warmth in the theatres, and 
 the sounds of music came from 
 
/v\A 
 
 The gondoliers of the Ca' Zaranegra were more 
 fortunate ; they could sit round the great bronze 
 brazier in the hall of their lady's house. . . . Their 
 wages were paid with regularity and liberality by the 
 silent and austere major-domo. 
 
TOXIN. 15 
 
 some of the palaces ; but in the 
 Calle, in the fishermen's quar- 
 ters, on the islands, on board 
 the poor rough sailing craft, and 
 amongst the maritime population 
 generally, there were great suffer- 
 ing and much want ; and by the 
 bar of Malomocco and off the 
 coast of Chioggia there were 
 wrecks which strewed the waters 
 with broken timbers and dashed 
 drowning sailors like seaweed on 
 to the wooden piles. Stout boats 
 were broken like shells, and 
 strong seafaring men were 
 washed to and fro like driftword. 
 But the frail opal necklace of the 
 Countess Zaranegra was safe in 
 the midst of the strife ; it had 
 fallen into a hollow in a sunken 
 pile and lay there, unharmed, 
 whilst above it the stormy tides 
 rose and fell, and the winds 
 churned the cream of the surf. 
 There it lay, all through the 
 
1 6 TOXIN. 
 
 rough winter weather, whilst the 
 silvery gulls died of hunger, and 
 the sea swallows were hurled by 
 the hurricane on to the lanterns 
 of lighthouses and against the 
 timbers of vessels. 
 
 It weathered many storms, 
 this frail toy, made to lie on 
 the warm breasts of women, 
 whilst the storm kings drew down 
 to their death the bread-winners 
 for whom wife and children vainly 
 prayed on shore, and the daring 
 mariners for whom the deep had 
 had no terrors. 
 
 In the hollow of the old oak 
 pile the opals remained all winter 
 long, lying like bird's eggs in a 
 nest, whilst the restless waters 
 washed and swirled above its 
 sanctuary. The worn stump of 
 the wood had kept its place for 
 centuries, and many a corpse 
 had drifted past it outward to 
 the sea in days when the white 
 
TOXIN. 1 7 
 
 marbles of St. Mark's city had 
 run red with blood. It had once 
 been the base of a sea-shrine, of 
 a Madonna of the waters to 
 whom the boatmen passing had 
 invoked the Stella Maris Vir- 
 gine so dear to fishermen and 
 sailors. 
 
 But the painted shrine had 
 long disappeared, and only the 
 piece of timber, down under- 
 neath the waters, rooted in the 
 sand amongst the ribbon weed 
 and mussels, had had power to 
 resist the forces of tide and 
 tempest. 
 
 All the winter long the old 
 wood kept the opals safe and 
 sound. When the cold passed, 
 and the blasts from the Dolomite 
 glaciers softened, and the orchards 
 of the fruit islands were in bud, 
 the opals were still in their 
 hollow, covered from the sea by 
 the bend of the wood above them, 
 
 2 
 
l8 TOXIN. 
 
 so that, though often wet, they 
 were never washed away. 
 
 But one day, when the peach 
 and pear and plum trees had in 
 turn burst into blossom on the 
 isles, and the flocks of gulls who 
 had survived the stress of famine 
 and frost had returned to their 
 feeding-places on the outer la- 
 goons, a large iron ship coming 
 from the Black Sea gave a rude 
 shock in passing to the old oak 
 pile ; the top of it under the blow 
 parted and fell asunder; the 
 necklace was washed out of its 
 hiding-place, and, carried in the 
 heavy trough of the steamer's 
 path, was floated nearer to the 
 isles, farther from the city. It 
 became entangled with some 
 algae, and, rocked on the weed 
 as on a little raft, was borne to 
 and fro by a strong wind rushing 
 from the north-east, and so was 
 driven round past San Cristoforo 
 
TOXIN. 19 
 
 and Burano, and was finally 
 carried ashore up the creeks into 
 the long grasses and reeds be- 
 neath the Devil's Bridge at 
 Torcello. The yellow water iris 
 was then flowering, and two 
 little reed warblers were nesting 
 amongst the flags, as the opals 
 were drifted up under some hem- 
 lock leaves and there rested. 
 
 " I think they are eggs, but 
 they are all strung together," 
 said the warbler to his mate. 
 
 "They look more like the 
 spawn of a fish/' said the little 
 winged lady, with scorn. 
 
 A water-rat came up and 
 smelt at them, then went away 
 disdainfully ; they were not good 
 to eat. For birds and beasts do 
 not care for jewels : it is only 
 humanity, which thinks itself 
 superior to them, which sees 
 any value in stones, and calls 
 such toys precious. 
 
III. 
 
 ^HE devil is credited 
 with building many 
 bridges on the earth ; 
 , it is hard to know why 
 ^^\SD he should have done so, 
 since waters however wide cannot 
 possibly have been an obstacle 
 in his own path. 
 
 But Devil's Bridges there are, 
 from the Hebrides to the Isles of 
 Greece ; the Devil's Bridge at 
 Torcello has been so called from 
 the height and breadth of its 
 one arch, but there is nothing 
 diabolic or infernal in its appear- 
 ance ; it is of old brick made 
 beautiful in its hues by age, and 
 
TOXIN. 21 
 
 has many seeding grasses and 
 weeds growing in its crevices. 
 Its banks are rich in grass ; in 
 flags, in sea lavender, and about 
 it grow hazel trees ?nd pear 
 trees. 
 
 There is nowhere in the world 
 any grass richer than that of 
 Torcello, and forget-me-nots, 
 honeysuckle, and wild roses grow 
 down to the water's edge and 
 around the hoary stones of the 
 deserted isle. 
 
 " What a God-forgotten place ! " 
 said a young man as he sprang 
 from a boat on to the bank by 
 the bridge. 
 
 " Torcello was the mother of 
 Venice ; the daughter has slain 
 her," replied an older man as 
 he laid down his oars in the 
 boat, and prepared to follow his 
 companion. 
 
 His foot trod amongst the 
 hemlock leaves and was en- 
 
22 TOXIN. 
 
 tangled by them ; he stooped, 
 and his eyes, which were very 
 keen, caught sight of the string 
 of opals. 
 
 " A woman's necklace ! " he 
 said, as he drew it out from 
 under the salt seaweed, and 
 the dewy dock leaves It was 
 discoloured, and had sand and 
 mud on it, and bore little 
 traces of its former beauty ; but 
 he recognised that it was a 
 jewel of worth ; he perceived, 
 even dulled as they were, that 
 the stones were opals. 
 
 " What have you there ? " 
 cried the younger man from 
 above on the bank. " The skull 
 of an Archimandrite ? " 
 
 The other threw the necklace 
 up on to the grass. 
 
 u You would have been a fitter 
 finder of a woman's collar than 
 I am." 
 
 " Opals ! The stones of sor- 
 
TOXIN. 23 
 
 row ! " said the younger man, 
 gravely, as he raised it and 
 brushed off the sand. " It has 
 been beautiful," he added. " It 
 will be so again. It is not 
 really hurt, only a little bruised 
 and tarnished." 
 
 The necklace interested him ; 
 he examined it minutely as the 
 sun shone on the links of dim- 
 med gold. It awakened in him 
 an image of the woman who 
 might have possessed and worn 
 it. 
 
 " What will you do with it ? " 
 he said to his companion, who 
 had mounted on to the bank 
 after securing the boat. 
 
 " What does one always do 
 with things found ? Send them 
 to the police, I believe." 
 
 " Oh you Goth ! " said the 
 younger. " Let us spend our 
 lives in discovering the owner." 
 
 " You can spend yours so if 
 
24 TOXIN. 
 
 you like, Prince. Mine is already 
 in bond to a severer mistress.*' 
 
 " Lend me your glass," said 
 the younger man ; the glass was 
 of strong magnifying power ; 
 when it was handed to him he 
 looked through it at some little 
 marks on the back of the clasp 
 of the opal collar. " Zaranegra 
 1770," he read aloud. "Zara- 
 negra is a Venetian name." 
 
 There was an inscription so 
 minute that to the unaided eye 
 it was invisible ; through the 
 glass it was possible to read it. 
 It was this : 
 
 NINA DELLA LUCEDIA 
 
 CONTESSA ZARANEGRA 
 
 Capo dAnno 
 1770. 
 
 " Zaranegra ! " repeated the 
 younger man. " That is a Vene- 
 tian name. Lucedia is a name 
 
mi -.^^ 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 ll 
 
 ^L 
 
 " Lend me your glass." said the younger man. The 
 glass was of strong magnifying power ; when it was 
 handed to him he looked through it at some little 
 marks on the back of the clasp of the opal collar. 
 
TOXIN. 25 
 
 of the Marches of Ancona. 
 There is a Ca* Zaranegra on 
 the Grand Canal. It is next 
 to the Loredan. You admired 
 its Moorish windows on the 
 second storey this morning. 
 Carlo Zaranegra died young ; 
 he left a widow who is only 
 twenty now. She is a daughter 
 of the Duke of Monfalcone ; a 
 family of the Trentino, but pure 
 Italians in blood. Their place 
 is in the mountains above 
 Gorizia. It must be she who 
 owns this necklace, an heirloom 
 probably." 
 
 "Take it to her," said the 
 finder of it, with indifference. 
 " I cede you my rights." 
 
 The younger laughed. 
 
 " Ah ! who knows what they 
 may become ? M 
 
 " Whatever they may become 
 they are yours. I do not appre- 
 ciate that kind of reward." 
 
26 TOXIN. 
 
 " Really ? " said the younger 
 man. " If so I pity you ! " 
 
 "Nay, I pity you," said the 
 elder. 
 
 The young man still stood with 
 the opals in his hands; with a 
 wisp of grass he had cleared the 
 sand in a measure off them ; the 
 pearly softness and the roseate 
 flame of the stones began to 
 show here and there ; two alone 
 of their number were missing. 
 
 " Come," said his companion, 
 with impatience. " Put that 
 broken rubbish in your pocket 
 and let us go and see the Cathe- 
 dral and S. Fosca, for it will soon 
 grow dark." 
 
 They walked along the dyke 
 of turf which traverses the isle, 
 past the low fruit trees and the 
 humble cabins of the few pea- 
 sants who dwell there ; the grass 
 was long and full of ox-eyed 
 daisies, and purple loosestrife, 
 
TOXIN. 27 
 
 and pink campion. They soon 
 reached the green and quiet place 
 where the sacred buildings of 
 S. Maria and S. Fosca, stand in 
 the solitude of field and sea. 
 
 They entered first of all the 
 old church of S. Fosca. The 
 younger man went straight to 
 the altar with uncovered head 
 and knelt before it, a soft and 
 serious look upon his face as his 
 lips moved- 
 
 The elder cast a glance, con- 
 temptuous and derisive, on him, 
 and turned to look at the five 
 arcades, with their columns, so 
 precious to those who understand 
 the laws of architecture. 
 
 He was learned in many things, 
 and architecture and archaeology 
 were the studies which were to 
 him pastimes, in the rare hours 
 of recreation which he allowed 
 himselfo 
 
 " Have you prayed to find the 
 
2 3 TOXIN. 
 
 mistress of the opals ? M he said 
 to the younger man who, risen 
 from his knees, approached him, 
 a red light of the late afternoon 
 slanting in from an upper window 
 in the apse and falling on his 
 bright hair and beautiful classic 
 face. 
 
 The young man coloured. 
 
 " I prayed that the stones may 
 bring us no evil, ,, he said, with 
 ingenuous simplicity. " Laugh 
 as you will, a prayer can never 
 do harm, and you know opals are 
 stones of sorrow. " 
 
 " I know you are a credulous 
 child a superstitious peasant 
 though you are twenty-four vears 
 old and have royal and noble 
 blood in your veins. " 
 
 11 If you had not saved my life 
 I would throw you into the sea," 
 replied the other, half in jest half 
 in anger. " Leave my faiths 
 alone. Lead your own barren 
 
TOXIN. 29 
 
 life as you choose, but do not cut 
 down flowers in the garden of 
 others," 
 
 " Life is truly a garden for 
 you," said the elder man, with 
 a touch of envy in the tone of 
 his voice. 
 
 It was dusk in S. Fosca for 
 the day was far advanced, and 
 the sun was setting without 
 beyond the world of waters. 
 
 Two peasant women were 
 saying their aves before low 
 burning lamps. The scent of 
 the grass and the smell of the 
 sea came in through the open 
 door. A cat walked noiselessly 
 across the altar. As the church 
 was now so it had been a 
 thousand years earlier. 
 
 " Does this place say nothing 
 to you ? " asked the younger 
 man. 
 
 "Nothing/' replied the other. 
 " What should it say ? " 
 
IV. 
 
 )HEN the young Sicilian 
 prince, Lionello Adri- 
 anis, head of an ancient 
 Hispano-Italian family, 
 had met with a hunt- 
 ing accident, and the tusks of an 
 old boar had brought him near 
 to death, an English surgeon, by 
 name Frederic Darner, who was 
 then in Palermo, did for him 
 what none of the Italian surgeons 
 dared to do, and, so far as the 
 phrase can ever be correct of 
 human action, saved his life. A 
 year had passed since then ; the 
 splendid vitality of the Sicilian 
 
TOXIN. 31 
 
 had returned to all its natural 
 vigour ; he was only twenty-four 
 years of age and naturally strong 
 as a young oak in the woods of 
 Etna. But he had a mother who 
 loved him, and was anxious ; she 
 begged the Englishman to remain 
 awhile near him ; the Sicilian 
 laughed but submitted ; he and 
 Darner had travelled together 
 in Egypt and India during 
 several months, and were now 
 about in another month to 
 part company ; the Sicilian to 
 return to his own people, the 
 Englishman to occupy a chair 
 of physiology in a town of 
 northern Europe. 
 
 Their lives had been briefly 
 united by accident and would 
 have parted in peace : a collar 
 of opals was by chance washed 
 up amongst the flags and bur- 
 docks of Torcello and the shape 
 of their fate was altered. 
 
32 TOXIN. 
 
 With such trifles do the gods 
 play when they stake the lives of 
 men on the game. 
 
 Darner was the son of a country 
 physician, but his father had 
 been poor, the family numerous 
 and he, a third son, had beer 
 sent out into the world with only 
 his education as his capital. He 
 practised surgery to live ; he 
 practised physiology to reach 
 through it that power and cele- 
 brity for which his nature craved 
 and his mental capacity fitted 
 him. But at every step his 
 narrow means galled and fretted 
 him, and he had been a demon- 
 strator, an assistant, a professor 
 in schools, when his vast ability 
 and relentless will fitted him for 
 the position of a Helmholtz or a 
 Virchow in that new priesthood 
 which has arisen to claim the 
 rule of mankind, and sacrifices 
 to itself all sentient races. 
 
toxin. 33 
 
 In Adrianis he saw all the 
 powers of youth and of wealth 
 concentrated in one who merely 
 used them for a careless enjoy- 
 ment and a thoughtless good 
 nature, which seemed, to himself, 
 as senseless as the dance in the 
 sun of an amorous negro. 
 
 Adrianis and the whole of 
 his family had shown him the 
 utmost gratitude, liberality, and 
 consideration, and the young 
 prince bore from him good- 
 humouredly sarcasms and 
 satires which he would not 
 have supported from an em- 
 peror ; but Darner in his turn 
 felt for the Sicilian and his people 
 nothing but the contempt of the 
 great intellect for the uncultured 
 mind, the irritation of the wise 
 man who sees a child gaily 
 making a kite to divert itself out 
 of the parchments of a treatise 
 in an unknown tongue which, 
 3 
 
34 TOXIN. 
 
 studied, might have yielded up 
 to the student the secret of 
 perished creeds and of lost 
 nations. There is no pride so 
 arrogant, no supremacy so un- 
 bending, as those of the intellect. 
 It may stand, like Belisarius, a 
 beggar at the gate; but like 
 Belisarius it deems itself the 
 superior of all the crowds who 
 drop their alms to it, and while 
 it stretches out its hand to them 
 its lips curse them. 
 
1 HE Ywent, without visit- 
 ing the basilica, back 
 to Venice in the twi- 
 light which deepened 
 into night as they drew 
 near the city; the moon was 
 high and the air still. They 
 dined in the spacious rooms set 
 aside in the hotel for the young 
 prince. When the dinner was 
 over Adrianis rose. 
 
 f< Will you come ? " he asked. 
 "Where?" asked Darner. 
 "To the Ca' Zaranegra," he 
 replied, with a boyish laugh. 
 
36 TOXIN, 
 
 " Not I," replied Darner. 
 
 " A rivederci, then," said 
 Adrianis. 
 
 But he lingered a moment. 
 
 "It will not be fair to you," 
 he said, u for me to take the 
 credit of having found this neck- 
 lace." 
 
 " Whatever honour there may 
 be in the salvage I cede it, I tell 
 you, willingly." 
 
 " Of course I shall tell her 
 that it was you." 
 
 11 There is no need to do so ; 
 I am not a squire of dames. 
 She will prefer a Sicilian Prince 
 to a plain man of science. How- 
 ever, you must find the lady 
 first. The true owner lies under 
 some mossgrown slab in some 
 chapel crypt, no doubt." 
 
 "Why will you speak of death? 
 I hate it." 
 
 u Hate it as you may it will 
 overtake you. Alexander hated 
 
toxin. 37 
 
 it, but still ! When we shall 
 have found the secret of life we 
 may perhaps find the antidote to 
 death. But that time is not 
 yet." 
 
 He looked at his companion 
 as he spoke, and thought what 
 he did not speak : 
 
 " Yes ; strong as you are, and 
 young as you are, and fortunate 
 as you are, you too will die like 
 the pauper and the cripple and 
 the beggar ! " 
 
 The reflection gratified him ; 
 for of the youth, of the beauty, 
 of the fortune, he was envious, 
 and with all his scorn of higher 
 intellect he despised the childlike, 
 happy, amorous temperament, 
 and the uncultured mind which 
 went with them. 
 
 " If I had only his wealth," 
 he thought often. " Or if he 
 only had my knowledge ! V 
 
 " When we shall have pene- 
 
38 TOXIN. 
 
 trated the secret of life we shall 
 perhaps be able to defy death," 
 repeated Adrianis. " What use 
 would that be ? You would 
 soon have the world so full that 
 there would be no standing 
 room ; and what would you do 
 with the choking multitudes ? " 
 
 "I never knew you so logical," 
 said the elder man, contemptu- 
 ously. " But have no fear. We 
 are far enough off the discovery ; 
 when it is made it will remain 
 in the hands of the wise. The 
 immortality of fools will never be 
 contemplated by science." 
 
 "The wise will not refuse to 
 sell the secret to the wealthy 
 fools," thought his companion, 
 but he forbore to say so. He 
 was generous of temper, and 
 knew that his companion had 
 both wisdom and poverty. 
 
 A few seconds later the splash 
 of the canal water beneath the 
 
toxin. 39 
 
 balcony told the other that the 
 gondola was moving. 
 
 " What a child ! " thought 
 Darner, with impatient contempt; 
 he turned up the light of his 
 reading lamp, opened a number 
 of the French Journal de Physi- 
 ologic, and began to read, not 
 heeding the beauty of the moon- 
 lit marbles of the Salvatore in 
 front of him, or listening to the 
 song from Mignon which a sweet- 
 voiced lad was singing in a boat 
 below. He read on thus in soli- 
 tude for three hours ; the great 
 tapestried and gilded room behind 
 him,' the gliding water below; the 
 beautiful church in front of his 
 balcony, the laughter, the music, 
 the swish of oars, the thrill of 
 lutes and guitars, all the evening 
 movement on the canal as the 
 crowds went to and fro the 
 Piazza, not disturbing him from 
 his studies of which every now 
 
40 TOXIN. 
 
 and then he made a note in 
 pencil in a pocket-book. 
 
 It was twelve o'clock when, 
 into the empty brilliantly lighted 
 room, Adrianis entered and came 
 across it to where Darner sat on 
 the balcony. 
 
 " I have found her ! " he said, 
 with joyous triumph. The moon- 
 light shone on his dark, starry 
 eyes, his laughing mouth, his 
 tall figure, full of grace and 
 strength like the form of the 
 Greek Hermes in the Vatican. 
 
 Darner laid aside his papers 
 with impatience. 
 
 " And she has welcomed you, 
 apparently ? It is midnight, and 
 you look victorious. " 
 
 Adrianis made a gesture of 
 vexed protestation. 
 
 " Pray do not suspect such 
 things. I sent in my card and 
 begged her major-domo to say 
 that I had found her necklace. 
 
TOXIN. 41 
 
 She sent word for me to go up- 
 stairs that she might thank me. 
 Of course my name was known 
 to her. She had a duenna with 
 her. It was all solemn and 
 correct. She was enchanted to 
 find her necklace. It was an 
 heirloom which Zaranegra gave 
 her. He was killed in a duel, 
 as I told you, two years ago. 
 She is very beautiful and looks 
 twenty years old, even less. I 
 was very honest ; I told her that 
 an Englishman who was travel- 
 ling with me had enjoyed the 
 honour of finding the opals ; and 
 she wishes to see you to-morrow. 
 I promised to take you in prima 
 sera; you surely ought to be 
 grateful." 
 
 Darner shrugged his shoulders 
 and looked regretfully at his 
 papers and pencils. 
 
 " Women enly disturb one," 
 he said, ungraciously. 
 
42 TOXIN. 
 
 Adrianis laughed. 
 
 " It is that disturbance which 
 perfumes our life and shakes the 
 rose leaves over it. But I re- 
 member, to attract you a woman 
 must be lying, dead or alive, on 
 an operating-table." 
 
 "Alive by preference,' said 
 Darner. "The dead are little 
 use to us ; their nervous sys- 
 tem is still, like a stopped 
 clock." 
 
 " A creature must suffer to 
 interest you ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Adrianis shuddered slightly. 
 
 " Why did you save me ? " 
 
 Darner smiled. 
 
 " My dear prince, it is my 
 duty to save when I can. I 
 should have preferred to let you 
 alone, and study your natural 
 powers of resistance in conflict 
 with the destruction which was 
 menacing them. But I could 
 
toxin. 43 
 
 not follow my preferences. I 
 was called in to assist your 
 natural powers by affording them 
 artificial resistance ; and I was 
 bound to do so." 
 
 Adrianis made a grimace which 
 signified disappointment and dis- 
 taste. 
 
 " If my mother knew you 
 looked at it in that way she 
 would not adore you, my friend, 
 as she does." 
 
 " The princess exaggerates/' 
 said Darner, putting out his 
 lamp. " Mothers always do ; I 
 do not think I ever said any- 
 thing to lead her to deceive 
 herself with regard to me. She 
 knows what my interests and 
 my pursuits are" 
 
 " But," said Adrianis, wist- 
 fully, " surely there are many 
 men of science, many surgeons, 
 whose desire is to console, to 
 amend, who care for the poor 
 
44 TOXIN. 
 
 human material on which they 
 work ? " 
 
 " There are some," replied 
 Darner; "but they are not in 
 the front ranks of their pro- 
 fession, nor will science ever 
 owe much to them. ,, 
 
 The young man was silent ; he 
 felt in his moral nature as he had 
 sometimes felt in his physical, 
 when a chill icy wind had risen 
 and passed through the sunshine 
 of a balmy day. He shook off 
 the impression with the muta- 
 bility of a happy temper. 
 
 "Eh via!" he cried. "You 
 make me feel cold in the marrow 
 of my bones. Good-night. I 
 am tired, and I go to dream of 
 the lady of the opals. Like you, 
 I prefer living women to dead 
 ones, but I do not wish them 
 to suffer. I wish them to enjoy 
 for my sake and their own ! " 
 
 Darner, left alone, relit his 
 
toxin, 45 
 
 lamp, took up his papers and 
 books, went into the room, for 
 the night was fresh, and re- 
 mained reading and writing until 
 daybreak. 
 
VI. 
 
 VERONICA ZARANE- 
 GRA was charmed to 
 find her necklace; she 
 was still more charmed 
 to find an adventure 
 through it. 
 
 This beautiful youth with his 
 starry eyes, soft with admiration, 
 who had brought her back the 
 opals, looked like a knight out 
 of fairyland. She was young ; 
 she was weary of the seclusion 
 of her widowhood ; she was kept 
 in close constraint by those who 
 had authority over her ; she was 
 ready to re-enter life in its enjoy- 
 ments, its amusements, its affec- 
 4 6 
 
She was like a picture of Caterina Cornaro as 
 she stood on the balcony of her house ; her golden 
 hair was enclosed in a pearl-sown net, she had 
 some crimson carnations at her throat, and her 
 cloak of red satin, lined with sables, lay on her 
 shoulders and fell to her feet like the robes of a 
 Dogaressa. 
 
toxin. 4 7 
 
 tions, its desires. The tragic 
 end of her husband had impressed 
 and saddened her, but she had 
 recovered from its shock. The 
 marriage had been arranged by 
 their respective families, and the 
 hearts of neither had been con- 
 sulted. Zaranegra, however, had 
 become much in love with her, 
 and had left her all which it was 
 in his power to leave, and that 
 had been much. 
 
 She was like a picture of 
 Caterina Cornaro as she stood 
 on the balcony of her house ; 
 her golden hair was enclosed in 
 a pearl-sown net, she had some 
 crimson carnations at her throat, 
 and her cloak of red satin lined 
 with sables lay on her shoulders 
 and fell to her feet like the robes 
 of a Dogaressa. 
 
 The balcony was filled with 
 spiraea, whose white blossoms 
 were like snow about her in 
 
4S TOXIN. 
 
 the starlight and lamplight as 
 the gondola which brought the 
 Sicilian prince and his companion 
 to her palace paused below at the 
 water-stairs. 
 
 " How clever it was of you to 
 see my opals under the grass and 
 the sand ! M she said, a few mo- 
 ments later, as Adrianis presented 
 Darner in the long, dim room 
 hung with tapestries and rich in 
 bronzes, marbles, pictures, and 
 mosaics. 
 
 She threw her cloak on a 
 couch as she spoke ; she was 
 dressed in black, but the gauze 
 sleeves of the gown show r ed her 
 fair arms, and the bodice was 
 slightly open on her bosom ; 
 her face was bright like a rose 
 above the deep shadow of the 
 gown ; her hair had been a 
 little ruffled by the wind of 
 the evening as she had stood 
 on the balcony. 
 
toxin. 49 
 
 " Madame," said Damer, as 
 he bowed to her with a strange 
 and unwelcome sense of em- 
 barrassment, " Prince Adrianis 
 should not have told you that 
 I had such good fortune. I am 
 no fit squire of dames : he is." 
 
 " But how came you to see 
 them, all dull and muddy as 
 they were ? " 
 
 " Sight is a matter of train- 
 ing ; I use my eyes. Most 
 people do not use theirs." 
 
 She looked at him curiously and 
 laughed. The answer seemed to 
 her very droll. 
 
 " Everybody sees except the 
 blind," she said, somewhat 
 puzzled. 
 
 11 And the purblind," added 
 Damer. 
 
 She did not catch his mean- 
 ing. She turned from him a 
 little impatiently and addressed 
 Adrianis. 
 
50 TOXIN. 
 
 She spoke of music. Adrianis 
 was accomplished in that art ; 
 there was a mandoline lying on 
 the grand piano; he took it up 
 and sang to it a Sicilian love- 
 song ; she took it from him and 
 sang Venetian barcarolle and 
 stornelli ; then they sang to- 
 gether, and their clear, youthful 
 voices blent melodiously. People 
 passing on the canal stopped 
 their gondolas under the balcony 
 to listen ; some Venetian profess 
 sional musicians in a boat below 
 applauded. Darner sat in the 
 shadow, and listened, and looked 
 at them. Music said little or 
 nothing to him ; he had scarcely 
 any comprehension of it ; but 
 something in the sound of those 
 blended voices touched a chord 
 in his nature; made him feel 
 vaguely sad, restlessly desirous, 
 foolishly irritated. The light 
 fell on the handsome head of 
 
There was a mandoline lying on the grand piano ; he 
 took it up and sang to it a Sicilian love-song ; she took 
 it from him and sang Venetian barcarolle and stornelli. 
 
 ... Darner sat in the shadow, and listened, and looked 
 at them. 
 
TOXIN. 51 
 
 the youth, on the carnations at 
 the lady's throat, on the rings on 
 their hands, which touched as 
 they took the mandoline one 
 from the other ; behind them 
 were the open casement, the 
 balcony with its white flowers, 
 ;he lighted frontage of a palace 
 on the opposite side of the 
 canal. 
 
 As they ceased to sing the 
 people below on the water 
 applauded again, and cried, 
 "Brava ! brava ! Bis, bis! " 
 
 Adrianis laughed and rose, 
 and, going out on to the balcony, 
 threw some money to the boat- 
 load of ambulant musicians who 
 had left off their playing and 
 singing to listen. 
 
 " Those artists below are very 
 kind to us amateurs," said Adri- 
 anis, with a little branch of 
 spiraea in his hand, which he 
 proceeded to fasten in his button- 
 
52 TOXIN. 
 
 hole as he came back into the 
 light of the room. 
 
 " You are more than an 
 amateur." 
 
 11 Oh, all Sicilians sing. The 
 syrens teach us." 
 
 " Prince Adrianis is a poet," 
 said Darner, with a harsh tone 
 in his voice. 
 
 "Who never wrote a verse," 
 said Adrianis, as he handed a 
 cup of coffee to his hostess. 
 
 " Shut the windows," said the 
 Countess Zaranegra to her ser- 
 vants, who brought on coffee and 
 wine, lemonade and syrups. 
 
 Through the closed windows 
 the sound of a chorus sung by 
 the strolling singers below came 
 faintly and muffled into the 
 room ; the lamplight shone on 
 the white spray of the spiraea 
 in his coat, which looked like a 
 crystal of snow. 
 
 " If I had found the opals I 
 
 
toxin. 53 
 
 should have been inspired by 
 them," he added. "As it is, 
 I am dumb and unhappy." 
 
 Veronica Zaranegra smiled. 
 
 " If you are dumb, so was 
 Orpheus." 
 
 "And if you are unhappy so 
 was Prince Fortunatus," added 
 Darner. " You are only sad out 
 of wantonness because the gods 
 have given you too many gifts." 
 
 II Or because he has stolen a 
 piece of spiraea." 
 
 II I may keep my theft ? " 
 asked Adrianis. 
 
 " Yes. For you brought back 
 the opals, though you did not 
 find them." 
 
 Soon after they both took their 
 leave of her and went down to 
 the waiting gondola. The boat- 
 load of musicians had drifted 
 upwards towards Rialto, the 
 colours of their paper lanthorns 
 glowing through the dark. There 
 
54 TOXIN. 
 
 was no moon. They did not 
 speak to each other in the few 
 minutes which carried them to 
 their hotel. When they reached 
 it they parted with a brief good- 
 night. Neither asked the other 
 what his impressions of the lady, 
 and of the evening, had been. 
 
 The night was dark. Mists 
 obscured the stars. The lights 
 at the Dogana and of the lamps 
 along the Schiavone were shining 
 brightly, and many other lights 
 gleamed here and there, where 
 they shone in gondolas, or 
 boats, or at the mast-heads 
 of vessels anchored in the 
 dock of St. Mark. The hour 
 was still early ; eleven o'clock 
 and the canal was not yet de- 
 serted. There was the liquid 
 sound of parting water as people 
 went to and fro on its surface. 
 At such an hour Venice is still 
 what it was in the days of 
 
toxin. 55 
 
 Paul Veronese, or of Virginia di 
 Leyva. 
 
 Adrianis sat by the sea-wall 
 of the hotel garden and looked 
 absently down the dark ex- 
 panse studded with lights like 
 diamonds, and thought exclu- 
 sively of the woman he had 
 quitted. He saw her golden hair 
 shining in the lamplight, the red 
 of the knot of carnations at her 
 throat, the slender, jewelled hand 
 on the mandoline, the smiling, 
 rose-like mouth ; he heard the 
 clear, fresh, unstrained voice 
 rising and falling with his own, 
 whilst her eyes smiled and her 
 eyes met his. 
 
 " Stones of sorrow ! stones of 
 sorrow ! " he thought. " No, no. 
 They shall be jewels of joy to 
 me, to her. Love is born of a 
 glance, of a note, of a murmur. 
 It is the wonder flower of life. It 
 blossoms full-grown in an instant. 
 
56 TOXIN. 
 
 It needs neither time nor reflec- 
 tion." 
 
 His heart beat gladly in him : 
 his nerves were thrilled and 
 throbbing; his welcome of a 
 new and profound emotion was 
 without fear. 
 
 In such a mood the merest 
 trifle has eloquence. He was 
 sorry when he looked down on 
 the spray of spiraea in his coat, 
 and saw that all the little 
 starry flowers of it had fallen 
 off, and vanished, as though it 
 had indeed been snow which 
 had melted at a breath of 
 scirocco. 
 
VII. 
 
 qn WO weeks passed, and 
 brought the month of 
 May. On the many 
 island banks long 
 sprays of dog-rose and 
 honeysuckle hung down over the 
 water, and the narrow canals 
 which ran through them were 
 tunnels of blossom and verdure ; 
 on the sunny shallows thousands 
 of white-winged gulls were fish- 
 ing and bathing all the day long ; 
 and in the churches azaleas and 
 lilies and arums were grouped 
 round the altars under the dark- 
 winged angels of Tintoretto and 
 
5 8 TOXIN. 
 
 the golden-haired cherubim of 
 Tiepolo. 
 
 The nights were still cold but 
 the days were warm, were at 
 noontide even hot ; and Veronica 
 Zaranegra passed almost all her 
 time on the water. There was 
 a little orchard island which 
 belonged to the family, out 
 beyond Mazzorbo; in the pre- 
 vious century a small summer- 
 house or pavilion, with a red-tiled 
 dome like a beehive, had been 
 erected on it and was still there ; 
 a pretty toy still, though its fres- 
 coed walls were faded and its 
 marble landing steps eaten away 
 by the incessant washing of the 
 sea ; it was embowered in peach 
 and plum and pear trees, and 
 looked westward. Here she 
 came often for breakfast, or for 
 afternoon tea, or the evening 
 merenda of fruit sweetmeats and 
 wine, and here she was often 
 
toxin. 59 
 
 accompanied by a gay party of 
 Venetians of her own years and 
 by the two strangers who had 
 given her back her opals. The 
 weather was rainless and radi- 
 ant; the gondolas glided like 
 swallows over the lagoons; she 
 was rich, childlike, fond of plea- 
 sure ; she tried to bring back the 
 life of the eighteenth century, 
 and amused herself with reviving 
 its customs, its costumes, its 
 comedies, as they had been 
 before the storms of revolution 
 and the smoke of war had rolled 
 over the Alps, and Arcole and 
 Marengo had silenced the laugh- 
 ter of Italy. 
 
 " I wish I had lived when this 
 collar was new," she said, when 
 her jewellers returned to her the 
 opals restored to their pristine 
 brilliancy. " Life in Venice was 
 one long festa then ; I have read 
 of it. It was all masque, and 
 
60 TOXIN. 
 
 serenade, and courtship, and 
 magnificence. People were not 
 philosophical about life then ; 
 they lived. Nina Zaranegra was 
 a beautiful woman. They have 
 her portrait in the Belle Arte. 
 She holds a rose to her lips and 
 laughs. She was killed by her 
 husband for an amour. She 
 had these opals on her throat 
 when he drove the stiletto 
 through it. At least so Carlo 
 used to tell me. But perhaps 
 it was not true." 
 
 "Do not wear them," said 
 Adrianis, to whom she was speak- 
 ing. " Do not wear them if the> 
 are blood-stained. You know 
 they are stones of sorrow." 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " You Sicilians are super- 
 stitious. We northerners are 
 not. I like to wear them for 
 that very reason of their 
 tragedy." 
 
TOXIN. 6 1 
 
 She took up the necklace and 
 clasped it round her throat ; 
 some tendrils of her hair caught 
 in the clasp ; she gave an in- 
 voluntary little cry of pain. 
 Adrianis hastened to release her 
 hair from the clasp. His hand 
 trembled ; their eyes met, and 
 said much to each other. Darner, 
 who was near, drew nearer. 
 
 " I have seen the portrait in 
 the Belle Arte," he said. " The 
 Countess Nina symbolises silence 
 with her rose, but she has the 
 face of a woman who would not 
 keep even her own secrets. In- 
 deed a charming woman is always 
 1 bavarde comme les pieSy as the 
 French say." 
 
 " You despise women," said 
 Veronica Zaranegra, with vexa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Oh, no. But I should not 
 give them my confidence any 
 more than I should give a deli- 
 
62 TOXIN. 
 
 cate scientific instrument to a 
 child." 
 
 " Not even to a woman whom 
 you loved ? " 
 
 11 Still less to a woman whom 
 I loved." 
 
 " You are a mysterious sage," 
 she said, a little impatiently. 
 "You regard us as if we were 
 children indeed, incapable of any 
 comprehension. " 
 
 Darner did not dispute the 
 accusation. 
 
 " Did I hear you say," he 
 asked, "that the lovely original 
 of that portrait was murdered by 
 her husband ? " 
 
 " Yes, and he would not even 
 allow her Christian burial, but 
 had her body carried out on 
 to the Orfano canal, and thrown 
 into the water, with a great stone 
 tied to her feet." 
 
 M He was primitive," said 
 Darner. " Those are rough, rude 
 ways of vengeance." 
 
TOXIN. 63 
 
 " What would you have done ? " 
 
 " I hardly know; but I should 
 not have so stupidly wasted such 
 a beautiful organism. Besides 
 the end was too swift to be any 
 great punishment. ,, 
 
 She was silent, looking at him 
 with that mixture of curiosity, 
 interest, and vague apprehension 
 which he always aroused in her. 
 She was not very intelligent, but 
 she had quick susceptibilities ; 
 there was that in him which 
 alarmed them and yet fascinated 
 them. 
 
 " He awes me," she said later 
 in the day to Adrianis. " So 
 often one cannot follow his 
 meaning, but one always feels 
 his reserve of power.' ' 
 
 It was a grave speech for a 
 light-hearted lover of pleasure. 
 Adrianis heard it with vexation, 
 but he was loyal to the man who, 
 as he considered, had saved his 
 life. 
 
64 TOXIN. 
 
 " He is a person of great in- 
 tellect, " he answered ; " we are 
 pigmies beside him. But M 
 
 " But what ? " 
 
 11 He used his brains to cure 
 my body. So I must not dispute 
 the virtue of his use of them. 
 Yet sometimes I fancy that he 
 has no heart. I think all the 
 forces in him have only nourished 
 his mind, which is immense. 
 But his heart, perhaps, has 
 withered away, getting no 
 nourishment. He would say I 
 talk nonser s : ; but I think you 
 will understand what I mean/' 
 
 " I think I understand," said 
 Veronica, thoughtfully. 
 
 She had thought very little in 
 her careless young life ; she had 
 begun to think more since these 
 two men had come into it. 
 
 "Adrianis merits better treat- 
 ment than you give him," said 
 her duenna to her that day. 
 
TOXIN. 65 
 
 " How long will you keep him 
 in suspense ? You ought to 
 remember ' what hell it is in 
 waiting to abide. '" 
 
 " A hell ? " said Veronica, with 
 the colour in her face. " You 
 mean a paradise ! " 
 
 "A fool's paradise, I fear," 
 replied the elder woman. fl And 
 what does that other man do 
 here ? He told me he was due 
 at some university in Germany." 
 
 " How can I tell why either of 
 them stays ? " said Veronica, dis- 
 ingenuously as her conscience 
 told her. " Venice allures many 
 people, especially in her spring 
 season." 
 
 11 So does a woman in her 
 spring," said the elder lady, 
 drily, with an impatient gesture. 
 
 "You are angry with me," 
 said Veronica, mournfully. 
 
 " No, my dear. It is as use- 
 less to be angry with you as to 
 
66 TOXIN. 
 
 be angry with a young cat be- 
 cause in its gambols it breaks a 
 vase of which it knows nothing 
 of the preciousness." 
 
 Veronica Zaranegra did not 
 resent or reply. She knew the 
 vase was precious ; she did not 
 mean to break it ; but she 
 wanted to be free awhile longer. 
 Mutual love was sweet, but it 
 was not freedom. And what 
 she felt ashamed of was a certain 
 reluctance which moved her to 
 allow Darner to see or know that 
 she loved a man of so little intel- 
 lectual force as Adrianis, a man 
 who had nothing but his physical 
 beauty and his gay, glad temper 
 and kind heart* 
 
 " Do you want nothing more 
 than these ? " the gaze of Darner 
 seemed in her imagination to say 
 to her. 
 
 She was angered with herself 
 for thinking of him or of his 
 
 
 
TOXIN. 67 
 
 opinion ; he was not of her world 
 or of her station ; he was a 
 professional man, a worker, 
 a teacher ; natural pride of 
 lineage and habit made her 
 regard him as in no way privi- 
 leged to be considered by her. 
 And yet she could not help being 
 influenced by that disdain of the 
 mental powers of others which 
 he had never uttered, but which 
 he continually showed. Inde- 
 cision is the greatest bane of 
 women ; obstinacy costs them 
 much, but indecision costs them 
 more. The will of Veronica 
 flickered like a candle in the 
 wind, veered hither and thither 
 like a fallen leaf in a gust of 
 wind and rain. 
 
 Adrianis was delightful to her ; 
 his beauty, his gaiety, and his 
 homage were all sympathetic to 
 her. She knew that he loved 
 her, but she prevented him telling 
 
68 TOXIN, 
 
 him so ; she liked her lately 
 acquired liberty ; she did not 
 want a declaration which would 
 force her to decide in one way 
 or another what to do with her 
 future. And she was affected 
 without being aware of it by 
 the scarcely disguised contempt 
 which his companion had for 
 him. It was seldom outspoken, 
 but it was visible in every word 
 of Darner, in every glance. 
 
 " He is beautiful, yes," he 
 said once to her. " So is an 
 animal." 
 
 " Do you not like animals? " 
 
 M I do not like or dislike them. 
 The geologist does not like 01 
 dislike the stones he breaks up, 
 the metallurgist does not like 01 
 dislike the ore he fuses." 
 
 She did not venture to ask him 
 what he meant ; she had a vague 
 conception of his meaning, and 
 it gave her a chill as such replies 
 
TOXIN. 69 
 
 gave to Adrianis : a chill such 
 as the north wind, when it comes 
 down from the first snows on the 
 Dolomite peaks, gives to the 
 honeysuckle flowers hanging 
 over the sea-walls. She was 
 not clever or much educated, but 
 she had seen a good deal of the 
 world, and she had heard men 
 talk of science, of its pretensions 
 and its methods, its self-worship 
 and its tyrannies. She had put 
 her rosy fingers in her ears and 
 run away when they had so 
 spoken, but some things she had 
 heard and now remembered. 
 
 "You are what they call a 
 physiologist ? " she said once, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " I am," replied DameiO 
 She looked at him under her 
 long silky lashes as a child looks 
 at what it fears in the dusk of a 
 fading day. He attracted her 
 and repelled her, as when she 
 
70 TOXIN. 
 
 had herself been a little child she 
 had been at once charmed and 
 frightened by the great ghostly 
 figures on the tapestries, and the 
 white and grey busts of gods 
 and sages on the grand stair- 
 case of her father's house in the 
 Trentino. She would have liked 
 to ask him many things, things 
 of mystery and of horror, but 
 she was afraid. After all, how 
 much better were the sea, the 
 sunshine, the dog-rose, the bar- 
 carolle, the laughter, the lute ! 
 
 She turned to Adrianis, who at 
 that moment came along the 
 sands of the beach, his hands 
 filled with spoils from the 
 blossoming hedges ; turned to 
 him as when, a little child on the 
 staircase in the dusk, she had 
 run to reach the shelter of a 
 warmed and lighted room. He 
 was of her own country, her own 
 age, her own temperament ; he 
 
 
TOXIN. 71 
 
 carried about him a sense of 
 gladness, an atmosphere of 
 youth ; he was of her own rank ; 
 he was as rich as she, and richer. 
 There was no leaven of self-seek- 
 ing in the love he bore her ; the 
 passion she had roused in him 
 was pure of any alloy; it was 
 the love of the poets and the 
 singers. If she accepted it, 
 her path, from youth to age, 
 would be like one of those flower- 
 ing meadows of his own Sicily 
 which fill the cloudless day with 
 perfume. 
 
 She knew that ; her foot was 
 ready to tread the narcissus- 
 filled grass, but by an unaccount- 
 able indecision and caprice she 
 would not let him invite her 
 thither. She continually evaded 
 or eluded the final words which 
 would have united them or parted 
 them. 
 
 Again and again, when that 
 
72 TOXIN. 
 
 moment of decision could not 
 have been postponed, the sombre 
 shadow of Darner had appeared, 
 as in the moment when the clasp 
 of the necklace had been en- 
 tangled in the little curls at the 
 back of her throat. 
 
 It might be chance, it might 
 be premeditation; but he was 
 always there in those moments 
 when the heart of Adrianis leaped 
 to his eyes and lips and called 
 to hers. 
 
VIII. 
 
 N the evening she was 
 usually at home. She 
 
 M71P^ ^ not as ^ et * 
 w| vj balls or theatres ; the 
 
 aristocratic society of 
 Venice flocked to her rooms, 
 and what was best in the 
 foreign element. In the even- 
 ings neither Adrianis nor 
 Darner saw her alone ; but in 
 the daytime, on the island or in 
 the water excursions, sometimes 
 one or the other was beside her 
 for a few minutes with no 
 listener near. 
 
74 TOXIN. 
 
 Adrianis eagerly sought such 
 occasions ; Damer never seemed 
 to seek them. He was often in 
 her palace and on her island, 
 but appeared to be so chiefly 
 because he went where Adrianis 
 went. No one could have told 
 that he took pleasure in doing 
 so. 
 
 But Adrianis, somewhat sur- 
 prised at his lingering so long, 
 thought to himself: " He was to 
 be in Gottenberg by the ioth of 
 May, and it is now the 23rd." 
 
 " Have you given up your 
 appointment ? " he asked once, 
 directly. 
 
 Damer merely answered, " No." 
 He did not offer any explanation ; 
 but he continued to stay on in 
 Venice, though he had removed 
 from the fine apartments occupied 
 by his friend to a house on the 
 Fondamenti Nuovi, where he had 
 hired two chambers. 
 
toxin. 75 
 
 Adrianis, who was very gene- 
 rous and had always a grateful 
 and uneasy sense of unrepaid 
 obligation, vainly urged him to 
 remain at his hotel. But Darner, 
 somewhat rudely, refused. 
 
 " I cannot pursue any studies 
 there, ,, he replied. 
 
 The house he had chosen was 
 obscure and uninviting, standing 
 amidst the clang of coppersmiths' 
 hammers and the stench of iron- 
 foundries in what was once the 
 most patrician and beautiful 
 garden-quarter of Venice, but 
 which is now befouled, blackened, 
 filled with smoke, and clamour, 
 and vileness, where once the 
 rose-terraces and the clematis- 
 covered pergole ran down to the 
 lagoon, and the marble stairs 
 were white as snow under silken 
 awnings. 
 
 "What do you do there?" 
 Veronica Zaranegra wished to 
 
7 6 TOXIN. 
 
 ask him ; but she never did so ; 
 she felt vaguely afraid as a 
 woman of the Middle Age would 
 have feared to ask a magician 
 what he did with his alembics 
 and his spheres. 
 
 Although the eyes of lovers 
 are proverbially washed by the 
 collyrium of jealousy, those ot 
 Adrianis were blind to the passion 
 which Darner, like himself, had 
 conceived. The reserve and 
 power of self-restraint in Darner 
 were extreme, and served to screen 
 his secret from the not very dis- 
 cerning mind of his companion. 
 Moreover, the pride of race which 
 was born and bred in Adrianis 
 rendered it impossible for him 
 to suspect that he possessed a 
 rival in one who was, however 
 mentally superior, so far socially 
 inferior, to himself and to the 
 woman he loved. 
 
 That a man who was going 
 
toxin. 77 
 
 to receive a stipend as a teacher 
 in a German university could lift 
 his eyes to Veronica Zaranegra 
 would have seemed wholly im- 
 possible to one who had been 
 reared in patrician and conserva- 
 tive tenets. He never noticed 
 the fires which slumbered in the 
 cold wide-opened eyes of his 
 friend and monitor. He never 
 observed how frequently Darner 
 watched him and her when they 
 were together, listened from afar 
 to their conversation, and in- 
 variably interrupted them at any 
 moment when their words verged 
 on more tender or familiar 
 themes. He was himself tender^ 
 passionately, romantically en- 
 amoured ; his temper was full 
 of a romance to which he could 
 not often give adequate expres- 
 sion; his love for her had the 
 timidity of all sincere and nascent 
 passion ; he was pained and 
 
78 TOXIN. 
 
 chafed by the manner in which 
 she avoided his definite declara- 
 tion of it, but he did not for a 
 moment trace it to its right 
 cause, the magnetic influence 
 which the Englishman had upon 
 her, the hesitation which was 
 given her by vague hypnotic 
 suggestion. If any looker - on 
 had warned him, he would have 
 laughed and said that the days 
 of magic were past. 
 
 He himself only counted time 
 by the hours which brought him 
 into her presence on the water, 
 on the island, or in the evening 
 receptions in the palace. He 
 made water-festivals and pleasure- 
 cruises to please her; he had 
 sent for his own sailing yacht 
 from Palermo. The long, light 
 days of late spring and earliest 
 summer passed in a series of 
 ingenious amusements of which 
 the sole scope was to obtain a 
 
toxin. 79 
 
 smile from her. Often she did 
 smile, the radiance of youth and 
 of a woman's willingness to be 
 worshipped shining on her fair 
 countenance as the sun shone on 
 the sea. Sometimes also the 
 smile ceased suddenly when, from 
 a distance, her eyes encountered 
 those of Darner. 
 
 All that was most delightful 
 in life offered itself to her in 
 the homage of Adrianis : his 
 mother's welcome, his southern 
 clime, his great love, his in- 
 finite tenderness and sweetness 
 of temper, his great physical 
 beauty. She longed to accept 
 these great gifts ; she longed to 
 feel his aims folded about her 
 and his cheek against hers ; and 
 yet she hesitated, she delayed, 
 she avoided, because in the eyes 
 of another man, whom she dis- 
 liked and feared, she read 
 mockery, disdain, and superiority. 
 
8o TOXIN. 
 
 She could not have said what it 
 was that she felt any more than 
 the young spaniel could tell what 
 moves it as it looks up into 
 human eyes, and reads authority 
 in them, and crouches, trem- 
 bling. 
 
 Why did he stay here ? she 
 asked herself, this cold, still, 
 irresponsive man, who had 
 nothing in him which was not 
 alien to the youthful and pleasure- 
 loving society in which he found 
 himself, and who was by his own 
 admission already overdue at 
 the university to which he had 
 been appointed. 
 
 " Are you not losing time ? " 
 she said once to him ; " we are 
 so frivolous, so ignorant, so un- 
 like you." 
 
 11 1 never lose time," replied 
 Darner. "An amoeba in a pool 
 on the sand is companion enough 
 for me." 
 
toxin. 8r 
 
 Seeing that she had no idea of 
 what he meant, he added : 
 
 11 A man of science is like an 
 artist ; his art is everywhere, 
 wherever natural forms exist." 
 
 11 Or like a sportsman," said 
 Adrianis, who was listening; 
 " his sport is everywhere, where- 
 ever there are living things to 
 kill. M 
 
 " Put it so if you please," said 
 Darner. But he was annoyed ; 
 he disliked being answered in- 
 telligently and sarcastically by 
 one whom he considered a fool. 
 Whatever Adrianis said irritated 
 him, though it was almost per- 
 petually courteous and simple, 
 as was the nature of the speaker. 
 Darner read the young man's 
 heart like an open book and he 
 knew that it was wholly filled 
 with the image of Veronica. He 
 had never liked Adrianis ; he had 
 no liking for youth or for physical 
 6 
 
82 TOXIN. 
 
 beauty, or for kindliness and 
 sweetness and simplicity of 
 character. Such qualities were 
 not in tune with him ; they were 
 no more to him than the soft, 
 thick fur of the cat in his 
 laboratory, which he stripped off 
 her body that he might lay bare 
 her spinal cord ; the pretty, warm 
 skin was nothing to science no 
 more than was the pain of the 
 bared nerves. 
 
 He had saved the life of 
 Adrianis because it had in- 
 terested and recompensed him 
 to do so ; he had travelled with 
 him for a year because it suited 
 him financially to do so ; but he 
 had never liked him, he had 
 never been touched by any one 
 of the many generous and delicate 
 acts of the young man, nor by 
 the trust which the mother of 
 Adrianis continually expressed in 
 her letters to himself. Where 
 
TOXIN. 83 
 
 jealousy sits on the threshold of 
 the soul, goodness and kindness 
 and faith knock in vain for 
 admittance. Envy is hatred in 
 embryo ; and only waits in the 
 womb of time for birth. 
 
IX. 
 
 )NE day Veronica asked 
 him to go and see an 
 old servant of the Zara- 
 negra household who 
 was very ill and in 
 hospital ; they had begged him 
 not to go to the hospital, but 
 he had wished to do so, and 
 had been allowed to fulfil his 
 wish. Darner went to visit him. 
 He found the man at death's 
 door with cancer of the food and 
 air passages. 
 
 " If he be not operated on he 
 will die in a week," said the 
 Englishman. 
 
 84 
 
TOXIN. 85 
 
 None of the hospital surgeons 
 dared perform such an operation. 
 
 u I will operate if you consent," 
 said Damer. 
 
 The surgeons acquiesced. 
 
 11 Will Biancon recover ? M 
 asked Veronica, when he re- 
 turned and told her on what 
 they had decided. 
 
 " In his present state he 
 cannot live a week," replied 
 Damer, evasively. 
 
 " Does he wish for the opera- 
 tion ? " 
 
 "He can be no judge. He 
 cannot know his own condition. 
 He cannot take his own prog- 
 nosis." 
 
 " But it will be frightful suffer- 
 ing." 
 
 " He will be under anaesthe- 
 tics." 
 
 " But will he recover ? " 
 
 " Madame, I am not the 
 master of Fate." 
 
86 TOXIN. 
 
 " But what is probable ? " 
 
 " What is certain is that the 
 man will die if left as he is." 
 
 He performed the operation 
 next day. The man ceased to 
 breathe as it was ended; the 
 shock to the nervous system had 
 killed him. 
 
 When she heard that he was 
 dead she burst into tears. 
 
 " Oh ! why, oh ! why," she said 
 passionately to Darner, later in 
 the day: "why, if you knew he 
 must die, did you torture him 
 in his last moments ? " 
 
 " I gave him a chance," he 
 replied, indifferently. " Anyhow 
 he would never have survived 
 the operation more than a few 
 weeks." 
 
 "Why did you torture him 
 with it then ? " said Veronica, 
 indignantly. 
 
 " It was a rare, and almost 
 unique, opportunity. I have 
 
TOXIN. 87 
 
 solved by it a doubt which has 
 never been solved before, and 
 never could have been without 
 a human subject." 
 
 She shrank from him in 
 horror. 
 
 " You are a wicked man ! " 
 she said, faintly. " Oh, how I 
 wish, how I wish I had never 
 asked you to see my poor 
 Biancon ! He might have 
 lived ! " 
 
 " He would most certainly 
 have died," said Darner, unmoved. 
 "The life of a man at sixty is 
 not an especially valuable thing, 
 and I believe he did nothing all 
 his life except polish your palace 
 floors with beeswax or oil ; I 
 forget which it is they use in 
 Venice. " 
 
 She looked at him with a 
 mixture of horror and fear. 
 
 " But you have killed him ! 
 and you can jest." 
 
88 TOXIN. 
 
 "I did not kill him. His 
 disease killed him," replied 
 Darner, with calm indifference. 
 11 And his end has been a source 
 of knowledge. I should wish my 
 own end to be as fruitful. ,, 
 
 She shuddered, and motioned 
 to him to leave her. 
 
 u Go away, go away, you have 
 no heart, and no conscience." 
 
 Darner smiled slightly. 
 
 " I have a scientific con- 
 science ; it is as good as a moral 
 one, and does better work." 
 
 "Why did you bring that man 
 to Venice ? " she said to Adrianis 
 some hours later. " He has 
 killed my poor Biancon, and he 
 cares nothing." 
 
 " Why do you receive him ? " 
 said Adrianis, feeling the re- 
 proach unjust. "Cease to re- 
 ceive him. That is very simple. 
 If you banish him he is proud ; 
 he will not persist." 
 
TOXIN. 89 
 
 " He would not perhaps per- 
 sist ; but he would be revenged," 
 she thought, but she did not say 
 so. Though her life was short, 
 she had learned in it that men 
 are like detonators which you 
 cannot throw against each other 
 without explosion. 
 
 Adrianis began to desire the 
 exile of his companion, though 
 his loyalty withheld him from 
 trying to obtain it by any unfair 
 means or unjust attack. He 
 was mortified and disquieted. 
 Why had he not had patience, 
 and waited to carry the opals 
 to the Ca' Zaranegra until the 
 Englishman had been safe on 
 the sea on his way to Trieste ? 
 He began to perceive that Darner 
 had an influence on the Countess 
 Veronica which was contrary to 
 his own, and adverse to his 
 interests. He did not attach 
 importance to it, because he saw 
 
90 TOXIN. 
 
 that it was purely intellectual; 
 but he would have preferred that 
 it had not existed. So would 
 she. 
 
 It was such an influence as 
 the confessor obtains over the 
 devotee ; against which husband, 
 lover, children, all natural ties, 
 struggle altogether in vain. 
 
 It is not love ; it is alien to 
 love, but it is frequently stronger 
 than love, and casts down the 
 winged god maimed and helpless. 
 
 " Pierres de malheur! Pierres 
 de malheur ! " she said, as she 
 looked at the opals that night. 
 " Why did you bring that cruel 
 man into my life ? " 
 
 She might banish him as 
 Adrianis had said, but she felt 
 that she would never have 
 courage to do it. Darner awed 
 her. She felt something of what 
 the poor women in the Salpe- 
 triere had felt, when he had 
 
TOXIN. 91 
 
 hypnotised them, and made 
 them believe that they clasped 
 their hands on red-hot iron, or 
 were being dragged by ropes to 
 the scaffold. She strove to 
 resist and conquer the impres- 
 sion, but she was subjugated by 
 it against her will. 
 
 She buried her poor old ser- 
 vant that night, and followed the 
 coffin in its gondola in her own, 
 with her men in mourning and 
 the torches burning at the prow. 
 
 From the casement of his high 
 tower on the north of the city, 
 which looked over the lagoon 
 towards that island which is now 
 the cemetery of Venice, with its 
 rail mosque-like Campanile and 
 its high sea-walls, Darner saw and 
 recognised her on that errand of 
 respect to the humble dead. He 
 saw also the long-boat of the 
 yacht of Adrianis, laden with 
 flowers, following her gondola 
 
92 TOXIN. 
 
 at a little distance, as though 
 its owner were timid and uncer- 
 tain of welcome. He recognised 
 them both in the evening light, 
 and through his binocular could 
 discern their features, their 
 hands, their garlands, as the 
 torches flamed and the water, 
 roughened by wind, broke 
 against the black sides of her 
 gondola, and the white sides of 
 the boat. 
 
 " Two children," he thought, 
 11 made for each other, with their 
 flowers and fables and follies ! 
 I should do best to leave them 
 together." 
 
 Then he shut his window and 
 turned from the sight of the 
 silver water, the evening skies, 
 the gliding vessels. 
 
 His work awaited him. Bound 
 on a plank lay a young sheep- 
 dog, which he had bought 
 from a peasant of Mazzorbo 
 
TOXIN. 93 
 
 for a franc ; he had cut its 
 vocal chords ; in his own jar- 
 gon, had rendered it aphone ; 
 he had then cut open its body, 
 and torn out its kidneys and 
 pancreas ; it was living ; he 
 reckoned it would live in its 
 mute and unpitied agony for 
 twelve hours more long enough 
 for the experiment which he was 
 about to make. 
 
 These were the studies for 
 which he had come to the tower 
 on the Fondamenti. 
 
 The clang of hammers and 
 the roar of furnaces drowned the 
 cries of animals which it was 
 not convenient to make aphone ; 
 and the people of the quarter 
 were too engrossed in their 
 labours to notice when he flung 
 down into the water dead or half- 
 dead mutilated creatures. 
 
X. 
 
 FTER the death of the 
 serving-man, Biancon, 
 the name of the Eng- 
 lish scientist and sur- 
 geon became known 
 and revered amongst the per- 
 sons of his own profession in 
 Venice. The poor man had 
 died certainly from the shock 
 to the nerves, but that 
 was of small moment. The 
 operation had been eminently 
 successful, as science counts 
 success. It had been admirably 
 performed, and had, as he had 
 said to Veronica, cleared up a 
 doubt which could not, without 
 
toxin. 95 
 
 a human subject, have been 
 satisfactorily dissipated. His 
 skill, his manual dexterity, 
 his courage, were themes of 
 universal praise, and more than 
 one rich person of the Veneto 
 entreated his examination, and 
 submitted to his treatment. 
 
 Adrianis saw but little of him 
 in the daytime, but most even- 
 ings in prima sera they met in 
 the Palazzo Zaranegra. There 
 Darner spoke little, but he spoke 
 with effect ; and, when he was 
 silent, it seemed to the young 
 mistress of the house that his 
 silence was odiously eloquent, 
 for it appeared always to say 
 to her : " What a mindless 
 creature you are ! What a mind- 
 less creature you love ! " 
 
 Sometimes it seemed to her 
 to say more ; to say across the 
 length of the lighted, perfumed, 
 flower-filled salon, " And if I 
 
g6 toxin. 
 
 forbid your mutual passion ? It I 
 prevent its fruition ? " 
 
 Out of his presence she ridi- 
 culed these ideas, but in his 
 presence they were realities to 
 her, and realities which alarmed 
 and haunted her. 
 
 " How I wish you had never 
 brought him here oh, how I 
 wish it ! " she said once to 
 Adrianis. 
 
 They were in the Piazza of 
 St. Mark ; it was late in the 
 evening; the gay summer crowd 
 was all around them ; the band 
 was playing ; the full moon was 
 above in all her glory ; laughter 
 and gay chatter mingled with 
 the lapping of the water and the 
 splash of oars. In the blaze 
 of light under the colonnades 
 people were supping and flirting 
 and jesting, as though they were 
 still in the days of Goldoni. 
 
 " Are you not a little unjust 
 
TOXIN. 97 
 
 to me ? " said Adrianis, gently. 
 "I could not do otherwise, in 
 common honesty, than tell you 
 that it was not I who had found 
 your opals, and you wished to 
 see and to thank the person 
 who had done so." 
 
 " Oh, I know ! I know ! " she 
 said, with an impatient sigh. 
 M Such things are always one's 
 own fault. But he killed Biancon, 
 and his very presence now is 
 painful to me." 
 
 " Tell him so." 
 
 " I dare not." 
 
 " Shall I tell him for you ? " 
 
 She looked at him with the 
 wistful, alarmed gaze of a 
 frightened child. 
 
 41 Oh, no, no! He would be 
 offended. He might quarrel 
 with you. No ! Pray do not 
 do that." 
 
 " His anger has no terrors for 
 me," he said, with a smile. 
 7 
 
98 TOXIN. 
 
 " But you know what you wish 
 is my law for silence as for 
 speech." 
 
 i * Limonate ? Fragolone ? Ge- 
 late ? Confetti ? " sang a boy, 
 pushing against them with his 
 tray of summer drinks, ices, 
 fruits, and sweetmeats. 
 
 " Let us go ; it is late ; and the 
 crowd grows noisy/' said her 
 duenna. 
 
 Adrianis accompanied them 
 to their gondola, which was 
 in waiting beyond the pillars. 
 He did not venture to offer to 
 accompany them, for the hour 
 was late, and the elder lady, 
 herself a Zaranegra, was rigid in 
 her construction and observance 
 of etiquette. He watched the 
 gondola drift away amongst the 
 many others waiting there, and 
 then turned back to the piazza as 
 the two Vulcans on the clock- 
 tower beat out on their anvil 
 
toxin. 99 
 
 with their hammers the twelve 
 strokes of midnight. He saw 
 amongst the crowd the pale 
 and thoughtful countenance of 
 Darner. Had he heard what 
 the young Countess had said 
 of him ? It was impossible to 
 tell from his expression ; he 
 was looking up at the four 
 bronze horses, as he sat, with 
 an evening paper on his knee, 
 at one of the little tables, an 
 untouched lemonade standing 
 at his elbow. 
 
 " I did not know you were 
 here," said Adrianis. " It is too 
 frivolous a scene for you. Are 
 you longing to dissect the horses 
 of St. Mark's ? " 
 
 Darner smiled slightly. 
 
 " 1 fear I should find their 
 anatomy faulty. I am no artist, 
 or art critic either, or I should 
 venture to say that I object 
 to their attitude. Arrested mo- 
 
ICO TOXIN. 
 
 tion is a thing too momentary 
 to perpetuate in metal or in 
 stone." 
 
 Adrianis looked up at the rear- 
 ing coursers. 
 
 " Surely we might as well 
 object to the statue of Colleone 
 because he sits erect and motion- 
 less through centuries ? " 
 
 " No, that is quite another 
 matter. Colleone is at rest. 
 The horses yonder are leaping 
 violently." 
 
 " You are too subtle for me ! 
 I can only admire. I am an 
 ignorant, you know. Have you 
 been here long ? " 
 
 " Half an hour." 
 
 Had he heard ? Adrianis won- 
 dered. It was impossible to tell. 
 
 11 1 seldom see you now," he 
 added. " You have become very 
 unsociable." 
 
 " I was not aware that I was 
 ever sociable. People much 
 
TOXIN. IOI 
 
 occupied cannot be so. You see 
 I have a newspaper and I do not 
 read it ; I have a bevanda and I 
 do not drink it. I have seen the 
 Contessa Zaranegra and I have 
 not spoken to her. 1 * 
 
 It seemed that the reply, which 
 was longer and more jesting 
 than was the wont of the 
 speaker, was made with inten- 
 tion. 
 
 Adrianis was silent. He 
 wished to tell Darner that his 
 presence was unwelcome to the 
 lady of whom he spoke, but he 
 hesitated ; he was afraid to com- 
 promise her, to seem to boast of 
 some confidence from her. 
 
 " Did you know," he asked in 
 a low tone, " that her poor serv- 
 ing man would die under the 
 knife ? " 
 
 Darner gave him a cold, con- 
 temptuous glance. 
 
 M I do not speak on professional 
 
102 TOXIN. 
 
 subjects to laymen," he said, 
 curtly. 
 
 " I do hot ask you," replied 
 Adrianis, "from the profes- 
 sional point of view. I ask you 
 from that of humanity." 
 
 " Humanity does not enter 
 into the question," said Darner, 
 slightingly. " I hope you will 
 not regard it as offensive if I ask 
 you to limit yourself to speaking 
 of what you understand." 
 
 The blood rose into the cheek 
 of Adrianis, and anger leapt to 
 his lips. He restrained it with 
 effort from utterance. The 
 boundless scorn which Darner 
 never scrupled to show for him 
 was at times very chafing and 
 provocative. 
 
 " You know, yourself, nothing 
 of sculpture, you admit, " he 
 said, controlling his personal 
 feeling, " and yet you venture to 
 criticise the horses of Lysippus." 
 
TOXIN. 103 
 
 " My criticism is sound, and 
 they are not the horses of Ly- 
 sippus." 
 
 " They may not be. But my 
 criticism is sound too, I think, on 
 your want of humanity towards 
 poor Biancon." 
 
 Darner cast an evil and dis- 
 dainful glance at him. 
 
 "With regard," he replied, "to 
 the man Biancon, there could be 
 no question of either cruelty or 
 kindness. These terms do not 
 enter into surgical vocabularies. 
 You are well aware that on the 
 stage no actor could act who felt 
 in any manner the real emotions 
 of his part. In like degree no 
 surgeon could operate who was 
 unnerved by what you call 
 ' humanity ' with regard to his 
 patient. There is no more of 
 feeling, or want of feeling, in the 
 operator than in the actor. Is 
 it impossible for you to compre- 
 
104 TOXIN. 
 
 hend that ? As for yourself, you 
 do not care the least for the dead 
 facchino, you only care because 
 a fair woman who is dear to you 
 has wept." 
 
 He spoke with insolence, but 
 with apparently entire indif- 
 ference. Adrianis coloured with 
 displeasure and self-conscious- 
 ness. It was the first time that 
 the name of the Countess Zarane- 
 gra had been mentioned between 
 them when out of her presence. 
 It seemed to him an intoler- 
 able presumption in Darner to 
 speak of her. But he scarcely 
 knew how to reply. With a 
 man of his own rank he would 
 have quarrelled in such a manner 
 that a sabre duel on the pastures 
 by the Brenta river would have 
 followed in the morning. But 
 Darner was not socially his equal, 
 and was a man to whom a year 
 before he had owed, or had 
 
TOXIN. 105 
 
 thought that he owed, his resto- 
 ration to health and life. 
 
 "I should prefer that you left 
 the name of that lady out of our 
 discourse," he said, in a low tone 
 but with hauteur. " In my 
 world we do not venture to 
 speak of women whom we 
 respect." 
 
 Darner understood the reproof 
 and the lesson so conveyed. 
 
 " I am not of your world," he 
 said, slightingly. " I have no 
 such pretensions. And women 
 are to me but subjects of investi- 
 gation, like cats in their bodies, 
 I mean ; of their minds and 
 hearts I have no knowledge. I 
 leave such studies to Paul 
 Bourget and you." 
 
 Then he rose and walked away 
 towards the end of the piazza, 
 where the opening of the gold- 
 smiths* street of the Merceria 
 leads to the back of the clock- 
 
io6 TOXIN. 
 
 tower and the network of nar- 
 row passages beyond it. 
 
 Adrianis did not detain him, 
 but went himself to his gondola 
 and was taken the few yards 
 which parted St. Mark's from 
 his hotel. Sometimes he slept 
 on board his yacht, but some- 
 times at the hotel, because 
 it was nearer to the Ca' Zara- 
 negra, which he could not see 
 from his windows, but which he 
 knew were there on the bend 
 of the canal towards Rialto. 
 
 However, he reflected with 
 consolation, in a week or two 
 more Veronica would go to her 
 father's villa in the mountains 
 of the Trentino, and she had 
 given him to understand that 
 she would tell the duke to invite 
 him. Thither it would be im- 
 possible for Darner to go, even if 
 he should desire to do so, which 
 was improbable. For Adrianis 
 
TOXIN. 107 
 
 never suspected the existence of 
 any passion in Darner except the 
 desire of command, the pleasure 
 which the exercise of a strong 
 will over weaker ones gave him 
 from its sense of intellectual 
 dominion. 
 
 The words of Darner seemed 
 to him insolent ; but he was used 
 to his insolence, and he did not 
 attribute them to any other feel- 
 ing than that coldness of heart 
 which was not new to him in the 
 speaker. 
 
 To all interference in, or inter- 
 rogation concerning, his scientific 
 or surgical actions and purposes 
 the Englishman had always re- 
 plied with the same refusal to 
 permit those whom he called 
 laymen to judge either the deeds 
 or the motives of his priesthood. 
 It was precisely the same kind 
 of arrogance and of inflexible 
 secrecy to which Adrianis had 
 
I08 TOXIN. 
 
 been used in the ecclesiastics who 
 had been set over him in his boy- 
 hood; the same refusal to be 
 interrogated, the same mystic 
 and unexplained claim of supe- 
 riority and infallibility. 
 
 " If he would only go away ! " 
 thought Adrianis, as his gondola 
 glided over the few hundred 
 yards. 
 
 For the next few days he 
 and Darner did not meet ; he 
 had arranged an excursion 
 to Chioggia, and another to 
 Grado, in which small cruises 
 the Countess Zaranegra and 
 other ladies were on board his 
 schooner. It was beautiful 
 weather ; the sea was smooth 
 and smiling ; all that wealth 
 could do to make the little 
 voyages delightful was done, and 
 he hoped in the course of them 
 to have some opportunity to 
 force from the lady of his 
 
TOXIN. 109 
 
 thoughts some definite assurance 
 of her acceptance of his love. In 
 this hope he was disappointed. 
 
 Darner was not on board the 
 yacht ; but as she saw, over the 
 distant water as they sailed 
 away from Venice, the foundry 
 flames and factory smoke of the 
 Fondamenti, where his tower 
 stood, she shuddered in the hot 
 midsummer noon. It seemed as 
 if even from that distance the 
 eyes of the strange Englishman 
 could see her and lay silence on 
 her lips and terror on her heart. 
 It was but a morbid fancy ; she 
 knew that ; but she could not 
 shake off the impression. Even 
 when far out on the sunlit green 
 waves of the Adriatic, when 
 Venice had long dropped away 
 out of sight, the chilliness and 
 oppression of the hallucination 
 remained with her. 
 
 Although she and every one 
 
IIO TOXIN. 
 
 else knew that the water-f&tes 
 were solely in her honour 
 and for her pleasure, she con- 
 tinued to accept the homage but 
 to stop short of any actual and 
 decisive words on her own part. 
 Adrianis believed that her heart 
 was his, and he could see nothing 
 in the circumstances of either of 
 them which need cause so much 
 hesitation and doubt. Each was 
 free, each young; each might 
 run to meet happiness half-way, 
 as children run to catch a ripe 
 fruit before it has time to fall 
 to earth, and pluck it, warm 
 with sunlight, or pause, and let 
 it drop ungathered. The posi- 
 tion troubled and galled him, 
 but his nature was sanguine and 
 his temper optimistic. 
 
 Adrianis returned to the city, 
 not wholly discouraged, but 
 vexed and impatient of continual 
 probation and uncertainty. 
 
TOXIN. Ill 
 
 If he could not persuade her to 
 promise herself to him in Venice 
 he would follow her to the hills 
 above Goritz, and there decide 
 his fate. He had little doubt 
 that he would succeed before the 
 summer should have wholly fled. 
 
 " It is getting too warm here ; 
 let us go to the mountains," said 
 her companion. 
 
 " In a few days," she an- 
 swered. But the days passed, the 
 weeks passed, the temperature 
 grew higher, and she still did 
 not move ; and Adrianis stayed 
 also, living chiefly on board his 
 yacht, and Darner still delayed 
 his departure, passing most of his 
 time behind bolted doors in his 
 two chambers on the Fondamenti. 
 
 What harm could he do ? 
 What harm should he do ? 
 He was going to the German 
 university ; he would pass 
 out of her existence with the 
 
112 TOXIN. 
 
 steamship which should bear 
 him from the Giudecca to 
 Trieste ; he would vanish in the 
 cold, grim, dark north, and she 
 would remain in the sunshine 
 and laughter and mirth of the 
 south. They had nothing in 
 common : could have nothing. 
 He belonged to his ghastly pur- 
 suits, his sickening experiments, 
 his merciless ambitions, and she 
 belonged to herself and another. 
 So she told herself a hundred 
 times, and out of his presence 
 her reasoning served to reassure 
 her. But whenever she saw 
 him a vague, dull fear turned 
 her heart cold. She felt as 
 helpless as the blythe bird 
 feels when suddenly in the 
 flowering meadow, where it has 
 made its nest, it sees a snake 
 come gliding through the grass. 
 The bird trembles, but does not 
 fly away ; dares not fly away. 
 
TOXIN. 113 
 
 So she dared not dismiss this 
 man from her house, and had 
 not courage to go herself out of 
 the city, out of reach from his 
 magnetism. Her nerves felt 
 the same cold terror as was felt 
 by those of the Venetian brides 
 who were borne away from the 
 feasting on Castello by the 
 brown arms of the Moorish sea- 
 ravishers. She endeavoured to 
 conceal what she felt, for she was 
 ashamed of her own groundless 
 and harmless fears, but they 
 dulled for her the gaiety, the 
 mirth, the beauty of the summer 
 cruise on the emerald seas. 
 
 "You play with your happi- 
 ness/' said her duenna, angrily, 
 to her. 
 
 " I do not play, indeed," she 
 answered, seriously. "We will 
 go to the hills the day after to- 
 morrow." 
 
 8 
 
XL 
 
 ^DRIANIS went out on 
 the following day to 
 make some purchases 
 of glass and metal 
 work for which one of 
 his sisters had written to him. 
 He thought that when they were 
 completed it would be but cour- 
 tesy to go and tell Darner that 
 he himself was about to leave the 
 city, and offer him his yacht to 
 go in, if he desired it, to Trieste. 
 Their last words had been chafing 
 and cold. The indulgent kindli- 
 ness of his nature made him wish 
 to part friends with a man to 
 
TOXIN. 115 
 
 whom he considered that he owed 
 his life. 
 
 He bade his gondolier steer 
 northwards to the Fondamenti. 
 He had never been to the 
 chambers occupied by Darner 
 in the old watch-tower ; the 
 other had always discouraged all 
 visits ; but now he thought that 
 he had better go there, or he 
 might wholly miss seeing the 
 Englishman again before his 
 departure, for of late Darner 
 had come but rarely to the Ca' 
 Zaranegra. But before he could 
 give the order to his gondolier, 
 in passing the Ponte del Para- 
 diso, a sandalo, in which there 
 was one person alone, fouled 
 his own in the narrow channel, 
 and that solitary person was 
 Darner. 
 
 " I was just going to your 
 apartments," cried Adrianis, 
 whilst his gondolier swore loudly 
 
Il6 TOXIN. 
 
 as his prow grazed the wall of 
 Palazzo Narni. 
 
 M I am going to the hospital, 
 and shall not be at home till 
 dark," replied Darner, ungra- 
 ciously. 
 
 11 1 was coming to tell you," 
 said Adrianis, " that I am about 
 to leave Venice." 
 
 "And are going to Goritz, no 
 doubt," said Darner, with a 
 brief smile. 
 
 " I may be and I may not," 
 replied Adrianis, in a tone 
 which implied that wherever he 
 chose to go was no business of 
 any one's, " Anyhow, I wished 
 to say that the schooner is 
 entirely at your disposition if 
 you remain here or if you cross 
 to Trieste." 
 
 " Thanks. Yachts are rich 
 men's toys for which I have 
 no use," answered Darner, with- 
 out saying where he was going 
 
TOXIN. I I 7 
 
 or what he intended to do. 
 " Send yours to her docks in 
 Messina, if you do not require 
 her yourself." 
 
 " You might be a little more 
 polite," said Adrianis, half 
 angrily, half jestingly. " I 
 should be glad to do you any 
 services." 
 
 " Poor men cannot accept such 
 services." 
 
 11 Why do you constantly 
 speak of your poverty ? You 
 have intellect ; that is much 
 rarer than riches." 
 
 "And much less esteemed," 
 said Darner, with that brief, 
 icy smile which always de- 
 pressed and troubled Adrianis. 
 11 1 fear I cannot stay to gossip," 
 he added, " I am already rather 
 late for a conference at the hos- 
 pital with my esteemed Venetian 
 colleague." 
 
 They were about to part, 
 
Il8 TOXIN. 
 
 Damer to pass underneath the 
 bridge, Adrianis to pursue his 
 way to a coppersmith's work- 
 shop, when a weak, infantine cry 
 smote on their ears, echoed by 
 other shriller childish voices. 
 
 There was a row of barges 
 moored along the wall under 
 the old grim Narni palace 
 which stands just beyond the 
 bridge, with its massive iron- 
 studded doors, unaltered in 
 appearance since the time 
 when Tiziano walked a liv- 
 ing presence over the Paradiso, 
 and the sunshine shone on the 
 golden hair of Palma Vecchio's 
 daughter. 
 
 Some children were playing 
 on the black barges which were 
 laden with firewood and coal. 
 They were small creatures, half 
 naked in the warm air and 
 sportive as young rabbits; they 
 ran, leaped, climbed the piles of 
 
TOXIN. 119 
 
 fuel, caught each other in mimic 
 wrestling and screamed with 
 glad laughter; there was only 
 one who did not join in the 
 games, a little boy who lay 
 languidly and motionless on 
 some sacks, and watched the 
 sports of others with heavy eyes. 
 
 There was no grown man or 
 woman near, there were only the 
 children, and the old palace, like 
 a grey beard with closed eyes ; it 
 looked as if it had been shut 
 when Dandolo was young, and 
 had never been opened since; its 
 white statues gazed down over 
 the iron fencing of its garden 
 wall ; they, too, were very old. 
 
 As the gondola passed under 
 that wall the sporting children 
 growing wilder and more reck- 
 less, rushed in their course past 
 and over the little sick boy, and 
 jostled him so roughly that they 
 pushed him over the edge of the 
 
120 TOXIN. 
 
 barge, and he fell, with a shrill 
 cry, into the water. The others, 
 frightened at what had befallen 
 them, gathered together, whim- 
 pering and afraid, irresolute and 
 incapable. The fallen child dis- 
 appeared. The water here- 
 abouts is thick and dark, and 
 sewage flows unchecked into it. 
 It was in that instant of his 
 fall that his cry, and the shrieks 
 of his companions, rose shrilly 
 on the morning silence. 
 
 In a second Adrianis sprang 
 from the gondola, dived for the 
 child, who had drifted underneath 
 the barge, and brought him up in 
 his arms. He was a boy of some 
 five years old, with a pretty pale 
 face and naked limbs, his small, 
 curly head fell in exhaustion on 
 the young man's shoulder, his 
 ragged clothes were dripping. 
 
 Darner looked at him with 
 professional insight. " That boy 
 
TOXIN. 121 
 
 is ill," he said to Adrianis. 
 " You had better put him out 
 of your arms." 
 
 " Poor little man ! " said 
 Adrianis, gently, holding the 
 child closer. " What shall we 
 do with him ? We cannot leave 
 him here with only these 
 children." 
 
 "You are wet through your- 
 self. You must go to your 
 hotel," said Darner. 
 
 Adrianis was still standing in 
 the water. At that moment a 
 woman rose up from the cabin 
 of the farthest barge, and came 
 leaping wildly from one barge to 
 another screaming, " The child, 
 the child ! my Carlino ! " 
 
 She was his mother. Adrianis 
 gave him to her outstretched 
 arms, and slipped some money 
 into the little ragged shirt. 
 
 " I will come and see how he 
 is in an hour," he said to her, 
 
122 TOXIN. 
 
 amidst her prayers and blessings. 
 " He is not well. You must take 
 more care of him ; you should 
 not leave him alone." 
 
 The child opened his eyes and 
 smiled. 
 
 Adrianis stooped and kissed 
 him. 
 
 " Go home by yourself. I will 
 stay and see what is the matter 
 with him," said Damer. Adri- 
 anis went. Damer, bidding the 
 woman go before him, walked 
 over the barges until he reached 
 the one to which there was 
 attached a rude deck-house, or 
 cabin, in which she and five 
 children lived. There he ex- 
 amined the little boy. 
 
 "A sore throat," he said, 
 simply. " I will bring you 
 remedies." 
 
 He returned to his sandolo, 
 and went on his way to the 
 hospital conference. 
 
TOXIN. 123 
 
 " What is amiss with him ? " 
 said Adrianis, later in the day. 
 
 " You would have done better 
 to leave him in the canal water," 
 replied Darner. " He is a weak 
 little thing, he has never had 
 any decent food, he will never 
 recover." 
 
 " But what is his illness ? " 
 
 " A sore throat," replied 
 Darner, as he had replied to 
 the mother; and added, "It is 
 what the Faculty call Boulogne 
 sore throat." 
 
 They went both to the Ca' 
 Zaranegra that evening. There 
 were several people there ; the 
 night was very warm ; the tall 
 lilies and palms on the balcony 
 glistened in the light of a full 
 moon ; there was music. Vero- 
 nica held out the lute to Adrianis. 
 
 " Will you not sing with me 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " Alas ! You must forgive me. 
 
124 TOXIN. 
 
 I am rather hoarse. I have no 
 voice," he answered, with regret. 
 
 " I heard of what you did this 
 morning, ,, she murmured, in a 
 low tone. " Your gondolier told 
 mine. Perhaps you have taken 
 a chill. I will go and see the 
 little child to-morrow." 
 
 "We will go together," he 
 replied, in the same soft whisper, 
 while his hand touched hers in 
 seeming only to take the lute. 
 Darner saw the gesture where 
 he sat in the embrasure of a 
 window speaking of a frontier 
 question of the hour with a 
 German Minister who was 
 passing through Venice. 
 
 When they left the house two 
 or three other men accompanied 
 them on to the water - steps. 
 Warm though the night was, 
 Adrianis shivered a little as he 
 wrapped his overcoat round him. 
 " I could bear my sables," he 
 
TOXIN. 125 
 
 said, as he descended the stairs. 
 Darner looked at him in the 
 moonlight, which was clear as 
 the light of early morning, 
 
 " You should not plunge into 
 sewage water, and embrace little 
 sick beggars," he said, coldly, 
 as he accompanied one of the 
 Venetian gentlemen whose palace 
 was near the Fondamenti, and 
 who had offered him a seat in 
 his gondola. 
 
 Adrianis, refusing the entrea- 
 ties of his companions to go and 
 sup with them at Florian's, went 
 to his rooms at the hotel. He 
 had a flood of happiness at the 
 well-springs of his heart, but in 
 his body he felt feverish and cold. 
 
 " It is the sewage water. It 
 got down my throat as I dived," 
 he thought, recalling the words 
 of his friend. " I shall sleep this 
 chill off and be well again in the 
 morning. " 
 
126 TOXIN. 
 
 But he did not sleep ; he drank 
 some iced drinks thirstily, and 
 only fell into a troubled and 
 heavy slumber as the morning 
 dawned red over the roofs of 
 Venice, and the little cannon on 
 the Giudecca saluted a new day. 
 
 He felt ill when he rose, but 
 he bathed and dressed, and, 
 though he had no appetite for 
 breakfast, went down to his 
 gondola, which he had bidden 
 to be before the hotel at nine 
 o'clock. 
 
 At parting from her he had 
 arranged with Veronica that they 
 should go at that hour to see the 
 little child of the Bridge of Para- 
 dise. 
 
 As he stood on the steps and 
 was about to descend Darner 
 touched him on the arm. 
 
 "You are going to take the 
 Countess Zaranegra to the sick 
 boy?" 
 
TOXIN. 127 
 
 " Yes," said Adrianis, with a 
 haughty accent ; he did not like 
 the tone of authority in which he 
 was addressed. 
 
 " I forbid you to do so, then," 
 said Darner. " She would only 
 see a dead body, and that body 
 infectious with disease." 
 
 Adrianis was pained. 
 
 " Is the little thing dead ? " he 
 said, in a hushed voice. " Dead 
 already ? " 
 
 " He died twenty minutes ago. 
 He had been ill for three days." 
 
 " Poor little pretty thing ! " 
 murmured Adrianis. " I am 
 sorry ; I will go to the mother." 
 
 "You had better go to your 
 bed. You are unwell. You did 
 a foolish act yesterday." 
 
 " I am quite well. When I 
 require your advice I will ask 
 it," said Adrianis, impatiently; 
 and he entered his gondola and 
 went to the Ca' Zaranegra. 
 
128 TOXIN. 
 
 Darner, standing on the steps of 
 the hotel, looked after him with 
 a gaze which would have killed 
 him could a look have slain. 
 
 Her house was bright in the 
 morning radiance, the green 
 water lapping its marbles, the 
 lilies and palms fresh from the 
 night's dew, the doors standing 
 open showing the blossoming 
 acacias in the garden behind. 
 
 She came to him at once in 
 one of the smaller salons. 
 
 " I am ready/' she said, gaily. 
 " Look ! I have got these fruits 
 and toys for your little waif." 
 
 Then something in his expres- 
 sion checked her gladness. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked. 
 
 "The child is dead," said 
 Adrianis. 
 
 " Oh, how sad ! " 
 
 She put down the little gifts 
 she had prepared on a table near 
 her ; she was tender-hearted and 
 
TOXIN. 129 
 
 quickly moved ; the tears came 
 into her eyes for the little boy 
 whom she had never seen. 
 
 Adrianis drew nearer to her. 
 
 "Mia cara," he murmured. 
 11 Do not play with me any 
 longer. Death is so near us 
 always. I have told you a hun- 
 dred times that I love you. I 
 will make you so happy if you 
 will trust to me. Tell me tell 
 me " 
 
 She was softened by emotion, 
 conquered by the answering 
 passion which was in her; she 
 did not speak, but her breast 
 heaved, her lips trembled; she 
 let him take her hands. 
 
 "You will be mine mine 
 mine ! " he cried, in delirious 
 
 joy- 
 
 11 1 love you," she answered, in 
 a voice so low that it was like 
 the summer breeze passing softly 
 over the lilies. " Hush ! Leaver 
 
 9 
 
130 TOXIN. 
 
 me ! Go now. Come back at 
 three. I shall be alone." 
 
 The doors were open and the 
 windows; in a farther chamber 
 two liveried servants stood ; ap- 
 proaching through the ante-room 
 was the figure of the major-domo 
 of the palace. 
 
 Adrianis pressed her hands to 
 his lips and left her. He was 
 dizzy from ecstasy, or so he 
 thought, as the busts and statues 
 of the entrance-hall reeled and 
 swam before his sight, and his 
 limbs felt so powerless and 
 nerveless that, if one of his 
 gondoliers had not caught and 
 held him, he would have fallen 
 headlong down the water-steps. 
 
XII. 
 
 >HEN three of the clock 
 chimed from the belfries 
 of St. Mark she awaited 
 him, alone in her favour- 
 ite room, clothed in 
 white with a knot of tea-roses at 
 her breast ; she was full of glad- 
 ness; she looked at herself in the 
 many mirrors and saw that she 
 was as fair as the fair June day. 
 " How beautiful our lives will 
 be ! " she thought. " Poor little 
 dead child ! It was his little 
 hands joined ours. Perhaps he 
 is an angel of God now, and will 
 be always with us ! " 
 
 She heard the swish of oars at 
 the water-stairs below; she heard 
 
I32 TOXIN. 
 
 steps ascending those stairs ; she 
 heard the voice of her head ser- 
 vant speaking. It was he ! She 
 put her hand to her heart; it beat 
 so wildly that the leaves of the 
 roses fell; she crossed herself and 
 murmured a prayer ; such happi- 
 ness seemed to merit gratitude. 
 
 Through the vista of the ante- 
 chambers came the figure of a 
 man. But it was not that of 
 Adrianis. 
 
 Darner came up to her with 
 his calm, expressionless face, his 
 intent eyes, his air of authority 
 and of indifference. 
 
 " You expected the Prince 
 Adrianis," he said to her. " I 
 regret to tell you, madame, that 
 he is unable to keep his appoint- 
 ment with you. He has taken 
 the disease of which that child 
 on the barge died this morning. 
 He has what the vulgar call diph- 
 theria." 
 
XIII. 
 
 IDRIANIS lay in the 
 large salon where, two 
 months earlier, they had 
 dined together in the 
 evening after finding the 
 opal necklace. Darner had caused 
 a bed to be taken into it and 
 placed in the centre of the room, 
 as affording more air from the 
 four large windows than was to 
 be obtained from the inner bed- 
 chamber adjoining. He did not 
 give the true name to the disease 
 in speaking to the people of the 
 hotel ; he spoke merely of cold 
 and fever from a plunge in the 
 hot noonday into foul canal 
 
134 TOXIN. 
 
 water ; on the local doctor, whom 
 he paid the compliment of calling 
 in, he enjoined the same reserve. 
 
 " The Prince is very rich," he 
 said, " he will pay for any loss 
 which may be incurred, any 
 renewal of furniture and of 
 draperies." 
 
 From Adrianis he did not 
 conceal the truth. 
 
 Indeed, Adrianis himself said, 
 in a hoarse, faint voice, " I have 
 the disease which the child had. 
 Cure me if you can, for " 
 
 He did not add why life was 
 more than ever beautiful to him, 
 but the tears rose into his eyes ; 
 the other understood what re- 
 mained unspoken. 
 
 When three in the afternoon 
 sounded from the clock-tower on 
 the south side of the hotel he 
 raised his head, and, with a des- 
 pairing gesture, said to Darner, 
 " She expects me. Go, and 
 
TOXIN. 135 
 
 explain to her; say I am ill. 
 Tell her I would get up and 
 keep my tryst if I died at her 
 feet, but I fear I fear the con- 
 tagion for her." 
 
 " Lie where you are and you 
 will probably be well in a few 
 days," said Darner. " I will 
 leave Stefanio with you and take 
 your message. I shall soon re- 
 turn. Meanwhile your man 
 knows what to do." 
 
 Stefanio was the valet. 
 
 The eyes of Adrianis followed 
 him from the room with longing 
 and anguish. He was not yet 
 so ill that the apathy of ex- 
 treme illness dulled his desires 
 and stilled his regrets. Both 
 were intense as life still was 
 intense in him. He would have 
 risen and dragged himself to the 
 Ca' Zaranegra ; but, as he had 
 said, he feared the infection for 
 her which would be in his voice, 
 
136 TOXIN. 
 
 in his touch, in his breath, in his 
 mere presence. 
 
 He lay on his back gazing 
 wistfully at the great sunny 
 windows, only veiled by the 
 gauze of mosquito curtains. He 
 could hear the churning of the 
 water below as the canal 
 steamers passed up and down ; 
 the softer ripple as oars parted 
 it ; he could see a corner of the 
 marbles of the Salute, with two 
 pigeons sitting side by side on 
 it pruning their plumage in the 
 sun. 
 
 He was not yet afraid, but he 
 was very sorry ; he longed to be 
 up and out in the bright air, 
 and he longed to be in the 
 presence of his beloved, to ask 
 again and again and again for 
 the confession so dear to him ; 
 to hear it from her lips, to read 
 it in her eyes. 
 
 " She loves me, she loves me," 
 
TOXIN. 137 
 
 he thought, and he, like a coward, 
 like a knave, must be untrue to 
 the first meeting she had promised 
 him ! 
 
 " Why is it," he thought, as 
 the tears welled up under his 
 closed eyelids, " that our better, 
 kinder impulses always cost us so 
 much more heavily than all our 
 egotisms and all our vices ? " 
 
 If he had left the little child 
 underneath the barge to drown, 
 would it not have been better 
 even for the child? The little 
 thing had only suffered some 
 eighteen hours longer through 
 his rescue. 
 
 " Let us do what we ought," he 
 murmured, in words his mother 
 had often spoken to him. " The 
 gods will pay us." 
 
 But the gods had been harsh 
 in their payment to him. 
 
 He counted the minutes until 
 Darner's return, holding his 
 
138 TOXIN. 
 
 watch in his hot hand. He took 
 docilely what his servant gave 
 him, though to swallow was 
 painful and difficult. 
 
 " What a while he stays ! " 
 he thought, restlessly. He envied 
 the other every moment passed 
 at the Ca' Zaranegra. 
 
 " What did you tell her ? " he 
 asked, breathlessly, when Darner 
 at last returned. 
 
 " I told her the truth," replied 
 Darner, as he placed the ther- 
 mometer under the sick man's 
 armpit. " You have worried and 
 fretted ; your fever has increased." 
 
 " What did she say ? She is 
 not angry, or offended ? * 
 
 " Who can be so at the mis- 
 fortune of disease ? Of course 
 she knows that you have incurred 
 this misfprtune through your 
 own folly." 
 
 tt Did she say so ? " 
 
 "No; I am not aware that 
 
TOXIN. 139 
 
 she said so. But she no doubt 
 thought it. She bade me tell 
 you not to agitate yourself/' 
 
 " Was that all ? " 
 
 "She added for her sake," 
 said Darner, with a cold, slight 
 smile. He was truthful in what 
 he repeated ; he scorned vulgar 
 methods of misrepresentation and 
 betrayal. The heavy eyes of 
 Adrianis gleamed and lightened 
 with joy. 
 
 " Thanks," he said softly, and 
 his hot hand pressed that of his 
 friend. 
 
 " I will write to her," he 
 added. " You can disinfect a 
 note ? " 
 
 " Yes. But do not exert your- 
 self. Try to sleep." 
 
 He crossed the room and closed 
 the green wooden blinds; he 
 gave an order to Stefanio, and 
 dipped his hands in a disinfecting 
 fluid ; then he sat down and 
 
140 TOXIN. 
 
 took up a book. But he could 
 not read. He saw before him that 
 blanched and frightened face, 
 which a little while before had 
 been raised to his as the voice of 
 Veronica had cried to him, " Save 
 him ! You will save him ? You 
 have so much knowledge, so 
 much power. You will save him 
 for my sake ! " 
 
 He had promised her nothing ; 
 he had only said briefly, in the 
 language of people who were 
 fools, that the issue of life and 
 of death was in the hands of 
 Deity. He had promised her 
 nothing ; in his own way he was 
 sincere. Up to that time he had 
 done everything which science 
 and experience could suggest to 
 combat the disease. 
 
 Adrianis wrote at intervals 
 various pencilled notes to her ; 
 indistinct, feebly scrawled, but 
 still coherent. He pointed to 
 
TOXIN. 14 1 
 
 each when it was written and 
 looked at his friend with suppli- 
 cating eyes. He could not speak, 
 for the false membrane filled his 
 throat. Darner took each little 
 note with apparent indifference. 
 
 1 ' To the Countess Zaranegra ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Adrianis signed a mute assent. 
 Darner carried each scrap ol 
 paper to the next room, disin- 
 fected it, then sent it to its 
 destination. He was of too 
 proud a temper to use the usual 
 small arts of the traitor. 
 
 Once she wrote in reply. 
 
 This he did thrice. 
 
 " I cannot see, my eyes are 
 too weak," Adrianis scrawled on 
 its envelope as the letter was 
 given to him. " Read it to me." 
 
 Darner opened it, and read 
 it aloud. It was short, timid, 
 simple, but a deep love and 
 an intense anxiety spoke in it. 
 
142 TOXIN. 
 
 Adrianis took it and laid his 
 cheek on it with a smile of 
 ineffable peace. It seemed to 
 give him firmer hold on life. 
 
 Adrianis slept peacefully, his 
 cheek on the little letter, as a 
 child falls to sleep with a favourite 
 toy on its pillow. 
 
 He called in a second medical 
 man of the town and two sisters 
 of charity to replace Stefanio, 
 who grew alarmed for his own 
 safety and would no longer 
 approach the bed. 
 
 " Send for my mother," said 
 Adrianis, in his choked voice. 
 
 " Certainly/' answered his 
 friend. The disease which had 
 fastened on Adrianis was not one 
 which waits. But Darner tele- 
 graphed only to the Adrianis' 
 palace in Palermo, and he knew 
 that it was unlikely she would be 
 in that city in the summer heats 
 of the end of June. 
 
TOXIN. 143 
 
 The telegram might be for- 
 warded or it might not; Italian 
 households are careless in such 
 matters. 
 
 But when he murmured once 
 and again, "Send for my mother! " 
 Darner could, with a clear con- 
 science, reply, u I have tele- 
 graphed. " 
 
 He sat by the bedside and 
 watched the sick man. 
 
 He believed that he would 
 recover. 
 
 In the dusk he was told that 
 a lady who was below in her 
 gondola desired to see him. He 
 descended the stairs, prepared to 
 find Veronica Zaranegra. She 
 was veiled ; he could not see her 
 features, but he knew her by 
 the turn of her head, the shape 
 of her hand, before she spoke. 
 
 " You come for news of the 
 Prince ? " he said, coldly and 
 harshly. " I can give you none. 
 
1 44 TOXIN. 
 
 The disease is always uncertain 
 and deceptive. " 
 
 " Let me see him ! oh, let me 
 see him ! " she murmured. " I 
 came for that. No matter what 
 they say. No matter what 
 danger there be. Only let me 
 see him ! " 
 
 " That is wholly impossible," 
 replied Darner, in an unchanged 
 tone. " Why do you come on 
 such errands ? " 
 
 " Who should see him if not 
 I ? Who are you that you 
 should keep me from him ? " 
 
 " I am a man of science whose 
 duty it is to protect you from 
 yourself. Go home, madame, 
 and pray for your betrothed. 
 That is all that you can do." 
 
 She burst into tears. He 
 heard her sobs, he saw the 
 heaving of her shoulders and her 
 breast. 
 
 "Take your mistress home. 
 
TOXIN. 145 
 
 She is unwell," he said to the 
 gondolier, who waited a moment 
 for his lady's orders, then, re- 
 ceiving none, pushed his oar 
 against the steps and slowly 
 turned the gondola round to go 
 back up the canal. 
 
 11 Why does she love him ? " 
 thought Darner. " Like to 
 like. Fool to fool. Flower to 
 flower ! " 
 
 From his soul he despised her, 
 poor lovely, mindless, childlike 
 creature ! But her voice turned 
 his blood to flame ; the sound 
 of her weeping deepened his 
 scorn to hate ; the touch ot her 
 ungloved hand was ecstasy and 
 agony in one ; he loved her 
 with furious, brutal, unsparing 
 passion, like lava under the ice 
 of his self-restraint. 
 
 He stood in the twilight and 
 looked after the black shape of 
 the gondola. 
 
146 TOXIN. 
 
 u He shall never be yours/' he 
 said in his heart. " Never 
 never never! unless I die in- 
 stead of him to-night." 
 
 He remained there some 
 minutes whilst the water traffic 
 passed by him unnoticed and 
 the crowds flocked out from a 
 novena in the Salute. 
 
 The day became evening, the 
 lovely roseate twilight of summer 
 in Venice wore into night, and 
 the night waned into dawn. All 
 the animation of Venetian life 
 began again to awake with the 
 whirr of the wings of the pigeons 
 taking their sunrise flight from 
 dome and cupola and pinnacle 
 and gutter. To the sisters of 
 charity their patient seemed 
 better ; to the surgeons of the 
 city also ; Darner said nothing. 
 
 " Is he not better ? " asked the 
 nun, anxiously. 
 
 " I see little amelioration," 
 
TOXIN. 147 
 
 replied Darner, and said in a 
 louder tone to Adrianis, " Your 
 mother has telegraphed ; she 
 will soon be here." 
 
 Adrianis smiled again a smile 
 which lighted up his beautiful 
 brown eyes and momentarily 
 banished their languor. He felt 
 disposed to sleep, but he drew 
 his pencil and paper to him 
 and wrote feebly, " Mme. Zara- 
 negra ? " 
 
 Darner read the name. 
 
 11 She came to see you an hour 
 or two ago," he answered. 
 " But I could not allow it. Your 
 illness is infectious." 
 
 He spoke in his usual brief, 
 calm, indifferent manner. Adri- 
 anis sighed, but it was a sigh of 
 content; he was half asleep, he 
 turned on his pillows and drew 
 her little note which he had 
 hidden under them once more 
 against his cheek. 
 
148 TOXIN. 
 
 " He will sleep himself well," 
 said the nun. 
 
 " Let us hope so," replied 
 Darner ; but she heard from his 
 tone that he did not share her 
 belief. 
 
 It was now eleven o'clock. 
 
 " Go and rest," he said to her. 
 " You need it. I will watch to- 
 night. If there be any necessity 
 for aid I will summon you." 
 
 "Will his mother soon be 
 here ? " asked the sister, whose 
 heart was tender. 
 
 " I believe so," replied Darner. 
 
 One of the medical men whom 
 he had summoned came out on 
 to the balcony to his side. 
 
 "The sisters say the prince 
 is better ; he seems so," said 
 his colleague. 
 
 " What do they know ? " said 
 Darner; and added less harshly, 
 11 It is too early to be able to 
 make sure of recovery; it is a 
 
TOXIN. I49 
 
 disease which is very treacher- 
 ous." 
 
 " He has youth on his side.*' 
 
 " Yes ; but he is weakened 
 by the effects of a wound he 
 received last year for which I 
 treated him. His constitution 
 is not prepared to make so 
 soon again another struggle for 
 existence." 
 
 " You have more knowledge of 
 him than I," said the Venetian, 
 who was a meek man, not very 
 wise. 
 
 "Come to my laboratory in 
 the Fondamente, and I will 
 show you something and tell 
 you something," said Darner. 
 
 His Italian colleague, flattered, 
 complied with the request. 
 
 What he showed him were 
 three animals, two rabbits and a 
 cat, inoculated with and dying of 
 diphtheria; what he explained to 
 him were the theories of Lceffler 
 
15 TOXIN. 
 
 and Klebs and the discovery of 
 the presumed antidote by Beh- 
 ring; he also displayed to him 
 some serum which he had re- 
 ceived from Roux, who was only 
 then at the commencement of 
 his applications of Behring's 
 theory. 
 
 The Venetian doctor inspected 
 and listened with deep respect. 
 
 "Why do you not try this 
 treatment on the prince ? " he 
 said, which was what Darner 
 desired and intended him to 
 say. 
 
 " I will do so on my own 
 responsibility if he be no better 
 in the morning, ,, he replied, 
 "But you will admit that the 
 responsibility will be great, the 
 theory of the cure being at 
 present unknown to the general 
 public, and no one of his family 
 being at present in Venice to 
 authorise the experiment." 
 
TOXIN. 151 
 
 " We are there as your col- 
 leagues, and we shall support 
 you," replied the more obscure 
 man, touched and flattered by 
 the deference of one who was 
 in the confidence of French and 
 German men of science. 
 
 " If there be no other way, 
 I will take the risk ; the risk is 
 less than that of tracheotomy," 
 said Darner, as he put the small 
 phial of serum back into a locked 
 case 
 
XIV. 
 
 )HEN the Venetian doctor 
 left him he took the 
 phial of serum, the 
 inoculating syringe, and 
 another smaller bottle 
 containing a clear liquid, which 
 was the toxin or virus of the 
 malady, and which he had not 
 shown to the Venetian. He 
 put these together in the breast 
 pocket of his coat. He had no 
 belief in the efficacy of the serum, 
 but he had prepared the venom 
 of the toxin himself; and in that 
 small glass tube there was poison 
 enough to slay twelve men. 
 5 2 
 
TOXIN. 153 
 
 " If there be no other way," 
 he repeated to himself as he 
 went back to the hotel through 
 the moonlit canals and under the 
 ancient houses. 
 
 The dual meaning which lay 
 in the words was like a devil's 
 laugh in his ears. 
 
 He looked up at the Ca' 
 Zaranegra as he passed it ; its 
 windows were all dark, and the 
 white lilies on the balconies had 
 no light upon them save that 
 from the rays of the moon. 
 
 As he entered the lighted hall 
 of the hotel they handed to him 
 a telegram. It was from the 
 Princess Adrianis. She had 
 received his despatch twelve 
 hours late, as she had been 
 in her summer palace in the 
 mountains; she had left Sicily 
 immediately, and said that she 
 would travel without pause at 
 the utmost speed possible. She 
 
154 TOXIN. 
 
 added : " I commend my darling 
 to God and to you." 
 
 Damer crushed the paper up 
 in his hand with a nervous 
 gesture and flung it out, by the 
 open doorway, into the water 
 below. 
 
 Then he ascended the stair- 
 case, and entered his patient's 
 room. 
 
 The night was very warm; 
 the windows stood wide open ; 
 there was a shaded porcelain lamp 
 alight on the table. One nun 
 watched whilst the other slept. 
 Adrianis lay still on the great 
 bed in the shadow; he was 
 awake, his eyes were looking 
 upward, his mouth was open 
 but his breathing was easier 
 and less hard. 
 
 The sister of charity whispered 
 to Damer, " I think he is better. 
 The fungus growth seems loosen- 
 ing. We have given the wine 
 
TOXIN. 155 
 
 and the meat essence. He could 
 swallow." 
 
 He lit a candle and approached 
 the bed. Adrianis smiled faintly. 
 He could not speak. 
 
 " Let me see your throat," 
 said Darner. 
 
 He saw that the nun had 
 spoken truly ; the fungus growth 
 was wasting, the false membrane 
 was shrinking; there was a 
 healthier look on the tongue. 
 He set the lamp down and said 
 nothing. 
 
 " Is he not better? M said the 
 sister, anxiously. 
 
 "Perhaps," he replied. "If 
 there be no re-formation of the 
 false membrane he may be 
 saved. Go, my good woman, 
 and rest while you can." 
 
 She went, nothing loth, to her 
 supper and her bed. Darner 
 was alone with the man who 
 trusted him and whose mother 
 trusted him. 
 
156 TOXIN. 
 
 He went away from the bed- 
 side and sat down by one of the 
 windows. His heart had long 
 years before been rendered dumb 
 and dead; his mind alone re- 
 mained alive and his passions. 
 
 He stayed in the open air, 
 looking down on the green 
 water. 
 
 " Man cannot control circum- 
 stances," he thought, "but the 
 wise man can assist circum- 
 stance, the fool does not." 
 
 He had in him that fell ego- 
 tism of science which chokes the 
 fountain of mercy at its well- 
 springs in blood. He sat by the 
 window and looked out absently 
 at the night. 
 
 He knew that the nun was 
 right ; he knew that the disease 
 was passing away from the sick 
 man; that, if left alone, sleep and 
 youth would restore him to health, 
 to love, and joy. 
 
TOXIN. 157 
 
 Should he leave him alone ? 
 
 Should he let him live to be- 
 come the lover and lord of 
 Veronica Zaranegra ? Should 
 he let those two mindless, 
 flowerlike lives lean together, 
 and embrace, and multiply ? 
 
 It would be what men called 
 a crime, but his school despises 
 the trivial laws of men, knowing 
 that for the wise there is no such 
 thing as crime and no such thing 
 as virtue only lesions of the 
 brain, and absence of temptation 
 and opportunity. 
 
 The mother of Adrianis could 
 not be there before another 
 day, travel as rapidly as she 
 would. He knew the effect of 
 affection on the nervous system, 
 and that the sight and sense of 
 a beloved person near them often 
 gave to enfeebled frames the 
 power of resistance and recovery. 
 Those emotions were not in 
 
158 TOXIN. 
 
 himself, but he recognised their 
 existence, and he knew that in 
 Adrianis the emotions and the 
 affections were very strong in 
 proportion as the mental powers 
 were slight. 
 
 He must not await the arrival 
 of the princess. He had before 
 been witness of her devotion, of 
 her skill in illness, of her forti- 
 tude, and of the love existing 
 between her and her son. They 
 were powers he despised and 
 never pitied, as he never pitied 
 the love of the nursing bitch 
 from whom he removed her litter 
 that he might watch her die of the 
 agony of her bursting teats. But 
 he was conscious of the exist- 
 ence of such powers; and the 
 physiologist ignores no facts 
 which he has demonstrated, 
 though they may belong to an 
 order with which he has no 
 sympathy. 
 
TOXIN. 159 
 
 t. .He knew that he must not 
 allow the mother of Adrianis to 
 arrive in time to see her son 
 alive. 
 
 "What thou doest, do quickly," 
 he murmured in words which he 
 had heard in his childhood as he 
 had sat in the old parish church 
 of his native village. 
 
 He rose and walked to the 
 bed. 
 
 Adrianis still seemed to sleep, 
 the breathing was heavy and 
 forced chiefly through the nasal 
 passages; but there was a look 
 of returning serenity on his 
 features : a look which the man 
 of science is well aware precedes 
 recovery, not death. 
 
 As surely as any one can 
 gauge the unseen future, he was 
 sure that if let alone the 
 young man would recover, 
 would in a week or two arise 
 unharmed from his bed. He 
 
l6o TOXIN. 
 
 was equally sure that he had 
 himself, in his breast, the means 
 of changing that process ot 
 recovery into the agony of disso- 
 lution. He no longer hesitated ; 
 he no longer doubted. He went 
 to the adjacent chamber, where 
 the two nuns, still dressed, were 
 sleeping. He awakened them. 
 
 "Come," he said, gently. "He 
 is worse. I am about to try the 
 cure of Behring. It may succeed. 
 There is no other chance. It 
 will be necessary to hold him. 
 I require you both. ,, 
 
 He was well aware that it 
 would be unwise to essay that 
 operation alone it would rouse 
 comment in the day to come. 
 
 " Hold him motionless/' he 
 said to the two women. " Do 
 not awake him if you can avoid 
 it." 
 
 He filled the inoculating 
 syringe from one of the little 
 
Damer bent over him and inserted the injecting-needle 
 into one of the veins ; the incident disturbed him without 
 wholly loosening the bonds of the soporiiic ; he struggled 
 slightly, moaned a little, but the nuns succeeded in 
 resisting his endeavour to rise. 
 
TOXIN. l6l 
 
 phials which he had brought 
 from the Fondamente. He stood 
 in the full light of the lamp so 
 that the two sisters could see all 
 that he did. 
 
 " Loosen his shirt/' he said 
 to them. Adrianis still slept ; 
 in his predisposition to sleep 
 the few drops of chloral which 
 had been administered twenty 
 minutes earlier, had sufficed 
 to render him almost insen- 
 sible. 
 
 Darner bent over him and in- 
 serted the injecting needle into 
 one of the veins ; the inci- 
 sion disturbed him without 
 wholly loosening the bonds of 
 the soporific ; he struggled 
 slightly, moaned a little, but the 
 nuns succeeded in resisting his 
 endeavour to rise ; the inocula- 
 tion was successfully made. 
 
 The face of Darner in the 
 lamplight was not paler than 
 ii 
 
1 62 TOXIN. 
 
 usual, but his hand trembled as 
 he withdrew the syringe. 
 
 " What is Behring's cure ? " 
 asked the nun who felt most 
 interest in her patient. 
 
 "An antitoxin; the serum of 
 an immune beast, " he answered, 
 calmly, as he turned slightly 
 towards her. The nun did not 
 understand, but she was afraid 
 of troubling him with other 
 questions. 
 
 He walked to the window and 
 stood looking out at the moonlit 
 water. 
 
 He had left on a table the 
 syringe and the phial of serum 
 which was half empty. But in 
 the breast pocket oi his coat he 
 had the phial of toxin, and that 
 phial was wholly empty. The 
 nuns, engrossed in holding down 
 Adrianis, had not seen that the 
 glass tube on the table was not 
 the one from which the syringe 
 
TOXIN. 163 
 
 had been filled; and, when used, 
 Darner had plunged the syringe 
 immediately into a bowl of dis- 
 infecting acid. There was no 
 trace anywhere that the toxin 
 had been used instead of the 
 serum ; no trace whatever save 
 in the tumifying vein of the sick 
 man's throat. 
 
 "You had better stay near 
 him, you may be wanted, and it 
 is two o'clock/' said Darner to 
 the nurses. " I shall remain 
 here. There will be, I hope, a 
 great change soon." 
 
 He went out on to the balcony 
 and turned his back on the 
 watching women and leaned 
 against the iron-work, looking 
 down on the canal, where no- 
 thing moved except the slow, 
 scarcely visible ripple of the 
 water. He was human though 
 he had killed his humanity, re- 
 placing it by intellect alone. He 
 
164 TOXIN. 
 
 suffered in that moment; a vague 
 sense of what ignorance calls 
 crime was on him painfully ; he 
 had emancipated himself wholly 
 from the superstitions and preju- 
 dices of men, but he was con- 
 scious that he had now done 
 that which, if known, would put 
 him outside the pale of their 
 laws. 
 
 He did not repent or regret ; 
 he did not see any evil in his 
 act. The right of the strong, 
 the right of the sage was his; 
 he had but exercised his reason 
 to produce an issue he desired. 
 
 So he thought as he leaned 
 against the iron scroll work and 
 watched the thick, dark water 
 glide by past the marble steps 
 of the Salute. There was a 
 faint light in the sky on the 
 east, but he could not see the 
 east where he stood ; it was still 
 completely night between the 
 
TOXIN. T65 
 
 walls of the Grand Canal. The 
 voice of a man called up to him 
 from the darkness below. 
 
 " Madam sends me to know 
 how goes it with the prince ? " 
 
 Darner looked down. " Tell 
 the Countess Zaranegra that 
 things are as they were. A new 
 remedy has been essayed." 
 
 The man who had come by 
 the calle retired by them, swing- 
 ing a lantern in his hand. 
 
 The two Vulcans of the clock- 
 tower, hard by in St. Mark's 
 square, struck four times upon 
 their anvil. Darner looked up 
 the darkness of the canal where 
 nothing was to be seen but the 
 lamps which burned on either 
 side of it with their reflections, 
 and the lanthorns tied to poles 
 before some of the palaces. He 
 could not see the Ca' Zaranegra, 
 which was not in sight even in 
 the day, but he saw it in remem- 
 
1 66 TOXIN. 
 
 brance with its flowering balco- 
 nies, its tapestried chambers, its 
 red and white awnings, its great 
 escutcheon over its portals. He 
 saw her in his vision as she must 
 be now awake, listening for her 
 messenger's return, in some white, 
 loose gown no doubt, with her hair 
 loose, too, upon her shoulders, 
 her face white, her eyes strained 
 in anxiety, as he had seen them 
 that afternoon and evening. 
 
 If Adrianis had lived she 
 would have been his wife : that 
 was as certain as that the sea 
 was beating on the bar of 
 Malomocco underneath the 
 moon. 
 
 " I have done well ; I have exer- 
 cised my supremacy,'' he thought 
 "We have right of life and death 
 over all birds, and beasts, and 
 things which swim and crawl, 
 by virtue of our greater brain ; 
 in like manner has the greater 
 
TOXIN. 167 
 
 brain the right to deal as it 
 will with the weaker brain when 
 their paths meet and one must 
 yield and go under. The fool 
 hath said that there is sanctity 
 in life, but the man of science 
 has never said it. To him 
 one organism or another has 
 the same measure in his scales." 
 
 Strangely enough, at that 
 moment and incongruously there 
 came to him a remembrance of 
 his own childish days : of sitting 
 by his mother's side in the little, 
 dark, damp church of their 
 northern hamlet, and reading 
 written on their tablets the 
 Twelve Commandments. 
 
 " Mother, what is it to do 
 murder ? " he had asked her ; 
 and she had answered, " It is 
 to take life ; to destroy what we 
 cannot recall. " 
 
 He remembered how, some 
 weeks later, when he had killed 
 
1 68 TOXIN. 
 
 from wantonness a mole which 
 ran across a road, he had been 
 frightened and had gone to his 
 mother and said to her, "Mother, 
 mother, I have done murder. I 
 have taken life and I cannot recall 
 it." And his mother had smiled 
 and answered, " That is not 
 murder, my dear. A little mole 
 is a dumb creature." 
 
 But his mother had been 
 wrong, as the world was wrong. 
 Whether the organism were 
 animal or human, what difference 
 was there ? Only a difference of 
 brain. 
 
 The world and its lawgivers 
 might and would still say that 
 what destroyed the human 
 organism was murder, that is, 
 a crime ; but to the trained, 
 logical, strong reason of Darner 
 the sophism was a premiss un- 
 tenable. To slay a man was no 
 more than to slay a mole. To 
 
TOXIN. 169 
 
 do either was to arrest a 
 mechanism, to dissolve tissues, 
 to send elements back into the 
 space they came from; it was 
 nothing more. One organism 
 or another, what matter ? 
 
 Since that day in the dim long 
 ago, he had taken life, not once, 
 not twice, but thousands of 
 times, causing the greatest 
 and most lingering agony in 
 its inflictions. But in his opinion 
 that had not been murder; it had 
 been only torture and slaughter 
 of dumb creatures according to 
 human law. What difference 
 could there be if, by accident, 
 the creature to be removed were 
 human ? 
 
 He was consistent enough, and 
 sincere enough to follow out the 
 theories of the laboratory to their 
 logical sequence without flinch- 
 ing. He honestly held himself 
 without blame. 
 
170 TOXIN. 
 
 He was only a man, and there- 
 fore he felt some sickly sense of 
 pain when he heard in the still 
 and waning night the sound of 
 his victim's convulsive struggles 
 to gain breath ; but he held him- 
 self without blame, for every 
 thesis and every deduction of the 
 priesthood of science justified 
 and made permissible his action 
 to bring about a catastrophe 
 which was necessary to him. 
 
 Science bade him take all the 
 other sentient races of earth 
 and make them suffer as he 
 chose and kill them as he 
 chose. Those other races were 
 organisms as susceptible as the 
 human organisms. Why should 
 the human organism enjoy im- 
 munity ? 
 
 He had done no more than is 
 done for sake of experiment or 
 observation in the hospital or the 
 laboratory every day all over the 
 
TOXIN. 171 
 
 known world. The reluctance to 
 face what he had done was merely 
 that residue of early influences 
 and impressions which remains 
 in the soul of the strongest, 
 haunting its remembrances and 
 emasculating its resolution. 
 
 He called up to his command 
 that volition, that power of will 
 which had never failed him ; he 
 returned to the bedside as he 
 would have returned to visit a 
 dog dying under the pressure of 
 eight atmospheres. 
 
 Adrianis still lay in the same 
 position. About the almost in- 
 visible orifice where the needle 
 had punctured there was a slight 
 tumified swelling. 
 
 " He seems worse," whispered 
 the nun. 
 
 " He cannot be either better 
 or worse as yet," replied Darner, 
 truthfully. ''Give him a little 
 wine, if he can take it." 
 
172 TOXIN. 
 
 They might give him what 
 they chose ; they could not now 
 save him from death. He had 
 received enough of the virus into 
 his vein to slay a man in health. 
 Passing as it did into an organ 
 already diseased, he would die 
 before the sun rose, or an hour 
 after. 
 
 He had aided nature to des- 
 troy her own work. There was 
 nothing new or criminal in that 
 nature was for ever creating and 
 destroying. Once it had suited 
 him to save that young man's 
 life ; now it suited him to end 
 it. 
 
 One action was as wrong or 
 as righteous as the other. It 
 was an exercise of power, as 
 when the monarch grants an 
 amnesty or signs a death war- 
 rant. Who blames the monarch 
 who does but use his power ? 
 The prerogative of superior 
 
TOXIN. 173 
 
 reason is higher than the pre- 
 rogative of a monarch. More- 
 over, who would ever know it? 
 Who would ever be aware that 
 the intenser virus of the toxin 
 had mingled with the natural 
 formation of the disease? 
 
 Even were there an autopsy, 
 discovery would be impossible ; 
 the concentrated venom had 
 mingled with and been absorbed 
 in the common and usual growth 
 of the false membrane. He had 
 but aided death instead of hin- 
 dering it. 
 
 His professional conscience 
 would have shrunk from giving 
 the disease, but it did not shrink 
 from making death certain where 
 it was merely possible. He did 
 but add a stronger poison to 
 that which nature had already 
 poisoned. 
 
 Men slew their rivals in duels 
 and no one blamed them ; who 
 
174 TOXIN. 
 
 should blame him because he 
 used the finer weapon of science 
 instead of the coarser weapon 
 of steel ? He did but carry 
 out the doctrine of the labora- 
 tory to its just and logical se- 
 quence. 
 
 What he felt for Veronica was 
 not love, but passion, and not 
 passion alone, but the sense of 
 dominion. He knew that the 
 fair creature shrank from him 
 but submitted to him. All the 
 intense instinctive tyranny ot 
 his nature longed to exercise 
 itself on her, the beautiful and 
 patrician thing, so far above him, 
 so fragile and so fair. He knew 
 that he would never possess her 
 or command her except through 
 fear ; but this would suffice to 
 him. The finer and more deli- 
 cate elements of love were in- 
 different to him, were indeed 
 unknown. They had existed in 
 
TOXIN. 175 
 
 Adrianis, whom he had despised; 
 but in his own temperament 
 they could find no dwelling- 
 place. His desires were brutal 
 as had ever been those of Attila, 
 whose throne lies low amongst 
 the grass on Torcello. 
 
 Late at night and early at 
 dawn messengers camefrom some 
 noble families in the city, and the 
 Ca' Zaranegra. Darner replied 
 to all inquiries, "It is impossible 
 to say what turn the disease may 
 take." 
 
 Darner said nothing. He 
 looked out at the marble church 
 which had no message for him, 
 and down the moonlit waters 
 which had no beauty for him. 
 He was absorbed in meditation. 
 His will desired to do that from 
 which his natural weakness 
 shrank ; for in his great strength 
 he was still weak being human. 
 The infliction of death was 
 
376 TOXIN. 
 
 nothing to him; could be nothing; 
 he was used to kill as he was 
 used to torture with profound in- 
 difference, with no more hesita- 
 tion, than he ate or drank or 
 fulfilled any natural function of 
 his body. To obtain knowledge, 
 even the approach of knowledge, 
 he would have inflicted the most 
 agonising and the most endless 
 suffering without a moment's 
 doubt or a moment's regret. 
 From his boyhood upwards he 
 had always lived in the hells 
 created by modern science, 
 wherein if the bodies of animals 
 suffer the souls of men wither 
 and perish. What was the man 
 lying sleeping there to him ? 
 Only an organism like those 
 which daily he broke up and 
 destroyed and threw aside. 
 Only an organism, filled by 
 millions of other invisible organ- 
 isms by a myriad of parasite 
 
TOXIN. 177 
 
 animalculae, numerous as the 
 star-dust in the skies. 
 
 The woman whom he desired 
 was nothing more ; he could not 
 deem her more ; he scorned him- 
 self for the empire over him of 
 his own desire of her perishable 
 form, of her foolish butterfly life. 
 He himself was no more, but 
 there was alight in him that 
 light of the intellect which in his 
 own esteem raised him above 
 them into an empyrean unknown 
 by them. His intellect made 
 him as Caesar, as Pharaoh ; their 
 foolishness made them as slaves. 
 
 The time is nigh at hand when 
 there will be no priests and no 
 kings but those of science, and 
 beneath their feet the nations 
 will grovel in terror and writhe 
 in death. 
 
 He went out again into the 
 balcony, leaving the nuns to 
 endeavour to administer the 
 
178 TOXIN. 
 
 wine, which, however, their 
 patient could not swallow, the 
 fungus growth closed his larynx. 
 His head was thrown back on 
 the pillows ; his eyes were star- 
 ing but sightless ; his face was 
 pallid and looked blue round the 
 mouth and about the temples. 
 He was now straining for breath ; 
 like a horse fallen on the road, 
 blown and broken. 
 
 They called loudly to Darner, 
 being frightened and horrified. 
 He re-entered the chamber. 
 
 " He is worse," he said, 
 gravely. 
 
 The nun, who had a tender 
 heart, wept. Darner sat down 
 by the bed. He had seen that 
 struggle for air a thousand times 
 in all the hospitals of Europe. 
 It could now have but one end. 
 
 A little while after they 
 brought him a note and a tele- 
 gram. The first was from the 
 
TOXIN. 179 
 
 Countess Zaranegra. It said : 
 u You must let me see him. It 
 is my right, my place." 
 
 The second was from the 
 mother of Adrianis; it said: "I 
 have reached Bologna; I shall 
 soon be with you. God bless 
 you for your goodness to my 
 son." 
 
 He read them, and tore the one 
 in pieces and flung the pieces in 
 the canal ; the other he put in 
 his breast pocket beside the 
 empty phial of toxin. 
 
 The mother's letter would be 
 useful if any called in question 
 the too late usage of the Behring 
 serum. It would show the com- 
 plete confidence placed in him by 
 the writer. At that moment his 
 two Venetian colleagues arrived. 
 The day had dawned. The 
 women put out the light of the 
 lamps. 
 
 "You have given the anti- 
 
l8o TOXIN. 
 
 toxin ? " said the elder of the 
 Venetians, glancing at the sy- 
 ringe. 
 
 " I have," replied Darner. 
 " But, I believe, too late." 
 
 " I fear too late," replied the 
 Venetian. " Not less admirable 
 is your courage in accepting such 
 responsibility." 
 
 Darner bowed. He looked 
 grave and worn, which was 
 natural in a man who had been 
 in anxious vigil through thirty- 
 six hours by the bedside of his 
 friend. 
 
 " Have you any hope ? " whis- 
 pered the Venetian. 
 
 " I confess none, now," he 
 answered. 
 
 The pure light of earliest 
 daybreak was in the whole of 
 the vast chamber. 
 
 It shone on that ghastly sight, 
 a man dying in his youth, strug- 
 gling and straining for a breath 
 
TOXIN. l8l 
 
 of air, fighting against suffoca- 
 tion. 
 
 The fresh sea air was flowing 
 through the room, sweet with 
 the odours of fruits and flowers, 
 free to the poorest wretch that 
 lived. But in all that bounteous 
 liberty and radiance of air he 
 could not draw one breath, he 
 could not reach one wave of it, 
 to slake his thirst of life. 
 
 The poisoned growth filled 
 every chink of the air passages 
 as though they were tubes mor- 
 tared up and closed hermetically. 
 His face grew purple and tumid, 
 his eyes started from their 
 sockets, his arms waved wildly, 
 beckoning in space ; he had no 
 sense left except the mere 
 instinctive mechanical effort to 
 gasp for the air which he was 
 never to breathe again. The 
 five persons round him stood 
 in silence, while the stifled sobs 
 
1 82 TOXIN. 
 
 of the nun were heard ; the 
 splash of oars echoed from the 
 water below ; somewhere with- 
 out a bird sang. 
 
 The Venetians spoke one with 
 another, then turned to Damer. 
 
 " The end must be near. We 
 ought to call in the assistance of 
 the Church. We must not let 
 him perish thus, unshrived, 
 unannealed, like a pagan, like a 
 dumb creature." 
 
 " Do whatever you deem 
 right," replied Damer. "With 
 those matters I do not meddle." 
 
 The minutes went on; the 
 nuns sank on their knees; the 
 one who wept hid her face on 
 the coverlet of the bed. All 
 which had so lately been the 
 youth, the form, the vitality 
 of Adrianis wrestled with death 
 as a young lion tears at the 
 walls of the den which im- 
 prisons him. The terrible 
 
TOXIN. 183 
 
 choking sounds roared through 
 the air to which his closed 
 throat could not open. Blood 
 foamed in froth from his lips, 
 which were curled up over the 
 white teeth, and were cracked 
 and blue. His eyes, starting 
 from their orbits, had no sight. 
 Darner ceased to look; almost 
 he regretted that which he had 
 done. 
 
 Suddenly the convulsions 
 ceased. 
 
 " He is out of pain," said one 
 of the Venetians, in a solemn 
 and hushed voice. 
 
 " He is dead," said Darner. 
 
 The women crossed them- 
 selves. 
 
 The little bird outside sang 
 loudly. 
 
 The door opened, and the 
 mother of Adrianis stood on 
 the threshold. 
 
184 TOXIN. 
 
 Six months later the man who 
 had killed him wedded Veronica 
 Zaranegra. Her family opposed, 
 and her friends warned her, in 
 vain ; she shrank from him, she 
 feared him, she abhorred him, 
 but the magnetism of his will 
 governed hers till he shaped 
 her conduct at his choice, as 
 the hand of the sculptor moulds 
 the clay. 
 
 He became master of her 
 person, of her fortune, of her 
 destiny ; but her soul, frightened 
 and dumb, forever escapes from 
 him, and hides in the caverns 
 of memory and regret. 
 
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A STUDY 
 IN TEMPTATIONS 
 
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JOHN OLIVER HOBBES 
 
 A STUDY 
 IN TEMPTATIONS 
 
 by the author of 
 
 'Some Emotions and a Moral," "The Sinner's 
 Comedy." 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 M DCCC XCIII 
 
COPYRIGHT. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
To A. 
 
 DESIDERIUM ANIMM EJUS TRIBUISTI EI 
 
 DOMINE, ET VOLUNTATE LABIORUM 
 
 EJUS NON FRAUDASTI EUM. 
 
 VITAM PETIIT A TE, ET TRIBUISTI EI 
 
 LONGITUDINEM DIERUM IN 
 
 SPECULUM SiCCULI. 
 
 February 7th, 1892. 
 
li In order to judge whether what is said or 
 done by any character be well or ill, we are 
 not to consider that speech or action alone, 
 whether in itself it be good or bad, but also 
 by whom it is spoken or done, to whom, at 
 what time, in what manner, or for what 
 end. . . . 
 
 "To opinion, or what is commonly said to 
 be, may be referred even such things as are 
 improbable and absurd ; and it may also be 
 said that events of that kind are, sometimes, 
 not really improbable ; since, ' it is probable 
 that many things should happen contrary to 
 probability.' " Aristot., Poet. 
 
AUTHOR'S NOTE. 
 
 In the brief sketches of Farmer Battle and 
 Miss Caroline Battle, the author's aim has 
 been to suggest, not to reproduce, a dialect ; 
 and by so doing he ventures to think he is 
 humbly following many great examples. 
 
PREFACE TO 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 &*s HIS little work has been 
 received with such extra- 
 ordinary kindness, and the 
 author has been scolded 
 for its faults with such 
 generosity and grace, that 
 he could almost wish he might offend 
 his critics again, if only for the honour 
 of being so wittily rebuked. There is 
 a story told of a man who begged his 
 7uife to tell him his besetting sin, " In 
 order? said lie, " that I may conquer 
 it, and so please you in all respects" 
 With much reluctance, and only after 
 many exhortations to be honest, the 
 lady replied that she feared he was 
 selfish. a I am not perfect" said her 
 husband, " and perhaps I am a sinful 
 
6 PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION. 
 
 creature, but if there is one fault 
 which I thank God I do not possess 
 it is selfishness. Anything but that / " 
 and as he spoke, he passed her the 
 apples they were at luncheon and 
 set himself to work on the only peach. 
 Now the author is in the same frame 
 of mind with regard to the charge of 
 flippancy : he ca?inot bring himself to 
 own that he is flippant : he longs to 
 be told his short-comings, he is most 
 eager to please his readers in all 
 respects, but he will not admit that he 
 is cynical anything but that. He is 
 by nature so extremely serious that, 
 like the good angel who liked laughter, 
 he has thought it wiser to curb his 
 disposition at all events for the present. 
 A greater part of the book was com- 
 posed under the strain of bad health, 
 and all of it in circumstances of pecu- 
 liar anxiety. If the author had 
 written as he felt and thought, the 
 result would have been very far from 
 amusing. And his sole aim has been 
 to amuse. In times of illness, irrita- 
 bility, and grief, he has often cast 
 about him for some light reading 
 simple yet not altogether meaningless, 
 unreal yet not impossible: he has 
 longed to draw a veil on actualities 
 
PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION. 7 
 
 and see a shadow-life frisking on tip- 
 toes, followed by a dance of sorrows 
 and a merry-making of cares. He 
 does not presume to say that he has 
 fulfilled his own desire in the following 
 pages, but the desire in question ?nay 
 explain their tone. 
 
 In conclusion, this fantasia makes 
 no claim to the great title of novel, and 
 is, indeed, no more than it is called 
 " A Study in Temptations " and it 
 will be found that at least one form of 
 temptation, if not more, is dealt with 
 in each chapter. 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTA- 
 TIONS. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 WHICH CONTAINS ALL THE TRAGEDY 
 OF THE BOOK. 
 
 > AR Y Cecilia flged seven- 
 teen, with whom lies 
 buried all the hope,all the 
 \ belief in God and good- 
 \ M ness of her husband, 
 Charles Sydneyjenyns" 
 The grave-digger who spelled out 
 this inscription on the coffin, nudged 
 his companion, and they clambered 
 up the sides of the grave to stare 
 after a man, who, with dragging steps 
 and bent head, was slowly groping 
 
10 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 his way out of the cemetery. He 
 avoided the path, and slunk round 
 and among the numerous mounds 
 and monuments, frequently stum- 
 bling, and often halting out- 
 right. 
 
 " Did you see 'is face ? " said the 
 elder of the grave-diggers ; u 'e ain't 
 a day more'n two-and-twenty. 
 'Tain't every one as marries so fool- 
 hardy young as gits out of it so 
 easy ! " 
 
 His assistant, less philosophical 
 but more kindly, blinked his eyes 
 and gave a cheerless laugh. u 'E 
 pro'bly thinks/' he said, " as 'e's 
 the 'ardest done-by in the 'ole 
 world. 'E don't see as it all 
 stands to reason, as you and me do, 
 bless yer. 'E only thinks as when 
 'e gits 'ome there won't be nobody 
 there ! " 
 
 " I knows some," said his senior, 
 with a grim smile, " as 'ud thank 
 the Almighty if they could go 'ome 
 and find the 'ouse empty ! They 
 wouldn't say nothink agin the 
 goodness of Gord, they wouldn't. 
 They wouldn't be writin' none of 
 this 'ere. They would be foldin' 
 their 'ands and sayin' as Gord's will 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. II 
 
 is for the best, and be-yaving their- 
 selves like Christians ! " 
 
 Then they resumed their work, 
 and in working forgot to moralise. 
 
 The object of their remarks, 
 meanwhile, having refused to drive 
 home in the solitary mourning 
 coach which with the hearse had 
 formed the funeral procession, found 
 his strength so unequal to the task 
 of walking, that he sank on a bench 
 outside a public-house, which stood 
 conveniently near the entrance to 
 the cemetery. He was, as the grave- 
 digger had observed, quite young 
 and certainly not more than two- 
 and-twenty. He was tall, but some- 
 what bent not that he stooped, 
 there was rather a leaning forward 
 of his whole body. His brilliant 
 eyes seemed to have burnt deep 
 into their sockets, and they cast a 
 flickering light on the pallor of his 
 cheeks, which looked the more pale 
 in contrast with his dark hair. 
 
 He was at an early stage of grief, 
 and he felt as though he were 
 two beings one, speechless and 
 stricken ; the other, a mere spectator, 
 who philosophised, and mocked, and 
 wept, and laughed by starts and was 
 
12 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 only constant in watching. That 
 he was sorrowful, he guessed but 
 what was sorrow? He knew that 
 he had loved yet what was love ? 
 He lived and what was life ? Mary 
 was dead. Immortality might be, 
 but she once was. O lovely fact to 
 weigh against the ghost-like possi- 
 bility ! 
 
 To whatever end his thoughts 
 were tending, (and the way was 
 broad), they were diverted, for the 
 moment at least, by the potman, 
 who, moved by compassion, or 
 following his invariable custom in 
 dealing with mourners, came out to 
 tell him, that there was a private 
 room within, where he would find a 
 fire, writing materials, and the daily 
 papers. Jenyns, to his own amaze- 
 ment, but as the potman had fore- 
 seen, acted on the hint and followed 
 him into a small, musty room which 
 barely atoned for its stale odour, 
 its dismal light, and oppressive 
 warmth, by being empty. The 
 potman poked the fire, smoothed 
 out the Sportsman, stirred the ink 
 with the one quill in the pen-tray, 
 and, while thus exercising his hands, 
 had his eyes and his wits con- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 13 
 
 centrated on the mysterious and 
 melancholy wayfarer. 
 
 The interest Jenyns had created 
 in the minds of the grave-diggers, 
 was slight compared with the sensa- 
 tion he had as unconsciously pro- 
 duced among the patrons of the 
 " Jolly Nell." (The original sign 
 had been the "Jolly Knell," but 
 this having been repudiated by the 
 present proprietor an Irishman as 
 Dutch spelling, the JTwas painted 
 out.) Jenyns's bearing, appearance, 
 and expression were so unusual, and 
 his features so handsome, that had 
 the same gossips met him under 
 the most commonplace conditions, 
 they would still have paused to 
 guess his calling, or to wonder what 
 path lay before him. On this occa- 
 sion, however, the despair on his 
 countenance, the possible romance 
 connected with it, and the unlike- 
 ness between himself and the mean 
 almost abject circumstances of 
 the funeral, gave him a prominence 
 far greater, than if he had buried 
 his dead with every elegant sign of 
 still more elegant grief. 
 
 As the landlady pointed out, had 
 he been really poor, he would have 
 
14 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 driven home in the carnage a poor 
 man could not afford to miss such 
 chances ; further, he would not have 
 been alone, for his family, or at least 
 his neighbours, would have seized 
 the opportunity for a breath of fresh 
 air and a nice change : they would 
 have made it, in fact, a chastened 
 holiday -jaunt. She did not use 
 that particular phrase, but her nod 
 was to that effect. Her crowning 
 observation that he was a student, 
 or something of that, who had got 
 some young woman into trouble, and 
 the poor thing had died of a broken 
 heart, and he was being eat up by 
 remorse, was made in a whisper so 
 thrilling, that it pierced through the 
 thin door and reached Jenyns's sensi- 
 tive ear. He waited to hear no more, 
 but leaving half-a-crown (his last) 
 on the table, walked so quickly and 
 noiselessly out of the house, that 
 the group in the bar-room, who 
 were so eagerly discussing him, did 
 not notice his departure. 
 
 Once on the main road, he seemed 
 to gain a certain composure and 
 his strength of limb ; he walked 
 hurriedly and was, in fact, racing 
 against the thoughts which threat- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 5 
 
 ened every moment to outstrip and 
 overcome him. When he finally 
 halted it was nearly evening, and 
 he had reached a dingy dwelling 
 in one of the streets near King's 
 Cross. The neighbourhood was 
 poor and the door of the house 
 stood open as doors may, when 
 there is little to offer friends and 
 nothing to tempt the thieving. 
 
 A small boy and his mother stood 
 by the area railings, and they both 
 looked after Jenyns as he passed 
 in. 
 
 " Mother," said the boy, tugging 
 at the woman's apron "mother, 
 next time a lodger dies may I have 
 another half-holiday ? n 
 
 Jenyns heard the question, and, 
 smiling faintly, walked slowly up 
 the creaking staircase till he reached 
 a room on the fourth landing. He 
 crept in and gazed stupidly around 
 it : noticed that there was a cup- 
 board door half-open, a few medi- 
 cine bottles on the mantelpiece, 
 a pile of women's garments on a 
 chair, a white straw hat, trimmed 
 with ribbons, on the chest of drawers. 
 Inch by inch his eyes travelled 
 from the chair to the table, from 
 
1 6 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 the table to the floor, from the floor 
 to a pair of small, muddy shoes 
 with ridiculous French heels, from 
 the shoes to the bed, and there, as it 
 seemed to him, he saw her lying as 
 she had been for two days past, before 
 they lifted her into the coffin. 
 
 God ! O God ! he called. 
 
 But no God answered. 
 
 He bent over the imaginary form. 
 " Wake up ! " he whispered "wake 
 up ! You are dreaming, that's all. 
 You have often dreamt before. 
 Wake up ! Mary ! Mary ! are you 
 so tired ? M 
 
 Outside the house he heard a 
 rustling, a strange shrieking and 
 wailing. Was it all the wind ? It 
 seemed to the half-crazed man a 
 Presence a host of Presences 
 swarming in at the windows, down 
 the chimney, and gathering round 
 him. 
 
 "I do not fear you," he said ; 
 " there is no worse torment than 
 living. Where you are, Hell must 
 be, and you are everywhere. Pain 
 is nothing ; everything is nothing ; 
 You are nothing. But damn you 
 I will believe in you if you can 
 wake " he pointed to the empty 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 7 
 
 bed "if you can wake one oj 
 us." 
 
 " I cannot," said a sorrowful voice. 
 Jenyns rubbed his eyes, and burst 
 out laughing. 
 
 11 Oh, is it only you, Wrath ? " he 
 said. " What a fool I am ; I thought 
 you were the devil." 
 
 The man he addressed, and who 
 had followed him into the room 
 unperceived, was of middle height 
 and extraordinarily thin : his fea- 
 tures and form looked misty and 
 ill-defined, as though he stood 
 behind a cloud and were trying to 
 pierce through it. 
 
 M Would you have your wife live 
 again that she may die again ? n he 
 said, quietly " that you may bury 
 her again ? " 
 
 11 No, no," muttered Jenyns " no, 
 no, not this again. A jump from 
 the window or a prick at my throat 
 would settle my mind for ever. If 
 there is a. hereafter I would know it, 
 and if there isn't well, I could not 
 feel the disappointment. Clay has 
 no illusions to lose. You see," he 
 added, " I have not called up the 
 devil for nothing ! " 
 
 Jenyns's idea of religion picked 
 
 2 
 
1 8 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 from street-corners and Ingersoll 
 began and ended with the doctrine 
 of Eternal Punishment. When he 
 was happy and thought himself an 
 enlightened believer in the possi- 
 bility of a Supreme Reason, he for- 
 got it ; when he was in trouble, he 
 could think of nothing else. Some- 
 times it filled him with panic, some- 
 times with desperation : more often 
 than all with a longing to be in the 
 Place of Torment to know the 
 worst, to put an end to the tortur- 
 ing suspense and doubt. 
 
 " If the devil can answer your 
 curses," said Wrath, " why not 
 try whether God will answer 
 prayers ? w 
 
 11 Cursing is quick," said Jenyns, 
 11 and prayers are long. Call Satan 
 but under your breath and he comes. 
 But God you may wear out your 
 knees and your voice before He wil 
 answer, and then He will give you 
 not peace but a sword, not ease but 
 a thorn in the flesh, net love but 
 chastisements ! The greater the 
 saint, the thicker the scourge ! 
 Where's the fool who would pray 
 day and night for such blessings ? 
 Havel not grief enough and despair 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 9 
 
 enough but I must entreat for 
 more ? " 
 
 Wrath groaned. " Human nature 
 is so discontented I " he said : " I 
 have been starving for a month, and 
 I must own that this constant gnaw- 
 ing at one's vitals becomes tedious : 
 I would prefer a newer pain." 
 
 "Let us both pray for another 
 sort of anguish,' ' said Jenyns, 
 " the good old monks were artistic : 
 they believed that variety was 
 beauty, so they occasionally skinned 
 a heretic before they boiled him ! " 
 
 Wrath accepted this as a sign 01 
 returning cheerfulness. " The story 
 runs so well," he said, " I will not 
 be pedantic and press for your 
 authority. But it sounds like an 
 evangelical tract." He rose from 
 his seat and began to pace the floor. 
 Life to him was a pilgrimage, and 
 the fortunes and misfortunes of the 
 journey troubled him but little ; he 
 could not understand despair. 
 " Perhaps you are best alone," he 
 said ; " my mother used to say that 
 to be alone with grief was to live in 
 company with angels. I think she 
 knew ; she had a great deal to en- 
 dure. If I sell my picture we can 
 
20 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 run over to Venice together ; I 
 mean, of course, if you would care 
 to go with me. ... I do not wonder 
 this room is gloomy ; it has stolen 
 the odour of a dozen honest dinners. 
 Let us go down in the kitchen and 
 see the baby. I sketched her this 
 morning ; here it is : ' Study of 
 an Infant Genius : aged four 
 days/ " 
 
 " Don't talk of her," said Jenyns, 
 fiercely ; "I never wish to look 
 upon her face again. She killed 
 her mother. ... I see no God in 
 nature only Hell, cruel, relentless, 
 hideous." 
 
 " Bah ! " said Wrath. " Don't get 
 your nose in an artificial manure 
 heap and think you are studying 
 nature. If you take Zola for your 
 gospel and the gospel for fiction, 
 God must help you. I cannot. 
 Where is your spirit ? " 
 
 "I do not want to be a hero," 
 said Jenyns, sullenly, " or a saint ; 
 I want my wife." 
 
 " Heroes and husbands are made 
 by the occasion," said Wrath ; "no 
 one is born a husband and no one 
 is born a pious, homicidal hero ! At 
 first he is just man man with a 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 21 
 
 birthright of seven deadly sins and 
 one small conscience. There never 
 was a saint, you may rest perfectly 
 sure, but he might have fallen 
 twenty times a day, if he had not 
 fought the enemy with fine courage. 
 Why don't you howl because the 
 trees are bare ? Who would think 
 that such grim skeletons could ever 
 be bright with leaves again, or look 
 just as they did last year ? Yet 
 they will ; and so, when the time 
 comes, you will see your wife ; you 
 have only buried the dead leaves of 
 a soul." At no time an eloquent 
 man but always one to whom 
 speech was even a painful effort, he 
 went out of the room after this out- 
 burst. With the inconsequence of 
 the artistic reason he had a sudden 
 idea for a picture he was then de- 
 signing. 
 
 Jenyns was once more alone. He 
 gave a feeble laugh and hurried to 
 the window ; it was open ; he looked 
 down and shivered. Then he looked 
 up at the dark sky. 
 
 M God," he said, u if you are 
 there, and if you know everything, 
 you must be sorry for me." 
 
 He climbed up on the sill, held 
 
2 2 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 out his arms, and with a sob leapt 
 into the night and eternity. 
 
 A second later Wrath re-entered. 
 He was breathless, and was reading 
 a letter. 
 
 " Now admit," he said, M there is 
 a God who answers prayers. We 
 can go to Venice. Tooth has sold 
 my 'Antigone.' Three hundred 
 
 His only answer was a shout of 
 horror, a hum of voices, a sound of 
 hurrying in the street below. He 
 leaned out of the window and un- 
 derstood the confusion. 
 
 "Mater Dei!" he cried. "Ah, 
 don't groan ! Lift him gently ! 
 Take care ! Five pounds twenty 
 to the man who is quickest with 
 the doctor ! " 
 
 A man looked up from the crowd. 
 " I should like to see the five pound 
 fust" he said. A faint titter 
 greeted his wisdom ; an old woman 
 sobbed. 
 
 " Come away ! " said a girl, who 
 was hanging on the arm of her 
 sweetheart ; " there is always some- 
 thing to spoil my evening out ! " 
 
 The titter and the sob, the sweet- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 2$ 
 
 heart's retreating footsteps, and 
 Jenyns's death moan, each gave 
 their note to the great unceasing 
 murmur of the city. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 up-at-battle's. 
 
 *&* HE family of Drawne was 
 not distinguished till the 
 time of the Reforma- 
 tion, when one Richard 
 Drawne was rewarded for 
 his holy zeal in the sup- 
 pression of monasteries, by a large 
 grant of confiscated church property, 
 including the Abbey of St. Wilfred, 
 with the manor-house, monastery 
 and demesne lands of the same, 
 amounting to four thousand three 
 hundred acres. He did not live 
 long to enjoy his honours, but died 
 of a fever, leaving his daughter, 
 Anne, sole heiress. In the reign of 
 Edward VI. this lady married the 
 Earl of Warbeck, and thus brought 
 her great wealth to that ancient 
 house which had become sadly 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 25 
 
 impoverished for various but un- 
 interesting causes. The heiress, 
 however, was very tenacious of her 
 female right, and left no legal loop- 
 holes by which her property could 
 become one with the Warbeck peer- 
 age : the Drawne acres were an 
 inheritance past comparison with 
 any empty earldom. But during 
 three centuries of struggle and 
 change which followed, male heirs 
 in direct succession never failed, 
 and the Earls of Warbeck, by in- 
 nocently anticipating the miracu- 
 lous policy of the Vicar of Bray, 
 not only held their possessions, but 
 escaped the inconvenient glories of 
 persecution and martyrdom. 
 
 At the time of our story, Henry 
 Fitzgerald George Vandeleur Shan- 
 non was 15th Earl of Warbeck, 
 and one Jane Shannon stood in the 
 inconsiderable relation of niece to 
 his lordship. Jane's father had 
 been the fourth son of the late Earl 
 a kinship in itself sufficiently con- 
 temptible from the standpoint of 
 the heir, but when the said fourth 
 son married the daughter of a 
 yeoman-farmer, he lost even the 
 small right he had to twinkle in the 
 
26 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 War beck heaven, and was considered 
 not a fallen star, but no star at all. 
 
 Since the object of such just in- 
 dignation and scorn was unable to 
 earn his own bread (from the 
 fact, no doubt, that he had half- 
 killed himself writing a Prize 
 Essay " De Lahore "), he lived 
 on the charity of his yeoman father- 
 in-law till, as he himself expressed 
 it, he left a world where he was not 
 wanted, to abide with that sleek 
 host, the worm. In other words, he 
 died of his own grim humour, 
 assisted by a certain difficulty in 
 breathing, a trouble in his liver, a 
 pain in his head, and a grip at his 
 left side. His wife, who was with 
 child at the time of his death, post- 
 poned breaking her heart till she 
 had brought forth her little one, 
 and then she turned her sad face to 
 the wall, and died also. The care 
 of the child thus fell to the yeoman- 
 farmer, who, by this time, may be 
 said to have some claim on the 
 reader's sympathy. 
 
 Samuel Battle such was his name 
 came of sound stock. One John 
 Battle and Matthew his brother 
 had fought under Cromwell. Their 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 27 
 
 descendants, under the Restoration, 
 had, with two exceptions, abandoned 
 the field of war for the more tran- 
 quil, if less conspicuous, honours of 
 farming. Of the exceptions, one 
 was a certain Anthony, a scholar 
 and wit, who wrote some love 
 verses and a comedy (compositions, 
 which, dying to posterity, had left 
 their reputation like some unhal- 
 lowed spirit to haunt the family 
 conscience) ; the other, Nicholas, 
 was one of the some two thousand 
 clergy who were expelled from their 
 parishes for Nonconformity in 1662. 
 It was from this Nicholas that 
 Samuel Battle, the yeoman -farmer, 
 took his descent. Jane Shannon 
 was heiress, therefore, to many con- 
 flicting dispositions. 
 
 Battle's farm, or, as it was known 
 in the district, " Up-at-Battle's," 
 lay some eight miles to the east of 
 Brentmore, a small watering-place 
 in the south of England, noted for 
 its scenery, its climate, and the 
 sleep-bringing mission of its air. 
 The farm-house was unpretentious, 
 and though presenting to a town- 
 trained eye an appearance of pic- 
 turesque antiquity, it was, in fact, 
 
28 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 an extremely ugly cottage of the 
 Victorian era, made to look rambling 
 and picturesque by means of the 
 numerous rooms, store-cupboards, 
 and outhouses added to it during 
 Battle's own lifetime. The pro- 
 perty, when he first came into 
 possession, had consisted of pasture- 
 land, a small orchard, and a large 
 yard. The greater part of the 
 original homestead (built about 
 1700) had been destroyed by fire, 
 and Battle's father, acting on the 
 advice of a young and second wife, 
 had completed the work of destruc- 
 tion, by building on its ruins the 
 aforesaid Victorian cottage. An 
 unkind rumour had it, that what 
 remained of the best parlour of the 
 first Mrs. Battle, could now be 
 recognised in the most retired por- 
 tion of the dwelling. 
 
 Samuel Battle, on coming into 
 his inheritance, was not slow to 
 show himself a man of singular 
 energy, perseverance, and shrewd- 
 ness : he was quick to see that 
 letting land was more profitable 
 than tilling it. He was also in 
 favour of small plots and short 
 leases the advantages of which, 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 29 
 
 as he was careful to point out to 
 dubious tenants, cut both ways, 
 although they might occasionally- 
 cut a bit deeper on one side than 
 on the other. An enigmatic saying, 
 which time and the increasing value 
 of the ground made clear. 
 
 His education, culled as it was 
 from the Scriptures, and guiltless 
 of School Board trimmings, gave 
 him a command of language, a 
 stern dignity and sterner refine- 
 ment, than could be found now in 
 younger men of his station, who 
 too often talk big words from their 
 favourite newspaper, mistake inso- 
 lence for independence, and swagger 
 for good breeding. Dr. Johnson's 
 saying that " the Devil was the 
 first Whig" was the first article 
 of Battle's political belief, and, a 
 staunch Nonconformist, he so far 
 availed himself of the right of 
 private judgment that where his 
 co-religionists read u Down with 
 authority" he only discovered ex- 
 hortations to obedience. He was, 
 therefore, a Tory, but for no other 
 reason than because he did not 
 see how a professed Christian 
 could be anything else. From 
 
30 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 which it would seem that if Samuel 
 Battle did wrong he did it rightly. 
 
 At the time of which we write, 
 the inmates of the farm-house 
 numbered four, and were Battle 
 himself, his spinster daughter Miss 
 Caroline, his one grandchild Jane 
 Shannon, and a young boy named 
 De Boys Mauden, who was his 
 nephew by marriage a relative as 
 distant as he was poor. 
 
 Jane was three years younger 
 than De Boys, and when he first 
 came to the farm-house, he was 
 seven, and she, four. He was hand- 
 some, but she was a plain little 
 creature, all eyes and legs, though 
 the eyes had fire, and the legs were 
 shapely. 
 
 The child as she grew up was 
 taught to read and write, to add 
 figures, to make butter and jam, to 
 do plain sewing, and to work 
 hideous patterns with Berlin wool 
 on blue canvas. When she was nine, 
 she was sent to a day-school, and 
 had lessons in drawing, French, 
 and music, and her education, on 
 the whole, was no less thorough 
 than that of many young ladies of 
 fashion. She could write, " The 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 3 1 
 
 gardener's wife has two children " 
 in a foreign language, and she, too, 
 in the course of time strummed 
 Heller's " Tarentella," the " Moon- 
 light " sonata, and Chopin's Valses. 
 She played them to De Boys long 
 before he had learnt the manners to 
 listen. 
 
 She was brought up as a Dis- 
 senter, but her father had been a 
 devout Catholic, and it had been 
 promised that when she arrived at 
 years of discretion, she would be 
 given every opportunity to hear 
 the claims of Catholicism. In the 
 meantime, however, no pains were 
 spared to warn her against Anti- 
 christ, the Mother of harlots, and 
 idolatry ; for the wives and daughters 
 of the deacons thought it a terrible 
 sign of more iniquitous practices to 
 come, when it was known that she 
 cherished her dead father's rosary 
 and crucifix. 
 
 Jane's instructor in the useful arts, 
 such as mending, darning, patch- 
 work, and the like, was her aunt, 
 Miss Caroline. Miss Caroline Battle 
 was what men call a sensible woman, 
 which is a way of saying that she 
 did not attach too much weight to 
 
32 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 their smiles, although she could 
 always smile in her turn. She was 
 comely, too, with soft brown eyes 
 and a pillow-like figure, which coun- 
 teracted the occasional sharpness of 
 her tongue. Miss Caroline, like 
 happy Peter Bell, beheld but did 
 not speculate : she tended her 
 garden, watched the stars, and 
 read two chapters of Scripture 
 every night of her life. She kept 
 hens, and ducks, and bees, and her 
 butter was the pride of the county. 
 She possessed a Maltese lace shawl, 
 and an illustrated Shakespeare, also 
 a set of Whitby jet ornaments, and 
 an amethyst brooch. These trea- 
 sures, however, she kept locked in 
 her wardrobe because they were 
 heirlooms, and as such were trea- 
 sured in silver paper. For light 
 literature she gave Jane " The Pil- 
 grim's Progress," "Lady Audley's 
 Secret," "Amy Herbert," "Paul 
 and Virginia," "Roderick Ran- 
 dom," "^Esop's Fables," "Robin- 
 son Crusoe," and, on Sunday after- 
 noons and anniversaries, Dante's 
 "Inferno," illustrated by Dore. 
 The horrors of this last, while 
 they struck misery to Jane's soul, 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 33 
 
 were largely mitigated by the story 
 of Francesca de Rimini, which, 
 Miss Caroline thought, could only 
 be edifying, since, from all she 
 could gather, the whole Rimini 
 family were in Hell, and burning 
 examples of foreign immorality 
 and its just reward. Why so 
 gentle a being as Caroline Battle 
 should take satisfaction, so deep- 
 reaching that it amounted to plea- 
 sure, in a tale which for exciting 
 pity and terror is hardly to be 
 matched, can only be accounted 
 for on the ground, that Hell and 
 sin, as actualities, were so impos- 
 sible to her imagination, that she 
 believed in one and disapproved 
 of the other as a child swallows 
 medicine, and " hates" porridge. 
 
 To Jane, however, whose cha- 
 racter was of a very different cast 
 for she saw everything through 
 the rainbow haze of her own 
 moods the idea of being damned 
 for love became so familiar and so 
 fascinating, that to love without 
 losing one's soul (if, indeed, such a 
 thing were possible), seemed to 
 her dull, spiritless, monotonous, 
 and bumpkin like. To marry, to 
 3 
 
34 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 settle, to grow stout, and at the 
 last to be "Jane, wife of the above, 
 aged 74. Until the day break and 
 the shadows flee away" Unthink- 
 able prospect ! But to float in the 
 air through countless ages a sight 
 to inspire poets and make them 
 swoon that were a destiny worthy 
 the name ! She confided this 
 opinion to De Boys, who agreed 
 that it would be fine to swim in 
 the winds ; but he thought that a 
 girl hanging on his neck would 
 mar the gloriousness of the ex- 
 cursion. Such is the brutality of 
 man at fourteen. 
 
 Quite early De Boys had shown 
 a taste for learning, and had dreams 
 very far removed from the walls, 
 turnip-fields, and potato-beds of 
 Up-at-Battle's. He held very pro- 
 nounced views on literary style, and 
 wrote numerous sermons in the 
 manner of Gibbon, which Jane 
 considered far superior to any- 
 thing achieved by that historian 
 himself. In gayer moments he 
 attempted blank verse (in the Mil- 
 tonic strain), and composed two 
 acts of a tragedy "Julius Caesar 
 in Britain " in which Jane declared 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 35 
 
 that Julius Caesar sounded exactly 
 like De Boys, particularly in a fine 
 speech about women, which began, 
 11 Hence, pampered minions % born 
 of pride and folly" and ended, 
 u I scorn such soft-mouthed bab- 
 blers." The third act (still un- 
 written) he assured her would be 
 the most tremendous of the five. 
 
 His own observation, helped by 
 hints from the neighbours, had 
 taught him very soon that he was 
 living on charity, and a sense of 
 gratitude to the Battles, no less 
 than his own self-pride, filled him 
 with a desperate ambition to be 
 independent, and make a name. 
 His father had been that sad 
 anomaly, an accountant with a 
 literary faculty ; his mother was a 
 poetess, who died in her effort to 
 rhyme "love" with "drudgery." 
 From both parents he inherited a 
 desire for the vague, and a disgust 
 for the tangible. 
 
 u Have you no pride ? n he said 
 to Jane one day, when she had 
 seemed more amused than awed 
 by his ambitious ideas. 
 
 " We must beware of pride," said 
 Jane, who hoped she sounded humble, 
 
36 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 " That is the right sort of pride 
 to feel that you come of honest 
 people, and must bring no shame 
 to them," said the boy, hotly. "I 
 am not going to be the pauper of 
 the family ! " 
 
 11 But you are a genius," said 
 Jane. " How can you expect to be 
 rich when you are a genius ? I 
 think you are very discontented." 
 
 De Boys sighed, but, remembering 
 her good qualities as a fighter, pitied 
 her weak sex and not her poor 
 spirit. 
 
 Some months after the foregoing 
 conversation, the curate of the 
 parish, driven to his wits' end by 
 the increasing wants of an in- 
 creasing family, was inspired to 
 offer young Mauden instruction in 
 the Classics, in exchange for Miss 
 Caroline's milk and butter. At 
 first she had shrunk from this 
 nefarious traffic in dairy produce 
 and the Pagan authors, but no 
 sooner had her common sense as- 
 sured her, that the plan was hugely 
 to the lad's advantage, than she be- 
 came as strongly convinced of its 
 innocence as she had been of its 
 impiety. She soothed her father's 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 37 
 
 unreasonable prejudices, which were 
 not in disfavour of learning as 
 learning, but of the time wasted in 
 its acquisition. If, as she pointed out, 
 De Boys worked at his books when 
 the rest of the family were sleeping, 
 and if the curate had no better 
 equivalent than Latin and Greek to 
 offer in exchange for food, and if 
 he was too proud to accept it as a 
 
 gift Her opening statement 
 
 alone occupied forty-five minutes. 
 Battle, who had set his face against 
 De Boys " poking out his eyes wi' 
 night work," and could find no 
 words to express his mean opinion 
 of the dead languages as weighed 
 against fresh butter, relented at the 
 first harrowing picture conjured up 
 to his imagination, by Miss Caro- 
 line's ingenious hints of the curate's 
 half-fed family. Her last mournful 
 prophecy that the unhappy man's 
 two girls would die of consumption 
 before the year was out, and the 
 baby have "rickets," was so soul- 
 piercing, that the worthy farmer 
 not only gave his consent to the 
 bargain in debate, but even ad- 
 mitted, that the curate might not 
 be a prophet in sheep's clothing of 
 
$S A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 the type we are so expressly warned 
 against in the Sermon on the Mount. 
 De Boys, whose burrs of know- 
 ledge picked up in the Town 
 Library, and in the local " Academy 
 for Young Gentlemen," had only 
 served to tease alike his intellect 
 and his spirit, saw a special Provi- 
 dence in the tutor, who was thus 
 dropped, as it were, from heaven 
 for his guidance. He hardly knew 
 whither his thoughts and plans were 
 leading him : the something ahead 
 was so vague in outline, and so far 
 away, that though he daily ap- 
 proached it nearer, it only seemed 
 part of the general distance, the 
 bit of high mountain beyond many 
 mountains, many roads and valleys. 
 For the present he only knew he 
 must work work early and late, 
 never despairing, yet never hoping 
 too high striving to do his best, 
 but leaving it for others to say how 
 good that best might be. Had he 
 a' talent, and was it the one he 
 most coveted in the world ? 
 Would he ever be a scholar ? At 
 last one day, between blushes and 
 stammers, he asked his tutor whether 
 after thirty years or so of close 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 39 
 
 application he would know some- 
 thing. The Rev. FitzOrmond O'Nel- 
 iigan was one of those rare men, who, 
 void of personal pretensions, are 
 big with ambition for their friends. 
 He slapped his pupil on the back 
 with such force that had De Boys 
 been a student of the weakling 
 order, his earthly career would 
 have ended on the spot. 
 
 " You will be the foinest Grecian 
 in England," he said " that is to 
 say, if ye'll only be patient. At the 
 Universitees now, the cry is all for 
 mere lads, and a text which Bentlee 
 would have approached with awe 
 and riverince, and given the best 
 years of his loife too, is now cobbled 
 up by any schoolboy in six weeks or 
 less. Avoid all such immoralitee. 
 Fasten your oies on the gloreeous 
 examples of the past, and if you are 
 not noticed by this generation, there 
 will be some roise up in the future, 
 who will call your memoree blessed." 
 
 14 What for ? " said De Boys, who 
 had fortunately mastered the art of 
 grinning inside. 
 
 u For being the one scholar," 
 said O'Nelligan, solemnly, "who 
 had the humanitee to keep his 
 
40 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 wisdom out of print, and who did 
 not regard the great masterpieces 
 of antiquitee as so many door-posts 
 for every dog to defile. The simile 
 is used by Erasmus." 
 
 This encouragement, delivered in 
 O'Nelligan's most impressive man- 
 ner (impossible to describe, and only 
 to be imagined by those who may 
 have encountered an Irishman with 
 the blood of two kings, eighteen 
 earls, and a Christian martyr in his 
 veins), gave De Boys the self-con- 
 fidence which he was too modest 
 to assume on his own warrant. It 
 must be owned, however, that his 
 tutor's instruction was, though 
 solid, excessively dull. The one 
 consuming passion of O'Nelligan's 
 life was grammar, and for his pupil's 
 leisure moments he had invented a 
 game on Comparative Syntax, which, 
 in his judgment, transcended chess 
 and threw whist on its death-bed. 
 Mauden felt, therefore, to his own 
 dismay, a something not wholly 
 unlike relief when, after three years 
 of hard reading, the excellent man 
 confessed that he had taught him 
 what he could, and that the time 
 was now come for him to show his 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 41 
 
 mettle at the University. De Boys 
 rushed home, and with character- 
 istic impetuosity blurted out at the 
 dinner-table that he was going to 
 Oxford. 
 
 11 What time do you start ? n 
 said the gentle Miss Caroline, who 
 wondered whether his journey could 
 have anything to do with the cow. 
 
 "To Oxford!" thundered his 
 uncle. " To Oxford ! This comes 
 of listening to a curate's great 
 swelling words of vanity. You 
 know what the Apostle Paul saith, 
 that those who seemed to be some- 
 what, in conference added nothing 
 to him. Take heed by his experi- 
 ence. To Oxford ! And what will 
 you find there ? The lust of the 
 eye, the pride of life, and the vain 
 pursuit of vainer knowledge. The 
 wise using their wisdom to con- 
 found the weak, working, not to the 
 glory of God, but for the amazement 
 of the sinner ; each man a law unto 
 himself, and all in conflict with the 
 powers that be. Let me hear no 
 more blether about Oxford ! " 
 
 Having finished his harangue, 
 which he had delivered with such 
 fluency that Miss Caroline suspected 
 
42 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 it had long been prepared for some 
 such crisis, he left the room. De 
 Boys, a little pale but not less de- 
 termined in expression, went about 
 his usual afternoon employment, 
 which, since it had all to do with 
 the farm, made it seem as though 
 " Up-at-Battle's " were, after all, 
 the one reality in life, and his 
 dream of a University career, a 
 dream indeed, nay more, the very 
 town of Oxford a figment of his 
 imagination. At tea-time he did 
 not feel hungry ; he walked instead 
 to his favourite peak on the cliff, 
 and sat there, gazing gloomily at 
 the dancing sea. He was roused by 
 a tap on his shoulder : he turned 
 and saw Jane. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHICH CONTAINS SOME SERIOUS 
 VANITY. 
 
 'ANE had started from 
 home with her hair in 
 a plait, but the wind, 
 her quick walking, and 
 her natural impatience 
 of restraint, had shaken 
 it free, and it now hung, neither 
 curled nor crimped, yet far from 
 straight, in one lively, glimmering 
 mass below her waist. Her gown 
 was of white cotton, and was so 
 clean that it still smelt of the iron- 
 ing-board, and so outgrown that it 
 did not reach her ankles by an inch, 
 perhaps more. The ankles, how- 
 ever, were innocent, and did not 
 fear the light of day. A wide- 
 brimmed hat concealed the upper 
 part of her face, and only left visible 
 the tip of a lift-upward nose, a 
 
44 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 round chin, and a finely-cut, but 
 still childish mouth. Her cheeks 
 and throat, though delicate in grain, 
 were well browned, and while by 
 no means rustic in mien, she looked 
 what indeed she was a daughter 
 of the sun and rain. Jane was not 
 beautiful ; or rather, there was too 
 much strangeness in her beauty, to 
 make her seem so at first sight : 
 reddish hair and a dusky face make 
 an odd combination. There was an 
 atmosphere of strength and sweet- 
 ness about her which swept over 
 the heart-sick De Boys like a moun- 
 tain breeze ; he drew a long breath, 
 and wondered at the change in the 
 weather. 
 
 " It is time to go home," he said. 
 She swallowed her mortification : 
 she had sought him in order to 
 offer her sympathy. 
 
 " Why don't you go, then ? n she 
 said, as promptly. 
 
 He made several thrusts at the 
 meek earth with his heavy walking- 
 stick. u You know," he said, " your 
 grandfather does not like you to be 
 out late." 
 > "I can fight my own battles," 
 said Jane, tossing her head. 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 45 
 
 De Boys shrugged his shoulders, 
 and tried to frown down his rising 
 colour ; he also turned on his heel 
 and walked away. 
 
 " De Boys," she said, pursuing 
 14 De Boys ... I suppose you think 
 I am a cat ? n 
 
 11 1 hate cats," he said, evasively. 
 
 M Do you hate me ? M 
 
 The pause which followed seemed 
 borrowed from eternity. 
 
 " I could hate you," he said ; 
 M but, as it happens, I do not." 
 
 11 Do you think I am ugly ? All 
 the girls say I am a fright ! " Her 
 smile had a crook at each end : one 
 signified amusement, the other con- 
 tempt. 
 
 "I have never thought about 
 your looks," said De Boys, with 
 more honesty than discretion. "I 
 suppose you are all right. But in 
 any case I would never call you 
 hideous ! " 
 
 Jane had a longing to be thought 
 pretty. Her ideal was the sweet 
 portrait of a young lady (on porce- 
 lain) which hung in a photogra- 
 pher's window she knew of, and 
 which represented a divine creature 
 with blue eyes, pink cheeks, and 
 
46 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 blonde hair, waved and parted 
 Madonna- wise. If she might only 
 look like that ! She had a fatal 
 admiration for the conventional 
 type angelic, being neither old 
 enough nor experienced enough to 
 know, that holiness occasionally 
 treads the human countenance on 
 crow's feet. 
 
 "How do you like me best ? " 
 she said. " This way," (she showed 
 her profile), " or that way ? " (She 
 looked him straight in the face). 
 
 He gazed. " Are your eyes blue 
 or brown ? " he said : " in, some 
 lights they are brown, but that may 
 be the effect of your lashes." 
 
 " I think," she said, " they are 
 blue." 
 
 " They remind me of purple 
 heather," said De Boys, with a 
 certain dreaminess. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said Jane, 
 blushing. 
 
 " And your mouth," he went on, 
 warming to the subject, " is " 
 
 "My mouth is a straight line," 
 she said, sharply. "And now we 
 must make haste ! " She started 
 ahead and began to hum. The 
 first strains were a reminiscence of 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 47 
 
 " Pleasant are Thy courts below," 
 but, as the melody swelled, it found 
 words which were De Boys's own, 
 and which were these : 
 
 " Love is a bubble, 
 Love is a trouble, 
 Love is a sigh, 
 And love is a grin. 
 Love is sweet honey, 
 Love is cold money, 
 Love is a lie, 
 And love is a sin. 
 
 Love is a jig 
 
 So tread you a measure ; 
 Love is a dirge 
 
 So fill you with grief ; 
 Love is bright wine 
 
 To quicken your pleasure ; 
 Love's the North Wind 
 
 And Man the dead leaf." 
 
 This effusion had been rejected 
 by the editor of the Brentmore, 
 Haddington, and Mertford Express 
 on the ground that it was "too 
 reckless " ; but Jane thought it 
 extremely fine. Once, and only 
 once in the course of her singing, 
 she stole a glance at her com- 
 panion. 
 
 De Boys was tall and straight, of 
 careless but not awkward bear in p;. 
 
48 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 In countenance he looked like a 
 cherub who had talked long hours 
 with Puck his expression was at 
 once so subtle, so artless, and so 
 discreet. A chuckle lurked in the 
 deep recesses of his eye, but the imp 
 rarely ventured to the surface. His 
 nose had an eager and inquiring 
 air, as though it were ever scenting 
 for an undiscovered country ; his 
 beardless lips were pliant, and told 
 his kind, pleasure-loving, and gene- 
 rous disposition. 
 
 He was the first to make a re- 
 mark. u I have been thinking," he 
 said, "what your mouth is like," 
 he blushed " it is like a kiss made 
 incarnate." 
 
 M I hate kissing," said Jane, 
 hurriedly. " I was not born under 
 a kissing star. Kissing is silly." 
 
 " I fear it is," sighed De Boys. 
 
 " There is nothing to fear" said 
 Jane. il But what does it mean, or 
 what is the use of doing things 
 which mean so little ? " 
 
 " I think," said De Boys, trying 
 to look unprejudiced, u kissing 
 might mean a great deal if if the 
 people cared for each other." 
 
 "Have you ever kissed any one 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 49 
 
 and meant a great deal ? " said Jane, 
 with anxiety. 
 
 De Boys glanced up at the sky. 
 14 The clouds are brooding," he 
 said. M I would not wonder if it 
 rained. No, it is not my custom to 
 kiss women. I hate it quite as much 
 as you do." 
 
 She seemed sceptical. " Ah," she 
 said, " but men are different." 
 
 M How do you know," he said, 
 quickly. 
 
 "I cannot say how I know it," 
 she answered, " because I must have 
 known it ever since I was born." 
 
 11 Let us talk of something else," 
 said De Boys. 
 
 11 You began this. Kisses and all 
 such nonsense never come into my 
 head. I I always skip the love- 
 making in novels." She uttered 
 this astonishing falsehood with 
 cloudless eyes. 
 
 " Oh ! " said De Boys. 
 
 " Why do you say ' oh ' ? I suppose 
 you don't believe me. I do not 
 care ; if you wish to quarrel, 
 quarrel. I will not say another 
 word." She turned away her head, 
 but De Boys heard the tears in her 
 voice. 
 
 4 
 
50 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 44 Jane," he said, " I told you a 
 lie just now. I once kissed Lizzie 
 Cass, but it was very long ago." 
 
 44 When ? " said Jane. 
 
 44 At the hay-making. She stood in 
 my way, and, somehow well, you 
 know how these things happen ! " 
 
 " No, I don't ! " she said, with 
 indignation. 
 
 44 She isn't at all pretty ; and it 
 was only her ear ! Your ears are 
 like pink shells. But, unhappily, 
 they never get in the way." 
 
 "I should hope not," said Jane ; 
 44 I want no kisses spared from Lizzie 
 Casses ! n 
 
 44 Then, if I had not " 
 
 "But you have," she said, "and 
 that ends it." 
 
 14 It was months ago," murmured 
 De Boys, " and I have changed since 
 then. Life looks differently." 
 
 "After all," said Jane, " you were 
 very honest to own it. But as for 
 Lizzie Cass, I always said she was a 
 bold minx. She ought to be ashamed 
 of herself ! " 
 
 " Undoubtedly I was to blame. I 
 ought not to have done it. I should 
 have had more self-respect." 
 
 "Oh, well," said Jane, "it is a 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 5 1 
 
 girl's part to behave herself. But 
 whenever there is kissing, either at 
 the hay-making or at any other time, 
 I have noticed that it is always 
 some girl who starts it." 
 
 11 That," said De Boys, " may be 
 true. But you are not like other 
 girls." 
 
 " De Boys," she said, faintly ; 
 V please don't think I am better 
 than I am. I deceived you just 
 now ; I did not mean " 
 
 His face grew hard, his voice cold, 
 his eye was dismayed. M Do you 
 mean," he said, "that you have told 
 me a lie ? What was it about ? " 
 
 11 Oh, forgive me," she said, half 
 crying ; " I cannot think what made 
 me say it. But it was not the truth 
 I do not always skip the love- 
 making in novels." 
 
 He stalked on with darkened brows. 
 
 "You lied to me," he said ; " it is 
 the principle I am thinking of. I 
 never thought you could lie even 
 for a good purpose." 
 
 Jane put her lips together. u It 
 was a little one," she murmured. 
 
 " Ah, but now I know you are at 
 least capable of deceiving me, how 
 can I ever trust you so absolutely 
 
52 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 again ? " His voice had a mourn- 
 ful cadence. 
 
 11 1 don't know," she said ; " but 
 look at me." 
 
 To look at her were fatal, and he 
 knew it. He stared undaunted and 
 with resolution straight in front of 
 him. 
 
 11 Look at me ! " she entreated. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I want to see whether you are 
 so angry as you sound." 
 
 " Angry is not the word," he said, 
 " but grieved and disappointed. You 
 were my Ideal." 
 
 She began to cry. " If you had 
 told me I was your Ideal," she said, 
 "I would have been more careful. 
 It is so much easier to be ideal when 
 you know that some one appreciates 
 you." 
 
 Jane had not yet grasped the 
 truth, that man is a spectacle for 
 angels, and that he can carry his 
 heroism, his noble sentiments, and 
 his virtue into a wilderness, and still 
 not feel that he is being heroic and 
 sublime for nothing a suspicion, 
 however, which will assail him for 
 more causes than he would care to 
 count, if he look for mortal appraise- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 53 
 
 ment only. But love is two-headed 
 egoism, and to Jane the Ideal meant 
 De Boys's ideas. 
 
 She continued u I do not want 
 you to think me perfect ; because I 
 am not, and I could not be, even to 
 please you. I am just like other 
 girls." 
 
 " Well," said De Boys, at length, 
 11 perhaps I ought to be glad of any- 
 thing that makes you more like me 
 that puts you nearer my level." 
 
 Jane looked troubled ; she was 
 beginning to realise, though dimly, 
 the responsibilities of an Ideal. 
 
 " De Boys," she said, u did you 
 ever think that I was better than 
 yourself?" 
 
 " Better ! It was not a question of 
 comparison at all." 
 
 " And now," said Jane " what do 
 you think now ? " 
 
 He hesitated. " And now ? " she 
 asked again. They had reached a 
 gate which led into a kind of shrub- 
 bery. As she passed through, her 
 skirt caught on one of the spikes. 
 He was awkward and slow at re- 
 leasing her, and when they started 
 to walk again, he lagged behind. 
 
 " Are you tired ? " said Jane. 
 
54 a study in tp;mptations. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Are you angry ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 u Very well ; then we are not 
 friends. But I would rather be so 
 than have deceit between us. And 
 you may as well know the worst of 
 me at once. I am much plainer in 
 the face than you think. Take a 
 good look at me this way." 
 
 She pulled off her hat, tugged 
 back her magnificent hair, and in 
 her anxiety to appear at her worst, 
 all but made a grimace. De Boys 
 did not seem so repelled as she had 
 expected. 
 
 "Take a good look," she repeated, 
 faintly. " I shall never have the 
 courage to do this again." 
 
 11 1 am angry," he said, looking, 
 11 because I hate myself and because 
 you are still as far above me as " 
 
 She advanced a step towards him. 
 "I am not above you, De Boys," 
 she said, " I am here" 
 
 He needed no second reminder, 
 but with the agility of a practised 
 lover, caught her in his arms and 
 kissed her at random, and with an 
 ardour, which, though wholly beyond 
 the measure of her own childish 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 55 
 
 affection, filled her with nameless 
 fear. 
 
 " There ! " he said ; " but don't 
 ask me to look at you again. That's 
 kissing." 
 
 Jane fixed her eyes on his with 
 something like reproach. " I was 
 happier before," she said; M much 
 happier. I almost wish you had 
 not." 
 
 " But I love you," said De Boys. 
 
 " Still," said Jane, " I wish you 
 had not. I shall remember it." 
 
 l< So shall I," said De Boys. 
 
 " But I only want to remember 
 that I love you," said Jane ; " and I 
 want to remember it without dis- 
 tractions, and without kisses, which, 
 after all, may only mean that I am 
 standing in your way." 
 
 11 Dearest ! " 
 
 14 Yet I am glad," she went on 
 u I am glad God made me a 
 woman." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " That you might love me." 
 
 Once more a spell was in the air, 
 but this time she had experience. 
 
 11 Come," she said, quickly, "we 
 shall be late, and the geese will want 
 their supper." 
 
56 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Even thus does prose trample on 
 the skirts of passion. They hurried 
 on into the gathering twilight, on 
 and on. At the hill they joined 
 hands and ran, kicking, in imagina- 
 tion, the world (of their imagination), 
 in front of them as they went. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 TOUCHING THE MASCULINE CON- 
 SCIENCE AND THE FEMININE REASON. 
 
 JARMER BATTLE, mean- 
 while, had retired to the 
 solitude of his own 
 chamber, to review a 
 domestic situation, which, 
 as Miss Caroline had 
 rightly guessed, he had foreseen, 
 and to some extent prepared for. 
 It may be, however, that he had 
 overlooked the serious difficulties 
 of the case, in the seemly joy ol 
 composing a speech which would 
 crush it ; at all events, he saw 
 plainly enough now, that the 
 trouble, so far from being ended, 
 had only begun. The outlook 
 perplexed, worried, and distressed 
 him more then his dignity was 
 willing, but as his nerves soon 
 
58 A STUDY JN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 forced him, to admit. His first 
 act, therefore, on reaching his 
 room was to pour out and swallow 
 a large dose of a noxious prepara- 
 tion known as Gumfis Elixir, and, 
 as he was able to gulp this down 
 with comparatively few qualms, it 
 assured him, that his system could 
 still endure the most extraordinary 
 and violent shocks without sur- 
 render. 
 
 But though he could recall the 
 physical man to duty, his mind 
 remained in rebellion, and he sat 
 down, with his body forward, his 
 arms resting on his knees, and his 
 hands clasped, the picture of doubt 
 and embarrassment. He was a man 
 of governed but primitive emotions, 
 and knew nothing of the thousand- 
 and-one complications and com- 
 binations, which the cultured mind 
 can make out of one rough passion 
 chopped into polished fragments. 
 His love was love, and his hate was 
 hate, and his rage was rage : to 
 excite either one was like pulling 
 out the stop of an organ. 
 
 Like most proud men he was 
 extremely sensitive, and he had 
 been quick to notice his nephew's 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 59 
 
 want of interest in farm matters 
 and the comfortable home the 
 home which Battle himself had 
 spent his days in making, and 
 which was the crown of his earthly 
 labours. The old man did not 
 desire nor indeed could he con- 
 ceive a greater happiness than to 
 stand in his porch, and see the 
 smoke rising from his tenants' 
 chimney-pots, to gaze at the fine 
 barn (once a miserable cowshed), 
 at the dairy, and at the model hen- 
 house built after his own design, 
 with a patent door ! Every twig 
 and every stone on the estate had 
 its value and association for him ; 
 every inch of the ground knew his 
 tread ; every corner, nook, and 
 cranny stood for something in the 
 sum of his experience. But De 
 Boys could sit opposite the barn 
 with his nose in a book ; he accepted 
 the dairy as a matter of course ; he 
 talked of crops and prize bullocks 
 as though land which did not 
 yield crops, and bullocks which 
 did not win prizes were things un- 
 heard of ; he ate his good fare and 
 slept between linen sheets, not with 
 gratitude, but as though he would 
 
60 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 have been very scurvily treated if 
 he did not have such luxuries. 
 
 All this was a never-failing source 
 of bitterness to the old man : what 
 he gave he gave liberally ; he only 
 asked, when his gifts were accepted 
 so freely, that he should be re- 
 membered with like readiness as 
 the giver. There was certainly 
 nothing unreasonable in this desire ; 
 it was a very natural craving for 
 some recognition of the toil and 
 endeavour, the heart-aches and 
 struggles which had gone to the 
 making of his as it must to every 
 man's success. The race is not to 
 the swift, nor the battle to the 
 strong, and if it is the weak and the 
 slow who win, how is it done save 
 by the most painful efforts, the 
 sternest self-discipline, the most 
 dogged courage, and the most 
 touching patience ? Battle, unable 
 to analyse his feelings, was only 
 conscious that he had fought a 
 hard fight for sixty odd years, was 
 still fighting, and not one member 
 of his family showed, nor ever had 
 shown, the smallest knowledge of 
 it. The women he forgave, for two 
 (his wife and his eldest daughter) 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 6 1 
 
 were dead, one was a careful house- 
 wife, and the other, a slip of a girl, 
 but De Boys he could not forgive 
 De Boys. That his experience was 
 the common one of many husbands 
 and fathers only aggravated the 
 wound : he wished, in pardonable 
 if foolish pride, to think that his 
 family were altogether exceptional, 
 patterns of goodness, sobriety, dis- 
 cretion and quality so necessary to 
 domestic comfort obedience. 
 
 Much, no doubt, was to be said 
 for the farmer, but De Boys was not 
 without defence. He had appeared 
 on the scene when things were 
 prosperous, and he was still an un- 
 travelled youth of twenty ; he was 
 therefore quite unable to contrast 
 the old farm with the new, or 
 properly estimate a force of 
 character which he could only 
 know to be uncommon, by mixing 
 with the world. In De Boys's 
 green judgment all elderly relatives 
 were severe, a shade despotic, and 
 a little too religious ; all women 
 mended socks, made incomparable 
 pies, and scolded incessantly ; all 
 girls spent too much time titiva- 
 ting, were feeble in argument, yet 
 
62 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 pleasing enough in their way. 
 These opinions he expressed with 
 much confidence, and, boy-like, was 
 so proud of his power of criticism, 
 that he forgot he was directing it 
 against the beings he loved best in 
 the world. Boy-like, too, he was 
 not only very shy of showing his 
 affection, but he did not even know 
 that he had it. Healthy-minded 
 lads do not sit brooding over their 
 instincts till they are hatched into 
 Christian virtues and deadly sins : 
 their conscience warns them which 
 to follow and which to shun, but 
 the why, the wherefore, and the 
 psychological meaning of it all does 
 not trouble them in the least. 
 Thus, while De Boys would have 
 defended his uncle with the last 
 drop of blood in his body, he would 
 not have been able to say just why. 
 From this it will be seen, how far 
 the farmer and the aspiring scholar 
 were from a mutual understanding. 
 Battle's strongest impulse, after 
 the scene at the dinner-table, was 
 to order an immediate bonfire of 
 all the Pagan authors in the house, 
 and if it had been in his power to 
 include the curate among them, it 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 63 
 
 is not hard to guess how he would 
 have dealt with that aimable gentle- 
 man. To think that De Boys should 
 prefer the example of a weak-kneed 
 parson (who could hardly keep his 
 own body and soul together), before 
 that of his lawful guardian, whose 
 flourishing circumstances were the 
 best possible proof of his fitness to 
 advise ! Yet De Boys was a clever 
 lad, apt and well-spoken if he 
 liked books better than the fields, 
 he had inherited the taste from 
 his pitiable father. For a moment 
 Battle wavered. If he could call 
 to mind one, even one, scholar who 
 was able to show gumption at a 
 crisis and keep a family in comfort, 
 he would let the boy go his own 
 gait. He was searching his ex- 
 perience for such a prodigy when a 
 doubt assailed him : was not learn- 
 ing sinful ? He consulted the third 
 chapter of Genesis and read no 
 further. Evidently, knowledge was 
 not for man. 
 
 The farmer's relief was un- 
 bounded : he could not only make 
 a virtue of his own ignorance, but 
 stand opposed to his nephew on 
 the vantage -ground of a great 
 
64 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 moral principle. He had a text 
 " Ye shall not eat of it" ; he could 
 not be held responsible for the hard 
 sayings of Scripture, his only duty 
 was to expound, and, when neces- 
 sary, enforce them. His mind was 
 fixed : he had settled the matter 
 for ever there should be no more 
 weak relenting, no more teasing of 
 conscience. He knelt down by his 
 bed, and, thanking God for giving 
 him light on the subject, was 
 studiously careful not to ask Him 
 for more : he even besought the 
 Almighty to restrain his eyes from 
 wandering to other texts, which 
 might seem to contradict the sound 
 doctrine of the one before him. He 
 wound up by hinting, that if the 
 Almighty saw fit to remove the 
 Rev. Fitz Ormond O'Nelligan to 
 another parish or sphere he 
 (Samuel Battle) could only admire 
 His divine wisdom and clemency. 
 Strengthened and refreshed by this 
 prayer, he rose from his knees, and, 
 almost smiling, opened the door at 
 which Miss Caroline had been softly 
 tapping for some seconds. 
 
 " Well ? " he said. 
 
 Miss Caroline studied his face 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 65 
 
 with a half-fearful, half-imploring 
 expression. She had come to make 
 intercession for young Mauden. 
 
 M I want to say something about 
 the boy," she began. If the circum- 
 stances were ordinary, her heart, at 
 all events, was heroic, and it is the 
 heart which makes the situation. 
 
 11 There is nothing to be said," 
 said her father, sternly ; M leave him 
 to me. There has been enough of 
 women's meddling as it is." 
 
 u I have a notion," she faltered. 
 
 " A notion ! The whole house 
 is swarming wi' notions. A man 
 cannot sleep nor eat for them : they 
 sour the milk and turn his bread to 
 ashes ; they confront him on his 
 threshold and break in upon his 
 converse with the Lord " here he 
 fixed his iron-grey eye on Miss 
 Caroline "they make his own 
 flesh and blood a heaviness and 
 his children's children as vipers ! " 
 
 " The Lord forbid that a notion 
 o' mine should work such mis- 
 chief!" said Miss Caroline, drawing 
 down her lip. 
 
 " I have no fault to find wi' you, 
 Caroline," said Battle, in a milder 
 tone, u but I do say that you ha' 
 5 
 
66 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 pampered that boy till he's fit for 
 nought, but to sip tea wi' curates, 
 and lose his liver seeking after lost 
 Niobes ! " 
 
 He had once overheard a brief 
 conversation between O'Nelligan 
 and Mauden, in the course of which 
 they had referred to the lost Niobe 
 of ^Eschylus. This mystery, Battle 
 had no doubt, was a heathen god 
 whom the world was all the richer 
 for losing. " The difference," he 
 went on, "so far as I can see 
 between a man wi' notions and a 
 man without 'em is this the man 
 without ^ em pays the bill I rl 
 
 "I see no harm in book-learning," 
 said Miss Caroline, firmly ; "we are 
 told to add to faith, virtue, and to 
 virtue, knowledge, and " 
 
 Her father waved his hand. 
 " Beware of twisting the Word of 
 God," he said, hurriedly ; " there's 
 no telling what mischief may come 
 of perking up on a false meaning. 
 I don't hold wi' women quoting 
 texts," he added, " and I doubt the 
 wisdom of dragging Scripture in by 
 the ears whether it will or no. Ten 
 to one if it don't bite you for your 
 pains ! " 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 67 
 
 M Aye ! " said Miss Caroline, "and 
 for that reason ministers should 
 have learning." She drew a long 
 breath and flushed. " Why shouldn't 
 De Boys be a minister ? M 
 
 Battle plunged into thought. He 
 never, in his own phrase, " fooled 
 round the edge of an idea." 
 
 " A minister ! " he said, at last. 
 " What sort of a minister ? If De 
 Boys is the kind to be yanked 
 about by deacons he hasn't much 
 of the Battle stock in him ! " 
 
 "There's room for all in the 
 Church of England," said Miss 
 Caroline. "A doctrine or two 
 needn't stand in a man's way. 
 What's doctrine ? Why should 
 De Boys call himself a Dissenter 
 and spoil his chances, poor lad, 
 when he might just as well be Broad 
 and hold his own wi' the best ? 
 When folks begin to quarrel about 
 doctrine they are really spearin' at 
 politics. Any fool knows that ! " 
 
 " I will think it over," said Battle ; 
 u but I could never see bone of 
 my bone picked bare by deacons. 
 Whenever I see a deacon I always 
 think of the roaring lion seeking 
 whom he can devour. Look at 
 
68 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Hoadley a pleasant enough man 
 till they made him senior deacon. 
 There's very few men, Caroline, 
 that can bear authority if they 
 haven't been born with the shoul- 
 ders for it. If you gave a man 
 a nose who had never had one, he 
 would be blowing it all day. If De 
 Boys can see his way to do without 
 deacons well, I will think it over." 
 
 Miss Caroline went downstairs, 
 scolded the dairymaid on general 
 grounds, called Jane to task for 
 tearing her frock the Sunday before, 
 hinted of dead parents turning in 
 their grave, made a pudding with 
 as little sugar as possible, and finally 
 withdrew to her own room, where 
 she indulged in a good cry. Hero- 
 ism has a reaction. 
 
 Battle, however, had been so 
 fascinated by the idea of De Boys 
 entering the Church and " coming 
 the Rectory " on his own account, 
 that when his daughter had left 
 him, he once more opened his Bible 
 and found his thumb on the fol- 
 lowing sentence in Isaiah u Their 
 strength is to sit still." 
 
 " The Lord's will be done," he 
 murmured. "It is not for me to 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 69 
 
 thwart the working of the Spirit. 
 If the boy's call is to the ministry, 
 he must obey it ! n 
 
 It would be tedious to recapitu- 
 late the numerous consultations, 
 plans, and hopes of which De Boys 
 was the object, not only for days, 
 but for weeks following. At first 
 he had been tempted to quarrel 
 with the profession so suddenly 
 forced upon him : his religion, like 
 the religion of the young, was an 
 untried force, and, as his idea of 
 God was somehow associated with 
 his Uncle Battle, it was largely 
 tempered with unutterable private 
 opinions. But though he had often 
 questioned the infallible justice of 
 the Almighty (with regard to fish- 
 ing on Sundays and the like), his 
 faith was so knit in his bones that 
 it was more valuable as a ruling 
 principle than any wider creed, 
 based on the mere mental accept- 
 ance of doctrinal truths. The fear 
 of God was before his eyes ; the 
 prospect, therefore, of becoming His 
 minister put no strain on his sin- 
 cerity. If it failed to stir his en- 
 thusiasm it was because his easy- 
 
70 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 going nature hung aloof from the 
 self-denial and hard work which, 
 oddly enough, he conceived to be a 
 clergyman's portion. 
 
 Where his books had formerly been 
 ordered aside for the most trivial 
 domestic duty, he was now frowned 
 at if he ventured to look up from 
 them ; if he showed the smallest 
 disposition to levity, the farmer 
 would remind him that it was time 
 to put away childish things and 
 reflect on the dignity of his calling : 
 at his approach gossip was silenced, 
 and Baptismal Regeneration, Pre- 
 destination, and Justification by 
 Faith became the lively topics of 
 conversation ; if he betrayed even the 
 mildest interest in u new trouser- 
 ings," references would be made to 
 Demas, who loved the things of this 
 world, and to the young man who 
 had great possessions. He began 
 to see that a reputation for virtue 
 and wisdom (however gratifying to 
 one's vanity), brings with it pains 
 and penalties so various, so exqui- 
 site, and so incessant, that Job him- 
 self would seem a false type of per- 
 secuted excellence, since he lived 
 longer than his plagues. De Boys's 
 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 7 1 
 
 patience, at no time of remarkable 
 endurance, would not have lasted 
 under the petty but fretting annoy- 
 ances which now formed his daily 
 lot, and which promised to grow in 
 severity as he advanced in grace, if 
 his determination to go to Oxford 
 had not been made with a firm 
 resolve to suffer all things rather 
 than fail to fulfil it. When the 
 time came to leave home, he went 
 with a sigh of relief so heartfelt, 
 that Miss Caroline mistook it for a 
 sob. 
 
 "The plum-cake is just inside the 
 bag," she whispered, " but the cur- 
 rant wine is at the bottom of the 
 box. I didn't put it on top because 
 as you are going to be a minister 
 it would not look well if the lid 
 flew open ! " 
 
 He heard no more, for the driver 
 whipped up his horse, and, followed 
 by tears, blessings, exhortations, and 
 warnings, he rode off in the market 
 cart towards fame and the railway 
 station. He was so lost in fair 
 dreams of the future that he did 
 not notice Jane, who, by running 
 across the fields and jumping a few 
 ditches, had managed to reach a 
 
72 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 certain tree which commanded a 
 fine view of the high-road. This 
 she had climbed, and there she sat 
 on a branch waiting for him to pass. 
 
 But while he did not see her for 
 dreaming, she could not see him for 
 tears. Thus her long run, and 
 her jumps, and her climb were for 
 nothing. 
 
 De Boys, however, had wished 
 her farewell the night before, and 
 he had felt the parting to the best 
 of his ability. He still felt it dear, 
 sweet little Jane ! (she was tall) but 
 now other matters were naturally 
 foremost in his mind. Jane, woman- 
 like, utterly unable to understand 
 this, thought him very unloving, 
 and decided to waste no more of 
 her affection where it was not 
 wanted. She was young but seven- 
 teen in fact, impulsive, wilful, pas- 
 sionately fond of romances, but 
 singularly practical in her criticism 
 of life : weeping for her heroines 
 as heroines, yet scorning them not 
 seldom as fools, admiring the he- 
 roes, yet finding much to be said 
 for the villains, and displaying, for 
 her age, sex, and inexperience, an 
 unusual desire for strict indeed 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 73 
 
 rigorous justice. Even now, smart- 
 ing under De Boys's fancied indif- 
 ference, she blamed her own poverty 
 of attractions, not his callousness, 
 which, since she promised to the 
 seeing eye to be a beautiful woman, 
 was as wrong-headed and feminine 
 as it well could be. 
 
 As the days dragged on she rea- 
 lised how much De Boys had been 
 to her, how much of her supposed 
 independence had rested on his sup- 
 port, how much her courage had 
 fed on his sympathy, how every- 
 thing in her mind which gave her 
 the smallest satisfaction was not 
 her own at all, but borrowed from 
 him. And now he was gone, it 
 seemed as though the earth which 
 she trampled on as a right, had sud- 
 denly slipped away, and left her 
 without a footing, to sink, and sink, 
 and sink, as one does in a night- 
 mare. At first she saw a substitute 
 for De Boys in a tow-headed youth 
 who sang in the chapel choir, and 
 she talked to him of the books she 
 read, as she would to her lover, only 
 to grow absent-minded, however, 
 and wake to catch an unsympa- 
 thetic and wondering eye : phrases, 
 
74 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 jokes, anoMittle words full of mean- 
 ing to herself and De Boys lost all 
 their point when exchanged with 
 her few friends in the village, and 
 very soon she learnt the absolute 
 dissimilarity in minds, and how 
 very little except weakness one 
 human being has in common with 
 another. 
 
 Jane had always found such balm 
 for all her small troubles in being 
 understood by De Boys, which 
 meant, no doubt, that he saw no 
 fault in her, and made a grace out 
 of every shortcoming that is to 
 say, where her shortcomings affec- 
 ted others. He made nicer distinc- 
 tions in her offences against himself. 
 But in her dealings with the world 
 at large he always proved her in the 
 right, even when she knew herself 
 in the wrong, and thus when she 
 least agreed with him, he was most 
 consoling. True, now he was absent, 
 he wrote to her, but the letters 
 were for family perusal, and even 
 though "Do not forget the guinea- 
 pig" stood for " My very dearest, how 
 I long to see you" it was a flimsy 
 substitute for a love-letter, her 
 own, and bristling with "dearests" in 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 75 
 
 plain English. Gradually restraint 
 showed itself in her replies: the 
 guinea-pig untimely died, De Boys 
 adopted a more learned tone, Jane 
 found him more difficult to answer, 
 she doubted whether she loved him, 
 and grew pale at the doubt ; spent 
 whole hours trying to prove that 
 she was perfectly happy without 
 him, and whole nights crying be- 
 cause she was not. 
 
 When she heard that he did not 
 intend to return home till the end 
 of his third term, she made no 
 comment, but brought her lips so' 
 sharply together, that they lost their 
 look of childish indecision for all 
 time. 
 
CHAPTER TV. 
 
 IN WHICH ONE LADY TRIES NATURE, 
 WHILE TWO, DISCUSS HUMANITY. 
 
 JNE afternoon, in the fol- 
 lowing long vacation, a 
 lady was gathering honey- 
 suckle from a hedge in 
 a field near St. Albans. 
 She wore a pink cambric 
 confection, artfully relieved with old 
 Honiton : with one hand she held 
 up her skirt and discovered a most 
 elaborate silk petticoat ; on the 
 ground by her side was a lace 
 parasol and a pair of long kid 
 gloves. A hat, garnished with 
 velvet orchids and silk dandelions, 
 shaded her face, and was tied under 
 her chin with pale green ribbons ; 
 her hair, which was black and very 
 abundant, was loosely caught up by 
 a silver comb. In figure she was 
 tall and gracious, but one could 
 76 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 77 
 
 have wished that her hips had more 
 of a jut and her shoulders less an 
 air of almost masculine resolution. 
 She had too much distinction to be 
 fashionable and too much style to 
 be stylish : beyond any doubt she 
 was a personage. 
 
 She had filled her basket with 
 the flowers when her eyes fell on a 
 fine spray just beyond her reach. 
 The branch of a tree hung over the 
 hedge, and, by supporting herself 
 on this, she thought it might be 
 possible to clutch at the prize. She 
 was about to spring, when she was 
 startled by the sight of a young 
 man running towards her from the 
 adjoining paddock. Unobserved, he 
 had been watching her for some in- 
 definite space of time. 
 
 " Pardon me," he said, lifting his 
 hat, " but I fear you do not see that 
 the bough is broken." 
 
 11 No," she said, with a baffling 
 smile, u I only saw the honey- 
 suckle ! " 
 
 He looked at her, knit his brows, 
 bit his lips, and then laughed. " So 
 you only saw the honeysuckle," he 
 said ; " your point of view is magni- 
 ficent ! " He had not intended to 
 
78 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 speak so familiarly, but she reminded 
 him so strangely, yet with so little 
 reason, of a certain Jane Shannon 
 he knew of, that he felt they were 
 already well acquainted. The lady, 
 however, unaware of her resem- 
 blance to Jane Shannon, gave him 
 a severe look. 
 
 " I never thought I could meet 
 any one," she said ; " I did not 
 know that there was any one in 
 Whetstone to meet. Besides, this 
 is not the high-road." There was 
 a note of haughtiness in her tone, 
 and her large, black eyes wandered, 
 apparently by chance, to a large 
 notice which faced them both 
 " Trespassers will be Prosecuted" 
 
 " I am a stranger here," said the 
 youth, flushing ; " they told me at 
 the station that I could get to The 
 Cloisters by crossing these fields. 
 I saw you were in danger, so I 
 spoke." 
 
 He took off his hat and turned 
 ever so slightly to go on. When a 
 man is at most pains to conceal his 
 admiration for a woman, he can be 
 most sure that she appreciates his 
 struggle to her finger-tips. The 
 lady instinctively pushed back her 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 79 
 
 hat, and gave him a longer, perhaps 
 a kinder, glance ; he remained. 
 
 She had a face of such spiritual 
 liveliness that its merely natural 
 charms of feature and colouring, 
 only seized on second thoughts. 
 They were the thin veil over a 
 sparkling radiance, which, whether 
 it were due to virtue, or wit, or 
 coquetry, was too dazzling for 
 Speculation aged twenty-one and 
 a son of Adam. 
 
 " Did I understand you to say," 
 she said, " that you were on your 
 way to The Cloisters ? M 
 
 u Yes," he replied. 
 
 il Then you must be De Boys 
 Mauden." (He bowed.) "I am 
 Sophia Jenyns." 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed, " the 
 new Lady Macbeth ? " 
 
 " The newest," she said, drily. 
 "You must know," she continued, 
 wondering at Mauden's extreme 
 astonishment, yet pleased, for she 
 could translate all things into flat- 
 tery " you must know that I came 
 out to gather honeysuckle this after- 
 noon, because I wanted to see 
 whether I would be happier if 
 I were more like the primitive 
 
80 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 woman. Every one is talking 
 about nature, so I thought I would 
 try it. I have been so bored : I 
 longed to be at home reading Hardy, 
 or St. Augustine, or Hegel, or 
 somebody" 
 
 "Do you read Hegel ? " he said. 
 
 "I read everything," she replied, 
 " don't you ? " 
 
 11 No," he said, and looked grate- 
 fully at heaven. 
 
 This young lady who was so far 
 from philosophy that she tried 
 nature, and so far from nature 
 that she longed for philosophy, 
 chuckled and picked up her flower- 
 basket. 
 
 " You Oxford men," she said, 
 " are more proud of what you have 
 not read than of what you have 
 read. Come, we can walk to The 
 Cloisters together. I hope you like 
 Lady Hyde-Bassett as well as I do." 
 
 "I should like her better if I 
 thought she had a heart : no woman 
 with a heart could have married Sir 
 Benjamin." 
 
 " Did you know him ? " said 
 Sophia. 
 
 " No," said De Boys ; " but every 
 one says he was the most disagree- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 8 1 
 
 able man in the world ; so forbid- 
 ding and curt and unapproachable." 
 "I thought so once," said Sophia, 
 " till one day, when I was a child, I 
 heard him talking to Lady Hyde- 
 Bassett. I suppose they thought I 
 was too little to understand them. 
 They were walking in the garden 
 and he asked her whether she would 
 rather be a pussy cat or a catty puss, 
 and she pinched his arm, and said he 
 was a good little thing, and it was a 
 pity that some of the old fossils he 
 knew could not hear him. And he 
 said, very solemnly, ' God forbid ! ' 
 and she kissed his hand and said he 
 was an angel, but she wished he 
 would buy a new hat, although he 
 could only look lovely if he wore 
 pyjamas and a billy-cock ! And 
 he said, ' For God's sake, don't 
 talk so loud ! } and she said, ' Let us 
 both say Damn with all our might, 
 and then I will be quiet.' And they 
 said Damn, and she was quiet, and 
 then they began to talk about 
 Aristotle. That," she wound up, 
 " is a real celebrity really At Home. 
 So you see all scholars do not talk 
 like Casaubon in ' Middlemarch ' ; 
 they have their flippant moments, 
 6 
 
82 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 and get horribly tired of being 
 great ! " 
 
 No written account of Miss Sophia 
 Jenyns's artless prattle could convey 
 her melodious voice, grace of gesture, 
 dramatic force, and facial expression. 
 De Boys watched her, entranced ; it 
 was his first direct encounter with 
 spontaneous genius. And then her 
 fatal, too delicious resemblance to 
 Jane ! he could adore her for that 
 alone. She led the way and he 
 followed : a Will o' the Wisp would 
 have been a safer guide. 
 
 Lady Hyde-Bassett was an Ameri- 
 can by birth, and had received her 
 education in France. After much 
 travelling and many flirtations she 
 had married, at the age of two-and- 
 twenty, the distinguished invalid and 
 philologist, Sir Benjamin Bassett. 
 
 The Hyde was an inspiration 
 attached to a small property which 
 he had inherited towards the close 
 of his last illness. The marriage 
 had been eminently happy, but 
 before the Society of Antiquaries 
 had ceased to wonder at the devo- 
 tion of so young and modish a 
 woman to the apparently grim, the 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 83 
 
 certainly middle-aged, and, by in- 
 ference, dull hieroglyphic, he died. 
 His widow's grief was of the des- 
 perate order, but, possessing ample 
 means, she was able to wreak it by 
 building a marble tomb over his 
 bones, and founding a Hyde-Bassett 
 Scholarship for Greek Verse. To 
 perpetuate the deceased gentleman's 
 tolerant and unprejudiced temper 
 she also endowed, with equal gene- 
 rosity, a Roman Catholic School, a 
 Wesleyan Methodist Chapel, and 
 a Mission for the Suppression of 
 Secret Societies. When pressed to 
 give her reason for subscribing to 
 the latter, she said that Sir Ben- 
 jamin, to his sorrow, had belonged 
 to one. "But," she added, "the 
 rest is silence." With accomplish- 
 ments which only wanted an occa- 
 sion to reorganise Europe or 
 destroy it she preferred to live in 
 retirement and make matches, com- 
 parable only to Diocletian, who 
 found (if we may believe him) 
 greater happiness in planting cab- 
 bages than in ruling the Empire of 
 Rome. Her country house, known 
 as "The Cloisters, near St. Albans, " 
 was, as it were, a home of rest for 
 
84 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 the most eminent in science, politics, 
 art, and literature of her day, for, 
 from her intimate knowledge of one 
 genius, she never committed the 
 error of making them seem common, 
 by entertaining more than one of 
 his particular sphere at a time. 
 The distinguished person, therefore, 
 who accepted her hospitality, never 
 laboured under the unspeakable ap- 
 prehension of encountering either 
 his nearest match, or worse, his 
 horrid better. 
 
 Now while Miss Sophia Jenyns, 
 of the Parnassus, was gathering 
 honeysuckle, her ladyship was read- 
 ing "The Logic of Hegel." The 
 room in which she sat was large, 
 and breathed a sweet odour of peace 
 and good housewifery. Its furni- 
 ture, hangings, and decoration, 
 though rich, were cf a modest and 
 even severe character, forasmuch as 
 the cushions, coverings, footstools, 
 screens, lamp-shades, photographs, 
 and gew-gaws appurtenant to a 
 mo&ern boudoir were comfortable 
 and pleasing by their absence. 
 
 " Man is evil by nature" she 
 read, " and it is an error to 
 imagine that he could ever be 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 85 
 
 otherwise. To such extent as man 
 is and acts like a creature of 
 nature to that extent his whole 
 position and behaviour is wrong. 
 Nature is for man only the starting- 
 point which he must transform to 
 something better. The theological 
 doctrine of Original Sin is a pro- 
 found truth." 
 
 She sighed, and looked up from 
 her book to gaze into a small silver- 
 framed mirror which stood on the 
 table by her side. Her complexion 
 was pale, her eyes brown, and her 
 hair prematurely grey. Some of 
 her lady friends said they believed 
 she thought she looked like Marie 
 Antoinette. Her years were thirty- 
 five, but a life of assiduous self- 
 discipline and self-culture (glorified 
 selfishness, in fact) had given her 
 the calmness and dignity associated 
 with the idea if not the reality 
 of old age. A woman so finished 
 in manner, dress, and bearing could 
 only be called artificial in compari- 
 son with the ordinary type, in the 
 sense that one might so describe a 
 sonnet as differing from a folk-song. 
 
 Meanwhile, the leaves of Hegel 
 were fluttering. Margaret, with a 
 
86 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 sigh, wrenched her eyes from the 
 mirror and fastened them once 
 more on " Original Sin." But 
 again she read no further, for a 
 lady entered the room. 
 
 Miss Bellarmine was not a maiden 
 lady of that pathetic type who pour 
 out tea and who have once loved. 
 She was tall and of commanding 
 appearance : her figure was con- 
 sidered purely Greek. (Perhaps 
 this was because she had the good 
 taste to drape it with Parisian 
 millinery of modern date.) She 
 had really beautiful features if one 
 examined them separately, but as 
 a whole they appeared out of 
 drawing, as though they had been 
 picked off various antique divinities, 
 and stuck on her face at random. 
 Thus, her nose began too soon, and 
 her mouth ended too late ; whilst her 
 eyes, charming in colour and shape, 
 were so placed that they offered 
 one a constant temptation to shift 
 them either higher or lower. Her 
 expression was neutral, for her 
 character, like that of many 
 Englishwomen, slumbered behind 
 her countenance like a dog in its 
 kennel, to come out growling or 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 87 
 
 amiable as circumstances might 
 demand. She was highly accom- 
 plished, and spoke five languages 
 with one well-bred accent. The- 
 ology was her recreation, but Villon 
 the serious study of her life. Her 
 notes on this poet promised to be 
 the most exhaustive possible, and 
 "Bellarmine on Villon," it was 
 said, would be read like Coke on 
 Lyttleton, as much for the com- 
 mentary as the text. 
 
 " I am so glad to find you 
 alone," she said. " Sophia Jenyns 
 has gone out for what she calls 
 a prowl, and Wrath is playing 
 Bach in the music-room. What 
 a gifted man ! What is the re- 
 lationship between them, dear ? 
 I have heard every impossible 
 explanation." 
 
 Eliza Bellarmine was a discreet, 
 cold-blooded person who could 
 meet Nature face to face without 
 blushing, and wink at the frailties 
 of Culture. Lady Hyde-Bassett, on 
 the other hand, would only see evil 
 where she wished to see it : when 
 she met unpleasant truths she rode 
 off on what she called her instincts, 
 and they carried her like Barbary 
 
88 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 mares. She did not reply to her 
 friend's question immediately. 
 
 14 There is no truth in the story," 
 she said, at last. 
 
 "1 have heard," said Miss 
 Bellarmine, "that there is more 
 than truth there are diamonds ! " 
 
 " I thought, Eliza, you were 
 above such littlenesses ! Sophia 
 Jenyns is the most pure-minded 
 woman I know. She is not like 
 other geniuses she is different." 
 
 "They are all different with a 
 sameness. I have known thirty, 
 and they were all pure-minded, 
 and had, at least, three husbands 
 and an episode ! " 
 
 "We must not judge them," 
 murmured her ladyship ; " they are 
 so fascinating, and their husbands 
 are always so brutal." 
 
 M The artistic temperament," said 
 Miss Bellarmine, in measured tones 
 M the artistic temperament is only 
 faithful for the purposes of local 
 colour to experience fidelity, in 
 fact. Then the next step is to gain 
 some insight into infidelity. Unless 
 a genius is extremely religious she 
 is foredoomed to impropriety ! " 
 
 il Eliza," said Lady Hyde-Bassett, 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 89 
 
 " you have neither humour nor 
 imagination." 
 
 44 None," said that lady, with 
 conscious pride. 
 
 " And yet you are editing a 
 poet ! " 
 
 The commentator smiled, which 
 the poet, could he have been 
 present, would not have done. 
 
 "But," said Miss Bellarmine, 
 who never left a subject unsifted, 
 "you have not explained the 
 relationship." 
 
 11 Wrath adopted Sophia when 
 she was only four days old : her 
 father committed suicide, and her 
 mother died when she was born. 
 
 I blush for human nature when I 
 hear a man so maligned for a kind 
 action. He must have been very 
 poor at the time, for he had only 
 just sold his 'Antigone.'" 
 
 44 I know all that," said Eliza ; 
 
 II and it was very noble on his part, 
 and all the rest of it. But Sophia 
 is no longer four days old ! " 
 
 44 If they cared for each other, is 
 there any earthly reason why they 
 should not marry ? " 
 
 14 Certainly. He may have a luna- 
 tic wife locked away somewhere, or, 
 
90 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 in his extreme youth, he may have 
 married some low person who is too 
 respectable to divorce : nothing is 
 more likely. I am very sorry for 
 Sophia Jenyns, and more sorry for 
 him ; but I think they should either 
 be frank, or separate. If they think 
 they are wrong, they should bid 
 each other good-bye, but if they 
 feel they are right, they should have 
 the courage of their opinion. I 
 could respect them then, although 
 I might disagree with their con- 
 science. As it is well, they evi- 
 dently know they are doing wrong, 
 since they dare not be candid. 
 And they must be wretched ! He 
 is far too honest a man not to be 
 miserable in a false position." 
 
 " I have listened, dear," said Lady 
 Hyde-Bassett, " because your senti- 
 ments are so excellent. But first 
 swear you will never tell ! " 
 
 " I cannot give my word blindly." 
 " Then I will not tell you." 
 11 Have I ever betrayed your 
 confidence ? " 
 
 H Never," said her ladyship ; " but 
 this is a most profound secret." 
 
 u In that case perhaps you ought 
 not to repeat it." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 9 1 
 
 u You are so aggravating, Eliza ! 
 Shall I tell you ? " 
 
 M That is a matter for your own 
 judgment. " 
 
 " Never breathe it to a soul ! 
 Wrath and Sophia have been 
 married for two years." 
 
 11 You astonish me," said Eliza, at 
 last, but without moving a muscle 
 " you astonish me greatly. . . . But 
 I am inexpressibly relieved to hear 
 it. . . . Any children ? " 
 
 11 No," said Lady Hyde-Bassett ; 
 M so it could not have been on that 
 account. . . . But now," she went 
 on, "we must talk of something 
 else : it would be very awkward if 
 either of them came suddenly in. 
 Have I told you about De Boys 
 Mauden? He has just won my 
 scholarship : a most brilliant young 
 fellow ; they say he will be another 
 Porson. But he has been over- 
 working, and the doctor has insisted 
 on his taking a rest. So I have 
 made him come here. I sent the 
 brougham for him, but he told 
 Biffin he preferred to walk. He 
 cannot know the way, and, man- 
 like, would probably rather perish 
 
92 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 than ask any one to direct 
 him ! " 
 
 M I shall be most interested to 
 make his acquaintance most in- 
 terested. I know his name quite 
 well." She did not as a matter of 
 fact, but as a matter of principle 
 a commentator and an occasional 
 contributor to the learned reviews, 
 could not be ignorant of the 
 existence of a future Porson. 
 
 H He is very handsome," said her 
 ladyship ; adding, after a pause, 
 "when he has got his degree 
 I shall let him revise and aug- 
 ment all Benjamin's unpublished 
 manuscripts. I began them myself, 
 but my Greek is too Homeric ! n 
 
 "Mr. Mauden," announced the 
 footman. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH A LADY HAS A TANTRUM, 
 AND A GENTLEMAN PLAYS A FUGUE. 
 
 3&0PHIA JENYNS had 
 W parted company with 
 De Boys in the hall, 
 and was now hurrying 
 towards the music-room, 
 where Wrath was playing 
 a fugue in masterly style. But 
 Sophia was in no mood for 
 harmony. She burst open the 
 door, flounced in, and put her 
 arms round her husband's neck. 
 
 "Tom," she said, "I have been 
 reconsidering what you said this 
 morning about making our marriage 
 public. I know myself so well that 
 I am sure I could never love you 
 again if you did. There is not a 
 correct bone in my body : it would 
 kill me to be called Mrs. Wrath 
 simply kill me. I adore you and 
 
 93 
 
94 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 worship * you and idolise you, 
 although you are my husband. 
 That I cannot help ; but to let 
 other people know it oh, intoler- 
 able ! I will not be a British matron. 
 I will not be called virtuous. It is 
 no one's business whether I am 
 married or not a lot of fussy, 
 prying, evil-minded old women 
 let them talk ! I think of them 
 when I say, l I heard the owl 
 scream and the crickets cry J no 
 wonder I make the whole house 
 creep ! Buh ! And, Tom you 
 fascinating, lovely, wonderful 
 creature, I have just been flirting 
 with all my might, and by to- 
 morrow I shall be madly in love ! 
 Compared with you he is a 
 monster, but in your absence he 
 does very well. He is already 
 quoting Spenser, and his voice is 
 agreeable. Tell me you worship 
 me, and I will tell you the rest ! n 
 
 u Why don't you flirt with me, 
 dearest, and leave these young fel- 
 lows to their work ? n 
 
 " My soul," said his wife, M my 
 heart of hearts, you are the dullest 
 person to flirt with I ever met. I 
 never flirted with you in my life : I 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 95 
 
 half-tried it once by pretending to 
 love you. But I found it too easy 
 to pretend hence our hideous, in- 
 artistic marriage certificate ! Never 
 refer to it if you have any regard 
 for my self-respect." 
 
 11 Sophia, seriously " 
 
 "I will not be glared at, nor 
 frowned at ! How handsome you 
 are ! If you were not my husband 
 I would elope with you to-morrow. 
 What a mercy I met you before I 
 saw any one else. If I had met you 
 too late oh, if I had met you too 
 
 late " She paused. " I am 
 
 afraid I would not have called it too 
 late ! 
 
 u This is all very pretty," said 
 Wrath, u and you are, no doubt, 
 very adorable. But you must be- 
 have yourself ; other people do not 
 understand you as I do." 
 
 He was about eight-and-forty, 
 and looked older. His features, 
 though fine, were irregular ; his 
 poetic brow, his large and eminently 
 practical nose, the unrest in his dark 
 eyes, and the stillness about his 
 mouth betokened him the possessor 
 of an unusually complex disposition. 
 He was an extremely handsome 
 
96 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 man, yet such was his simplicity, 
 that not all his wile's flatteries could 
 convince him that he was other 
 than plain. The absence of personal 
 vanity in an eminently self-conscious 
 age, when every hero sings his own 
 epic, had the curious effect of making 
 many people accept him at his own 
 estimate : they argued, from their 
 own experience, that a person who 
 was not his own greatest admirer 
 could not possess admirable charac- 
 teristics. 
 
 " But seriously," he said, secretly 
 enjoying his wife's brilliant, ever- 
 varying countenance from the 
 artistic point of view she was a 
 constant joy "quite seriously. You 
 must be guided by my knowledge 
 of the world. I must announce the 
 marriage, and so put an end to this 
 revolting gossip ! " 
 
 11 Revolting gossip does not matter : 
 only facts are fatal simply disas- 
 trous. Do not expose me to the hu- 
 miliation of being publicly branded 
 as an honest woman ! " 
 
 His mouth twitched : there was 
 always too much sadness in Sophia's 
 jesting to make it downright laugh- 
 able. 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 97 
 
 " While people can talk about us," 
 she went on, " we give them an 
 opportunity to show their charitable 
 views of human nature, and so they 
 encourage us ; but if they once knew 
 the truth, no one would care to see 
 me act, and your pictures would be 
 called dull, I know ! n 
 
 " Where," he said, M do you learn 
 this cynicism ? It afflicts me beyond 
 words : it is utterly false, utterly 
 corrupt, utterly disgusting. You 
 certainly do not hear it from Lady 
 Hyde-Bassett." 
 
 She glanced at him swiftly, and 
 as swiftly glanced away. He had 
 coloured a little no doubt from 
 annoyance. 
 
 "Lady Hyde-Bassett has not lived 
 my life," she said, catching her 
 breath ; u she was not born a pauper ! 
 Her father was not starved out of 
 his wits, and her mother did not 
 dance herself to death for a pound 
 a week." 
 
 " Sophia ! " 
 
 "Oh, I know you have always 
 been very kind to me. I am not 
 ungrateful." 
 
 " Do you talk of gratitude to 
 
98 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 " I will talk of anything I like to 
 anybody ! . . . Have you asked 
 Margaret to sit for the Madonna ? " 
 
 44 1 have asked her to give me a 
 sitting or two yes. But it is 
 merely for the shape of her face : it 
 would not be a portrait. Pray be 
 careful how you refer to the matter, 
 because I was studiously careful to 
 explain that I could not paint the 
 Madonna from any woman in the 
 world. It merely struck me that 
 
 Marg that Lady Hyde-Bassett's 
 
 face was peculiarly n 
 
 44 Fiddlesticks ! " 
 
 44 If you are going to be peevish, 
 I think we had better not talk." 
 
 "You are very unkind to me. 
 And I have a frightful headache : I 
 can hardly see. 1 am sure this 
 place is unhealthy. ... I was only 
 thinking, why trouble Margaret to 
 sit, if you are not going to make the 
 picture like her ? What would be 
 her object in sitting ? she might as 
 well be a lay-figure at once. I am 
 afraid she will feel insulted." 
 
 44 She seemed to perfectly realise 
 what I meant, and was very amiable 
 about it." 
 
 44 Naturally ! She could hardly let 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 99 
 
 you see that she was annoyed in 
 her own house, and when you are 
 a guest ! . . . Why can't I sit for 
 you ? " 
 
 "Your type, you know, dearest, 
 is is not conventionally religious. 
 You are most beautiful, but " 
 
 11 1 would do very well, I suppose, 
 for the Woman taken in Adultery ! " 
 
 " I have never seen you like this 
 before." 
 
 "Perhaps not. Thank God, I 
 don't sit with my mouth screwed in 
 one perpetual simper, looking re- 
 ligious, and wondering whether my 
 new gowns will fit ! I want you to 
 understand that I have got a soul ! 
 and a mind ! and individuality ! n 
 
 He sighed and returned to his 
 playing ; but there was no spirit in 
 his performance. 
 
 " You are not to tell Margaret of 
 our marriage," said Sophia, sud- 
 denly ; " when I get ready, I will 
 tell her myself." 
 
 He flushed again, and this time 
 more decidedly. Unfortunately, he 
 had informed her ladyship of his 
 happy condition that very after- 
 noon in a burst of friendly confi- 
 dence after she had promised to 
 
IOO A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 sit for -the Madonna. Could the 
 circumstances be more awkward ? 
 
 " Do you think she suspects ? " 
 said Sophia. But women have a 
 fatal genius for answering their own 
 questions. Before her husband could 
 reply she went on, "I do not see 
 how she can ; I have always been 
 very careful." 
 
 "Sophia," he began, intending 
 to make a clean breast of the 
 matter, " the fact is " 
 
 She stamped her foot a beauti- 
 ful foot, too, another artistic joy. 
 " I loathe facts ; I will have my 
 own way about it. You promised 
 me that I could keep it a secret as 
 long as I wished." 
 
 " I know that," he replied, " but 
 you said this morning " 
 
 " I am always being told what I 
 said this morning ! Never mind 
 what I said six hours ago : it is the 
 afternoon now. I suppose I may 
 change my mind." 
 
 "But," he said, "I am heartily 
 sick of all this absurd mystery. 
 I I am rather proud. I cannot 
 explain it, but it affects your 
 honour. These reports you find 
 so amusing are gross insults. I 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. IOI 
 
 was mad to make such a fool's 
 promise." 
 
 u No," said Sophia, u you were 
 not mad, you were in love with me, 
 that's all. You would have pro- 
 mised anything ! " It was most 
 indiscreet to remind him of this 
 mournful truth. Wrath received it 
 with sublime (if highly coloured) 
 indignation. 
 
 M I was never in love with you," 
 he replied, angrily. " I detest the 
 phrase. Wife to me is a sacred 
 name. . . . But few women under- 
 stand a man's best feelings, and 
 least of all on the subject of love. 
 They do not realise that even the 
 vilest of us would rather think that 
 the woman he loves is a bit of 
 divinity. . . . But it is very seldom 
 that she will let him think so very 
 seldom. . . . Are we quarrelling ? " 
 he said, abruptly ; " once I thought 
 we could never quarrel. This is 
 terrible ! " 
 
 u This," she said, " is marriage ! " 
 
 "You speak as though you re- 
 gretted " 
 
 M You recognise regret as though 
 you were long acquainted with it ! " 
 A woman always handles sarcasm 
 
102 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 with the point towards her own 
 breast. Sophia turned pale at her 
 own words. 
 
 " You do regret," she said. 
 
 " I regret anything that makes 
 you unhappy." 
 
 u This is equivocation : you never 
 did speak out and you never will. 
 A man so guarded in his words 
 must have very treacherous thoughts. 
 Why do you look at me like that?" 
 she said, passionately. u I repeat, you 
 are very difficult to understand. I 
 have been with you ever since I was 
 born, and I have always done all 
 the talking ! " He did not attempt 
 to deny this, but still kept his eyes 
 on her with the patient, touching, 
 and wistful expression of the collie 
 dog in " The Shepherd's Chief 
 Mourner." 
 
 11 One has to take you on trust or 
 not at all," continued his wife ; " the 
 most exasperating man God ever 
 made ! It is a most unfortunate 
 thing that we ever met : you are 
 naturally secretive, and I am natu- 
 rally suspicious. Why did you not 
 let them take me to the workhouse ? 
 And why did you make love to me ? 
 You know you did : I cannot re- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 103 
 
 member one single word you ever 
 said, but you have got an artful 
 way of implying everything under 
 the sun without uttering a syllable ! 
 You never even asked me to marry 
 you : all I know is, that I am married 
 and I wish I wasn't." And she 
 wept. Sophia never exhausted her- 
 self by restraining her emotions ; 
 tears now sprang to her eyes and 
 rolled down her cheeks so softly 
 and sweetly, that to see her one 
 would have thought that weeping 
 were as easy as breathing. It was a 
 pretty study in highly cultivated 
 sorrow. 
 
 u My dearest," said Wrath, " you 
 are not well. But this is all my 
 fault : I have been a beast. How 
 can you like such a great, clumsy, 
 ill-natured brute ? It is a very 
 flimsy excuse, but I think I worked 
 too long this morning. Margaret 
 was reading aloud and I did not 
 like to " 
 
 " What was she reading ? " said 
 Sophia. 
 
 " Some new novel : I forget the 
 title, but," he added, a the cover 
 was green ! " 
 
 " What was it about ? " 
 
104 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 He grabbed at the opportunity 
 to amuse her, and detailed the plot 
 with elaborate care drawing how- 
 ever rather from his imagination 
 than his memory. The result was 
 an adaptation of " Red Cotton Night- 
 cap Country," " Wilhelm Meister," 
 and "Gil Bias." He might have 
 made some fame as a novelist. 
 
 When he had finished, Sophia 
 coughed. * ' How well you remember 
 it," she said ; " you must have listened 
 very attentively ! " 
 
 Then, remarking that she felt 
 better, she left him. He heard her 
 singing " I know that my Redeemer 
 liveth " as she went up the stairs, 
 and rejoiced that he had cured her 
 headache, and could resume his 
 fugue. 
 
 So little do men know their wives. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN WHICH A LADY LOOKS GRATEFUL. 
 
 )RATH had been playing 
 in ineffable contentment 
 for some thirty minutes, 
 when the door was opened 
 softly and Lady Hyde- 
 Bassett walked in. Her 
 gait was peculiar not goddess-like, 
 defiant, and untrammelled in the 
 manner of Sophia, but agreeably 
 suggestive of moneyed leisure, a 
 certain feminine timidity, and cling- 
 ing draperies. She was already 
 dressed for dinner, and was looking 
 her best in violet silk and amethysts. 
 Here it may be a fitting opportunity 
 to mention that she was ever attired 
 in beautiful garments : " How can 
 I make myself a fright,' J she told 
 Eliza Bellarmine, "when I know 
 
106 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 that my dearest is watching me 
 from heaven ? It would make him 
 so unhappy to see me growing 
 dowdy ! " Which, Eliza thought, 
 would have been impious had it not 
 been American. 
 
 Margaret and Wrath had known 
 each other for many years. She had 
 often given him motherly advice in 
 his attempt to bring up Sophia 
 (who was her junior by some ten 
 birthdays), and their friendship, 
 which had been somewhat solemn 
 during Sir Benjamin's lifetime, was 
 now stepping the enchanting mea- 
 sures of an intellectual jig. It may 
 be that if Lady Hyde-Bassett had 
 not vowed perpetual widowhood, 
 and if Miss Jenyns had not suddenly 
 grown from a tiresome schoolgirl 
 into a maddening but all-compelling 
 woman but why dwell on might- 
 have-beens ? Wrath, however, had 
 very nearly loved her once, and 
 as, he was not a man who cast his 
 affection on what was unlovely, 
 where he bestowed it, there it re- 
 mained. He was quite conscious 
 that he had a kind regard for Mar- 
 garet, but the difference between 
 that kind regard and his overmas- 
 
 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 107 
 
 tering, limitless devotion to his wife 
 was so immeasurable that it never 
 even occurred to him to compare 
 them. One woman occupied his life, 
 and the other an occasional thought, 
 and even that thought would be, as 
 it were, a ripple on a whole ocean 
 of Sophia. 
 
 " It is wicked to interrupt you," 
 said her ladyship, as she entered, 
 " but I must steal a moment just to 
 tell you about my new genius 
 young Mauden." 
 
 14 A new genius ? M he said, lifting 
 his eyebrows. 
 
 " I am not overrating him, I 
 assure you. Once you had more 
 confidence in my judgment ! n 
 
 " Naturally," said Wrath. " That 
 was when /was your new genius." 
 
 u Ah, why refer to my past 
 follies ? " said Margaret, which was 
 certainly an adroit way of suggesting 
 them. She was a coquette before 
 she was a widow. 
 
 " I own," he said, " it is not plea- 
 sant to be reminded of one's mis- 
 takes." 
 
 "I never mistook you" she mur- 
 mured : fl I was only mistaken in 
 myself." 
 
108 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 44 I can remember," he began " I 
 can remember " 
 
 44 Do not remind me/' said Mar- 
 garet. She was wondering how she 
 could ever have allowed herself to 
 even vaguely contemplate the im- 
 possible possibility of marrying 
 again. It was her only consolation 
 to think, that for at least six months 
 after Sir Benjamin's death she had 
 not been in her perfect mind : chaos 
 was come and the reign of irresponsi- 
 bility. " It wanted a Shakespeare," 
 she thought, "to make the Lady 
 Ann accept Richard III. over her 
 husband's coffin : it must have been 
 then or never ! " 
 
 il Do not remind me," she said 
 again. 
 
 11 Is it only men who should have 
 the burden of remembering ? " said 
 Wrath, surprised at his unusual 
 power of repartee, and deciding that 
 it was inspired by the twilight. 
 
 44 I remember too well too many 
 errors," she sighed. 
 
 <( Ah ! " said he, " women only 
 confess the sins they have left un- 
 done ! " 
 
 14 It was a man who prayed for a 
 talent of forgetting ! " 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. IO9 
 
 " He prayed in vain," said Wrath, 
 now thoroughly exhausted and 
 wishing to Goodness that Sophia 
 would come in and il do the talking." 
 Half-unconsciously he turned an 
 ivory button in the wall, and lo ! 
 the room was illuminated by the 
 discerning beams of the electric 
 light. 
 
 M What a useful invention ! w he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Most useful ! " said her ladyship, 
 no less heartily. 
 
 11 Bye the bye," he said, M Sophia 
 has retracted her promise that I 
 might announce our marriage. She 
 is sublime ! As she is suffering 
 from neuralgia," he went on, " I 
 did not tell her " 
 
 u I will be as silent as the grave," 
 said Margaret, divining his whole 
 difficulty at a guess. 
 
 He could only gaze his gratitude, 
 admiration, and wonder. U I never 
 tease her when she is studying a 
 new part," he explained ; " she is 
 much too sensitive to be able to do 
 good work under the stress of an- 
 noyance. And to a woman of her 
 nervous temperament a small fret is 
 more distressing than a serious 
 
IIO A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 calamity : her patience is too 
 mighty for trivialities. Paper boats 
 cannot sail in the north wind ! " 
 He smiled, and was evidently fully 
 alive to what the world called the 
 cussedness of the divine Sophia : 
 only he did not call it cussedness ; it 
 was to him the last magnificent 
 touch to her colossal spirit. 
 
 a But when do you try her 
 patience ? " said Lady Hyde-Bas- 
 sett. " If every woman of genius had 
 such a husband ! I do not wonder that 
 she worships the ground you walk 
 on : that is a secret which she cannot 
 keep. Oh, when a man is unselfish, 
 no woman not even the best can 
 compare with him. Splendid ! 
 splendid ! I have only known one 
 man like you, and that was Sir 
 Benjamin. v The sudden remem- 
 brance of her own desolation was so 
 afflicting that her eyes filled with 
 tears. 
 
 " Do not mention us in the same 
 breath," said Wrath; "you know 
 what I think about him." 
 
 It had been his appreciation for 
 Sir Benjamin which had assailed 
 her heart so perilously in what we 
 may call the If period. "It is such 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. Ill 
 
 a comfort to me," she said, "to 
 know that at least one of my hus- 
 band's friends had some conception 
 of the man apart from his attain- 
 ments. I must have loved him, if 
 he had only been a sausage-seller ! n 
 
 It was, no doubt, very touching, 
 and perhaps an occasion when her 
 ladyship could throw an affectionate 
 glance at her guest with perfect 
 propriety. 
 
 But Sophia, who happened to 
 come into the room at that moment, 
 and who had not heard the pre- 
 ceding remark, did not understand 
 it. 
 
 "Oh," she said, lightly, "I am 
 looking for young Mauden. Such 
 an intelligent boy ! I promised to 
 show him the conservatory." 
 
 Without looking at Wrath or at 
 least, without appearing to look, for 
 we may be quite sure that she had 
 nicely observed every line of his 
 countenance she wheeled round 
 and went out. 
 
 "How lovely she looks in that 
 yellow crepe ! " said Margaret, not 
 enviously, yet with a sigh. " It is 
 nice to be young ! " 
 
 Wrath felt that it would ill be- 
 
112 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 come him to be unreservedly en- 
 thusiastic on the subject, seeing his 
 close relation to the lady. But he 
 walked to the door and watched the 
 incomparable creature sail down the 
 corridor. 
 
 As he went upstairs to dress for 
 dinner, he wondered what he had 
 done to deserve the love of such a 
 woman, and, lest any cynical reader 
 should assume that so excellent and 
 kind-hearted a man was thanking 
 Heaven for a blessing which he did 
 not possess, let us hasten to add that 
 Sophia was no less often astonished, 
 on her part, that she was blessed 
 with such a husband. For, to do 
 her justice, she knew his strength 
 and her own weakness : if he in- 
 dulged her beyond reason, the fact 
 was due to his magnanimity and 
 not her superior will. He might 
 have crushed her but did not. 
 Hence, his charm. 
 
 But on that particular afternoon 
 Sophia's heart was usurped by feel- 
 ings very unlike gratitude : vague 
 anger, clear discontent, and mother- 
 less desperation the three witches 
 of a woman's soul were doing their 
 best to work mischief. To be sus- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 13 
 
 picious of Margaret was unfriendly ; 
 to distrust Wrath was something 
 not very far removed from base so 
 kind a husband, so devoted a lover, 
 so upright a man yet she could 
 not forego the luxury of a grievance. 
 Besides, in spite of all argument, 
 common sense, and justice, she really 
 was jealous. 
 
 Why should her husband paint 
 Margaret Hyde-Bassett as the Ma- 
 donna, and why should Margaret 
 Hyde-Bassett roll her eyes at Wrath ? 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SHOWING HOW SOME VERY NECES- 
 SARY INFORMATION MAY SEEM 
 LIKE A DIGRESSION. 
 
 1>T is an obvious truism that 
 love in all human rela- 
 tions is, in the very 
 nature of things, selfish ; 
 those who love unselfishly 
 only do so by living in 
 a state of constant warfare with 
 their meaner instincts. The natural 
 desire is to absorb every thought 
 and moment of the loved being ; to 
 begrudge every interest, and dislike 
 all things and anything which 
 would seem to distract the You from 
 incessant dependence on the Me. 
 This is the undisciplined, raw 
 desire : many conquer it Wrath, 
 for instance ; more, like Sophia, do 
 not. 
 
 Yet she was not an exacting 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 1 5 
 
 woman the self-repression was by- 
 no means all on his side : she 
 suffered her husband's interest in 
 his pictures with silent heroism ; 
 she often remained away from his 
 studio lest she should interrupt his 
 work ; she concealed many of her 
 professional worries for fear of 
 causing him needless anxiety for a 
 creature so wayward and naturally 
 heedless of others, her thoughtful- 
 ness where he was concerned was 
 even pathetic. But it is only one 
 more paradox from that nest of 
 paradoxes the human heart that 
 only love is strong enough to sub- 
 due love, and affection had worked 
 its great miracle in Sophia's wilful 
 nature. When Wrath was in ques- 
 tion she was capable of any sacri- 
 fice, could have made herself as 
 though she was not, would have 
 renounced all things and followed 
 him gladly did he wish it into 
 obscurity and the suburbs. It was 
 because she honestly believed that 
 his social position would suffer if 
 their marriage were made known, 
 that she pretended to hold such 
 eccentric and unfeminine views on 
 the subject of a fair name. How 
 
Il6 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 the poor creature winced and ached 
 under the looks and whisperings 
 she daily noted and overheard, it 
 would be impossible to say. A 
 woman who is really living an 
 immoral life always feels, like a 
 condemned criminal, that the ver- 
 dict is, if hard to bear, certainly 
 just. But to Sophia, conscious of 
 her innocence and only too proud 
 to be the wife of the man she loved 
 and honoured above all others, the 
 mud pellets aimed at her reputa- 
 tion, stuck like knives in her heart. 
 That she was suffering for an 
 absurd reason has nothing to do 
 with it : death in grotesque cir- 
 cumstances is none the less death, 
 and the martyr to a fool's cause is 
 still a martyr. As we have said 
 before, it is the heart that makes 
 the occasion. 
 
 It had transpired, after Wrath was 
 elected a Royal Academician, that 
 his family was most distinguished : 
 his uncle the Cabinet Minister, his 
 cousins the Wrath-Havilands of 
 Wrath, his mother's aunt, the 
 Marchioness of Welby, and his 
 connections, the Granville- Coxes of 
 Somerset, to say nothing of his 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 117 
 
 step-brother, General Gorm-Gorm, 
 and his step-sister-in-law, Lady 
 Gertrude Gorm-Gorm, &c, &c. 
 To Wrath himself the whole thing 
 was too ludicrous to be contemp- 
 tible, but Sophia poor Sophia 
 was undeniably impressed. The 
 early teaching of a certain excellent 
 governess, whose papa was a retired 
 colonel, had done its work, and the 
 gods of Sophia's childhood, (be- 
 ginning with a Duke and ending 
 with a Chancery Barrister), re- 
 mained her gods, although she had 
 seen their altars destroyed, and them- 
 selves profanely called humanity. 
 She would not have it said, that 
 Wrath had married beneath him ; 
 she could not see the Duchesses who 
 now flattered him, presently shoot- 
 ing cold glances because he had 
 married an actress. Possibly Sophia 
 did not reason without syllogisms, 
 although the word itself would have 
 caused her considerable alarm. 
 
 Her fight for success, (and she did 
 not wake up one morning to find 
 herself famous she had served her 
 dreary apprenticeship with the rest), 
 had been waged more in the hope 
 of making herself, at least in some 
 
Il8 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 small degree, his intellectual equal, 
 than because she had great ideas 
 about Art, or a longing for public 
 applause. She loved her profession, 
 of course, and would have been an 
 accomplished actress had she never 
 known Wrath for talent does not 
 rest on the accident of forming a 
 certain friendship or meeting such 
 and such a person, but he was her 
 audience, the historic one in a vast 
 multitude, whom every artist singles 
 out as the critic of all others to 
 please. If Wrath approved of her 
 performance all was well ; but if he 
 found fault, not all the praises of the 
 world could have given her the en- 
 couragement she needed. Perhaps 
 this was not as it should be from an 
 aesthetic point of view, but Sophia's 
 art was not the result of cultivation 
 but instinctive : she was, in fact, most 
 artistic when she was least scholarly. 
 The poet Gray once wrote of a 
 tragedy that Aristotle's best rules 
 were observed in it, in a manner 
 which showed the author had never 
 heard of Aristotle. Miss Jenyns's 
 acting had the same unpremeditated 
 excellence. The polite world, how- 
 ever, was doing its best to make her 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 119 
 
 think that her readings were the 
 result of laborious thought, that 
 she spent hours over the nice lifting 
 of an eyelid and devoted months 
 to the right inflexion of a syllable, 
 but Wrath, with his usual bluntness, 
 having declared that M all such 
 twaddle made him sick," she dared 
 not assume prodigious airs in his 
 presence. But she found it humili- 
 ating to reflect that she had so very 
 little to do with her own ability 
 that she was, after all, a sort of 
 puppet controlled by an invisible 
 power, who made her do wonderful 
 things when she thought she was 
 simply acting on a chance idea. 
 
 Now young Mauden, fresh from 
 Oxford, with much learning and no 
 wisdom, with Plato in his brain, the 
 Odyssey next his heart, and Aristo- 
 phanes in his portmanteau Mau- 
 den, who could find the whole of 
 Aristotle in a pause, was exactly the 
 sort of clever youth to persuade a 
 fresh woman into a dull pedant. 
 Already, after one conversation with 
 De Boys on the Irony of Shake- 
 speare contrasted with the Irony 
 of Sophocles, a brief discussion on 
 the respective characters of Lear 
 
120 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 and CEdipus, with hints at Dumas, 
 so local but so witty, and Augier, 
 whose humour deserted him in a 
 big situation, Sophia was beginning 
 to feel, that Wrath as a dramatic 
 critic lacked culture : he talked too 
 much about work and common 
 sense, and not enough about the 
 True, the Universal, and Objectivity. 
 Yet he, too, was an Oxford man, 
 and well read : so differently do 
 men apply their knowledge. 
 
 And here let us judge kindly of 
 Sophia ; she had been much spoiled, 
 she was young, beautiful, and had 
 great talents. For even less cause 
 many poor mortals have been led 
 into vainglory, and have suffered 
 much vexation of spirit. She had 
 not yet that great gift of self- 
 knowledge which, though a painful 
 blessing, is still our greatest and 
 the one to be prayed for beyond 
 all others ; for the man who knows 
 himself in all his great imperfections 
 and small virtues, suffers more under 
 praise than he ever could under 
 censure which, at worst, can only 
 remind him of what his too-willing 
 conscience has forgotten. 
 
 We have said that when Sophia 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 121 
 
 left the music-room she was, in 
 spite of all reason and duty, jealous ; 
 it followed therefore that her vanity 
 was all the more sensitive. The 
 long glance of reverential but in- 
 tense admiration which fell from 
 the fine eyes of Mr. De Boys 
 Mauden, when she met him in the 
 conservatory, warmed her chilled 
 soul. She smiled divinely, blushed 
 celestially, and murmured, for no 
 earthly reason, u I am late ! M 
 
 De Boys, reconsidering the meet- 
 ing afterwards, wondered how he 
 found strength to resist the impulse 
 to cry out "Jane!" and kiss her. 
 Her likeness to Jane Jane, whom 
 he passionately worshipped, and 
 whom, in all devotion, he hoped to 
 make his adoring wife was too 
 bewildering. 
 
 It is just possible that Odysseus 
 would have gone to greater lengths 
 than the faithful Penelope, on the 
 reasonable argument of a strong 
 resemblance. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SHOWING HOW TRAGEDY IS NOT 
 ALWAYS IN FIVE ACTS. 
 
 >ISS ELIZA BELLAR- 
 MINE, all this time, was 
 sitting in front of the 
 looking-glass in her bed- 
 room, wondering whether 
 her eyes showed the 
 effects of weeping. She wept so 
 seldom that when she did, her face 
 for some time afterwards would be 
 irresistibly suggestive of the beach 
 after a storm. 
 
 11 It is hard," she said, staring at 
 herself, " that one woman should 
 have so much, and another, nothing. 
 Who could blame Wrath ? " 
 
 From which the intelligent reader 
 will at once gather, that the learned 
 and austere Miss Bellarmine had 
 bestowed her heart on one who 
 had never sought it : on one who 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 23 
 
 she had just learnt was the hus- 
 band and the devoted husband of 
 another woman. So strange is the 
 feminine mind, that while she had 
 quailed under the gossip which 
 associated Wrath and Sophia in a 
 more than charitable alliance, her 
 position did not seem quite desper- 
 ate. He would arise one day, assert 
 his higher self, and cast about him 
 for chaste society, coupled with 
 moderate charms. But now O 
 heavy fate ! this could not be : he 
 had married the daughter of Heth. 
 
 Eliza had not the temperament 
 of those who consume with idleness 
 and call it hopeless passion ; her 
 love was wholesome and honest, 
 and worked for good, not evil. She 
 was only too well aware that she 
 had no smallest claim on Wrath's 
 consideration : he had given her no 
 encouragement indeed, it would 
 have been hard to find a man who 
 had less of the drawing-room gallant 
 in his manner with any woman. 
 So marked was his deficiency in the 
 elegant art of disrespectful atten- 
 tions that many fashionable ladies 
 declared they could not endure the 
 rude monster, and were he not 
 
124 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 supposed to be wonderfully clever, 
 (although they could see nothing in 
 his pictures), they would never 
 even notice the wretch. Eliza, 
 therefore, like many of us in un- 
 happy circumstances, had only her 
 own foolishness to blame, and that 
 she knew this was not the least 
 bitter of her several pangs. But 
 already she had put Wrath out of 
 her heart for all time. 
 
 M Never, never, never, never ! " 
 This was her solemn incantation, 
 and lo ! even as she spoke the only 
 romance of her dull life shivered, 
 sobbed, and vanished. She could 
 have cut off her hand with the 
 same unhesitating precision had 
 it seemed necessary. But such 
 triumphs, whether over the will or 
 the body, are not cheaply won : 
 decisive moments are not realised 
 by time, and what is done in sixty 
 ticks of the clock the soul must 
 remember or regret for eternity. 
 
 Eliza, having mastered a great 
 situation in her life, was only 
 conscious that she felt much older 
 and very tired. She bathed her 
 eyes, ordered herself some tea, and 
 bat down to read Arckenholz on 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 25 
 
 Christina of Sweden four porten- 
 tous volumes which she had chosen 
 from Sir Benjamin's library as 
 light, yet useful reading. And 
 although it might have been more 
 dramatic if she had indulged instead 
 on a long soliloquy on the hollow- 
 ness of life, the injustice of God, 
 and so on, there are those who 
 might think it was more heroic to 
 blow her despised nose and study a 
 tedious historian. 
 
 Half an hour later when Eliza 
 entered the drawing-room she dis- 
 covered Wrath and Lady Hyde- 
 Bassett playing chess, and Sophia, 
 (who hated games of every descrip- 
 tion), engaged in a most animated 
 conversation with De Boys Mauden. 
 No one seemed to notice her en- 
 trance except Margaret, who gave 
 her a swift smile and indicated with 
 her eyes a new book on the side- 
 table, as much as to say, " That will 
 interest you more than either of 
 these men." Eliza sighed, but drifted 
 towards the volume. Literature 
 was still her friend. 
 
 " How I should like to paint her 
 as St. Martha," said Wrath, in a 
 
126 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 low voice to Lady Hyde-Bassett ; 
 u she has just that expression of 
 kind, yet terrible energy St. Martha 
 must have had ! " 
 
 44 How a love affair would im- 
 prove her ! " said Margaret ; u every 
 woman should have at least one 
 love affair." 
 
 44 But she is a nice creature," 
 said Wrath. " I am very fond of 
 her. She is a good but inaccessible 
 angel." 
 
 14 1 am going to marry her to 
 Claverhouse Digges," said her lady- 
 ship, confidently, " I shall arrange 
 it all next autumn ! " 
 
 Artistic chess is a game beyond 
 the petty restrictions of science. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHICH INTRODUCES A DOWAGER AND 
 A PEER. 
 
 ^HE Dowager Countess of 
 Warbeck awoke one 
 morning at eight o'clock 
 and discovered that she 
 could not fall asleep again. 
 She rang for her maid, 
 complained that she had passed an 
 extremely bad night (for she usually 
 slept till nine), and arose from her 
 bed. 
 
 11 Will your ladyship have break- 
 fast earlier than usual?" said the 
 maid. 
 
 14 No," said her ladyship, who did 
 not feel hungry ; 44 but tell Dawson 
 to sound the gong for prayers at 
 half-past eight." She therefore put 
 her bad night to excellent account 
 by reading her assembled house- 
 hold three lessons instead of one. 
 
128 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Would that all good Christians 
 killed their time with so much 
 profit to others ! 
 
 When the domestics had solemnly 
 filed out of the big dining-room, 
 the Dowager turned to her grand- 
 son the one prop of her declining 
 years with an air of almost tragic 
 appeal. 
 
 " I suppose," she said, " I must 
 go to Brentmore and see this 
 Battle or Cattle person ? " 
 
 " It would look more friendly, if 
 you did," said her grandson, " but I 
 have no wish to urge anything of 
 the kind upon you, if you feel un- 
 equal to it." 
 
 " I never allow myself to feel un- 
 equal to a duty, Warbeck. But the 
 position is heart-breaking." 
 
 The position which her ladyship 
 found so distressing was briefly 
 this : she had been the second 
 wife of the 14th Earl, by whom 
 she had one son, the father of the 
 present Warbeck. The late Earl, 
 however, had had four other sons 
 by his previous marriage, the 
 youngest of whom : (Edmund), he 
 had disowned for maYrying a yeo- 
 man's daughter. "Not" to detain the 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 29 
 
 reader with tedious particulars it 
 will be sufficient to say that Destiny 
 had played many sad and unlooked- 
 for tricks with the three elder sons 
 and their children, and now, with 
 the not uncommon irony of human 
 affairs, Jane Shannon, the daughter 
 of the cast-off Edmund, was heiress 
 to the great estate. The Dowager's 
 grandson had the peerage, but the 
 cream of the property the famous 
 " Drawne acres " of that Anne 
 whom we mentioned in the first 
 chapter had fallen to Jane, No 
 wonder the Countess could not 
 sleep for bitterness of spirit, and 
 no wonder Warbeck was leaving 
 England that very morning for the 
 Continent. 
 
 11 After all these thousands of 
 years, to see a Warbeck reduced to 
 poverty ! " groaned the Dowager 
 u I repeat, poverty ! Heversham 
 Place is the sort of residence for 
 a superior cottage hospital, and 
 Graylands is only fit to let to some 
 American, or to a Colonial. You can- 
 not possibly live there. No Earl of 
 Warbeck has had his foot inside it 
 since 1550. Drawne estates, indeed ! 
 Who would have heard of them if 
 
130 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Anne Drawne had not married a 
 Shannon ? Who fought for them, 
 bled for them, died for them ? No 
 Drawnes, but the Earls of Warbeck. 
 And now this Cattle person is to 
 have them all and Grosvenor 
 Square, too ! " This was her mag- 
 nificent manner of referring to the 
 town mansion, as though only one 
 house in London could justly claim 
 that address. " Grosvenor Square, 
 too," she repeated ; " and you with 
 no roof over your head. Fifteen 
 thousand a year. What is that ? 
 Far more than you need f It is not 
 a question of need ) it is a ques- 
 tion of what you require what is 
 decent. And as for calling this Cattle 
 
 person, Lady Jane " Words 
 
 failed her. 
 
 Her grandson smiled patiently : 
 he knew this harangue by heart. 
 But he never permitted himself 
 even in solitude to fall below the 
 Stoic ideal. He wore a hair-shirt 
 under his fine linen, and took his 
 rule of life from Sir Thomas More, 
 but, unlike that saint, he suffered 
 religious doubts. It was said that 
 if he had written something touch- 
 ing against Christianity, or some- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 131 
 
 thing pretty about Moll Flanders, 
 he would have been a Superior 
 Person. But Superior Persons do 
 not wear hair-shirts. There are 
 good men who yet bear on their 
 countenance the scars of many 
 battles lost and won ; their know- 
 ledge of good is ever shadowed by 
 their knowledge of evil ; they are 
 all things to all men that they may 
 by all means save some. But 
 Warbeck was not of these. Sir 
 Launcelot may have died an holy 
 man, but Sir Galahad lived holily 
 also. It was the latter knight who 
 had most fired the young peer's 
 imagination. His was no self-con- 
 scious virtue, however ; at times he 
 even affected airs of worldly cynicism 
 which reminded his grandmother of 
 the Miltonic Archangel who tried 
 to explain heavenly mysteries in 
 earthly language and blushed red 
 in the attempt. He was, too, a 
 powerful fellow no weakling, who 
 made a virtue of debility, but a man. 
 " What a fish for the Church ! " 
 said a bishop, who had his eye upon 
 him. 
 
 Warbeck had all that longing of 
 a strong nature to help some one 
 
132 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 to feel that he was of some use in 
 the world ; and he would have 
 undergone any suffering or hardship 
 if he had once persuaded himself 
 that his pain would promote 
 another's peace. But to suffer to 
 110 purpose ; to study for hours 
 with no other desire than the accu- 
 mulation of barren knowledge ; to 
 pour weak advice into unwilling 
 ears ; to offer dumb praise to a 
 deaf God ; to spend his time, as a 
 witty philosopher has said, milking 
 a he-goat into a sieve these were 
 things he could not do. He knew 
 that he was considered promising 
 by those friends whose judgment he 
 could not choose but value, and 
 his University career had more than 
 fulfilled their expectations. Yet the 
 self-distrust was there a haunting 
 thought lest, in the end, he would 
 not only disappoint those who were 
 dear to him on earth, but that 
 possible God who had a way of 
 asserting His authority in the form 
 of a still, small conscience. Youth 
 is naturally impatient, and is not 
 content to remain blind for even 
 three days like St. Paul, nor can 
 young enthusiasm believe readily 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 33 
 
 that those also serve who only stand 
 and wait. The impulse is to rush 
 into the fray, to kill or be killed, 
 but both or either without loss of 
 time or hindrance. Vanity, too, 
 and ambition, no less than a zeal of 
 serving the Almighty and humanity, 
 may have something to do with the 
 fierceness of this desire, so easy is it 
 to flatter the soul that the glorifica- 
 tion of self is all to the glory of 
 God. These and similar thoughts, 
 while they restrained Warbeck from 
 any active participation in public 
 affairs, were silently working for 
 good, strengthening his judgment, 
 and giving him some insight into 
 his own heart and human perplexi- 
 ties. He would know his work in 
 due season ; but the time was not 
 yet come. Already he had heard 
 the whispers of a calling, though 
 the voice was dim and far off, not 
 yet to be perfectly known. So he 
 tried to be patient. 
 
 When the Countess of Warbeck's 
 carriage drove up to M Up-at- 
 Battle's" that same afternoon, 
 (Brentmore is about three hours* 
 railway journey from London), 
 
134 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Miss Caroline was what she called 
 turning out the sitting-room. Both 
 she and her niece had dusters pinned 
 round their heads, and wore big 
 aprons. Although the preceding 
 night had brought a lawyer's letter 
 telling Jane of her extraordinary 
 change of fortune, she had not 
 realised its full meaning nor, in- 
 deed, had Miss Caroline. They 
 were both simple-minded beings, 
 and had been brought up to think 
 that their daily tasks must be per- 
 formed, even though the heavens 
 were falling. It was the day for 
 the parlour, and though Jane had 
 inherited all England, the room had 
 to be swept and garnished by some 
 one, and as Jane was on the spot, 
 she was, of course, the some one to 
 doit. 
 
 Jane opened the door herself, and 
 found the footman standing almost 
 gingerly, as though he were treading 
 on very doubtful substance on the 
 front step. 
 
 11 Is Miss Battle at home ? " said 
 he, saying Battle with difficulty, for 
 his tongue did not take kindly to 
 trashy syllables. (The Dowager 
 had made up her mind that she 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 135 
 
 would first ask to see the aunt, and 
 thus avoid the unspeakable Lady 
 Jane Shannon. u Fiddle-de-dee on 
 courtesy ! M she had told her grand- 
 son.) 
 
 The footman assisted his aged 
 mistress out of the carriage with 
 respectful sympathy. 
 
 " Have I the pleasure of address- 
 ing ? M began Lady Warbeck, 
 
 feeling for the first time in her life, 
 and very much against her will, that 
 it is not the apron which makes the 
 servant. 
 
 " I am Jane," said the girl ; "will 
 you come into the kitchen, for the 
 sitting-room is full of dust ? n 
 
 The Countess, in spite of her 
 eccentricities, was a well - bred 
 woman one who had travelled 
 much, observed much, and read 
 much. She was, too, so absolutely 
 sure of her own excellent social 
 position that she suffered none of 
 those fears so common to mushroom 
 nobility, lest she might not be taken 
 for the exalted being she was. She 
 could, if necessary, adapt herself to 
 any scene or any society ; she did 
 not look less a countess because 
 she sat in a kitchen. Good breed- 
 
136 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 ing does not require a background. 
 She always held, however, that 
 nervousness in her august presence 
 showed very proper feeling, so she 
 looked at Jane very hard for seem- 
 ing so unembarrassed. Jane met 
 her look modestly, and with the 
 respect which instinct taught her 
 was due to one who was so many 
 years her senior, but with no more 
 fear than if her great relative had 
 been as her ladyship wrote to 
 Warbeck " a tabby cat on a 
 wall. ,, 
 
 Miss Caroline appeared from the 
 scullery, where she had been wash- 
 ing her hands, and greeted her 
 visitor with much old-fashioned 
 grace, but, it must be owned, little 
 style. That is to say, she neither 
 tittered nor stared, nor assumed an 
 unnatural voice, but spoke and 
 acted exactly as she always did when 
 there was no one in sight and hear- 
 ing save Battle and Jane. 
 
 " I suppose," said Lady Warbeck, 
 when she had learnt that they were 
 both quite well and did not find the 
 weather trying " I suppose you 
 are making your preparations to 
 come up to town. But Grosvenor 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 137 
 
 Square is a little sombre just at 
 present." 
 
 " It must be dreadful," said Jane, 
 with much sympathy, "so soon 
 after a death." 
 
 11 Shocking ! n said her ladyship 
 11 Shocking ! It has been a matter 
 of national regret ; the Queen sent 
 me three telegrams." 
 
 Their thoughts were disjointed 
 and confused ; these three wonder- 
 ing women one young, two simple, 
 and one neither young nor simple 
 had all kind hearts, although 
 education, experience, and rank 
 had set very different seals on 
 each. 
 
 Miss Caroline looked at the 
 Countess, and saw more than an 
 elderly lady in a bonnet and mantle. 
 
 "Poor thing ! " she said, and her 
 honest eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Lady Warbeck did not know how 
 to explain that by no possible effort 
 of her imagination could she think 
 of herself as a Thing. So she pre- 
 tended not to hear. 
 
 " I cannot yet trust myself to 
 speak of these painful events," she 
 went on. " I hope I am resigned. 
 'Man that is born of woman ' 
 
138 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 It is not for us to question the in- 
 scrutable decrees of Providence." 
 Then she turned to Jane. "It 
 would give me much pleasure if you 
 would spend a week or so with me, 
 and I think, in the peculiar circum- 
 stances, it would be the most proper 
 course to pursue." 
 
 "I think so too," said Miss 
 Caroline. "I have been worrying 
 ever since last night when we 
 heard because I knew no one who 
 could really advise her and tell her 
 just what to do. Girls are so 
 thoughtless." 
 
 M So much depends on one's 
 bringing-up," murmured her lady- 
 ship. M I daresay you are looking 
 forward with immense delight to 
 your future life, and your first 
 season, and your new frocks, and so 
 on ! " (The Dowager was most 
 serious when she seemed flippant.) 
 
 Jane had all a girl's love for 
 beautiful clothes, and already she 
 had certainly dreamt of a heavenly 
 gown, soft-hued, with straight back 
 seams and a train. She had also 
 designed a black silk dolman for 
 her Aunt Caroline. She therefore 
 blushed a little at Lady Warbeck's 
 
A VTUDY W TEMPTATIONS. 1 39 
 
 question, and owned that she had 
 thought of ordering a new dress. 
 
 M Can you return with me to- 
 morrow ? " said Lady Warbeck, ven- 
 turing a smile ; M there are a great 
 many tiresome legal matters to go 
 through, but our man of business 
 he will be yours as well now," she 
 added, with a sigh the sigh was 
 absolutely necessary u is most con- 
 siderate. Everything, no doubt, 
 will adjust itself in the most satis- 
 factory manner." 
 
 As a matter of fact, she began to 
 see possibilities as many and great 
 and tall as the Anakims. Warbeck, 
 happily, was still unmarried. . . . 
 She had decided that Jane only 
 needed to have har hair done pro- 
 perly, and to be generally over- 
 hauled by a good maid. For the 
 rest, she was even pleasing ; she 
 was uncommon, and uncommon 
 girls were in demand ; that was why 
 those Americans married so well. 
 
 M You must keep your delightful 
 country ideas," she said, pleasantly, 
 remembering Lord Warbeck's love 
 of the unaffected. "I hope London 
 will not make you cynical. Men 
 hate cynical girls." 
 
140 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 "Why should London change 
 her ? " said Miss Caroline, wonder- 
 ing whether " cynical " was a new 
 epidemic : something of an asth- 
 matic nature. 
 
 "Well, I hardly know how to 
 explain, " said the Countess. " It is 
 one of those things one takes for 
 granted. " 
 
 Miss Caroline looked anxiously at 
 Jane. Everything in the nature of 
 change alarmed her. 
 
 " Do you think," she said, at last, 
 "that London will be good for 
 Jane ? " 
 
 "London is very healthy," said 
 Lady Warbeck. " My doctor tells 
 me that even the fogs are whole- 
 some if your lungs can stand 
 them." 
 
 "It is not the fogs I fear," said 
 Miss Caroline, " it's the folk." 
 
 " The folk ? " said Lady Warbeck, 
 " the folk ? I understand. I know 
 very little about them. They keep 
 in the East End. Once or twice 
 my dear stepson lent them Gros- 
 venor Square for a meeting. But 
 we were all out of town at the 
 time." 
 
 " Aunt Caroline calls everybody, 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. I4T 
 
 folk," explained Jane, colouring in 
 her effort not to laugh. 
 
 14 Really ? " said the Countess. 
 11 Of course there is no such thing 
 as everybody that is a newspaper 
 vulgarism. One is either a some- 
 body or a nobody irrespective of 
 rank or profession. The next best 
 thing to a somebody, is a nobody in a 
 good set ! " 
 
 She smiled as she spoke, for there 
 were few pleasures she enjoyed so 
 much as expounding the truths 
 that be as she understood them. 
 Had she been born in a humbler 
 sphere she would, no doubt, have 
 been the principal of a ladies* col- 
 lege. Women who possess what 
 Mr. Joe Gargery called a " master 
 mind/' like to manage men, but they 
 like to manage other women still 
 better : it is a greater triumph 
 from an artistic point of view. Lady 
 Warbeck promised herself unalloyed 
 joy in directing the unsophisticated 
 being Heaven had dropped in her 
 way. 
 
 She had to endure several pangs, 
 however, as she drove to the hotel, 
 (where she was spending the night), 
 for she could not persuade herself 
 
142 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 that because Jane was unassuming 
 she was necessarily meek. And 
 meekness in a protegh is an essen- 
 tial, if one is to be a patroness with 
 any degree of comfort or satisfac- 
 tion. The Dowager was by nature 
 a kind woman. If she was ap- 
 proached with what she considered 
 proper respect, she was often found 
 even heroic. She would put her- 
 self out to do amiable things : she 
 arranged meetings between people 
 who wanted or were wanted to 
 make each others acquaintance ; she 
 found berths for younger sons ; she 
 assisted mothers with their daugh- 
 ters ; she begged unscrupulously 
 from the rich ; she pushed young 
 talent (she encouraged all the arts) ; 
 she recommended governesses, and 
 dressmakers, and orphan homes, and 
 hospitals, and hotels, and deserving 
 cases indeed, to sum up her virtues 
 in a sentence, she never missed an 
 opportunity of doing something to 
 her credit. And now she had taken 
 a fancy to Jane which was the 
 highest possible credit to both of 
 them. For her ladyship had good 
 taste and was not easily satisfied. 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 43 
 
 11 The child is neither good form 
 nor bad," she wrote to Warbeck. 
 " She is no form at all, and would 
 be called original. (I do not mean 
 that she swears like Lady Bun- 
 tynge.) She is very innocent, and 
 has, I assume, no accomplishments. 
 But really, dear, I cannot help 
 thinking that is an advantage. 
 Nowadays every one wants to per- 
 form and no one will listen, and a 
 nice quiet girl who can merely 
 appreciate would be much sought 
 after. She must take up some 
 serious interest, and I shall advise 
 Greek it is better than philan- 
 thropy, because it does not let 
 one in for bazaars. I shall also 
 urge the engagement of a governess- 
 companion that sweet, lady-like 
 person whom the dear Baroness was 
 telling me of would be just the 
 creature. In appearance your 
 cousin (for she is your cousin, after 
 all) is most pleasing, her features 
 and bearing reminded me in the 
 most painful manner of your grand- 
 father." {The deceased peer in 
 question had been distinguished for 
 his moral rather than his physical 
 charms. His wife, however^ may 
 
144 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 have discerned him spiritually^) 
 " Imagine my boundless relief to be 
 so agreeably disappointed. She is 
 much handsomer than Tunborough's 
 scraggy Lady Marian. Bye the bye, 
 I hear that Lady Marian's photo- 
 graphs are for sale in all the shop- 
 windows, and that they sell better 
 than those of that Granada person, 
 who has such line legs and jumps. 
 Lady Dundry, Marian's godmother, 
 is so upset about it that she has 
 turned Roman Catholic, Poor 
 dear ! " (Lady War beck divided 
 the human race into dears, poor 
 dears, and persons.) u I will write 
 more fully in a day or two, but 
 remember that I am getting old and 
 cannot be with you much longer. 
 44 Your affectionate grandmother, 
 
 " A. Warbeck." 
 
 " That little hint about my age," 
 she thought, " will bring him home 
 at the end of the month." 
 
 And she slept more soundly that 
 night than she had for many weeks. 
 
 Jane, on the morrow, when she 
 found herself actually seated in the 
 train and gliding out of the little 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 45 
 
 station at Brentmore, hardly knew 
 whether to laugh or cry. She had 
 not shed tears over her parting with 
 her grandfather and Aunt Caroline, 
 for she was coming back to see them 
 again so shortly, and they had both 
 seemed in such good spirits at her 
 wonderful fortune. (Fortunately, 
 Jane was not hard to deceive, for 
 neither old Battle nor his daughter 
 were adepts at concealing their 
 emotions.) But now she felt lonely ; 
 the Countess had warned her that 
 she always slept when she was 
 travelling, and never attempted to 
 talk, so Jane stared out of the win- 
 dow, and found her only comfort in 
 thinking that now she was rich she 
 could send De Boys anonymous 
 bank-notes and so enjoy the rare 
 distinction of helping a genius. 
 For she no longer thought of him 
 as her lover : a very dear friend, 
 that was all, a sort of relation, 
 almost a brother but more inte- 
 resting. If he ever married and 
 had children she would be their 
 godmother and try to like his wife. 
 She might also build him a church, 
 and in the meantime she would do 
 all she could for poor Mr. O'Nelli- 
 10 
 
146 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 gan, the curate, who had been his 
 tutor. 
 
 When she thought of herself she 
 was at once both eager and fearful 
 to learn what the Future would be : 
 as if there is not always still another 
 Future when one Future has be- 
 come a Past to fear and yet rush 
 into ! Her personal experience of 
 the world was slight to the point of 
 nothingness, but from a long course 
 of incessant and unsystematic read- 
 ing she had gathered such a variety 
 of (more or less uncertain) know- 
 ledge, from metaphysic to the 
 Greek drama, that she was, as she 
 told her aunt, prepared for any- 
 thing. In imagination, she had 
 walked in courts and market-places, 
 in ancestral halls and suburban 
 villas ; poets, scholars, and wits 
 were her constant companions, not 
 to mention kings and archbishops ; 
 for one accustomed to such company, 
 the Dowager Countess of Warbeck, 
 and even a row of flunkies, had no 
 terror. When she saw the big 
 drawing-rooms at Queen's Gate (the 
 Dowager's town residence) she 
 thought that the kitchen at Up-at~ 
 Battled was more cheerful. Even 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. I47 
 
 the piano, which had ebony legs 
 and was elegantly draped in an 
 Indian shawl, seemed to cry out for 
 a sympathetic touch. Jane in her 
 grey alpaca felt very sorry for it. 
 Lady Warbeck had been fully pre- 
 pared to see her trip over the rugs, 
 slide off the brocaded chairs, and 
 dazzled by the unaccustomed splen- 
 dour of her surroundings. It was 
 disappointing in some respects that 
 she did not, yet, on the whole, satis- 
 factory. 
 
 " To-morrow," said her ladyship, 
 M I suppose you would like to see 
 Grosvenor Square ? " 
 
 11 Any day you think best, grand- 
 mama ! " said Jane. 
 
 The Dowager had told her that 
 she preferred this mode of address. 
 But, as her maid told the house- 
 keeper, " Her lad'ship was not born 
 yesterday she knew what she was 
 about, bless you ! " 
 
 "Trust her," said the housekeeper, 
 " she's got the brains of the whole 
 fam'ly ; she'll marry Lady Jane to 
 his lordship mark my words ! " 
 
 Thus profanely do hirelings dis- 
 cern the hidden motives of the 
 mighty. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN WHICH A YOUNG GENTLEMAN DE- 
 FINES DUTY AND OTHER UNCER- 
 TAINTIES. 
 
 |IVEN two young people, 
 idleness, and a week, and 
 the sum total is Folly ; 
 add the artistic tempera- 
 ment and a pretty gift 
 for philosophic discussion, 
 and you get Sympathy ; multiply 
 by a sound knowledge of the Classic 
 amorists, and the result is Romance. 
 De Boys had been at The Clois- 
 ters one week when he received 
 tidings of Jane's altered position. 
 He felt at once that whatever hopes 
 he had formed with regard to their 
 marriage, would now be idle, nay, 
 more presumptuous. Such in- 
 stant surrender, it may be, showed 
 modesty and good taste, but for a 
 lover he was, perhaps, resigned too 
 141 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 49 
 
 soon. Resignation is an heroic 
 virtue, but it best displays its spirit 
 after a sharp tussle with despair. In 
 this instance, however, it seemed as 
 though the two giants had merely 
 yawned at each other. Mauden had 
 not the smallest doubt of his great 
 love for Jane, notwithstanding he 
 wrote so seldom and a cold tone 
 had crept into her replies all that 
 sort of thing could be put right in 
 a single interview, when the time 
 came for a serious understanding, 
 or, at least, it might have been put 
 right, if she had not inherited this 
 beastly money and the beastlier 
 title. He had already made up his 
 mind not to enter the Church, and 
 had his eyes fixed on a professorial 
 chair. Professor Mauden and Lady 
 Jane Mauden did not, in his opinion, 
 sound well. By a confusion of ideas, 
 too, Jane Shannon seemed the sha- 
 dow and Sophia Jenyns the reality, 
 and while he composed his pretty 
 speeches to Jane, he rehearsed them 
 (with appropriate expression) to 
 Sophia. It must be remembered, 
 he was quite unaware that the 
 actress was Wrath's wife. 
 
 Wrath had begun his Madonna, 
 
150 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 and when he was not painting, he 
 would sit in rapturous thought. 
 The Madonna, too, not to speak 
 irreverently, had Margaret's nose 
 and Sophia's nose had a far finer 
 shape than Lady Hyde-Bassett's. 
 Sophia shed bitter tears over the 
 agonising pettiness of the whole 
 trouble ; but, in the first place, she 
 was feeling ill, and secondly, as she 
 told herself, straws show which way 
 the wind blows. That her husband 
 made his picture like Margaret, 
 against his will indeed, uncon- 
 sciously was a significant and ap- 
 palling fact : his very St. Joseph had 
 a look of her. Yet Wrath fondly 
 imagined that his work was purely 
 ideal, flatly opposed to realism, all 
 composed from the unearthly ma- 
 terial of his religious instinct. These 
 reflections and a constant headache 
 were as frank in their villainy as the 
 stage-direction " Enter, attendant, 
 with two murderers.' ' No creatures 
 for compromise, these ! 
 
 Sophia was strolling in the garden 
 with De Boys one afternoon, and 
 found herself thinking that love was 
 a mistake it made one too un- 
 happy ; friendship, on the other 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 151 
 
 hand, was soothing and agree- 
 able. 
 
 * Social conventions/ 7 De Boys 
 was saying, "are the greatest nui- 
 sance. I would banish them with 
 a fiery sword. There were none 
 such in the Garden of Eden ! n 
 
 11 Ah, but in the Garden of Eden 
 there was only one woman ! " sighed 
 Sophia. 
 
 "Why," he said, in an injured 
 voice, " do you always pretend to 
 be so cynical ? I do not see why we 
 cannot go back to to the sort of 
 existence I mean the idyllic and 
 perfect state of Adam and Eve 
 before the Fall. Merely viewed 
 as a philosophical experiment it 
 might at least be attempted. If it 
 proved successful, it would en- 
 courage others M 
 
 " But if it failed " said 
 
 Sophia. 
 
 He cleared his throat. "You 
 must let me translate for you some 
 tremendous passages from the 
 'Phaedrus,'" he replied. "Plato 
 deals with the whole question as 
 only a poet can for he was a poet. 
 And I think you will say with me 
 that it is a poet's subject ; its philo- 
 
152 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 sophy is not of this world, but is, as 
 it were, a figure of the True, and 
 musical, as is Apollo's lute. I can- 
 not agree with Browning when he 
 speaks of 
 
 " ' The heroic for earth too hard, 
 The passion that left the world to lose itself 
 in the sky.' 
 
 Why give so much consolation to 
 those who have failed to realise their 
 ideals who have merely aspired, and 
 utter no word of praise to those who 
 have actually attained to Higher 
 Things? All the teaching of the 
 present day seems to assume that 
 no man or woman ever yet accom- 
 plished a purpose, or thoroughly be- 
 lieved in anything or anybody ! " It 
 is so delightful to be young, and 
 long-winded, and able to believe, at 
 least, in oneself ! " A hero, nowa- 
 days," he went on, " need not fight : 
 he has only to say he would like to 
 fight if he could ! " 
 
 "You have so much moral cou- 
 rage," said Sophia, "and I have 
 none ! " 
 
 " If I may say so, I think you are 
 the most courageous woman I have 
 ever met. You have not only the 
 power to Will but to Do." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 53 
 
 u I fear you are mistaken. I have 
 too much Do and too little Will if 
 you understand me." 
 
 " A little impulsive, perhaps." 
 
 11 1 can only resist one impulse by 
 yielding to another," said Sophia. 
 "I know my own character too 
 well. I need a restraining force." 
 
 De Boys drew himself up, and 
 would have made a fine allegorical 
 study for any of the heroic virtues. 
 
 a You," he said, u may need a 
 restraining force in the same way 
 that a highly poetical imagination 
 requires discipline : noble desires 
 and fine thoughts must not be 
 wasted on that l chartered libertine/ 
 the air." The breeze stirred a mad- 
 dening curl which fluttered on the 
 nape of Sophia's neck, and the 
 young man sighed. So far, air had 
 the advantage of philosophy. 
 
 11 A woman like you," he said, u so 
 extraordinarily gifted I speak quite 
 impersonally might do so much by 
 refusing to accept the low standard 
 of existing morality. We want some 
 beautiful and witty saint : what 
 Wrath might call l a saint in draw- 
 ing. 1 It is such a cruel wrong to 
 give people the idea that only sin- 
 
154 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 ners are amusing or good-looking. 
 There is sublime beauty, no doubt, 
 in the mere expression of a pure- 
 minded being : but when a fine 
 spirit is set in fair material, and she 
 can flavour her chaste conversation 
 with Attic salt, her influence must 
 undoubtedly cover a larger field 
 than if she looked dowdy and talked 
 banalities. And, I take it, a woman 
 who did not accept life in its vanity, 
 would find no possible pleasure in 
 the adornment of her own person : 
 she would simply regard it as a duty 
 which she owed to society one 
 which, I think, would come under 
 the head of honouring the king ! M 
 
 Sophia felt her enthusiasm rising 
 towards sainthood : De Boys had a 
 perfectly charming view of moral 
 obligations. 
 
 "You think," she quavered, "it 
 is a duty to try and look decent ! " 
 Two hours and a half spent over her 
 toilette that morning needed some 
 slight justification. 
 
 De Boys's eyes wandered over her 
 face and figure. 
 
 "Unquestionably," he said, with 
 what resembled, but was not, calm- 
 ness ; " unquestionably, a duty." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 55 
 
 " How," said Sophia, u should one 
 begin if one wished to rebel against 
 existing low standards of morality ? " 
 
 11 By the silent but convincing 
 force of example," he replied " by 
 your actions." 
 
 "What kind of actions?" she 
 asked. u You know I have " 
 she blushed " a soup kitchen." 
 
 Delicious simpleton ! and with it 
 all, a genius ! 
 
 11 Soup kitchens," he said gravely, 
 11 are excellent ; but, morally speak- 
 ing, they do not convey anything 
 but soup." 
 
 Their eyes met, and the result was 
 a duet in laughter. 
 
 14 You shall not make fun of me," 
 she said at last. 
 
 u Make fun of you ! As if I could 
 make fun of you ! " 
 
 "I often laugh at myself," she 
 said. " I am always ridiculous ; even 
 when I am unhappy I am perfectly 
 absurd. All my tragedy is in my 
 acting ; my real life is a burlesque." 
 
 a But when are you unhappy?" 
 he said, in a voice of unfeigned con- 
 cern, and with a fierce glance at the 
 imaginary offender. u When are 
 you unhappy ? " 
 
156 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 " Often," said Sophia ; " in fact, 
 always. I am so tired of being 
 treated like a buffoon ! Even Wrath 
 himself even Wrath, my first and 
 dearest friend " she paused. 
 
 " Of course," said De Boys, swal- 
 lowing envy, hatred, malice, and all 
 uncharitableness at one gulp, "he 
 must be your dearest friend." 
 
 " All my life," she faltered " all 
 my life my friend ; but even he 
 tells me that I act well only because 
 I must. And is not that in itself 
 sufficient to prove that he regards 
 me as an irresponsible being a 
 marionette with a faculty of speech ? 
 I know my words are often very 
 silly, but my thoughts are terribly 
 serious. Oh, if he knew how 
 serious ! " 
 
 De Boys himself was surprised at 
 her change of manner although it 
 had never occurred to him that she 
 was absolutely flippant. He had ex- 
 plained away her whimsicalities and 
 nonsense as the vagaries of genius. 
 What would have looked like af- 
 fectation in a woman of common- 
 place attainments, seemed, at least, 
 pardonable in one who had so many 
 atoning qualities ; she was not, how- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 157 
 
 ever, attractive because of her foolish- 
 ness, but in spite of it. Young and 
 inexperienced as Mauden was, he 
 felt all this no less than the middle- 
 aged Wrath, who had loved Sophia 
 too long, and loved her too deeply, 
 not to love also with wisdom. The 
 difference between these two men 
 the one who loved her and the one 
 who thought he loved her was 
 shown in the fact that, while Wrath 
 helped her, as delicately as he could, 
 to overcome her faults, Mauden en- 
 couraged them. Yet such is the 
 contrariety between effects and in- 
 tentions, that neither Wrath nor 
 Mauden, nor, be it said, any human 
 creature, could give Sophia the one 
 thing needful peace of heart. She 
 chafed alike under praise or blame : 
 no one understood her, no one knew 
 what she really meant or realty 
 wanted ; even her nearest, best, and 
 dearest misconstrued her ten times 
 a day. 
 
 " If he only knew," she repeated, 
 11 how serious I am ! w 
 
 u You must remember," said 
 Mauden, "there are a great many 
 years between you ; Wrath pro- 
 bably regards you still as a small 
 
158 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 child. It was and is exactly the 
 same in my own home : my uncle 
 the kindest and most generous man 
 in the world never can understand 
 that my days for leading-strings are 
 past." 
 
 Sophia caught her breath : De 
 Boys had plucked up the very root 
 of the matter. She was no com- 
 panion for Wrath : he thought her 
 too young perhaps she wearied 
 him, just as children occasionally 
 tire even the fondest of their rela- 
 tives. It was only natural that he 
 should find Margaret Hyde-Bassett's 
 society so pleasant : they were 
 nearer in years, they had both lost 
 their sensitiveness to mere impres- 
 sions, and were now rather re-colour- 
 ing their old experiences than 
 gaining fresh ones. 
 
 " I never thought of that before," 
 she said, " but now you speak of it, 
 I see the reasonableness of the idea. 
 It explains everything." 
 
 "But," said De Boys, "we are 
 both young : we can never seem 
 children to each other. We both 
 know that we are responsible beings, 
 that we are masters of our fate : that 
 we are under the law of liberty." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 59 
 
 " Masters of our fate," repeated 
 Sophia ; " do you believe that ? " 
 
 14 How can I disbelieve it," he 
 said, " when I live and have the evi- 
 dence of each day to convince me." 
 
 Sophia turned her face towards 
 him. " Tell me," she said, "what I 
 must do. I am tired of thinking. 
 The world seems so unreal some- 
 times, and words and people and 
 things lose all meaning. But I 
 could be obedient, I could do what 
 
 I was told, and I think I could be 
 happy that way. I want to escape 
 from my own commands : I I am 
 too merciless a tyrant." 
 
 14 Sophia ! " said Mauden. He 
 had never called her Sophia before : 
 it was a great step for him, but she 
 was too preoccupied to notice it. 
 
 II Sophia," he said, again, f can we 
 not both be obedient to our best in- 
 stincts ? can we not follow them 
 together ? " 
 
 " What are they ? " said Sophia ; 
 " and can we trust them ? " 
 
 Before he could reply the sound of 
 Wrath's deep, rare laughter came 
 through the windows which opened 
 on the lawn. Was it thus that 
 Madonnas were painted ? 
 
l6o A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 "Finish," said Sophia, turning 
 pale " finish what you were going 
 to say when he laughed." 
 
 " I think I could write it better," 
 said De Boys. 
 
 " Do you, too, write ? " she said. 
 u A a friend of mine had a friend 
 who never told her anything, but he 
 wrote beautiful letters oh, such 
 letters ! and then he would walk up 
 and down the room while she read 
 them." Her head drooped and her 
 voice trembled ; these reminiscences 
 were heart-breaking. u But," she 
 said, looking up, " you are not at all 
 like the man who did that : you are 
 quite quite different. I should have 
 thought you could have spoken out." 
 
 M I can," cried De Boys, on his 
 mettle "I can ! I will, now that 
 you have told me I may." 
 
 " Of course you may" said Sophia, 
 M because my knowledge of you as- 
 sures me that you will not say any- 
 thing silly. I mean something 
 which ought not to be said or 
 written." 
 
 " Friendship," said De Boys 
 " perfect friendship casteth out fear. 
 Between friends there ought to be 
 no dread of giving offence." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. l6l 
 
 " N no ! " said Sophia ; " but 
 at the same time we must not 
 think that our friends are the only 
 people we can treat rudely, and with 
 unkindness." 
 
 H Unkindness ! " said De Boys. 
 11 How can you so misunderstand 
 me!" 
 
 M I was not thinking of you," she 
 said. ''At that moment I had 
 other friends in my mind women 
 friends." 
 
 This was only a half-truth, 
 and it flashed across her mind 
 that it was not easy to be saintly 
 even in the course of a most inno- 
 cent conversation : one could lie in 
 all circumstances and for the most 
 trivial reason indeed, for no reason 
 in the world. 
 
 u The ideal union," began De 
 Boys " the union we have already 
 discussed " 
 
 " The Before-the-Fall ideal," she 
 said quickly. " I know." 
 
 " Why could not we would you 
 be willing I should say would 
 you mind very much being called 
 my wife ? " 
 
 " My dear De Boys ! " she mur- 
 mured, with maternal pity and 
 
1 62 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 affection "My dear De Boys" 
 and she looked at him, smiling 
 helplessly " My dear De Boys ! " 
 
 Anything more chilling to lover- 
 like aspirations is not to be ima- 
 gined. Long years afterwards the 
 echo of that motherly " My dear De 
 Boys ! " could bring an east wind on 
 the warmest day. 
 
 "It is my turn," he said, hotly, 
 u to be treated like a buffoon when 
 I am serious ! n 
 
 " Don't say that," said Sophia ; 
 " but but the idea startled me!" 
 
 " Is that all ? " he said, eagerly ; 
 M because, in that case, you might 
 become accustomed to it." 
 
 "First," she murmured, at last, 
 " let us clearly understand what the 
 idea is." 
 
 " We should remain, just as 
 we are friends," said the young 
 man, "only truer friends than the 
 world understands by the term ; 
 but, as a concession to propriety, we 
 would go through the ceremony of 
 marriage. It it is rather difficult 
 to explain in detail : the ideal never 
 does lend itself to definition ! " 
 
 " There would be no love-making 
 nothing silly," said Sophia, " no- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 63 
 
 thing commonplace, and ridiculous, 
 and domestic ! " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 "Then," said the lady, "suppose 
 we tried it for a little before we 
 actually bound ourselves by any re- 
 ligious and legal form ? M 
 
 He saw immediately the countless 
 advantages of this suggestion, and, 
 as they unrolled themselves he grew 
 pale at the ^advantages of his first 
 plan. It is the memory of peril and 
 not peril itself which is so appalling. 
 De Boys looked back at the last ten 
 minutes as he might have glanced 
 at a thunderbolt which had missed 
 him by an inch. 
 
 M We must, of course, do nothing 
 rash," he said, u because rashness 
 would mar the harmony of the 
 action. To do things decently and 
 in order is the very rhythm of exis- 
 tence." 
 
 " I will think it well over," said 
 Sophia, " and let you know my de- 
 cision on Monday ; but until then 
 do not refer again to the subject. If 
 we talk, it must be as though tjhis 
 conversation had never taken place." 
 
 14 But on Monday," said De Boys, 
 " I must leave." 
 
164 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 " Then," said Sophia, calmly, i( I 
 will tell you in good time, so that 
 you may make the necessary pre- 
 parations whether I have decided 
 to accompany you." 
 
 " But," he stammered, " might 
 not that look odd ? Your guardian 
 
 "I am not Wrath's ward," she 
 said ; " I am my own mistress. 
 Leave everything to me." 
 
 A long silence followed : they 
 sauntered, one of them quite blindly, 
 towards the house. 
 
 "I fancy," he said, "I heard the 
 dressing-gong." 
 
 Sophia thought, that although he 
 was a better conversationalist than 
 Wrath he did not wear so well : 
 two hours seemed to exhaust the 
 fund of his ideas. Now Wrath 
 could maintain an interesting silence 
 from year's end to year's end. 
 
 " Oh ! the difference of man and 
 man ! " 
 
 Gentler ladies than Goneril have 
 had occasion to utter the same 
 lamentation. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN WHICH ANOTHER YOUNG GENTLE- 
 MAN DEFINES DUTY. 
 
 ^fHE Dowager Countess of 
 - Warbeck found Jane more 
 interesting each day ; she 
 was so quiet in manner, 
 so sweet - tempered, so 
 thoughtful, so sensible 
 in fact, the Dowager's letters to her 
 dear friends the Marchioness of 
 Dayme and the Lady Dundry, were 
 always overweight during that 
 period. Her notes to her grandson, 
 however, were brief, telling much 
 of her own ill-health and very little 
 of Jane. The Countess never made 
 the fatal mistake of supposing that 
 the rest of mankind were fools, and 
 she alone had wisdom ; she gave 
 every creature credit for a certain 
 
 i65 
 
1 66 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 amount of perception and a great 
 deal of cunning. For this reason 
 her machinations usually proved 
 successful. She was extremely care- 
 ful not to drop a word which might 
 excite Warbeck's suspicion of her 
 darling scheme ; she even wrote 
 him a glowing account of a new 
 dtbutante who, she declared, had 
 exactly the kind of beauty he 
 admired. Her heart swelled with 
 a diplomatists pride when she 
 received a telegram from the young 
 peer announcing his sudden return 
 to England. "Let him once see 
 Jane/' she thought, " and the rest 
 is inevitable." 
 
 In the meantime, his portrait, 
 (painted by Wrath,the Academician), 
 was placed in a better light, and 
 Jane was occasionally reminded that 
 although the work in question was 
 an excellent likeness, it did not do 
 the original full justice. M No 
 artist," said the Dowager, u could 
 ever catch his smile ! '? 
 
 " He is certainly very handsome," 
 said Jane. " Grandfather's nephew," 
 she added, after a little pause, " is 
 also handsome. The one, you 
 know, who is so clever and who is 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 67 
 
 now at Oxford. Would you like to 
 see his photograph ? " 
 
 "I would," said her ladyship, 
 drily. To her horror, Jane un- 
 fastened her gown at the throat and 
 displayed a small locket and chain. 
 She opened the locket and handed 
 it, with a blush, to her grandmama. 
 
 44 Not a bad-looking person for his 
 kind," said the Dowager, M not at all 
 bad-looking. He has a look of 
 Spence " (Spence was the head 
 footman). M I am sure he is most 
 worthy. But I would not wear him 
 in a locket ! It might give stupid 
 people the idea that you were in 
 love with him and there are so 
 many stupid people ! Besides, if it 
 came to his ears he might think 
 the same thing. Young men are so 
 conceited." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Jane, "I should not 
 like him to think that. I I do 
 not see how he could. He he 
 isn't conceited, and and he is not 
 a bit like Spence ! " 
 
 " My dear," said her ladyship, 
 " what would you say yourself, if 
 you saw a young girl wearing a 
 man's photograph on her neck ! It 
 is not maidenly in fact, with no 
 
1 68 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 desire to hurt your feelings, it is 
 immodest. I appreciate your childish 
 and innocent sentiment in the matter 
 affection and gratitude are always 
 charming, even when sadly mis- 
 placed ; but you are no longer a 
 little girl running wild in the fields. 
 The only person you could wear in 
 that fashion would be your husband, 
 or, in conceivable circumstances, 
 your future husband. But as you 
 have neither one nor the other at 
 present, it is more seemly that your 
 neck should be unfettered. Enjoy 
 your liberty while you may." She 
 smiled her sweetest and the 
 Dowager could smile like an angel 
 when she chose but Jane sighed. 
 The chain, however, and the photo- 
 graph were slipped into her pocket ; 
 she could not be immodest, and, no 
 doubt, her grandmama had spoken 
 sound sense. 
 
 " Play me that exquisite Presto" 
 said the Countess. " I doat on 
 Beethoven when he escapes from 
 that terrible diddledy - diddledy- 
 diddledy in the bass. The Brent- 
 more person really taught you ex- 
 tremely well. Take it at a good 
 pace.' , 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 69 
 
 One has not much time to muse 
 on the absent if one is playing a 
 Presto, and an active lady marks 
 the time with her cane. 
 
 Warbeckwas expected to luncheon 
 that same day, and the Countess 
 had given orders that he was to be 
 shown into the library, as she wished 
 a few moments' private conversation 
 with him. Jane, therefore, was 
 half-way through the Presto when 
 his lordship's arrival was announced. 
 
 " Don't stop playing, my dear," 
 said the Dowager. " I so like to 
 hear music in the distance." 
 
 Then she went down to her 
 grandson. 
 
 The young man came forward as 
 she entered the room, and seemed 
 surprised, delighted, and relieved to 
 see her walking. 
 
 11 You must be much better," he 
 said ; " I have been so anxious about 
 you. I hardly dared hope that you 
 were even on the sofa ! " 
 
 M I am almost myself, dear," said 
 his grandmother. " I began to 
 improve from the instant I received 
 your telegram. Sir Claretie says 
 he considers my recovery a miracle. 
 But you are not looking well." 
 
170 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 He was thinner and paler than 
 he had been a fortnight since, and 
 had, in some way, a new expression, 
 an even greater seriousness of 
 manner. 
 
 " You have something on your 
 mind," said her ladyship, suddenly ; 
 " you are going to tell me that you 
 are engaged ! M 
 
 Warbeck smiled, but shook his 
 head. " Cherchez la femme is such 
 stale doctrine," he said. 
 
 u There is no newer doctrine for 
 the old Adam ! M said the Dowager ; 
 u but if there is no woman in your 
 news, then it has something to do 
 with religion. Do not say that you 
 have been reading Hooker, and 
 Laud, and the rest of them, and 
 have become High Church ! M 
 
 "I read Hooker and Laud long 
 ago," he said, " but I am not a High 
 Churchman." 
 
 11 Then," she said, " you are a 
 Higher Pantheist. Oh dear ! " 
 
 11 To save you further suspense," 
 he said, " I am still nothing. But 
 I have joined a Celibate Brother- 
 hood." 
 
 The Countess did not look shocked, 
 but her aspect was certainly grave. 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 171 
 
 u It means, of course, the end of 
 everything from an ambitious point 
 of view," she said, slowly. 
 
 "I think," said Warbeck, "it 
 means the beginning of everything 
 from the only point of view worth 
 considering." 
 
 " Quite so," said her ladyship 
 11 quite so. But there is neither 
 wisdom nor virtue in renouncing 
 marriage unless you fully realise 
 what marriage is and what it has to 
 offer. In my opinion it is far more 
 difficult to be a married saint than 
 a saint in the cloisters ; Bishop 
 Taylor has pointed this out with 
 much eloquence. Do you think 
 you will never wish to marry ? M 
 
 Warbeck laughed with the buoy- 
 ancy of a mortal who has never 
 loved. Before he could reply, the 
 Countess checked him. 
 
 " I see," she said, " you know 
 nothing about it. I should feel 
 better satisfied if I knew that you 
 had had some romantic experience. 
 Because if it does not come early 
 it will come late. And then 
 what trouble ! I have seen such 
 unhappiness come of people as- 
 suming that because they never 
 
172 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 have cared for any one, they never 
 will." 
 
 14 You see," said Warbeck, serenely, 
 " if a man knows that he is under a 
 vow of celibacy the question of sex 
 becomes a dead letter. A woman 
 is merely an individual ! The effect 
 of a vow is almost miraculous." 
 
 The Countess groaned. " The 
 great thing," she said, M is to be 
 saved from oneself, and oneself so 
 easily passes for a great conviction ! 
 See how many young people gabble 
 off the marriage vows : and their 
 effect is by no means miracu- 
 lous." 
 
 "Well," said Warbeck, naively, 
 "when you consider what a large 
 proportion of humanity take them, 
 you must admit that, on the whole, 
 they observe them very faithfully. 
 Society is so small and the world is 
 so large, one must look at the 
 marriages of the world." 
 
 " This brotherhood," she said, 
 " this society, or whatever it is, you 
 have joined, is not, I understand, 
 religious ? " 
 
 If it was not religious, she 
 thought, one could wriggle out of 
 its ridiculous regulations, and even 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 73 
 
 if it was, one could, in an emergency, 
 change one's religion ! She was a 
 lady who only considered impedi- 
 ments for the purpose of destroying 
 them. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Warbeck, u its 
 work is purely secular. Dawes, of 
 Balliol, founded it you know 
 Dawes, of course ? " 
 
 " Dawes ? " said the Countess. 
 u Do you mean the person who lives 
 at Shoreditch and writes to the 
 Times about the Athenian Demo- 
 cracy ? n 
 
 Warbeck nodded his head. M He 
 is a tremendous swell," he said ; " he 
 is the sort of genius who lives in 
 seclusion and animates a great pub- 
 lic movement. There must always 
 be a grand character of that kind, 
 who can despise fame and use am- 
 bitious men as tools." 
 
 11 Dear me ! M said the Dowager ; 
 M so you, I presume, are in this Mr. 
 Dawes's tool-basket?" 
 
 This was not the way to express 
 an unselfish young man's devotion 
 to a noble cause ; he felt this, and 
 was deeply hurt. 
 
 " If you like to put it that way," 
 he said, flushing a little, "yes I 
 
174 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 am in Dawes's tool-basket. I hope, 
 however, it is not because I am 
 vulgarly ambitious. I only wish to 
 perform my highest duties in the 
 best way. My only object in taking 
 the vow was this to serve the 
 public well one should have no 
 private interests. In any great 
 governmental crisis one is too often 
 reminded of the man in the parable 
 who had married a wife. It is time 
 some one realised, that self-sacrifice 
 is the only sure foundation for 
 permanent success." 
 
 " H'm," said the Dowager ; " very 
 high-minded and most interesting. 
 But the British Constitution does 
 not present any opportunities for 
 martyrdom ; at present, no politician 
 can be offered a worse humiliation 
 than a peerage! But that is bad 
 enough, I admit. I have once or 
 twice thought very seriously of 
 dropping my title ; it has lost all 
 meaning, and now it is so much 
 more distinguished to be a com- 
 moner ! But come, I want to 
 introduce you to Jane. She will 
 be charmed with your views ; she, 
 too, is full of heroic nonsense " 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 75 
 
 Jane was still playing when the 
 Dowager and Warbeck came upon 
 her. 
 
 " This," said the Dowager, " is 
 your cousin Warbeck." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IN WHICH A LADY SPEAKS HER 
 MIND. 
 
 )HEN Warbeck dropped 
 his cousin's hand, he gave 
 a half-sigh. He never 
 shook hands with either 
 men or women when he 
 could possibly avoid it: 
 he regarded the act as a sign of 
 friendship or affection not one to be 
 heedlessly given. This idiosyncrasy 
 had made him many enemies, but 
 enemies so created are not to be 
 greatly feared. 
 
 Jane's hand was one of her 
 charms ; it was white, delicate in 
 shape, and, what was more, firm, 
 and, what was more than all, very 
 womanly. It seemed made to bestow 
 blessings. Warbeck was extremely 
 sensitive to moral atmosphere : 
 some people made him choke, 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. I 77 
 
 others gave him new life. He was, 
 therefore, quick to appreciate the 
 young girl's grace and purity, and 
 to appreciate her was to remember 
 his vow. So he half-sighed. 
 
 Jane was already what she had 
 promised to be when De Boys left 
 Brentmore a girl of singular beauty. 
 She had all the brilliance without 
 the self-consciousness of Sophia 
 Jenyns, and for that reason she was, 
 perhaps, less striking at first sight. 
 Sophia never permitted herself to 
 escape attention. Jane did not care 
 whether she was noticed or ignored ; 
 she knew that she was far from 
 plain, (for the pretty girl who is 
 ignorant of her own comeliness does 
 not exist), but since she had resolved 
 not to think of De Boys as a lover, 
 she had lost all interest in her ap- 
 pearance. At one time, certainly, 
 she had longed to find favour in his 
 sight and so, no doubt, had sent 
 many foolish wishes after the 
 perishable and fleeting attractions 
 of feature and complexion. But 
 this was a weakness of the past 
 she would never be so vain again 
 ah, never ! At the same time, when 
 she saw her new cousin, she was 
 
178 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 rather glad that she happened to 
 be wearing her most picturesque 
 gown. 
 
 But in spite of the agreeable im- 
 pression each had produced on the 
 other, the Dowager found them 
 both very dull during luncheon. 
 War beck talked on prosaic subjects 
 and rarely addressed himself to Jane. 
 The Countess observed, too, with 
 consternation, that he never once 
 looked at his cousin, but kept his 
 eyes fixed on his plate. She had 
 never seen him so stupid. As for 
 Jane, her shyness was most natural 
 and becoming ; she was a girl who 
 could hold her peace without sink- 
 ing into inanity. It was Warbeck 
 who caused her ladyship uneasiness. 
 Like most determined women she 
 could only be discouraged by time 
 by the wearing off of enthusiasm, 
 mere facts could not shake her pur- 
 pose, nor opposition, her courage. 
 The shortest-lived of her projects at 
 least died a natural death, and was 
 immediately succeeded by a direct 
 descendant. Having made up her 
 mind that Warbeck's marriage with 
 his cousin j ane should take place in 
 the autumn, her ladyship regarded 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 79 
 
 his celibate vow as a mere piece of 
 foolery ; it had absolutely no bear- 
 ing on the matter in point. But 
 why was he so depressing in his 
 manner ? Had he no eyes ? no ears ? 
 no taste ? no manliness ? With all 
 his heroics had he so little of the 
 hero that he remained like a stock 
 or a stone in the presence of girl- 
 hood and beauty ? If this was the 
 influence of Dawes of Balliol, the 
 sooner that person was given a 
 colonial appointment the better. 
 He was not wanted in London. 
 
 When luncheon was at an end, 
 Jane was obliged to leave them, as 
 she had an engagement to drive in 
 the Park with another new relation 
 a lady who need not detain us, 
 since she was only remarkable for 
 her visiting list. Warbeck coloured 
 a little when he wished Jane good- 
 bye. " I am afraid, too/' he added, 
 u we shall not meet again for some 
 time. As my grandmother is so 
 much better, I shall return to 
 France to-morrow." He held the 
 door open for her, and again half- 
 sighed, as, having wished him a 
 pleasant journey, she passed out. 
 
 M Warbeck ! M said the Dowager, 
 
l8o A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 " surely you do not mean that ? 
 You are not going away again ? n 
 
 u I have a great deal of work on 
 hand," he said, with some awkward- 
 ness. M I am preparing one or two 
 speeches and a short pamphlet, and 
 I find I get fewer interruptions in 
 Veronne. It is such a dull little 
 village. There is only one man 
 there I can talk to Pere Villard, 
 the historian. And he is also there 
 for quiet, so we only meet to argue ! " 
 
 M But," said her ladyship " but 
 what do you think of Jane ? " She 
 could scarcely conceal her impatience. 
 
 "Your letters," said War beck, 
 after some hesitation, " had given 
 me no idea but I have exchanged 
 so few words with her. I certainly 
 did not expect to see so so tall a 
 girl ! " 
 
 Lady Warbeck had frequently ob- 
 served that a man's language be- 
 came ambiguous as his sentiments 
 grew unmistakable. She gathered 
 fresh hope. 
 
 M I wonder you think her plain ! " 
 This was a stroke of genius. It 
 surprised him into candour. 
 
 "On the contrary, I think her 
 lovely." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. l8l 
 
 " H'm ! But she is not silly with 
 it she is most intellectual." 
 
 11 I am sure of it." 
 
 The Dowager looked at the ceiling. 
 At some moments one can claim 
 sympathy even from the inanimate. 
 
 " She will no doubt marry very 
 well." 
 
 The young man frowned. M She 
 is so young yet," he said. " Do not 
 let her make any rash engagement, 
 if you can possibly keep her free. 
 It is so easy to bind oneself, and 
 and so impossible to escape the con- 
 sequences. I mean, a promise may 
 be made in all sincerity and after 
 the most serious consideration, yet 
 
 without fully realising " He 
 
 paused. " I am only saying this," 
 he said, at last, " because a girl takes 
 so much risk even in the most 
 favourable circumstances when she 
 marries. Her very innocence is, in 
 a measure, against her." 
 
 u It seems to me," said the Coun- 
 tess, drily, " that innocence is against 
 a great many people." 
 
 M Not a great many, my dear 
 grandmother," he replied, with equal 
 dryness. He got up from his chair 
 and walked to the window. Jane 
 
1 82 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 at that very moment came out of 
 the house and stepped into the 
 carriage. He watched her drive 
 away. 
 
 " Yes," he said. " I can work 
 much better at Veronne." 
 
 The Countess began to wonder 
 whether a celibate vow might not 
 be a more calamitous invention than 
 she had at first suspected. 
 
 " Warbeck," she said, M you will 
 surely think better of of this 
 arrangement you have made with 
 Dawes ? " 
 
 " Think better of it ! n he repeated. 
 " The time for thinking about it is 
 past. It is now an accomplished 
 fact. My word has been given." 
 
 " But I am certain you will 
 regret " 
 
 " It is not a step I would ever 
 allow myself to regret, nor would I 
 place myself in a situation where I 
 might be even tempted to regret it. 
 I made it with the full knowledge 
 that it might possibly involve some 
 slight self-sacrifice. Dawes has been 
 through the mill : he was most 
 careful not to conceal any probable 
 difficulty." He spoke firmly and 
 fixed his eyes on hers with an 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 183 
 
 expression which she recognised as 
 the family stubbornness. 
 
 " Ah," said the Countess, quickly, 
 " you think it would be safer to 
 avoid your cousin Jane. That is 
 why you are going back to Veronne ! ' J 
 
 u What an absurd idea," said her 
 grandson. "You must think me 
 very susceptible." 
 
 11 The Shannons are all alike," 
 said her ladyship ; "they are icebergs 
 to all women till they meet the right 
 one. And then they melt at a 
 glance. Look at Jane's father 
 poor Edmund. He saw this Battle's 
 daughter hanging clothes on a line, 
 and fell in love with her on the 
 spot. Nothing would make him 
 reconsider it ; his obstinacy was 
 simply criminal. But in your case 
 matters are very different. Jane is 
 desirable from every point of view ; 
 there is no reason " 
 
 14 There is every reason," said the 
 young man, " why we must change 
 the subject. You must forgive me, 
 but I cannot discuss it further." 
 
 u I will speak my mind," said 
 the Dowager. " You are ruining 
 your whole life for a whim a fad 
 a piece of arrant coxcombery. It is 
 
184 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 not even religious you have ad- 
 mitted as much. What can I call 
 it, then, but affectation ? In a year's 
 time less you will be ashamed 
 to remember it. But in the mean- 
 while " 
 
 "In the meanwhile," said War- 
 beck, M I can at least be honourable. 
 And now I think we have talked 
 enough, my dear grandmother. You 
 will be very tired." 
 
 " Tired ? I am perfectly ill. You 
 have given me my death-blow ! " 
 She sank back in her chair, and 
 was evidently far from well. War- 
 beck knelt down by her side and 
 took her hand. 
 
 M You would not have me behave 
 dishonourably," he said ; "you don't 
 seem to understand. It it is not 
 always so easy to do one's duty ; 
 is it fair to make it harder ? But 
 it must be done in any case." 
 
 " Duty ! " she said, peevishly. 
 11 It will soon be heroic to wear no 
 collar ! Foppery ! twaddle ! That 
 a man in your position, with your 
 responsibilities, with an unblemished 
 title to support, should stoop to 
 such indecent, mawkish, hysterical 
 balderdash I It is scandalous ! " She 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 85 
 
 sank back again, but summoned her 
 remaining strength for one last 
 blow. " I have lived too long ! n 
 
 " You are very cruel. ,, 
 
 u I have lived too long ! " she 
 repeated. 
 
 " In a calmer moment, you will 
 see how you have wronged me ! " 
 
 M Too long." 
 
 " Shall I ring for your maid ? " 
 
 He was really alarmed she had 
 changed so much in the last ten 
 minutes. 
 
 M Twenty maids could not help 
 me ! Warbeck you have not 
 meant what you have been 
 saying ? M Her voice was weak ; 
 she looked a very old and very feeble 
 woman. And he loved her dearly. 
 11 Tell me you did not mean it," 
 she repeated. 
 
 " I meant it," he said. " I must 
 always mean it." 
 
 " But in the circumstances," she 
 gasped, " this Dawes he would 
 absolve you from your promise." 
 
 " Dawes!" said Warbeck. "I 
 do not make vows to Dawes nor 
 swear by Dawes. As I have said, 
 you do not understand how ex- 
 tremely serious a vow of this kind is." 
 
1 86 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 "You distinctly said it had 
 nothing to do with religion/ J she 
 murmured. " How can it be serious 
 when it has nothing to do with 
 religion ? M Her failing eyes were 
 only weak in sight : they could still 
 pierce like needles. 
 
 "I can respect religious scruples,' f 
 she went on, " but I have no patience 
 with any Daweses of Balliols ! It 
 is noble, it is saintly to kill your 
 aged grandmother for a Dawes. 
 You do not believe in a God, but you 
 will ruin your family for a Dawes 
 who lives at Shoreditch ! I am 
 tired of life ! " Once more she 
 bowed her white head. M The 
 country is going to the dogs and 
 Daweses ! " 
 
 * My dear grandmother, will you 
 listen to reason ? M 
 
 "Reason?" she groaned. "Every 
 bone in my body fairly aches with 
 reason. Ring for Coleman, that I 
 may get to bed ! " 
 
 He had his hand on the bell 
 when Jane entered : she had re- 
 turned with some message for the 
 Dowager* When she saw her lady- 
 ship's pallid face and Warbeck's 
 distress she looked from one to 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 87 
 
 the other and grew pale her- 
 self. 
 
 11 Grandmama," she faltered, H , are 
 you feeling ill ? w 
 
 44 He has killed me," said the 
 Countess, pointing to her grandson, 
 14 he has given me my death-blow. 
 I shall never recover." She rose 
 with some difficulty from her chair, 
 and drew herself up to her full 
 height. 
 
 44 Lean on me," said Jane, with a 
 nice disregard of Warbeck. 
 
 "No," said the Dowager ; "hence- 
 forth I lean on no one. My staff 
 has failed me when I needed it most. 
 When I can no longer support my- 
 self, I must fall. Where I fall, 
 there let me lie. Remain where 
 you are, my dear, I will not be 
 followed. Solitude now is my only 
 refuge ! " and this marvellous invalid 
 walked out of the room with grave 
 and majestic steps, leaving Jane and 
 her cousin Warbeck face to face, 
 and alone. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN WHICH ANOTHER LADY SPEAKS 
 HER MIND. 
 
 'ANE was now able to ob- 
 serve the young man 
 more critically than had 
 yet been possible, and the 
 more she observed him, 
 the greater effort it re- 
 quired to maintain her just indig- 
 nation at his conduct. For, of 
 course, he must have behaved most 
 brutally. Had not his too fond 
 grandmother implied as much ? 
 And if she had said so, what could 
 a less partial witness think ? 
 
 11 1 suppose/' said the girl, in a 
 severe voice, " you will at least re- 
 main in London until she is well 
 enough to see you again ? You can- 
 not part like this." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 89 
 
 " It is a most painful misunder- 
 standing," said Warbeck. 
 
 " It is not for me to dictate," said 
 Jane, in a tone of command, M but 
 if it is a misunderstanding you will 
 surely lose no time in making it 
 clear. She is too old for these 
 violent scenes. And she has had a 
 great deal of sorrow and anxiety 
 lately : perhaps she is not so patient 
 as those who are young, and have 
 nothing to worry them but their 
 own want of thought ! " 
 
 This authoritative and elderly 
 tone in one so young and gentle 
 astonished the Earl, no doubt, but 
 he was so far from feeling any 
 resentment, that he experienced 
 some difficulty in hiding his ad- 
 miration. 
 
 11 1 have been trying to make it 
 all clear," he said, quietly, "ever 
 since I arrived this noon. The only 
 trouble is, that she refuses to listen. 
 I have tried to be patient, and I 
 hope I have not spoken harshly. 
 But I must do my duty whether 
 she understands it or not. The 
 quarrel has arisen I fear we must 
 call it a quarrel about a question 
 of duty of honour." 
 
190 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Jane's cheeks began to burn : she 
 feared he might think she was 
 inquisitive. And inquisitiveness 
 was not one of her faults. 
 
 " Please/ 7 she stammered, " please 
 do not M 
 
 But he, too, was sensitive, and 
 had very delicate feelings. 
 
 "I quite understand you," he 
 said ; (( I am only afraid you will not 
 understand me. My dear grand- 
 mother has a genius for misrepre- 
 sentation : she can describe what 
 she sees with perfect truthfulness, 
 but she does not see things as they 
 are. In this particular instance it is 
 most unfortunate. For honour has 
 only one aspect : it is not a matter 
 of opinion, but an incontrovertible 
 fact." 
 
 "But she is so honourable her- 
 self," said Jane, eagerly ; " if you 
 are in the right she must agree with 
 you she must. Are you quite 
 quite sure that you are right ? It 
 is almost as easy to do wrong for a 
 good motive, as to do right for a 
 bad one. There are always so many 
 reasons why we should follow our 
 own wishes." 
 
 " On the whole," said the young 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 191 
 
 man, slowly, " I may say there is no 
 danger of any such confusion aris- 
 ing in this case : it is not a matter 
 where my duty is is perfectly my 
 inclination. If it were not a ques- 
 tion of principle of moral obliga- 
 tion, I I might surrender." 
 
 " May I tell her that you will re- 
 consider it ? " said Jane. " There 
 could be no harm in saying that, 
 because the more you consider what 
 is right, the Tighter it seems." 
 
 " I cannot re-consider it," he 
 answered, looking away "I cannot, 
 indeed ; I only want to forget it all 
 as soon as possible." 
 
 11 Don't be angry with me," said 
 Jane, "but for you that sounds 
 rather rather cowardly. Oh, I 
 ought not to have said that. I do 
 not know the circumstances. I am 
 always saying something thought- 
 less. Indeed, I did not mean it." 
 
 11 You are quite right," he said, 
 u and I am cowardly. But it is one 
 advantage that I know my own weak- 
 ness : I do not attempt feats beyond 
 my strength." Yet he did not look 
 weak, this man with a square chin 
 and a firm mouth : anything rather 
 than weak. Jane was bewildered. 
 
19^ A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 "My grandmother knows my 
 address," he went on ; M but I will 
 find means to hear how she is, 
 even if she does not care to write to 
 me. And and tell her just this : 
 if it were possible to accept her 
 view, I would be more glad than 
 I could say. But we are nowhere 
 taught that duty is invariably 
 delightful. Good-bye." 
 
 " Good-bye," said Jane. 
 
 When she looked again, he was 
 gone. And she was sorry ; for he 
 had a winning countenance. If she 
 had never seen De Boys she would 
 have thought him ideally hand- 
 some. But De Boys was a king to 
 him although he was poor and not 
 a person one might wear in a locket ! 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN WHICH TWO LADIES ACT WITH- 
 OUT THINKING. 
 
 &OPHIA had resolved to 
 make some appeal to 
 Wrath before the decisive 
 Monday, but she could 
 not resolve on a grievance. 
 To assign jealousy as the 
 cause of her discontent was out of 
 the question. And, as a matter of 
 fact, she did not want to analyse 
 her feelings : she feared calmness 
 as fire might dread water. She 
 only cared to survey her imaginary 
 wrongs with a poetic contempt for 
 base details ; she did not choose to 
 torture her heart with questionings, 
 nor demonstrate her husband's 
 innocence by proving herself a fool. 
 So, on Sunday afternoon, she wrote 
 two notes one to De Boys, the 
 other to her husband. 
 
 13 
 
 193 
 
194 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 This was the one to De Boys, 
 which she gave him with her own 
 hands, between the decorous covers 
 of an hymn-book, the same even- 
 ing : 
 
 u You must tell them that you 
 intend to walk to Barnet station 
 early to-morrow morning, and leave 
 by the eight o'clock train. Your 
 portmanteau and things can be sent 
 after you later. This will save you 
 from the breakfast-table and tedious 
 good-byes. I will meet you at the 
 cross-roads, and we can discuss our 
 future plans during the journey to 
 London. Leave everything to me. 
 For the present, of course, you must 
 return to Oxford and complete your 
 education. S. J." 
 
 This was the letter to her hus- 
 band : 
 
 M I have discovered a new mean- 
 ing in life and a new duty. (Never 
 believe that I will disgrace you.) 
 My weakness I had almost written 
 my sin has been my love for 
 yourself. But we were not sent 
 into the world to love. Subjectivity 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 95 
 
 is fatal to Art : all great Art is 
 objective. And love is subjectivity 
 in its lowest phase. I use these 
 philosophical terms because they 
 are convenient, and because they 
 are sufficiently comprehensive to 
 cover all subtle and perhaps 
 agonizing distinctions. I hope 
 the Madonna will prove your 
 greatest work. I will write to 
 Margaret from town. Please tell 
 her this. Your unhappy Sophia. 
 
 " P.S. I shall consult Sir Claretie 
 Mull the moment I reach London. 
 I am perfectly certain that I am 
 consumptive. But do not worry 
 about my health. I feel no pain 
 only a great sense of approaching 
 peace" 
 
 She wept very much over thi3 
 letter, and felt extremely like the 
 heroine of a psychological romance. 
 To complete the illusion she had 
 taken care to attire herself in flame- 
 coloured silk, made a la sainte 
 martyre, with silver cords knotted 
 round her waist, and opals scattered 
 on her breast. She put out the 
 light, and let the moonbeams 
 stream in upon her. It was a 
 
196 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 grand situation. Musing on her 
 own sublimity and suffering, she fell 
 sound asleep on the couch. Fortu- 
 nately, it was in the summer-time. 
 
 When she awoke it was morning 
 Monday morning and half-past 
 six. At that very moment, De 
 Boys, no doubt, was leaving the 
 house. She threw off her garments, 
 plunged in a cold bath, (which, per- 
 haps, was unlike a psychological 
 heroine), and dressed herself in 
 clinging black. A large hat and a 
 thick veil gave the final touches to 
 her unimpeachably correct costume. 
 Any fairly well-read observer would 
 have known at once, that she was a 
 misunderstood and cruelly injured 
 woman, about to elope with her 
 only friend. 
 
 She opened her bedroom door 
 and peeped out : there was no one 
 in sight. The servants, too, even 
 did she meet them, were accustomed 
 to the habits of celebrities on a 
 visit. At The Cloisters nothing 
 was remarkable but the common- 
 place. She passed two maids and 
 an under-footman on her way to 
 the room, which had been tempo- 
 rarily arranged as a studio for 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 97 
 
 Wrath. But neither the maids nor 
 the footman showed the smallest 
 surprise when they saw her. 
 
 Sophia left her letter on the 
 mantelpiece, and fled from the 
 room through the French case- 
 ment. Wrath had done well, she 
 thought, to turn his odious picture 
 to the wall : she could never have 
 passed it else the fascination of 
 recognising Margarets nose was too 
 engrossing. Under its enchantment, 
 hours sped like minutes. 
 
 As she crossed the lawn she cast 
 a glance over her shoulder at 
 Wrath's window. The curtains 
 were not yet drawn : he was pro- 
 bably sleeping sleeping while 
 she 
 
 A sob and then for the cross- 
 roads, De Boys, and the Ideal. 
 
 Miss Eliza Bellarmine, having 
 much to say on the burning ques- 
 tion of Milton's precise meaning 
 when he spoke of a " two-handed 
 engine at the door n (a phrase so 
 beautifully imitated by a modern 
 poet in the striking lines : 
 
 M At the door two hands are knocking 
 Hands of locomotive might "). 
 
198 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Miss Eliza Bellarmine, having 
 much to say on this great matter, 
 had arisen at crack of dawn to com- 
 mit her criticism to foolscap. By 
 half-past seven she had explained 
 Milton for all time, and disposed of 
 his modern imitator as " a person of 
 vigourous imaginative faculty, but no 
 education." Her task finished, she 
 strolled out into the garden. It 
 had been raining during the night, 
 and she found herself observing 
 footmarks on the gravel path. 
 The marks were small, and had un- 
 doubtedly been made by Sophia 
 Jenyns. No one else in the house 
 wore such preposterous French 
 shoes. 
 
 Now Miss Bellarmine was a lady 
 who could put two and two to- 
 gether, and make any required 
 number. She had not been blind 
 to the sympathetic relations which 
 existed between Mr. De Boys Mau- 
 den and Mrs. Wrath. (She was 
 always studiously careful to think 
 of the actress as Mrs. Wrath). As 
 a consequence, she had thought her- 
 self prepared to see footprints 
 anywhere. Eliza had very cynical 
 and, of course, very mistaken ideas 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 1 99 
 
 about the artistic temperament. 
 But in her secret heart, and very 
 much against that grim adviser 
 her better judgment she was 
 strongly attached to the blithe 
 Sophia, and now she saw that the 
 footmarks had their ridiculous toes 
 pointed towards the carriage-drive, 
 she was rilled with an unreasonable, 
 but very real alarm. She hurried 
 into the studio by the same window 
 that Sophia had left it some little 
 time before, and her quick eyes 
 went straight to the letter on the 
 mantelpiece. She read the initials 
 "T. W.," which were written on 
 the envelope in an irresolute, child- 
 ish hand. 
 
 A woman's instinct is rarely at 
 fault ; it is only when she attempts 
 to argue with it that she blunders. 
 Fortunately Eliza trusted her 
 instinct at that particular moment. 
 She knew that De Boys had left The 
 Cloisters that morning and after a 
 somewhat mysterious fashion. Kad 
 Sophia gone with him ? If she 
 had, she would surely repent before 
 she reached London. She had 
 been unusually erratic lately, and 
 Miss Bellarmine held her own pri- 
 
200 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 vate opinion with regard to Sophia's 
 state of health. It was extremely 
 interesting no doubt, trying but 
 not dangerous ; Lady Hyde-Bassett 
 had the same private opinion ; so, 
 too, had all the women of the 
 household from the housekeeper 
 to the scullery-maid. But these, 
 not knowing of Miss Jenyns's 
 marriage, could only hope that the 
 Lord would forgive them if they 
 were mistaken a pious wish which 
 they repeated many times a day, 
 together with their possibly wrong 
 surmise. 
 
 Eliza's fingers wandered to the 
 envelope. What folly might it 
 contain ? what mischief might it 
 cause, which neither repentance or 
 explanation could unsay or undo ? 
 What right had Sophia in no 
 matter how interesting a condition 
 to play such dangerous pranks on 
 a man like her husband ? Did she 
 deserve to be forgiven ? Eliza 
 heard Wrath's voice in the distance, 
 and without further hesitation she 
 slipped the envelope under the 
 clock. She would give the little 
 fool a chance. If she did not return 
 within two three at the most, 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 201 
 
 four hours, Eliza knew that she 
 could easily find means of bringing 
 the note to light. And then she 
 left the room, smiling. Perhaps 
 she had been able to render Wrath 
 a small act of friendship, and, 
 although he himself could never 
 know of it, this would be a great 
 happiness for her to remember. 
 
 A few minutes later she peeped 
 in at the window. He had entered 
 the room and was looking at a 
 sketch of Sophia which hung on 
 the wall. Eliza stole away, feeling 
 like a conspirator. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE NEW EVE AND THE 
 NEWER ADAM GROW ABSENT-MINDED. 
 
 3E BOYS stood waiting at 
 the cross - roads when 
 Sophia appeared in sight. 
 He hastened to meet her, 
 his countenance showing 
 T&*? the decent, temperate, and 
 subdued enthusiasm which befitted 
 the pioneer of a great philosophical 
 experiment. Sophia, most un- 
 reasonably, thought his manner 
 cold not that she would have seen 
 him otherwise. The Ideal was 
 founded on ice eternal, Arctic. 
 
 14 We are fortunate in our day," 
 she said, in a quaking voice ; M it 
 is delightful walking. But I am 
 rather tired. Is there any place 
 where I can rest ? " 
 
 De Boys looked about him ; it 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 20*$ 
 
 was obviously impossible that she 
 could rest on the ground, and on 
 either side of them were high 
 hedges. 
 
 14 If you can manage to go on a 
 little further," he said, "we may 
 find a cottage or something ! But 
 I am afraid we have not much time. 
 The train M 
 
 44 But there are lots of trains," 
 said Sophia, wearily, " and there is 
 no hurry." 
 
 44 Will you take my arm ? " said 
 De Boys. " We shall not meet any 
 one, and if we do " 
 
 She shrank back ; the only arm 
 she ever permitted herself to rest 
 on, was Wrath's. 
 
 44 Oh, no ! " she said, 44 1 hate 
 taking people's arms ! " 
 
 The young man coloured, and, in 
 an aggrieved tone, murmured an 
 apology. 
 
 44 1 do not wish to take a gloomy 
 view of things," she said, with a 
 certain severity, " nor do I want to 
 be disagreeable, but I hope we are 
 acting wisely. I hope we are not 
 doing wrong ! " 
 
 44 1 hope not," he said, with ap- 
 palling seriousness. 
 
204 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 She shivered, although it was a 
 warm morning. 
 
 " Of course," he went on, " I 
 obeyed your instructions, because 
 a woman's tact is generally ac- 
 knowledged to be the best in such 
 matters. But I will not conceal 
 from you that I could wish it might 
 have been arranged a little more 
 openly : I mean, without giving it 
 this clandestine air which which is 
 not altogether pleasant. It looks 
 too much like running away and 
 running away is low ! Your note 
 was most characteristic : it reminded 
 me of our first meeting. Do you 
 remember it ? when you told me 
 that you only saw the honey- 
 suckle ! " 
 
 He glanced at her sideways and 
 thought she was not looking so 
 much like Jane as usual. But she 
 was still lovely he could forgive 
 her a great deal. Such is the mag- 
 nanimity of the wise gander in his 
 judgment of the endearing, if in- 
 consequential, goose. 
 
 " Do not think," he said, " that I 
 fail to appreciate your courage. 
 You are only too dauntless ! You 
 do not see the dangers which would 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 205 
 
 appal a a more ordinary mortal. 
 Oddly enough, after you had left 
 the drawing-room last night Wrath 
 said he had hoped to paint you as 
 Alcestis the ideal, courageous 
 woman, you know, who died in her 
 husband's stead." 
 
 "Oh!" said Sophia, faintly, 
 " what what else did he say ? " 
 
 11 He did not say anything else," 
 said Alauden. 
 
 II How did he look when he said 
 it?" 
 
 u He was looking at your photo- 
 graph," said De Boys. His thoughts 
 had wandered to the time when he 
 had last walked on a country road 
 at that hour in the morning. Jane 
 had been with him then. How 
 long ago it seemed ! Did it seem 
 so long to Jane ? Was she, like all 
 women, fickle ? Had she forgotten 
 him, in the pomp and circumstance 
 of her new position ? He drew a 
 deep sigh. 
 
 " I mean," said Sophia, u was 
 Wrath looking happy, or tired, or 
 interested, or anything ? " 
 
 II I think he was rather sleepy," 
 said De Boys, "or at least I was. 
 . . . Did I ever tell you how much 
 
206 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 you remind me of a Miss Shannon ? 
 She is Lady Jane Shannon now. 
 But at one time I knew her very 
 well." 
 
 " Really?" said Sophia. "You 
 must tell me about her. ... I sup- 
 pose it would be considered a com- 
 pliment to to be asked to sit for 
 Alcestis f " 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said De Boys 
 u undoubtedly. . . . Yes, as I was 
 saying, you bear the most extra- 
 ordinary resemblance to Jane. But 
 while your hair is black, hers is a 
 kind of russet gold " 
 
 11 Russet gold ? How lovely ! 
 and so fashionable. . . . What did 
 Margaret say when Wrath said he 
 intended to paint me ? " 
 
 " I don't think she said anything. 
 ... I wish you could know Ja 
 Lady Jane. She has so much 
 originality. I am sure you would 
 become great friends." 
 
 " Ye es. ... I suppose Margaret 
 looked as though he ought to have 
 asked her to be Alcestis f " 
 
 But De Boys did not hear : he 
 was wondering whether Jane and 
 Sophia really could become great 
 friends. Would Jane quite grasp 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 207 
 
 the Before-the-Fall Ideal ? Would 
 there be any difficulty in explain- 
 ing 
 
 "Of course," said Sophia, sud- 
 denly, "women must feel flattered 
 when Wrath wants to paint them. 
 To begin with, he is a very hand- 
 some man." 
 
 M Very handsome indeed ! M sighed 
 Mauden. He was thinking of Jane. 
 
 "He gives one such an idea of 
 power," said Sophia ; " the moment 
 you see him you feel i Here is some 
 one to trust.* " 
 
 "Jane is the sort of girl, you 
 know," said De Boys, "that that 
 you meet once and never forget. 
 It is not merely because she is 
 beautiful. Her beauty which is 
 very great is her least charm." 
 
 " Indeed ! I can well believe it. 
 It is only within the last two years 
 that I have realised how very hand- 
 some Wrath is. Is it not absurd ? 
 when I have been with him ever 
 since I was born ! But if you care 
 for people, and, of course, I care 
 for him " 
 
 "Naturally," said Mauden; "and 
 it is very singular, but if yofl love 
 people, you don't know what you 
 
208 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 love them for until you lose them. 
 And then " 
 
 44 Don't say until you lose them," 
 faltered Sophia, 44 that sounds so 
 so awful ! M 
 
 44 It does, doesn't it ? " said Mau- 
 den ; 44 the sense of loss, of being, 
 as it were, eternally separated, is 
 very terrible. And death is not 
 the only veil : sometimes our own 
 folly . . . and when we have only 
 our own folly to blame it it is so 
 hopeless and so much harder to 
 
 bear than w Where was his 
 
 fluency ? his command of language ? 
 Could it be that as thoughts be- 
 came real, words grew meaning- 
 less ? 
 
 44 We that is Jane and I grew 
 up together," he went on ; 44 we are 
 not related, but it always seemed as 
 though we were. I don't mean to 
 say that we were like brother and 
 sister, but H 
 
 44 1 understand," said Sophia, 
 eagerly, 44 it is the same with Wrath 
 and myself. It is true that I have 
 never regarded him as my father, 
 but, as you say, a sort of relation- 
 ship 
 
 44 Have you left him any word 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 209 
 
 any explanation ? " said De Boys, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 "I wrote him a letter," said 
 Sophia. " Not exactly the sort of 
 letter one would write to a guardian, 
 you know, but nicer ! Do you think 
 he will consider me ungrateful not 
 to have " 
 
 " I am afraid he may," said Mauden. 
 
 u I cannot tell you how generous 
 he has always been," she said. " I 
 would not like him to think me un- 
 grateful. . . . Mr. Mauden." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "If you don't mind," she said, 
 weakly, " I think I won't go to 
 London to-day." 
 
 The young man tried not to look 
 indecently thankful. 
 
 M But," he said, u you cannot go 
 back alone. And your letter ? " 
 
 u Luckily," she answered, M I did 
 not mention your name in the 
 letter. I can explain all that. He 
 won't be angry with me." She 
 burst into tears. "He has never 
 been angry with me in his life ! I 
 wish now he had given me one or 
 two good shakes. I am so wicked ! 
 He has brought me up very badly 
 everybody says it ! " 
 14 
 
2 TO A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 " Don't cry," said Mauden. 
 
 u I can't help it. . . . And I feel 
 so ill. I haven't had any breakfast. 
 I am not fit to be alone. My father 
 was just the same : he killed him- 
 self ; he never would think things 
 over, and I am just like him ; 
 Wrath has always said so." 
 
 Mauden did not feel in a mood to 
 gainsay Wrath's opinion. In fact, 
 his reverence and admiration for 
 Wrath's saintliness and long-suffer- 
 ing were increasing every moment. 
 
 14 Suppose," he said, " we both go 
 back to him and make a clean 
 breast of it ? " 
 
 11 Oh, no ! " said Sophia, u you 
 mustn't -come. I would not have 
 Margaret know a word about it for 
 the world." 
 
 " I must see you safely within the 
 gates, at all events," said Mauden, 
 with firmness. She had already 
 turned and was walking at a rapid 
 pace. Her fatigue was no longer 
 apparent. 
 
 " You are not to come with me," 
 she said, with her eyes fixed in the 
 direction of The Cloisters. 
 
 "Pardon me," said De Boys, 
 " but I must." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 211 
 
 u I insist," said Miss Jenyns, " on 
 returning alone. I will not be made 
 ridiculous ! " 
 
 He halted, took off his hat, and 
 waited until she had advanced some 
 yards in front of him. At this dis- 
 creet distance, he followed. 
 
 " I will write to you," she called 
 over her shoulder ; M but I have 
 made a great mistake. I shall be 
 extremely ill after this ! " 
 
 He bowed again, but still followed. 
 
 u Do you wish," she said, at last, 
 11 to compromise me ? " 
 
 u I cannot leave you unprotected," 
 said Mauden, getting pale. He, 
 too, had a temper. 
 
 "I came here alone, and I pre- 
 sume I can return alone. Please 
 do not make me angry." 
 
 Matters were at this unhappy 
 stage when they heard the rumble 
 of wheels. Presently a grocer's cart 
 appeared at the far end of the road. 
 
 11 1 will ask this man to drive me 
 back," said Sophia. Then she gave 
 Mauden a fiery glance. " We shall 
 be the talk of the county ! " 
 
 " Possibly, too, of London," he 
 observed. 
 
 44 You should not have exposed 
 
212 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 me to this," she went on ; M it was 
 unkind. Consumption is in my 
 family, and it is well known that 
 consumptives are not responsible 
 for their conduct ! " She hailed 
 the grocer with a royal gesture. 
 
 " I have walked too far," she said, 
 when he stopped, " will you kindly 
 take me to The Cloisters ? " 
 
 When she found herself actually 
 seated in the cart, her customary 
 good-humour returned. She lifted 
 her veil and flung an artless smile 
 to heaven. 
 
 " How my husband will laugh 
 when I tell him ! " she said. 
 
 Even months afterwards, Mau- 
 den was unable to explain her 
 motive in making this astounding 
 remark at that particular moment. 
 When, however, in later years he 
 confided the whole episode to- 
 gether, of course, with every other 
 episode of his bachelor career to 
 the wife of his bosom, (who, for the 
 present, shall be nameless), she ex- 
 plained it without an instant's hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 11 She referred to her husband," 
 said the lady, "entirely for the 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 213 
 
 benefit of the grocer's man ! She 
 was not even thinking of you / n 
 
 At which he could only look in- 
 credulous. But he was neverthe- 
 less impressed by the truth of her 
 assertion. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN WHICH A FARCE IS PLAYED VERY 
 SERIOUSLY. 
 
 'REAKFAST was always 
 served punctually at nine 
 o'clock at The Cloisters. 
 As the clock chimed the 
 hour, Lady Hyde-Bassett 
 would descend the stairs, 
 and woe to the guest who was not 
 there to observe her freshness and 
 vivacity. On this one point, she 
 was as unreasonably severe as all 
 malleable men and women are, who 
 make up their minds to be un- 
 yielding on, at least, one subject. 
 When she entered the breakfast- 
 room, therefore, on that eventful 
 Monday morning, and saw no 
 Sophia Jenyns, her eyebrows 
 began to twitch. Wrath was 
 reading the Times, and Miss 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 215 
 
 Bellarmine was studying a new 
 novel, which dealt with the evolu- 
 tion of the soul from protoplasm 
 to immortality a work to be 
 attacked when the mind was not 
 predisposed to slumber. 
 
 11 Where is Sophia ? M said 
 Margaret, having wished them 
 both good morning. 
 
 "To be sure," said Wrath. 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 " I think," said Eliza, slowly, 
 u she has gone for a short walk." 
 
 u At this hour," said Margaret, 
 " and without her breakfast ? " 
 
 " Are you quite sure ? " said 
 Wrath. 
 
 " I believe," murmured Eliza, 
 14 she said last night that she in- 
 tended to try an early prowl. Did 
 you not hear her say so ? " 
 
 It was very extraordinary, but 
 neither of them had heard Sophia 
 make the remark. 
 
 " But young Mauden " began 
 
 Lady Hyde-Bassett. 
 
 She caught a beseeching glance 
 from Eliza, and felt a sharp step on 
 her toe. They were now sitting at 
 the table. 
 
 u Young Mauden," she went on, 
 
2l6 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 calmly, "was very wise to go by 
 that eight o'clock train." 
 
 11 1 wish," said Wrath, suddenly, 
 " Sophia would not wander about 
 the country like a Tom o 1 Bedlam. 
 I know she is studying Ophelia, 
 but all the same, it is most an- 
 noying ! n 
 
 The two women dared not look 
 up. But they were holding a con- 
 versation without words, which is 
 not a difficult feat although few 
 mortals seem aware of it when 
 minds are sympathetic, and ordi- 
 nary means of communication are 
 impossible. To explain this mental 
 phenomenon, however, is work for 
 the metaphysician. We can only 
 say that Lady Hyde-Bassett under- 
 stood Miss Bellarmine so perfectly, 
 that she lost her appetite for break- 
 fast. 
 
 M Could not some one be sent 
 to her room to inquire ? M said 
 Wrath, rising from his seat, and 
 oblivious alike of manners, his two 
 companions, and general facts. 
 Thought was swallowed up in 
 sensation, and he recognised the 
 sensation as fear. 
 
 " I will go," said Eliza. 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 21 7 
 
 " Thank you," he said ; " you are 
 very good. Thank you." 
 
 When she had gone out of the 
 room, he turned to Lady Hyde- 
 Bassett. " Margaret," he said, u do 
 you think I have been blind this last 
 fortnight ? Do you think I have 
 seen nothing ? M 
 
 M Seen nothing ? " she repeated ; 
 "how? what? " 
 
 "Do not act," he said; " be a 
 woman be honest. You have seen 
 all that I have seen perhaps more." 
 
 u No ! no ! not more ... it was 
 all very innocent ... a childish 
 flirtation. ... I thought it best 
 to ignore it. ... I would not allow 
 myself to give it consideration." 
 
 "Ah ! that is what I thought. 
 . . . The question is Was I 
 wrong ? Should I have spoken ? " 
 
 "No, no. You were right to 
 trust her. The dreadful things we 
 are both fearing are an insult an 
 injustice. Mauden is the soul of 
 honour. Sophia is light-hearted, 
 but trust her. Only trust her ! " 
 
 "I do . . . but . . where is 
 she now ? " 
 
 " Do not ask me ! Do not ask 
 yourself ! " 
 
2l8 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 41 Is she with Mauden ? " 
 
 44 No ! no ! no ! how can you say 
 it?" 
 
 14 Why not ask me how I can 
 say it and live ? " 
 
 She took his hand. M Tom," she 
 said, " I would swear that she was 
 innocent even if she told me with 
 her own lips * 
 
 41 Innocent ! " he said, angrily. 
 14 Am I so vile already ? I want no 
 man or woman to assure me of my 
 wife's innocence. You know," he 
 went on, after a painful pause, " I 
 am naturally jealous. I I try to 
 conquer this. ... I am so many 
 years older than she is, and she is 
 so . . . there is every reason why 
 I must love her, and there are none 
 why she should care for me ... it 
 would be absurd to expect her to sit 
 gazing at me all day me, bald, 
 dull, plodding. . . . Mauden is her 
 own age, and amusing. ... It was 
 a crime to marry her : she was a 
 child. She knew nothing about 
 love. She has no idea how much 
 she is to me. I could not tell her, 
 it would frighten her . . . the re- 
 sponsibility " 
 
 " Ah ! " said Lady Hyde-Bassett, 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 219 
 
 11 why did you not speak out and risk 
 the frightening ? " 
 
 u I was selfish," he went on, not 
 hearing, " and thought only of my 
 own happiness. And I persuaded 
 
 her Don't you understand how 
 
 I must hate myself ? Innocent ! 
 She is only too innocent. It is 
 I who am guilty ! " 
 
 " I wish," said Lady Hyde- 
 Bassett M I wish Eliza would make 
 haste." 
 
 14 She will not come back," said 
 Wrath, " because she has found the 
 room empty, and because she, too, 
 thinks " 
 
 Then he left her. And Margaret 
 could only sit with her hands 
 clasped, trying her best not to 
 think. For thinking was not to 
 be trusted at that moment. Faith 
 M the substance of things hoped 
 for, the evidence of thing6 not 
 seen " was her only refuge. For 
 there is no virtue so sublime that it 
 cannot be used with advantage even 
 in a comedy situation. 
 
 When the grocer stopped his 
 horse at the main entrance to The 
 Cloisters, Sophia got down, gave 
 
220 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 the man a tip, and lurked under 
 a tree until he had driven out of 
 sight. Then she went out into the 
 road again, and walked to a certain 
 side-door which was cut in the wall 
 of the kitchen-garden, and which 
 was rarely used except by the 
 servants and the men employed 
 on the estate. She opened this 
 door and found herself face to face 
 with the head-gardener. 
 
 11 How unlucky ! " she exclaimed. 
 u I had just come in to steal some 
 strawberries. Please don't give me 
 any of them, because that would 
 not be the same thing ! " And, 
 laughing gaily, she sauntered up 
 the path. The gardener stroked 
 his beard and stared after her. 
 Had not his wife kept him awake 
 the whole of the preceding night, 
 with her "firm beliefs" and " dying 
 breaths " on the subject of Miss 
 Sophia Jenyns ? And now she was 
 hankering after strawberries. He 
 whistled. 
 
 Sophia, meanwhile, went on her 
 way, rejoicing that she had been 
 able to make such a plausible 
 excuse for entering the grounds 
 by a back-door. She hugged the 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 221 
 
 elusive hope that Wrath had not 
 yet seen her nonsensical letter, and 
 she was now wondering how she 
 could get round to the studio, 
 where, perhaps, if the Fates were 
 kind, she would find the envelope 
 with its seal unbroken. She glanced 
 at the big clock which smiled from 
 the archway of the stable-yard : it 
 was exactly nine. They would all 
 be at the breakfast-table : she could 
 cross the lawn without the smallest 
 risk ot meeting either Wrath, or 
 Margaret, or Eliza Bellarmine. 
 Sophia caught up her skirt and 
 ran. Once started, she did not 
 seem able to stop ; she had only 
 a frantic notion that she was 
 chasing her own head. The chase 
 ended, however, when she reached 
 the studio window. Her limbs 
 grew heavy and her sight dim ; 
 she stumbled over the threshold, 
 and groped her way to the mantel- 
 piece. The letter was gone. She 
 tore off her veil and stared helplessly 
 about the room. Then something 
 made her look under the clock. It 
 was there, after all. She thrust the 
 hateful thing into her pocket, and 
 fell. 
 
22 2 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Wrath found her senseless on the 
 floor when he entered the studio 
 a few moments later. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IN WHICH A YOUNG GENTLEMAN 
 OWNS HIS UNWORTHINESS. 
 
 ^^?HE Dowager Countess of 
 Warbeck was confined to 
 her bed for some days 
 after the unhappy dis- 
 agreement with her 
 grandson. Sir Claretie 
 Mull did not, however, find in her 
 symptoms any grave cause for alarm, 
 and he told the young Earl as much, 
 adding, that if he thought of leaving 
 England, there was no earthly reason 
 why he should not do so. His lord- 
 ship, therefore, wrote the Dowager 
 an affectionate adieu, expressing his 
 regret that she would not see him, 
 and assuring her of his unalterable 
 love. With kindest regards to his 
 cousin, Lady Jane, he remained 
 ever her devoted grandson, War- 
 beck. 
 
224 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 M Never mention his name in my 
 presence,' ' said the Countess to Jane, 
 after she had read this ; u when he 
 repents of his impious conduct, I 
 will forgive him. But until then 
 my only course is to forget.' ' 
 
 On the following Monday, she 
 was still weak, but able to lie on 
 the sofa. Jane was reading aloud 
 to her when a visitor was announced 
 in the person of "Mr. Mauden." 
 He had asked to see Lady Jane 
 Shannon. 
 
 "You cannot see him to-day," 
 said the Countess, sharply ; M it would 
 be most improper. Tell him to 
 come when I am strong enough to 
 receive visitors." 
 
 "I am afraid I must see him, 
 dear grandmama," said Jane, with 
 a fine blush, " whether it is proper 
 or not." 
 
 M What ? " said the Dowager. " A 
 little louder, my love. This attack 
 has affected my hearing." And her 
 blue eyes looked black. 
 
 u I said," repeated Jane, without 
 flinching, Cl I am afraid I must see 
 Mr. Mauden whether it is proper or 
 improper. He is a very old friend." 
 
 " Oh ! " said her ladyship" oh ! 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 225 
 
 I remember now who he is. The 
 farmer person who is going to be a 
 schoolmaster. See the good crea- 
 ture, by all means ! " 
 
 The Countess was always most 
 triumphant when she was most de- 
 feated. 
 
 As Jane ran downstairs to the 
 drawing-room she lost a little of her 
 colour, but when she opened the 
 door, and saw De Boys actually 
 standing on the hearthrug, she 
 grew quite white. He, on his part, 
 blushed as he came forward to meet 
 her. 
 
 She gave him her right hand and 
 he took the other. Thus he held 
 them both, nor did he seem anxious 
 to release either. 
 
 11 Jane," he said, " why have 
 you got this beastly money ? and 
 why are you living at this awful 
 Queen's Gate ? and why have you 
 forgotten me ? " 
 
 " I haven't ! " 
 
 "But you have. Here is your 
 last letter all about the South 
 Kensington Museum and Greek 
 vases. I don't want to hear about 
 Greek vases ; I want to hear about 
 you. Dear, dear, dearest, why have 
 *5 
 
226 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 you got so cultured ? why do you 
 quote Browning ? why do you write 
 about ideals and all such tiresome 
 rubbish ? I would not give your 
 old letters about the guinea-pig for 
 the whole of Tennyson ! And you 
 have got your hair done differently. 
 Let me see whether I like it ? Yes, 
 I do. Are the sleeves meant to 
 look like a bishop's ? Jane, may I 
 kiss you ? M 
 
 " No," said Jane. 
 
 Perhaps he did not hear. At all 
 events, it made no difference. And, 
 indeed, she did not seem to think 
 that it would. His kisses were 
 becoming (from his own point of 
 view) agreeably indefinite when she 
 asked a question. This was the 
 question 
 
 " Did you leave The Cloisters 
 very early this morning ? M 
 
 " Shall we sit over there by that 
 green dragon ? n he suggested, 
 gravely. 
 
 He chose a chair with its back to 
 the light. Jane sat opposite with 
 the sun shining in on her face. 
 This, he felt, was as it should be. 
 He did not like to see women afraid 
 of the sun. 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 227 
 
 a I left The Cloisters this morn- 
 ing," he said, "and I return to 
 Oxford this afternoon." 
 
 She checked a sigh ; she certainly 
 could not expect him to waste his 
 time with her. 
 
 "Do you like Lady Hyde-Bas- 
 set?" she said, trying to look 
 cheerful. 
 
 " Very much," said De Boys ; 
 " she is charming. But she is 
 whim-ish, of course, like most 
 women." 
 
 M And that Miss Bellarmine you 
 mentioned in your last letter ? " 
 
 u She has a fine figure, but she 
 jaws too much. No one can get a 
 word in, when she takes up an 
 argument. I cannot bear these 
 blue-stockings, myself. Fielding's 
 Amelia is, in my mind, the highest 
 type of woman ! " 
 
 " You used to say she was in- 
 sipid." 
 
 11 Ah, that was a schoolboy's ver- 
 dict." 
 
 " And what about that Miss 
 Sophia Jenyns you mentioned in 
 your first letter? She must have 
 been the most interesting of them 
 all." 
 
2 28 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 " Yes, I think one would call her 
 interesting. In the beginning she 
 reminded me in a very faint degree 
 of you. But you have really no- 
 thing in common." 
 
 " I suppose she is very beautiful ? " 
 she sighed. M Grandmama says she 
 is the loveliest actress in Europe." 
 
 " She ts lovely for an actress," 
 he said ; " there is a glamour about 
 her which some people might find 
 very attractive. . . . But I have 
 nothing to say against her. She is 
 rather uncertain in temper : not a 
 woman one could depend on. She 
 has no feeling. And what is a 
 woman no matter how pretty she 
 may be unless she has feeling ? 
 I would call Miss Jenyns an egoist ; 
 very fascinating, but for all that, an 
 egoist. And egoism is, I think, the 
 eighth deadly sin. It is the special 
 sin of this century. But, Jane, don't 
 let us talk of -Isms and -Ivities. 
 I am sick of them, dearest. One 
 heard of nothing else at The 
 Cloisters. An enervating atmo- 
 sphere ! If I had been there 
 another week I should have lost all 
 ambition. I feel as though I had 
 stepped from a window conserva- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 229 
 
 tory into the fresh woods. In God's 
 name, let us be natural ; let us drop 
 jargon ; let us only remember that 
 we love each other for nothing else 
 matters." 
 
 11 Are you sure you won't get tired 
 of me ? I am not clever and intel- 
 lectual. I understand you, dear, 
 but I cannot answer properly. It 
 it is horrid to feel so ignorant when 
 you find yourself talking to to 
 some one who is accustomed to meet 
 geniuses, and men and women 
 who can say something about every 
 thing, and just in the right way. 
 Now I suppose if I tried I could say 
 something, too, but it wouldn't 
 sound a bit like the conversation in 
 novels. I always think in such 
 short words ! " 
 
 11 The perfection of literary style 
 or of conversational style is to 
 be simple," said De Boys "sim- 
 plicity is delicious, and lamentably 
 rare. I should hate a wife who 
 could turn me into an epigram." 
 
 11 A wife ! " she murmured. 
 
 11 Dearest, you are the only 
 woman in my world. The rest are 
 your reflection ; when I see any 
 beauty or charm in a woman it 
 
230 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 is because she reminds me of 
 you." 
 
 Jarre blushed. "I think I can 
 understand that," she said, " be- 
 cause, after you had left Brentmore, 
 I used to talk to Henry Burkett 
 the one who sings in the choir and 
 and sometimes I used to forget, 
 and think he was you. But I soon 
 found the difference. You are not 
 angry with me ? " 
 
 44 Burkett is such a smug ! " 
 
 44 But I missed you so terribly ! 
 And I never looked at him when I 
 could help it. When I did look I 
 used to half-close my eyes. That 
 made him more indistinct." 
 
 14 Still, I do not care to think that 
 you have flirted with men. If any 
 one else had told me M 
 
 44 It wasn't flirting, De Boys. We 
 only talked about books, and poetry, 
 and religion, and things like that. 
 I hope you don't think " 
 
 14 I am quite sure, dearest, that 
 your intentions in the matter were 
 beyond reproach. At the same 
 time, religion is rather an intimate 
 subject ; I mean, it covers every- 
 thing or anything. If you begin 
 a conversation on religion there is 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 23 1 
 
 no saying how it will end. It would 
 entirely depend on the view you 
 happened to take. For this reason, 
 it is not a subject for a young girl to 
 discuss with strange men ; nor, in 
 fact, with any man except her hus- 
 band or some clergyman of whom 
 he approved." 
 
 "A girl must say something," 
 said Jane, whose meekness had its 
 limit ; " what did Miss Jenyns talk 
 about ? She is only two years older 
 than I am." 
 
 " Miss Jenyns," said Mauden, " is 
 a woman of the world. Some day 
 I will tell you more about her. 
 But now I want to hear about 
 you. I must leave in half an 
 hour." 
 
 " So soon ? " said Jane. " I wish 
 you had told me you were coming. 
 I should have had so much happi- 
 ness watching for you." 
 
 " I I came here on impulse, my 
 dearest. I I did not know myself 
 that I was coming to see you when 
 I left The Cloisters this morning. 
 But when I reached London, I 
 found I could not leave it until I 
 had " He stopped short, strug- 
 gled with his conscience, and then 
 
232 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 blurted out " Jane, I want you 
 to forgive me for something." 
 
 " Forgive you ? " she said, " what 
 have you done ? " and she kissed his 
 hand. 
 
 u I am the meanest beast that 
 walks," said her hero, blushing to 
 his finger-tips " I am, indeed. I do 
 
 not deserve " She smiled into 
 
 his face with angelic disbelief. " I 
 do not deserve you," he said, " and 
 I have always known it." He 
 sighed " I am afraid we cannot 
 marry for a year or two ? " 
 
 " Not for ages ! " 
 
 M And then, there is your 
 money ! " 
 
 "I can give most of it to the 
 poor relations. It will soon go that 
 way. They want ever so many 
 more things than I do ! But you 
 will be rich, too, when you are a 
 Professor and write learned books. 
 Or, if you are not exactly rich, you 
 will be famous which is much 
 better." 
 
 "You have always believed in 
 me. But if I fail " 
 
 u You would never fail ; you 
 might be unfortunate. But then I 
 could only love you more than ever." 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 233 
 
 u Write to me every day, dearest, 
 and tell me that." 
 
 41 How much do you love me ? n 
 
 44 I don't know," he said, solemnly ; 
 44 and that has been the cause of all 
 my trouble." 
 
 "What trouble?" 
 
 44 The trouble I want you to for- 
 give." 
 
 She put her arms round his neck. 
 14 Didn't you say," she said, " that 
 nothing mattered so long as we 
 loved each other ? " 
 
 14 It would never have happened," 
 he stammered, "if she had not 
 looked so much like you." 
 
 u I know all about it," she said ; 
 44 don't tell me any more unless you 
 like." 
 
 44 But how do you know ? " 
 
 44 1 saw it in your face when I 
 came in." 
 
 44 1 shall never understand 
 women ! " exclaimed De Boys. 
 
 44 1 suppose," she said, " we are 
 rather difficult." 
 
 44 1 never told her," he mur- 
 mured, "that I loved her. It 
 it was only sympathy. . . . And, 
 Jane never write me cold letters 
 again." 
 
234 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 11 Do you think I could after 
 this ? " said his affianced. 
 
 And so, I think, we may leave 
 them. 
 
CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 IN WHICH SOPHIA WAKES UP. 
 
 ) ANY hours of pain and 
 several weeks of danger- 
 ous illness were the re- 
 sult of Sophia's bite at 
 the Ideal a result which 
 must not surprise us, 
 since the psychological mystery she 
 tasted is, as all pious souls know, 
 the modern development of the 
 antediluvian apple. But Sophia 
 was young and had much to live 
 for much, too, to atone for. Tears 
 had washed the dust from her eyes 
 as only tears can, and, as she wept 
 over her own folly, she knew that 
 she was really crying for the first 
 time in her life. Crystal drops shed 
 over our own excellence are nothing 
 in the world. They may, however, 
 have their use in the city that is 
 paved with good intentions. 
 
236 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 Wrath watched day and night 
 by the bedside of his wife. Their 
 relationship was no longer concealed, 
 for Nature, who hates false appear- 
 ances, and is, in fact, a very blab to 
 those who have ears to hear, had 
 made straightforwardness necessary. 
 And Wrath, in spite of his anxiety, 
 was happier than he had been, even 
 at his happiest moments, since the 
 day of the secret marriage. He 
 held his breath at the shortness of 
 time before him in which to re- 
 trieve the two past years of dis- 
 simulation, of double - facedness. 
 As all penitents, he longed to be 
 born again, that he might wage a 
 new life with the arts of an old 
 experience. He blamed himself less 
 for keeping his promise to Sophia 
 than for making it. The weakness, 
 the moral cowardice of the matter 
 lay, in his judgment, in the submit- 
 ting to such a condition. It brought 
 him no ease of mind to remember 
 that the lunatic, the lover, and the 
 poet were admitted by a charitable 
 world to be more or less irrespon- 
 sible for their follies. With all his 
 faults he was not a man to lie plea- 
 santly to his own conscience. He 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 237 
 
 had acted wrongly, and he knew it ; 
 what was more, he had been per- 
 fectly aware that he was acting 
 wrongly when he gave the miser- 
 able promise. He had made up his 
 mind to marry Sophia, and he had 
 not been willing to run any risk of 
 losing her. There was no condition 
 so unwise, so ill-considered, or so 
 desperate but he would have ac- 
 cepted it, rather than forfeit even 
 one of her smiles. Such was the 
 truth. (If a man cannot be a hero 
 to his hired valet, we must not 
 wonder if he looks small in the 
 presence of his free conscience.) 
 Fear, for the enormities he might 
 have committed, was the other side 
 of his remorse for the wrong, he 
 had actually done. It was an 
 awkward subject viewed from any 
 point of consideration. But awk- 
 ward as it was, it was even grateful 
 in comparison with another matter, 
 which haunted him constantly, and 
 which seemed past forgiveness or 
 hope. This matter was his con- 
 versation with Lady Hyde-Bassett 
 on that never-to-be-forgotten Mon- 
 day morning. It was contemptible 
 enough, God knew, to have sus- 
 
238 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 pected his saintly wife of having 
 eloped with Mauden ; but to have 
 expressed the despicable thought in 
 words, to have allowed the curbed 
 jealousy of a lifetime to break away 
 from all bounds just when control 
 was most necessary what could 
 he call himself? To think of all 
 this in the long hours of the night, 
 when Sophia was lying half-uncon- 
 scious, or in pain, was a terrible 
 punishment for his injustice, but he 
 would not own that it was terrible 
 enough. 
 
 One afternoon Sophia woke up 
 from a sleep and found Wrath 
 watching her. It was a daily ex- 
 perience, but on that particular 
 afternoon she seemed to see him 
 more distinctly than usual. He 
 was looking old and careworn, and 
 was so changed, that she found her- 
 self wondering whether she had not 
 lost all idea of time, and whether 
 her illness had lasted not a few 
 weeks as she imagined but many 
 years. She asked Wrath for a 
 hand-glass, she thought her hair 
 must be grey. 
 
 He gave it to her in silence. She 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 239 
 
 looked from the mirror to her hus- 
 band, and from her husband to the 
 mirror. Her face had not suffered 
 so much from illness as his, from 
 anxiety. She was pale in the 
 cheeks, and a little dark round 
 the eyes, but otherwise she seemed 
 even younger for her suffering. 
 She might have been a girl in 
 her first teens. 
 
 "Tom," she said, " are you very 
 tired ? " 
 
 " Tired ? Oh, no." 
 
 u Then talk to me. Tell me what 
 you are thinking about." 
 
 M I am thinking of you," he said, 
 quietly. 
 
 M Dcn't think about me I am 
 horrid." 
 
 This was quite in her old manner, 
 and for a moment he smiled. It was 
 a long-established custom between 
 them, that she should call herself 
 names, while he expressed his horror 
 at the blasphemy. It was the usual 
 prelude to most of their conversa- 
 tions. 
 
 u But I really mean it to-day," 
 she said. This guileless and un- 
 conscious admission of the usual 
 insincerity of her self-depreciation 
 
240 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 made them both laugh. It was 
 Sophia's saving grace that she could, 
 at times, survey herself from a dis- 
 tance. When she was not the first, 
 she would at least be the second, to 
 mock at her own extravagancies. 
 But it may be that she carried this 
 self-ridicule to excess, and saw her 
 actions in a ludicrous light when 
 they were rather sad than funny. 
 Thus she had gradually lost all 
 belief in her own earnestness. 
 Sometimes it seemed that her love 
 for Wrath was a jest, that life and 
 death were alike jests, that the 
 world itself was the Creator's big 
 joke with mankind. Everything 
 was so grotesque, so badly rehearsed, 
 the curtain went up too soon and 
 came down too late ; parts were 
 mumbled, or shouted, or gabbled, or 
 left unspoken ; cues were disre- 
 garded ; heroes were knock-kneed, 
 and heroines had thick ankles ; 
 fools made mirth with such a 
 solemn air, and the wise were 
 solemn so foolishly ; men and women 
 seemed not themselves, but their 
 caricatures ; it was all wildly comic, 
 farcical, unnatural, and inartistic. 
 The only sad part was, that one 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 241 
 
 ached from laughing till one cried 
 at the pain. But this, too, was a 
 joke. 
 
 There was something inhuman, 
 almost cruel, in Sophia's humour 
 which made Wrath unhappy all 
 but fearful. Men, moreover, do not 
 like their wives to have too clear a 
 perception of the ludicrous it is 
 a masculine theory that laughter 
 must be on the male side only. A 
 man knows when laughter is a 
 spoil-sport : he can postpone it 
 when necessary. But a woman will 
 laugh if she know how at the 
 right moment or the wrong, usually, 
 too, when a man would prefer to 
 see her demure. 
 
 Although Wrath joined in his 
 wife's merriment on this particular 
 afternoon, it did not seem to him 
 that the occasion was especially 
 amusing. 
 
 "Things are still ridiculous," she 
 said, suddenly, "but they are not 
 ridiculous in quite the same way as 
 they used to be. When I laugh 
 now, I do not feel so much like crying. 
 I know that what looks so absurd 
 at present, will one day be very 
 grand and beautiful. Some kinds 
 16 
 
242 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 of knowledge you cannot study 
 you find them when you are looking 
 for something else. I have learnt 
 all this by accident. I cannot tell 
 you how. But I have learnt it so 
 well that I can never forget it. . . . 
 I shall never again be so foolish so 
 obstinate as I was. You will see 
 such a difference in me ! And, Tom 
 I want to tell you about my walk 
 that morning." 
 
 " No, no ! " he said ; " let me tell 
 you something first. Will you ever 
 forgive me ? I I thought you were 
 with Mauden ! " 
 
 The clock had never ticked so 
 loudly : Sophia could hear nothing 
 else. Or was it her own heart ? 
 
 11 1 thought you were with Mau- 
 den, " he repeated. "I thought you 
 had gone to London with him. I 
 I was brutally jealous " 
 
 "Tom!" 
 
 " I knew it was infamous. Do 
 you think I will ever forgive my 
 self?" 
 
 "But, Tom " What would 
 
 he say if he knew the whole truth ? 
 She could atone for her folly none 
 the less because he knew nothing 
 about it. Besides, he would lose all 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 243 
 
 respect for her if she told him. He 
 would despise her : perhaps his love 
 would change to dislike. Men, even 
 the best, were not so forgiving as 
 women. 
 
 "Tom," she said, desperately, 
 14 you you were quite right. I was 
 with Mauden I was going to Lon- 
 don with him, but but I changed 
 my mind ! It was all a mistake. I 
 thought you were tired of me ! M 
 
 She trembled for his answer. He 
 had grown so pale ; he looked so 
 stern. 
 
 11 You were going to London with 
 Mauden ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Why did you change your 
 mind ? " 
 
 " Because I remembered yo u.' 1 
 
 " You remembered me ! That 
 was thoughtful." He drew his hand 
 across his brow and bowed his head. 
 We have surely never such need to 
 show humiliation as when we are in 
 the presence of a fallen idol. 
 
 It is not the god, which was no 
 god, that suffers, but its former 
 worshipper, who sees what appeared 
 divinity, corruption, and what looked 
 strength, rottenness. And, in at 
 
244 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 least some slight degree, this terrible 
 contemplation must be made by all 
 mortals who place their entire faith 
 in mere flesh-and-blood : who love 
 the creature, which has beauty that 
 we may desire it, more than the 
 Creator whom no man hath at any 
 time seen. One who wrote of 
 human affection with a tenderness 
 and understanding past comparison 
 who knew its infinite power and 
 no less infinite weakness one who 
 has taught that by loving man we 
 best learn how to love his Maker, 
 has also warned us " Keep your- 
 selves from idols." 
 
 Wrath, in his hour of disillusion, 
 had no words : the tragedy in com- 
 mon life lies in the thinking not 
 in the speaking. 
 
 The sound at last reached him of 
 a woman, crying ; he looked, and 
 though he no longer beheld a 
 heavenly spirit, infallible and sin- 
 less, he saw his wife. 
 
 " You forget the circumstances," 
 sobbed Sophia. "I was not well. 
 And think how ill I have been ! M 
 
 His frown vanished, but it left 
 its scar. "My dearest," he said, 
 gently, " whatever has happened, 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 245 
 
 I know it has all been my fault ! 
 My fault entirely ! I shall never 
 cease to reproach myself." 
 
 "Let me tell you all about it," 
 said Sophia ; and then between 
 laughter and tears she confessed the 
 whole story. " Poor young Mauden 
 is not to blame," she wound up, 
 M because he did not know I was 
 married ! " 
 
 u My fault entirely ! " repeated 
 Wrath. And what a relief it was 
 to shift all her burden on his own 
 shoulders ! He was the transgressor 
 the brute beast with no under- 
 standing she was still his angel of 
 light. 
 
 " You are so good to me," she 
 whimpered, " but I will never be so 
 wicked again." 
 
 14 There shall be no more of 
 these detestable circumstances," he 
 said. 
 
 11 1 don't mind them so much, if I 
 know what they mean," said Sophia, 
 "and next time, of course, I shall 
 know ! Some day I want to have a 
 son, and I want him to be just like 
 you ! " 
 
 " It is impossible to look into the 
 future," said Wrath; "but if by 
 
246 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 any chance we had a son, I think 
 he would be rather remarkable." 
 
 " He would be a genius/' said 
 Sophia. 
 
 "But he must have your face," 
 said Wrath. 
 
 " No," said Sophia, " if he is not 
 exactly like you, I shall be disap- 
 pointed." 
 
 " I think," said Wrath, " we must 
 make him a lawyer. He might be- 
 come Lord Chancellor." 
 
 "Or he might be a Cardinal. 
 Wouldn't that be nicer ? " 
 
 At which moment, Lady Hyde- 
 Bassett came in with some flowers 
 for the invalid. 
 
 14 Margaret," said Sophia, " if you 
 had a son, would you rather see him 
 a Cardinal or a Lord Chancellor ? 
 Because we were just saying " 
 
 Wrath strode away to the window. 
 And looking out, he saw a fair 
 world. How wrong it was to be 
 cynical ! As if there was no such 
 thing as earthly happiness. Away ! 
 away ! ye philosophers of the mud- 
 heap. The soul of man is a garden 
 where, as he sows, so he shall reap. 
 If ye would gather roses, do not sow 
 rotten seeds. Away ! away I 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 )HEN Lady Jane Shannon 
 attained her one-and- 
 tvventieth year she mar- 
 ried the brilliant young 
 scholar De Boys Mauden 
 who, at present, is editing 
 Plato as he has never been edited 
 before, and never will be, again. As 
 this magnificent enterprise will oc- 
 cupy some nine hours of each day 
 for the next thirty years of his life, 
 we may safely assume that much 
 fame will accrue to his literary 
 executors. 
 
 The Earl of Warbeck astonished 
 society by becoming first a Roman 
 Catholic, and then a priest. This 
 did not kill his grandmother, as 
 many people feared it might, but 
 she lived many years to enjoy the 
 pleasure of writing wills in his favour, 
 and revoking them at the rate of 
 three a month. He also dined with 
 
248 A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 
 
 her frequently, because, as she told 
 her friends, she would never despair 
 of converting him back to Chris- 
 tianity and the usual number of 
 commandments. 
 
 Farmer Battle and Miss Caroline 
 Battle are still living, and rank next 
 in Jane's heart after De Boys and a 
 certain small edition of De Boys. 
 This young gentleman already holds 
 a decided opinion on the due sub- 
 jection of women to their lords : an 
 opinion which Jane has her own 
 method of refuting a method so 
 subtle, however, that Mauden has 
 never yet been able to perceive it. 
 He is only conscious that his wife's 
 will looks so much like his own, that 
 he is never able to tell which is 
 which. He, at all events, gives the 
 word of command and she always 
 wears an air of the most charming 
 obedience. Why analyse such an 
 harmonious condition of things ? 
 
 Lady Hyde-Bassett lived long 
 enough to see her dear Eliza married 
 to Mr. Claverhouse Digges, the edi- 
 tor of the Argus. It was the last 
 match Margaret made, and, as she 
 declared, the most satisfactory. She 
 died very peacefully if rather sud- 
 
A STUDY IN TEMPTATIONS. 24c 
 
 denly and her last words were, that 
 she had never been so happy. It 
 was quite impossible to mourn over 
 one who showed such relief at leav- 
 ing this world, and who enjoyed such 
 a full and perfect assurance of the 
 next. Her great wealth was left as a 
 bequest to be used for the support of 
 such scholars, authors, and artists, 
 who preferred rather to do good work 
 for nothing, than bad work for large 
 fees. The bequest is now managed 
 by a committee, and it has not been 
 of service to those for whom her 
 ladyship intended it. But her inten- 
 tions were good, and the starving 
 scholars, authors, and artists who see 
 the prosperous, incompetent, and 
 dishonest making off with their 
 treasure, have, let us hope, none the 
 less gratitude for Lady Hyde-Bas- 
 sett's benevolent design. 
 
 Wrath and Sophia have a small 
 daughter, and now they wonder why 
 they wanted a son. She is such an 
 amazing and unique creation. They 
 have named her M Margaret," after 
 one they both loved but Wrath 
 especially. Had she not believed in 
 Sophia when even he himself had 
 doubted her ? 
 
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