Love, the Tyrant 
 
 Or, Where Her Heart Led 
 
 BY CHARLES GARVICE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "With All Her Heart," "Marcia Drayton," "At Love's 
 Cost," "Just a Girl," etc. 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS :: :: :: NEW YORK
 
 Copyright 1900 
 BY V GEORGE MUNRO'S SONS 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN the intense stillness and clearness of the Australian 
 night there was something weird and strangely oppressive; 
 and a young man who stood at the door of a shepherd's hut 
 vaich stood in a small clearing, looked round and shuddered 
 slightly as if the solitude might be peopled by ghosts. 
 
 He was pale and thin, with that red look about the eyes 
 which fever paints so skilfully ; and as he leant against the 
 door he listened with the eagerness afad impatience which re- 
 vealed themselves in the twitch of his thin, parched lips. At 
 his feet a dog lay curled up as if asleep, but his eyes were 
 open, for, like the man, he was listening, and when his master 
 said: "Arthur's late, Bob, isn't* he?" the dog wagged his 
 tail as if he understood: which it's even money he did. 
 
 The young man went in presently and stirred the fire under 
 the rough kettle, lit the tafluw candle, though the moon was 
 shining brightly through the window, then dropped, rather 
 than threw himself, beside tha fire, and sighed wearily. Not- 
 withstanding the heat, he shivered now and again as if with 
 cold, and once he wiped the chilly dampness from his fore- 
 head with the sleeve of his coat. Half an hour passed and he 
 had fallen into a fitful doze, when he heard the sound of a 
 horse; the dog heard it, to j, and sprang up with a bark of 
 welcome. 
 
 The young fellow rose, staggering slightly, and made his 
 way to the door. As he did so, a horseman rode into the 
 clearing, dropped from the saddle, spoke to the dog, that 
 leapt caressingly upon him, and said, cheeringly: 
 
 " Back at last, old man. How goes it?" 
 
 "Oh, so so," replied the other. "I thought you were 
 never coming that something had happened. Look sharp 
 and come in, Arthur." 
 
 Arthur Burtcn nodded, led his horse round to a shed at 
 
 2135S27
 
 6 ftJVE, THE 
 
 the back of the hut, rubbed the animal down swiftly tout with 
 the loving touch of a man who loves his horse, gave it a 
 double feed, and then went into the hut. Jack Gordon was 
 bending over the fire, but he rose as his chum entered, and 
 held out his hand with a smile on his fevered face. Arthur 
 took the thin, hot hand, and pressed it; and as they stood, 
 *he contrast between them was marked and painful; the one 
 was so gaunt and thin and wasted, the other so magnificent a 
 specimen of English manhood. He stood a good six feet; hia 
 chest was broad, his limbs finely moulded, and as hard as 
 iron and as supple as steel; there was not an ounce of fat 
 upon him; it was all sinew and muscle. There was strength 
 not only in his form but in the handsome face, tanned by sun 
 and rain; in the dark eyes, shining like agates in the fire- 
 light, and the short curls of the chestnut hair that grew in 
 waves on the forehead which the wide hat had kept white. 
 
 " You're not so well to-night, Jack," he said, as he flung 
 his hat in a corner and took off his coat. " Why don't you 
 lie down and rest? You promised me you would." 
 
 Jack laughed rather shamefacedly. 
 
 " I tried it, but it wouldn't wash. For the first time in my 
 life 1 got the blues being alone, and was as full of fancies as a 
 woman. I imagined all sorts of things had happened to you. 
 Last night I heard footsteps and voices in the gulch, or fan- 
 cied I did; which is all the same, for it kept me awake. It's 
 the fever, I suppose." 
 
 Arthur Burton nodded. 
 
 " Must have been, for I saw nothing of them, though I 
 heard at the store that a gang had been seen in the neigh- 
 bourhood; but that was days ago and they must have passed 
 on; anyway, it's not likely they will happen on us; we're too 
 far off the track. Now, you just leave that kettle alone and 
 lie down. I'll get the tea; I've been sitting in the saddle so 
 long that I'm hankering for domestic duties. 1 got some 
 quinine at the store, and you'll have a dose before we go any 
 farther." 
 
 He opened the little white packet as if the powder were 
 gold-dust and, indeed, it was more precious than gold-dust 
 and himself tilted it on to his chum's tongue. 
 
 Jack looked up at the strong, handsome face with a wistful 
 gratitude. 
 
 " Arthur, old man," he said, with that quaver in his voice 
 of which every man is ashamed, " you've been a true, good 
 chum to me. Ever since we met there, at Wallv Ford, six 
 mouths ago, you've stood by me, shoulder to shoulder, like
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. T 
 
 Hkt a brother. You've stood this peevish temper of mint 
 md all my tantrums, and never offered to kick me." 
 
 " Which I shall promptly do now, my good Jack, if you 
 don't shut up." 
 
 " You've shared you last crust with me like the coves in a 
 novel, and now you ride a matter of a hundred and fifty miles 
 to get me quinine and pretend you went because you were 
 dying to see a newspaper you who never cared for it when 
 we came across one." 
 
 " Well, anyway, I've got one," said Arthur, and he took a 
 newspaper from his jacket hanging on a nail and chucked it 
 on the bed. 
 
 " But I don't think you'll have to put up with me long, 
 Arthur," said Jack Gordon, in the calm and quiet tone of the 
 man who hears the soft footsteps of Death approaching him. 
 " Laugh at me if you like, but I've a notion I'm going to 
 peter out before long." 
 
 Arthur winced and turned his head away that the sick man 
 might not see the spasms of grief which had passed over hia 
 face. t 
 
 " Not you, old man!" he said. " You're worth ten dead 
 men, and you and I will be making for Melbourne presently, 
 for that spree which we've been looking forward to so long c 
 What you really want is a darned good shaking, and I'd give 
 it to you if I weren't too tired. Here's your tea, and here's 
 some soft tommy I got at the stores; though it's a fulsome 
 compliment to call it soft, for it's as hard as a fossil; but you 
 can soak it in the tea, and it will be a change anyway." 
 
 " Arthur, you ought to have been a woman," said Jack, as 
 he took the cake. " You're as strong as a lion, and as hard 
 as nails, but you've got a heart as soft as putty, and it will 
 land you in trouble some day, if it hasn't done so already." 
 
 Burton's face reddened under its tan, and he laughed a soft, 
 curt laugh. 
 
 " Yes, some woman will get hold of that heart of yours, 
 Arthur, and wring it wring it hard and tight, if you don't 
 watch it. It's always chaps like you who fall victims to what 
 they call the ' gentle sex.' But I have no reason to complain; 
 that heart has stood me in good stead. How does it go? 
 4 The friend that sticketh closer than a brother;' that's the 
 sort you are, old man, and it was a lucky wind that drifted 
 me across your path." 
 
 " That'll do,* said Arthur; " you talk like a fellow in a 
 novelette. I've done precious little for you, not half what
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 yon would have done for me; and so there's au end of fe 
 l)ry up and go to sleep." 
 
 He drew a blanket over the shivering form, giving it a 
 friendly punch, by way of caress, then threw himself beside 
 the fire again and lit his pipe; but suddenly remembering that 
 the smoke sometimes made Jack cough, stealthily extin- 
 guished the tobacco with his finger and slipped the pipe into 
 his pocket. For a time he lay with his head upon his hand, 
 gazing sleepily at the fire and listening to the laboured breath- 
 ing of his chum. Then the fire got low, the air grew chilly, 
 and Burton, feeling cold after his ride, rose noiselessly and 
 put on his ccat. 
 
 As he thrust his hand in his pocket he felt the sharp edge 
 of a letter, and with an upward jerk of the head, as if he had 
 forgotten the thing, he took the letter out and looked at it. 
 The envelope was unbroken and was addressed to " Mr. 
 Arthur Burton, Wally Ford." 
 
 " The first letter I've had for nearly two years," he mut- 
 tered. " Wonder who it can be from? Somebody found ouh 
 my alias some dun, I expect: looks like a business letter. 
 What else should it be? No one belonging to me knows 
 where I am or the name I go by. Half a mind to pitch it in 
 the fire, for it's sure to be a worry. Better open it, perhaps." 
 
 With a shrug of the shoulders, with an absolute indiffer- 
 ence and absence of curiosity, he opened the envelope and 
 drew out the letter. It was written on the fine bank-note 
 paper used by first-class lawyers and business men; it bore a 
 neatly engraved heading " Floss & Floss, Solicitors " and 
 it ran thus: 
 
 " DEAR SIR, With great difficulty we have succeeded in 
 tracing you as far as Wall 7 Ford, to which place we address 
 this letter with your assumed name. We have to inform you 
 of the death of your uncle. Sir Richard Vancourt, which oc- 
 curred, on November the ninth last. You have succeeded to 
 the baronetcy in natural course. By a will, executed on his 
 death-bed, your uncle bequeathed you the estates and his 
 whole fortune. In the event of your death, everything goes 
 to a distant relation of Sir Richard's a young lady named 
 Esther Vancourt. We beg most earnestly that you will, 
 immediately on receipt of this letter, return to England, and 
 we anxiously await a telegram from you, as all attempts to 
 trace you from Wally Ford have failed. Your affairs most 
 Urgently need your presence here. We have the honour to 
 te, dear sir, Your obedient servants, FLOSS & FLOSS. "
 
 LOVE, THE TYI? A1?T. 9 
 
 Bnrton stared at the letter without moving a muscle; his 
 "head felt hot, his face grew red and white by turns. It was 
 hard to believe, even with the crisp paper between his fingers, 
 the legible writing before his eyes. His uncle was dead; he 
 was Sir John Vancourt, a baronet of the United Kingdom, 
 the owner of the vast fortune which his uncle had built up 
 hundred by hundred, thousand by thousand. 
 
 He could scarcely remember the old man, who had hated 
 him as a boy, had never given a thought to either the title or 
 the money. And now they were both his! 
 
 He was no longer a wanderer on the face of the earth, 
 literally earning his bread by the sweat f his brow, carrying 
 his life in his hand, and heedless whether he dropped it by the 
 way or not, but a man of rank, with a place and position 
 waiting for him in dear old England, that little island which 
 you only begin to love when you are exiled from it. He was 
 the owner of Vanjourt Towers he had only the dimmest 
 recollection of it; of a rambling, Norman-looking place, with 
 a couple of half-ruined towers and a dry moat in which the 
 grass was always green and where the sunlight rarely played. 
 He knew that the house was magnificent, that two genera- 
 tions of Vancourts had spent inauy thousands upon it, but the 
 chief point of his remembrance were the old towers and the 
 moat, the peacocks on the terrace, and the swans on the lake 
 in the park. 
 
 And it was all his! Hard to realise, as he lay there in the 
 Australian wilds, in the rough hut, with the barest necessaries 
 of life, with a few shillings in his pocket, and his wardrobe 
 consisting of the riding-suit he wore. He scarcely knew 
 whether to be glad or sorry; it had come so suddenly. And 
 yet he ought to be glad, very glad, for he had had a devil of 
 a hard time of it. Cattle-running, sheep- washing, gold-dig- 
 ging, read very prettily and poetically in novels, but they are 
 hard, cruelly hard work, as many a young Englishman knows 
 to his cost; and Arthur Burton had faced perils and priva- 
 tions which would have bowled him over long ago but for his 
 great strength and the Vancourt constitution, which had 
 enabled his race to go the pace in all kinds of ways with im- 
 punity. 
 
 Yes, he would go at once and take up his title and inherit* 
 ance. Then he remembered his sick chum lying on the bed. 
 No; he couldn't go at once. He wouldn't leave Jack if the 
 throne of England were waiting for him; he would wait until 
 his chum was better, and strong enough to travel, and he 
 would take Jack to Vancourt Towers, and they would have
 
 10 LOVE, THE 
 
 the highest of high times together, just as they had had thft 
 roughest of the rough. He wouldn't desert his friead: 
 Jack wasn't going to die; that was all nonsense; men always 
 got down on their luck when the fever was in them. He 
 wouldn't say anything about the change in his fortunes until 
 Jack was better, and then they'd be ofi to dear old England, 
 side by side, comrades still. 
 
 The sick man moved and moaned uneasily, and Arthur 
 rose and went to him. 
 
 " Had a nice old snooze, old man?" 
 
 " Yes," said Jack. " First rate, if it hadn't been for the 
 dreams. I thought I was a boy again, playing with my sister. 
 I never told you about her, Arthur I've never told you any- 
 thing about myself. It isn't a pleasant story." His white 
 face flushed and his eyes fell. " Somehow, to-night I feel I 
 should like to. I mightn't have another chance." 
 
 " Don't worry about it unless you like, old man," said 
 Arthur. " We all have our little stories. Why the devil 
 should we be here in this God-forsaken place if we hadn't?" 
 
 " My father was a parson," said Jack in a low voice, and 
 turning his head away on the rough pillow. " He died and 
 left my sister she is younger than I am to my care. There 
 wasn't much money, and I I spent it. I got up to Lon- 
 don You can guess the rest. When the smash came I 
 bolted, and left her in the charge of a maiden aunt, a good 
 sort of woman, who, thank God, will have taken care of her. 
 They think me dead, for I was reported killed in the Branch 
 Valley affair; and I didn't contradict the report, for it seemed 
 to me better just then that I should be dead than alive. I 
 disgraced them and myself, and betrayed the trust my father 
 had_left me. Nice kind of brother! Poor little girl! I hope 
 she -Is happy! I'm sure she has forgiven me. Arthur, if 
 anything should happen to me, when you go back to the old 
 country I want you to look my sister up and tell her what 
 chums we were, and what a friend you've been to me. I 
 want you to give an eye to her and see that she's all right. 
 Observe my colossal selfishness: I'm not satisfied with all 
 you've done for me, but I must worry you about my sister! 
 feut I know you'd do it, old man. You're the strong kind of 
 chap that weak men like myself always prey upon. You'll 
 do it, Arthur?" 
 
 " Of course I will," said Arthur. 
 
 His eyes closed as if the talk had tired him, and he slept 
 for a few minutes; then woke with a shudder and complained 
 of the cold. Arthur took off. his coat and insisted upon pot*
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 11 
 
 ting it on his sick chum Jack's was a much thinner one and 
 in rags and Jack got up and lay beside the fire, which 
 Arthur stirred into a blaze. He made a cushion of the other 
 coat, but Jack was restless and could not lie still. 
 
 " Do you think I only fancied that I heard voices in the 
 valley, Arthur?" he asked. " If 1 hadn't had the fever on 
 me I could have sworn there were men down there." 
 
 "Only your fancy, I think, old man; at any rate, they 
 wouldn't be rangers, for the police are in the neighbourhood 
 and the scoundrels would have cleared out." 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " Where's that paper you bought?" he asked, presently. 
 
 Arthur took it from the bed, and, unfolding it, handed it, 
 and while Jack was reading it, made some more tea. Sud- 
 denly an exclamation from Jack caused him to look round. 
 
 Jack had sprung to his feet and was staring at the paper, 
 which he was clutching with shaking hands. His face was 
 crimson, his lips trembling, and Arthur thinking that he was 
 geized with the delirium of the fever, went to him quickly and 
 put an arm round him, 
 
 " What's the matter, old man; feeling bad?" 
 
 " Bad! I must be going mad. Feel my pulse, Arthur!" 
 He thrust one hand out. " Is it fever; am I off my head? 
 Tell me tell me quick, for God's sake!" 
 
 " You're all right," said Arthur, soothingly. " Keep your 
 hair on, old chap. What ails you?" 
 
 Jack struck the paper with his shaking finger. 
 
 " Here's something about my sister, Arthur; the girl I've 
 just been telling you about! it's like a dream, a miracle. 
 Here's her name, plain enough; and a story about her that's 
 too wonderful to be true! It says here! you read it your- 
 self, for I can't see the words, there's a mist before my eyes. 
 Read it out loud, and, for God's sake, be quick or I shall go 
 mad! There it is; there there!" 
 
 He thrust the paper into Arthur's hands and pointed to the 
 paragraph, and Arthur read it aloud: 
 
 " * Berkshire has sustained a severe loss in the death of Sir 
 Richard Vancourt of Vancourt Towers. He was pre-eminent 
 as a landlord and a magistrate, and will ever be remembered 
 by the poor as their benefactor and friend. The baronetcy 
 descends to Mr. John Vancourt, and to this nephew the late 
 Sir Richard has left his immense fortune; but, as is well 
 known, the young man left England for Australia some years 
 ago, and ia supposed to have died there. If this should], un-
 
 12 LOVE, THE TYBAUT. 
 
 fortunately, be the case, all Sir Richard's wealth goes to a 
 distant relation, a young lady named Esther Vancourt. Dili- 
 gent enquiries after Sir John, the present baronet, having 
 proved futile, Miss Esther Vancourt is, so to speak, in pos- 
 session of the property. While deploring the death of the 
 young baronet if dead he be we offer our respectful con- 
 gratulations to the young lady who is presumptive mistress of 
 Vancourt Towers.' ' 
 
 Arthur neither started noa uttered a word, but just looked 
 straight before him with eyes that saw the printed lines on the 
 opposite wall. This chum of his, then, was a sort of cousin, 
 the little sister Jack had consigned to Arthur's care was the 
 girl who would have inherited Sir Richard's money if he, 
 Arthur, had not been alive! For a moment he wished that 
 he was dead. A cry from Jack roused him from his stupor. 
 The sick man was sitting on the bed, clutching at the edge of 
 it as if for support. An expression of amazement, of joy, 
 was on his face; he was trembling violently. 
 
 " It's true, Arthur; you read it yourself, and you're sane 
 enough! My little Esther! God bless her! Rich! Oh, 
 Arthur, old man, if you knew how hard and bitter a time she 
 must have had! She must have had to work for her living, 
 must have had to suffer and put up with all sorts of slights 
 and hardships. You know what a girl has to endure in Eng- 
 land when she is poor and friendless. The thought of it has 
 kept me awake many and manv a night, and made life a hell 
 for me. And now she's rich! You think it's true, don't 
 you; the fellow isn't lying?" he broke off, eagerly. 
 
 " No, no; it's all right," said Arthur, with a calmness 
 which surprised himself. " So your name is Vancourt?" 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " Yes," he said, hoarsely, weakness setting in after the ex- 
 citement. " It's a good old name. The Sir Richard that 
 died and left his money to Esther was a kind of cousin of 
 mine. I never saw him or any of his people; we were too 
 poor and proud to claim his acquaintance, and I don't know 
 now he came to remember Esther's existence. But I'm grate- 
 ful to him, for he's mads it easy for me to hand in my 
 checks. I shall die as happy as a bird, now that I know my 
 little girl is safe; for to be rich in England is to be sate. 
 Arthur," he added, with a hoarse laugh. 
 
 Arthur was silent for a moment, then he said, gravely: 
 
 " But the nephew, the present baronet, may be alire, old 
 man*"
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAJHGi 13 
 
 Jack started and looked at him almost angrily. 
 
 " What do you mean?" he demanded, excitedly. " Of 
 course he's dead! Doesn't the paper say so? Wouldn't he 
 have heard of his luck and gone hounding over to England to 
 claim the money and title long ago? I'm certain he's dead!" 
 He wiped the sweat from his brow. " Oh, it would be too 
 cruel to have him turn up and rob Esther. She's a girl, and 
 alone in the world for lam dying and shall never go back 
 to her and she wants the money. It's her due, it's been left 
 to her it would be cruel, cruel! What do you mean by say- 
 ing he's alive?" 
 
 " Don't excite yourself," said Arthur, soothingly. " I 
 only said he might be: I daresay he's as dead as a herring, 
 and for your sake and your sister's, old man, I hope he is. 
 But don't you talk about dying; this good news is just what 
 you wanted to shake you up. You lie down again; and, 
 whatever you do, keep your hair on." 
 
 He gently forced Jack on to the bed and covered him up 
 with a rug. 
 
 " Give me the paper," said the sick man, brokenly; and 
 he clutched it and tried to read the paragraph, repeating lines 
 here and there and murmuring every now and then: 
 
 "Esther! Little Esther rich! Oh, thank God! God 
 bless my little Esther!" 
 
 Arthur went and stood in front of the fire, his hands thrust 
 in his breeches pockets, his head bent, his handsome face 
 grave and troubled. How could he tell his chum that Sir 
 John Vancourt was alive, that he was the missing baronet, 
 and that he was going to deprive the little sister of her 
 wealth? He couldn't. 
 
 The sick man's muttering ceased, an intense silence fell 
 upon the hut, broken only by the breathing of Bob, who had 
 been rushing around, sharing in the excitement, but had now 
 coiled himself up beside the fire, close to his master's feet. 
 
 Suddenly the dog raised his head and emitted a low growl. 
 Arthur started from his reverie and listened, and his ears, 
 almost as sharp as Bob's, heard the sound of footsteps outside 
 the door. He sprang on tiptoe to the bed: Jack was sleeping 
 heavily, the sleep of exhaustion. Arthur caught up his rifle, 
 felt the revolver in his belt, and stood in front of the heavily 
 bolted door, waiting. 
 
 Presently the dog gave a loud bark. Jack sat up in bed, 
 and a voice outside called out: 
 
 " Hallo, in there!" 
 
 " HaUol" responded Arthur. " Witt's tfaoaP*
 
 14 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " A traveller let me in, mate!" came the voice. 
 
 Arthur drew his revolver and slowly unbolted the door. A 
 man wearing a mask sprang in with pointed revolver. 
 
 " Hands up!" he cried. " We don't want no bloodshed!" 
 
 Arthur fired promptly; but prompt as he had been, the 
 bushranger had ducked and the bullet passed over his head. 
 The next moment three other men flung themselves upon 
 Arthur; he fired twice before the revolver was knocked out of 
 his hand, and he struggled and fought like an Englishman; 
 but it was four against one, and he was at last forced against 
 the wall^ his arms bound behind his back and his feet securely 
 tied. 
 
 Jack had sprung from the bed, but before he could seize 
 his revolver, he was struck backwards by a blow from the 
 butt end of a rifle and lay panting and helpless. 
 
 " Now, bail up!" said the man who had first entered. 
 " Where do you keep the stuff? We know you've got some; 
 own up, or we'll shoot you like a dog." 
 
 Arthur smiled. 
 
 " Shoot away!" he said. 
 
 The bushranger lifted his revolver, but one of his compan- 
 ions stopped him. 
 
 " Hold hard; give him time. He looks a sensible sort of 
 chap. Come now, mate!" addressing Arthur. " Just tell 
 us where the swag is, and give us a drink, and we're off as 
 peaceable as lambs." 
 
 " Go or stay, it's all one to me," said Arthur. " I don't 
 help you to a penny." 
 
 The leader of the gang swore a terrible oath. 
 
 " Let me finish him!" he cried. " We can search for the 
 stuff afterwards." 
 
 Arthur looked towards the panting figure lying across the 
 bed. 
 
 " Stop!" he said. " My chum there is in a bad way; 
 you've knocked him senseless; it may kill him; give him a 
 drink of water and pull him round." 
 
 One of the men picked up a pan of water and was advanc- 
 ing to the bed, but the ringleader stopped him. 
 
 " Hold on there!" he said. Then he smiled sardonically at 
 Arthur. " Look here, mate; tell us where the stuff is and 
 
 we'll help your chum: play the d d obstinate mule, and 
 
 I'llput a bullet in him before your eyes." 
 
 He pointed his revolver significantly at Jack. 
 
 Arthur went white to the very lips, and his dark eyes burnt
 
 "LOVE, THE TYRAUT. 15 
 
 like two spots of fire; then he said in a low voice, but with 
 perfect calm: 
 
 " Don't lire. You'll find the little we possess in a canvas 
 bag, under that barrel of mealies." 
 
 Two of the men sprang to the spot indicated and dug up 
 the bag with their knives, the third the man with the pan- 
 nikin in his hands went to Jack, and poured some water 
 down his throat and over his head. The ringleader still stood 
 in front of Arthur, eyeing him vindictively; for the scorn on 
 Arthur's white face cut like a lash. The two men with the 
 bag came forward. 
 
 " Better be off now," said one; " there's nothing more, I 
 reckon." 
 
 " Search their pockets," said the ringleader. " Here, 1*11 
 go over this man's." 
 
 He went up to Arthur to search him; but Arthur had 
 managed, with extreme difficulty and indescribable pain, to 
 release one arm, and he struck the ranger a blow which sent 
 him reeling across the hut and tore the mask from his face. 
 
 With a cry of rage and an oath, the ranger snatched UD the 
 revolver, which had fallen from his hand, and levelled it at 
 Arthur. 
 
 " Don't shoot it's safer!" cried one of his companions. 
 
 " Not shoot! Why not? He's struck me he's seen my 
 face will know me! I'd shoot him if a thousand devils stood 
 in the way!" 
 
 He hissed the words rather than spoke them, and his face 
 a handsome but sinister one was white as marble, except- 
 ing where Arthur's fist had struck it. He levelled his re- 
 volver and took careful aim at Arthur's heart; but as the 
 lookers-on stood in breathless suspense, a figure rose from the 
 bed, staggered across the hut and flung itself across Arthur's 
 breast. 
 
 The sharp report rang out, the wreath of smoke curled up 
 from the revolver, and with a cry Jack fell dead at his chum's 
 feet. 
 
 Hardened as they were, a murmur of horror rose from the 
 Other rangers. 
 
 " Curse it all, you've shot the wrong man!" said one. 
 
 " It was his own fault, the fool!" snarled the ringleader. 
 " But there's time to shoot the right one." 
 
 Two of the gang sprang at him and caught him by the 
 arm, and there was a struggle. In the midst of it, while 
 Arthur, forgetting his own impending fate, bent down over
 
 16 LOVE, THE TYRAITT. 
 
 his dead chum, a whistle sounded, and one of tne gang, wh* 
 had been left outside as sentinel, rushed in. 
 
 " The police!" he said. " They're coming up the gulch! 
 What the devil's on? Looks like murder! Come on!" 
 
 The men rushed out, and the dead clrarn and the living one 
 were left alone. 
 
 The dog, that had been kicked almost senseless into a 
 corner, crawled across the floor, and, whining, licked the 
 dead man's face; and tears dropped from Arthur's eyes on to 
 the dog's shaggy coat. 
 
 His friend was dead, had given his life for him, laid it 
 down willingly, cheerfully. Had died in the fond belief that 
 the sister he loved was rich and safe and provided for. And 
 he, Arthur, the man poor Jack had died for, was going home 
 to deprive the girl of her money. Oh, was he? 
 
 The minutes passed. Bob lay with his paws and head over 
 the prostrate figure, whining intermittingly. Arthur crouched 
 with his hand upon his dead chum's head. Presently there 
 came the sound of horsemen; voices called, a word of com- 
 mand rang out; the door was opened, and a police officer, 
 followed by some of his men, entered the hut. He ran to 
 Arthur and. cut his bonds, and Arthur staggered on to his 
 knees beside Jack. 
 
 The sergeant examined the body, shook his head, and laid 
 his hand upon Arthur's shoulder. 
 
 " Your chum?" he said, in a low voice. " He's quite 
 dead." 
 
 Arthur rose, tried to speak, then staggered back against 
 the wall and slid down to the floor fainting from the wound 
 which until now he had been unconscious of. 
 
 When he came to and was helped to his feet, Jack's body 
 was lying on the bed, decently covered, and the sergeant was 
 standing beside it with an open letter in his hand. 
 
 " We did not know how long it might be before you came 
 to," he said, *' and so we searched your friend for means of 
 identification. We found this letter an important one in 
 his jacket pocket. It appears by this that his real name is 
 Sir John Vancourt, and that he is the heir to a large pro]> 
 erty in England. Poor fellow! Is that so? Is that his 
 name?" 
 
 " Yes," said Arthur, without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 His voice was hoarse with weakness and anguish, but it was 
 so clear and distinct that every one heard it. 
 
 " And what is yours?" asked the servant.
 
 WJVE, THE TYRANT. 17 
 
 " Jack Goraon," replied Arthur, as promptly, as calmly, 
 3 before. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " WHAT you have always to remember, my dear Esther, is 
 that you are a Vancourt." 
 
 It was seven months later, and the lady who thus adjured 
 Esther Vancourt was the Miss Worcester, the maiden aunt, 
 with whom Esther had lived since childhood. 
 
 The two ladies were on the small terrace in front of the 
 west wing of the Towers, and they were waiting for the pony- 
 carriage, in which they were going for a drive. It was a 
 lovely evening in spring strange to say, considering that an 
 English spring has now become rather more hateful than 
 winter and so warm that Esther wore no cloak over the 
 white dress with the black sash, which was its only ornament. 
 
 Miss Worcester was a charming old lady with silvery hair 
 and blue eyes, which had always been placid, but had lately, 
 since Esther's " change of circumstances," endeavoured to 
 assume, wkh more or less success, an expression of dignity. 
 At this moment she was sitting bolt upright on one of the 
 stone seats built into a recess of the old red wall, and regard- 
 ing the owner of the historic name with something like an 
 appeal and reproach; for tha,t young lady had not seated her- 
 self in stately dignity beside her aunt, but had perched herself 
 on the stone balustrade of the terrace, and was swinging a 
 pair of very small and very daintily brown-clad feet " just 
 like a school-boy," Miss Worcester thought. 
 
 The girl made a picture which, though it shocked her 
 aunt's sense of propriety, would have set an artist or a poet 
 thrilling; for, whatever else she might be, she certainly was 
 ravishingly and dangerously pretty, with a prettiness which 
 later on would develop into actual loveliness; for let it be 
 whispered with bated breath few women come to loveliness 
 at twenty-one. 
 
 She was dark, with a wealth of hair which caused her, by 
 its vagaries, considerable trouble to keep within its coil ; with 
 dark and rather thick brows, and that clear and colourless 
 complexion which goes sometimes with perfect health. Her 
 eyes were grey, light sometimes, dark or violet at others, just 
 as her mood coloured them; and her mouth was shapely but 
 by no means small. Both mouth and eyes were expressive, 
 too expressive sometimes; for like most women who have gone 
 through the mill of poverty which grindeth so exceeding
 
 18 LOVE, THE TYRASTi 
 
 small there was a touch of pride and meiancftoly in hef 
 character which sometimes made her haughty and sometimes 
 sad. But as a rule she was high in spirits; indeed, her aunt 
 had more than once called her a tomboy: but that was before 
 Esther had come into the Vancourt property. She was very 
 nearly tall, and thin for at twenty-one a girl has not quite 
 ceased growing but not with the thinness which is painful to 
 the beholder, but with that slender suppleness which should 
 belong to a girl as her birthright. 
 
 She was looking now rather dreamily across the drive and 
 towards the setting sun, but she heard her aunt's admonition 
 and laughed. 
 
 " Somehow, I don't think I'm likely to forget it, aunt, 
 dear," she said. 
 
 " You mean that I remind you of it too frequently, my 
 dear. Perhaps I do, but you must remember that I have a 
 duty to perform my dear Esther, I am perfectly certain you 
 will lose your balance and fall over that parapet." 
 
 " No danger, I assure you, dear. If I felt myself going, I 
 should cling to the pillar with my toes like this see?" re- 
 sponded Esther, cheerfully, and she crooked her foot round 
 the pillar. 
 
 " All the same, my dear Esther, one must consider appear* 
 ances. If the butler or one of the footmen were to see you, 
 for instance." 
 
 " He'd be shocked, I suppose," said Esther. " And yet, 
 would they? I have shocked them so often since I came that 
 they must be used to it." 
 
 " 1 am almost afraid they are," assented Miss Worcester, 
 with a sigh. " Yesterday, Palmer had to go to the sideboard 
 to conceal his laughter over that story of yours about the 
 bishop and the miner, and the footman nearly choked and 
 was compelled to retire from the room." 
 
 " Did he really?" said Esther, with an air of surprise and 
 satisfaction. " Palmer has risen in my estimation; I was under 
 the evidently erroneous impression that he was carved out of 
 8 chunk of wood." 
 
 " Piece of wood, my dear Esther; though the description 
 in any form is scarcely a suitable one to apply to so highly 
 respectable a servant as " 
 
 *' Here's the pony-cart, aunt," said Esther, dropping like 
 a falling blossom from her perch. " What a j'olly little beast 
 ft is! It looks like a door-mat on four legs!"' 
 
 " Y-es," assented Miss Worcester, doubtfully, for it was
 
 WVE, THE TYRANT. 19 
 
 her irst introduction to the pony in question. " Are you 
 sure it is quite safe, my dear?" 
 
 " Quite," said Esther, cheerfully. " If it shows any incli- 
 nation to fall down we just lean back in the cart and the 
 shafts will hold it up." 
 
 " I meant was it likely to run away?" 
 
 " Oh, no, aunt. It is thirty years old, I believe isn't it, 
 Giles?" 
 
 The well-trained groom, standing bolt upright at the 
 shaggy little morsel's nead, touched his hat. 
 
 " Twenty, miss." 
 
 " Only twenty? I'm disappointed. Get in, aunt," as she 
 took the reins. " We'll have a nice long drive, and if the 
 pony gets tired we'll put it inside the cart, and you and I will 
 drag it in turns." 
 
 The groom turned away to hide a smile, and the modest 
 equipage " a biscuit-box on two wheels," Esther called it 
 jogged down the avenue. 
 
 " I'm surprised you like this better than the landau or the 
 victoria, Esther," Miss Worcester remarked, her words being 
 Jerked out by the motion of the cart. 
 
 Esther shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Between you and me, aunt, I loathe the landau; and any- 
 way, I had enough of it yesterday to last me for a long time. 
 Oh, shall I ever forget the miles we rolled along behind those 
 fat horses, and how glad I was when we came to a house we 
 had to visit almost as glad as I was to get out of the house 
 again." ) 
 
 " And yet I am spire every one was most kind." 
 
 " They were. I'm not denying it; but behind their kind- 
 ness, what curiosity! What glances they cast at my hat and 
 dress and hands I suppose they expected to see a kind of 
 superior servant, or a seamstress with the marks of the needle 
 on her hands I don't suppose many of them know I got my 
 living by teaching music, do they? and how they listened to 
 detect the vulgar accent which might betray the * poor girl 
 who'd come into the Vancourt property.' But it's not nice 
 of me to criticise them, though they criticised me, for they 
 were all very kind when they saw that I should pass muster, 
 and I think I may conclude that I am duly and solemnly re- 
 ceived into county society." 
 
 " 1 should think so, my dear," said Miss Worcester, brid- 
 ling. " A Vancourt of Vancourt is the equal of all and the 
 inperior of many; and though we were poor, w were always
 
 20 [*1VE, THE TTRANT. 
 
 ladies, I troat, my dear Esther. I can say, humbly, 
 did my best." 
 
 " Yes, I know, dear, and a very good best it was. What 
 and where should I have been but for you, auntie? There, I 
 can't k.ss you through that veil, but I'll kiss my hand to you, 
 and I'll beg your pardon for being naughty, and I'll promise 
 to be good but you muat give me time, auntie, dear. You 
 see, my greatness has come so suddenly; and it's hard to 
 realise that I am not any longer Esther Vancourt, the music- 
 teacher, but Miss Vancourt of Vancourt Towers. And now, 
 auntie, I am going to pick some of those primroses " they 
 were in the lane by this time " you hold the reins." 
 
 " My dear Esther, I'm sure the pony will run away!" 
 
 " No, auntie! What will happen, if anything does, will be 
 that Toby will drop off to sleep and fall down; but you 
 mustn't let him: give him a cut with the whip: he will only 
 smile, of course, for he couldn't feel it through that thick coat, 
 but it will keep him from dozing off." 
 
 She got out and ran lightly up the bank, and the pony 
 wandered on at a snail's pace. 
 
 While Esther was picking the primroses, a man was com- 
 ing down the road in the opposite direction to that in which 
 Miss Worcester was being reluctantly dragged. He was tall 
 and thin, and very shabby. The dust was thick on his boots, 
 and there were rents in his clothes. He looked something 
 like a tramp at first sight, and he was followed by a splendid 
 collie as dusty as himself. The man was walking slowly, 
 suiting his pace to that of the dog, who was limping as if he 
 were lame, and soon after they had passed the pony-carriage, 
 and received a stony and timid glance from the elderly lady in 
 it, the man stopped and seated himself on the bank, and said 
 to the dog: 
 
 " Let's look at that foot again, Bob, old man. Seems to 
 me you are going more dotty on it than you did this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 &j\) limped up beside his master, and settling down, held 
 up his paw in a matter-of-fact way, with an expression which 
 said quite plainly: " Awfully kind of you to bother about it, 
 but it really is nothing to speak of." 
 
 The man took the foot and looked at it anxiously, and 
 wiped it with his handkerchief. 
 
 'Fraid it's going to fester, old man," he said in the low 
 monotone in which one addresses a beloved canine friend. 
 
 Bob's eyes said he thought not, and tie did not wince when
 
 THE TYBAST. 21 
 
 his master's gentle hand touched the root of th thorn which 
 was buried in the pad. 
 
 " Wish I'd got some warm water! It's two miles to the 
 nearest inn, Bob, and you're heavy to carry; besides, you 
 wouldn't let me, you obstinate mule, you! Never mind, we'll 
 have a spell of rest, and I'll hold your foot; it eases it, doesn't 
 it, old chap?" 
 
 Bob said " yes," and looked up with grateful content, his 
 foot clasped tenderly in the strong hand. The man got out 
 a pipe and filled and lit it without disturbing the dog, and as 
 he smoked, looked at a corner of the Towers at the half- 
 ruined tower rising above the moat which he could see from 
 where he sat. 
 
 " Funny to come upon the old place like this, isn't it, 
 Bob?" he said, with rather a grim smile. " I've pictured it 
 many a time, but never thought I should see it from the 
 tramp's point of view. But that is what is called the irony 
 of fate, old man. "Well, I'm glad I've had a look at it; and 
 now we'll pad the hoof back to London; but we'll get this 
 hoof of yours straight first What's the matter?" 
 
 The dog had pricked up its ears and emitted a low growl; 
 and the next moment a young girl in a white dress and a 
 black sash, her hair blown loose, with her hat in one hand 
 and a bunch of primroses in the other, bounded from the 
 bank into the road within a few paces of them. 
 
 The dog was startled and made a rush for her, which 
 startled her; but she stood still and quite calm, though with 
 a touch of colour in the clear pallor of her face. 
 
 The man sprang to his feet and called the dog; and Bob, 
 after a critical sniff at the white dress and the not much less 
 white hand held out to him, wagged his tail and slowly limped 
 back to his master. 
 
 The man raised his hat. 
 
 " I beg your pardon; I'm afraid my dog startl " 
 
 But Esther did not wait for the rest. 
 
 " What a beautiful dog!" she said; " and, oh, poor fellow, 
 he is lame! What is it?" 
 
 " A collie," said the man. 
 
 She eyed him with a touch of impatience. 
 
 " Oh, of course, I know that, my good man! I mean what 
 has he done to his leg?" 
 
 The " good man " bent down to hide a smile, and laid his 
 hand on the dog's head. 
 
 "It's his foot. He ran a thorn into it yesterday. I 
 ttooght I'd taken it out, but I must have left a piece in"
 
 22 LOVE, THU TYRANT. 
 
 "Ah, yesl .and it may fester! How painful! I know 
 what he must be suffering. I wonder if I could get it out. 
 May I try? I've got a small pair of tweezers in my knife 
 where is it?*' She felt in the mysterious region where women 
 keep their pockets. " Oh, here it is! I'm not afraid of his 
 biting me. I'm used to dogs, and love them." 
 
 " He will not bite you," said the man. 4< But he may soil 
 your dress. If yon will give me the tweezers" 
 
 She looked up at him quickly. Something in his voice, in 
 his manner, surprised her, and made her vaguely uneasy. 
 She had taken him for a common or garden tramp; but his 
 tone, and his face, now that she looked at it, and more espe- 
 cially the dark eyes regarded her so calmly and gravely, 
 knocked the tramp estimate into a cocked hat. 
 
 " Perhaps if you held him while I tried to get it out " 
 she suggested. 
 
 He nodded, spoke a word to Bob, who had looked on at- 
 tentively and in courteous silence, and who now held up his 
 paw with dignified and gentle resignation. Esther took the 
 paw and began the usual game with the tweezers. 
 
 " I shall know if I hurt him, because he will call out," she 
 said. 
 
 " No, he won't call out," said the man, quietly. " He 
 never complains. He has walked miles with that thing in his 
 foot, and tried to hide the limp." 
 
 " You are fond of him?" she said, quickly, and leaving off 
 the surgical operation to look up at his face. 
 
 The man only smiled. 
 
 " And no wonder! He is a beauty! Such a noble head 
 and kind, gentle eyes! No, I can't reach it, but I know 
 where it is. What shall we do?" She sighed and looked 
 round impatiently. " He can't walk any farther. Oh, 
 would you mind going down the lane till you come to a 
 lodge? You could get a needle there, and some water to 
 bathe his foot. I'll come after you directly. Where have 
 auntie and Toby gone?" 
 
 They had not gone far, and were now returning: how Miss 
 Worcester had succeeded in turning Toby will forever remain 
 a mystery. 
 
 " My dear, I thought some accident had happened What 
 is this?" she broke off, eyeing the man and the dog fear- 
 somely. 
 
 " The dog is lame. Isn't it a beauty, aunt? I never saw 
 ne like it. And I love collies." 
 
 Now, Miss Worcester was near-sighted, and the man was to
 
 COVE, THE TYRANT, 23 
 
 Her Jwst a tramp. A brilliant idea seized her, and she rose to 
 ft promptly. 
 
 " It is a very handsome dog, my dear. Why not buy itf 
 I am sure the young fellow would sell it. Wouldn't you?" 
 
 The young fellow crimsoned from neck to brow; then, as 
 if ashamed of his sudden emotion, he said, in a matter-of-fact 
 way: 
 
 " Thank you very much. It would be a kindness to him 
 to change owners. No, I'm afraid he's such a fool as not to 
 think so; so I won't sell him, thanks very much." 
 
 Esther had gone as red as the man; but to hide her em- 
 barrassment she became cold and impassive at once: it is one 
 of those charming tricks which girls have. 
 
 " We don't want to buy your dog, thanks," she said, icily. 
 " You can take it to the lodge and tell them that I sent you; 
 and I hope it will soon be all right." 
 
 The man raised his hat. 
 
 " Thank you very much. I will be glad to do so. Whose 
 name shall I say?" 
 
 " Esther Vancourt " she bit her lip, and drew herself up 
 haughtily " Miss Vancourt, of the Towers." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JACK GOKDON he had almost forgotten his real name, 
 John Vancourt, or his old alias, Arthur Burton, looked after 
 the pony-jingle with a rather curious smile about his lips, 
 then he and Bob went on and found the lodge. 
 
 It was a large one, for it was the homestead of the home 
 farm, and a little way from the house were the cattle-yard 
 and sheds. Jack looked up admiringly at the low-thatched 
 roof and the old quartering which supported the red brick 
 work, almost covered with clematis and ivy, and wished that 
 he were Miss Vancourt's farmer and lodge-keeper; for he 
 was very tired and hungry, and Miss Esther was not the first 
 person who had mistaken him for a common tramp. 
 
 As he opened the rustic gate and entered the little front 
 garden, gay and odorous with roses and stocks, a little woman, 
 with a somewhat careworn face, came to the door, and imme- 
 diately shook her head. 
 
 " I've nothing " she began; bat Jack cri f ; - rather 
 sharply: 
 
 " You mistake; I'm not begging Ah, yes, by George! 
 but I wii though.' My dog's got a thorn in. his foot, and I
 
 24 LOVE, THE TTRAJST. 
 
 want a needle and hot water, if you'll be kind enough t let 
 me have them." 
 
 He did not want to use Miss Vancourt's name unless he 
 were obliged; but the woman still eyed him with a troubled 
 and rather suspicious expression; so he was compelled to add: 
 
 " I'm sorry to trouble you, but the poor fellow's in pain, 
 and Miss Vancourt gave me permission to ask you." 
 
 The woman's face cleared. 
 
 " You saw her?" 
 
 "With another lady in a pony-carriage," he said. "I 
 aha'n't be more than five or ten minutes, if you'll be so good. 
 I can do it out here on the bench." 
 
 She nodded, and presently brought him a bowl of hot 
 water, a towel, and a packet of needles. 
 
 "Now then, old man," said Jack, cheerfully; "get ap 
 here and we'll have this operation over in a jiffy. " 
 
 Though he had to probe deeply before hs could extract the 
 thorn, Bob never even winced, but looked up in his face with 
 the confiding, grateful look which is only seen in a dog or a 
 horse; and the woman, who stood looking on, was touched by 
 the gentleness of the strong man and the evident love between 
 him and the animal. 
 
 " It's a beautiful dog," she said, in a low and timid voice. 
 " Is the water hot enough? will you have some more?" 
 
 "No, thanks," said Jack. "We shall do nicely now 
 that is, if he hadn't to walk so far. We'll rest a lot on the 
 way." 
 
 " You have walked far already?" she asked, reluctantly. 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " We've been walking for exactly seven days and a half." 
 
 She glanced uneasily at his old boots, and at his worn and 
 shabby clothes. He was evidently a tramp, but very much 
 unlike the species with which she was acquainted. 
 
 " You can rest here; it's cool and shady," she said. " And 
 would you like a glass of milk?" 
 
 " Very much, indeed, thank }0u," said Jack, as he bathed 
 Bob's foot. 
 
 She brought him some, and as he thanked her he raised his 
 weather-stained cap; but he set the glass on the bench beside 
 him, and throwing the water out of the bowl, poured some 
 milk into it and gave it to Bob, and he even waited until Bob 
 had eagerly started on his share before drinking his o?ra. 
 
 This little bit of unselfishness, natural enough to Jack, 
 broke down the woman's cautiousness, and she went into tht 
 Uouse and brought oat some hme-made cake .on a plate.
 
 IOVE, THE TYRANT. 25 
 
 Perhaps you he would like some," she said, almost 
 apologetically. 
 
 " Both of us would," said Jack, " for it's a very long time 
 since breakfast, isn't it, Bob? It's good cake, ma'am; and 
 I'm qualified to know, for I've made it often enough." 
 
 She coloured faintly and was about to speak, when the cry 
 of a child rose from the room window, and she hurried away. 
 
 Jack shared the cake with Bob, and leant back in the 
 porch-settle, and indulged in the luxury of a rest and reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 So that was his dead chum's sister, the Miss Esther Van- 
 court for whom he, Jack, had surrendered his title and estates! 
 Pretty girl more than pretty. And proud, too. Never in 
 his life had he been treated to so much hauteur. He had 
 promised his chum that he would find her and look after her; 
 but it seemed as if she were not in need of much protection, 
 and that she was quite capable of looking after herself. She 
 had said that she would come on to the lodge, and perhaps 
 she might; if so, he would clear out. There was no reason 
 why he should see Miss Esther Vancourt again; she was rich 
 and powerful, and was in the charge of her aunt: yes, he'd 
 be oft', back to London, to look for work. 
 
 He rose and gathered up the bowl and the other things. 
 
 " I'll get on my way now," he said, speaking to the open 
 door. " You'll let me bring these things in?" 
 
 " Thank you," said the woman's voice from the room, and 
 Jack walked in and set the things on the table. The woman 
 was kneeling beside a chair in which was sitting a little girl 
 a pretty little soul, with a thin but flushed face which peered 
 out pitifully from the big shawl wrapped round her; and 
 Jack, to whom children were almost as irresistible as dogs 
 and horses, could not help drawing near and looking at her. 
 
 " What is the matter with her?" he asked. 
 
 " She's had the measles," said the mother in a low voice. 
 4 She ought to be well by now, but she got a chill." 
 
 "Oh, only measles," said Jack, cheerfully. "That's not 
 much; everybody has measles." 
 
 The child had half hidden her face behind her shawl, but 
 her unnaturally bright eyes had been watching the stranger, 
 aid something in the tanned, handsome face, the deep, mu- 
 sical voice, must have reassured her, for she said with dignity: 
 
 " Measles is vewy painful." 
 
 " So they are!" assented Jack, promptly; " but you'll get 
 over them all right. You've got too much pluck to be 
 beaten by a paltry kind of thing like measle% you. have."
 
 2o LOVE, THE TYEANT. 
 
 " How do yon know?" said the child, quaintly. 
 
 " I can see it in the curl of your nose," said Jack, gravely. 
 
 * Oh, do you always tell that way?" she enquired, much 
 interested. 
 
 " Always," he said, solemnly. 
 
 " I'm so tired of sitting here! I want to lie down," she 
 said, with a sigh. 
 
 " I'm not strong enough, and she can't walk. You must 
 wait till father comes home, Nettie," said the mother, ex- 
 plainingly. 
 
 " Oh, no, she needn't," said Jack, cheerfully; " I'll carry 
 her." 
 
 The mother looked grateful but doubtful, and the child 
 shrank back a little; but Jack put his arm round her with 
 that peculiar smile which goes straight to a child's heart. 
 
 " You're afraid I shall drop you, that's what you are," he 
 said. " I didn't think you were such a coward." 
 
 "I'm not a coward!" she declared, indignantly, "and 
 I'm not af waid. But perhaps you're afwaid you'll catch the 
 measles; it's awful catchin', isn't it, mother?" 
 
 Jack pretended to tremble and draw back, but she de- 
 tected the pretence and laughed for the first time for many 
 weeks, the mother remembered. 
 
 " Well," she said, resignedly. " But don't wrinkle me 
 all up, as father does sometimes." 
 
 " I'll be as careful as if you were a jelly," he said; and he 
 raised her in his strong arms, drawing the shawl round her 
 with a deftness which surprised the mother, who led the way 
 into an inner room in which was a cot. 
 
 Jack laid the child on it, gave the pillow a shake, and 
 drew the shawl over her neatly. 
 
 " How's that, umpire?" he asked, with the same irresisti- 
 ble smile. 
 
 " Very well, thank you. You did it better than father," 
 she replied. "But I specs you're used to children. Have 
 you got a nice little girl like me?" 
 
 Jack checked a sigh, though he kept the smile well on. 
 Not for the first time was his loneliness borne in upon him. 
 
 " No, thank goodnessl" he replied. " See what a trouble 
 they are! Well, good-bye, Nettie. And get well soon, for 
 mother's sake." 
 
 " I will," she said, holding out her hot little paw. ' Yon 
 may kiss me if you like if you're not weaiiy aiwaid of the 
 measles."
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. Jff 
 
 "III risk it," said Jack, and he bent and kig*ed the 
 parched lips. 
 
 The child watched him with hot, wistful eyes as he fol- 
 lowed the mother out of the room. 
 
 ** Was that wise?" she asked, anxiously, but with gratitude 
 and liking in her timid eyes. 
 
 " What? Oh, kissing the child! Good heavens, yes! Be- 
 sides, it wouldn't matter very much if I did. The inside of a 
 hospital would be rather a pleasant change for awhile. She's 
 a very pretty little thing. And there's no need for you to be 
 anxious. She'll do very well." 
 
 " I don't know how ito thank you," she faltered. " And 
 and I should like to beg your pardon. I took you for a 
 tramp, sir; but but I can see you're not what you seem." 
 
 "Very few of us are," said Jack, with his short laugh. 
 " But there's no cause for apology; I'm just a tramp, I as- 
 sure you. Good-evening, and thank you very much! I go 
 straight on for Barminster." 
 
 She went with him to the gate to direct him, and would 
 have liked to hold out her hand, but was afraid. 
 
 Jack and Bob took the road again and Bob checked the de- 
 sire to limp, and even went so far as to lark about to show 
 that he had completely recovered. His master walked along 
 in a brown study which grew browner as, coming to a bend in 
 the road, he got a very pretty, full view of the Towers. The 
 place looked magnificent in the glow of the setting sun, and, 
 leaning on a stile, Jack looked at it with a frown on his brow 
 and a curious tightening of the lips. 
 
 " Just as well I'm clearing out," he murmured, " or I 
 should be tempted to think I was being badly treated by Fate. 
 No; I might be tempted, but I fancy I should stand firm. 
 He gave his life for me, and life's worth twenty Vancourt 
 Towers. No; let her keep it. After all, she's better suited 
 to the shop than I am. She's young and pretty, and looks as 
 if she'd play the part to perfection, while I oh, Lord! what 
 should 1 do with a place like that and a quarter of a million 
 of money? What rot I talk! As if I didn't know what I'd 
 do! Wouldn't I have a stable full of horses, and hunt four 
 days a week in winter, and keep a yacht in the bay there, 
 and Ah, well, what's the use of repining, as toe song 
 says. I've given my word, and I'll stand by it." 
 
 I ought to add that he confirmed this assertion with a word 
 or two, which the highly respectable compositor would very 
 properly refuse to set up; and reluctantly dragging his eyea 
 from toe vast building, the wide-stretching lawn* and parks,
 
 28 K>TB, THE TYRAOT. 
 
 the stately elms beneath which the deer were placidly feeding^ 
 resumed his tramp. 
 
 He had not got very far on the high-road when he heard 
 the sound of wheels, and looking round, saw that it was the 
 pony-jingle with the two ladies. His face flushed for an in- 
 stant, and he quickened his pace; for he didn't want another 
 interview with Miss Vancourt of Vancourt Towers; but that 
 young lady was evidently urging Master Toby, and Jack was 
 thinking of turning down a Dye-lane until they had passed, 
 when he heard a commotion on the road in front of him. 
 
 A small farmer's cart was coming down the road, not in 
 the sober fashion appropriate to such a vehicle, but in a reck- 
 less, rollicking way due to the antics of the horse. It was all 
 over the road at once, and half rearing and kicking; and, as 
 Jack watched it, it looked very much as if it were going to 
 bolt. 
 
 The driver was standing up in the cart, and when Jack got 
 nearer he saw that the man was " three sheets in the wind." 
 His hat was off, and he was laughing in a happy-go-lucky, 
 reckless wa?, as he tugged at the rope reins. 
 
 Jack smiled. 
 
 " He'il come out on that jolly-looking head of his pres- 
 ently," he thought. " Being screwed, he won't, of course, 
 hurt himself: they never do. The horse is a young 'un, and 
 a good one too; as he's sober he'll probably rick himself or 
 something." 
 
 Then the horse did actually bolt, and Jack's smile died 
 away, for he remembered the pony-jingle which was trun- 
 dling along behind him; the farmer's cart would make ex- 
 ceedingly small 'potatoes of that if it came into collision with 
 it. 
 
 " Seems to me I'm in luck to-day," he said to himself, 
 grimly. " Of course, I've got to stop that beastly thing, and 
 I shall probably be knocked.down and generally chawed up. 
 I'm nearer that hospital than I thought. Here, Bob, you 
 stand out of it, and take a back seat. Lie down now!" 
 
 He ran forward as he spoke, and gathering himself to- 
 gether, made ready for a spring. As he did so, the jingle 
 came round the corner, the two ladies saw the little play that 
 was being enacted, and Miss Worcester cried aloud after the 
 manner of her kind. 
 
 Jack heard it noticing that the girl made no sound as he 
 leapt at the horse. There was a tussle, a clatter of hoofs, 
 and a cloud of dust through which, as through a mist, Esther 
 saw the horse forced back on to its haunches by * supreme
 
 ICVE, THE TTBA35T!, 29 
 
 effort which, strained every muscle Jack owned. She also saw 
 
 the low comedian of the play the farmer, to wit come out 
 on his head, as Jack had mentally prophesied. She drew up 
 besitle the cart and jumped out, much to Jack's disgust. 
 
 " Keep out of the way!" he cried, none too gently, for the 
 advent of the other characters on the scene excited the young 
 mare and set her dancing dangerously near Jack's toes. 
 
 Esther retreated a few yards and looked on, pale but calrv 
 while Jack and the mare waltzed about in the dust; then, 
 when tne victory was with the man, she came up. 
 
 "Are you hurt?" she asked. She was trembling just 8 
 little, and she bit her lip to keep it steady. 
 
 " I? Not a bit!" said Jack, coolly. " But I shouldn't be 
 surprised if that idiot is;" and he nodded to the jolly-faced 
 figure lying in the dust. 
 
 She crimsoned painfully. 
 
 " Oh, I I forgot him for a moment!*' she said, peni- 
 tently; and she went to where her aunt was bending over the 
 man. " Why, it's Martin!" she said. " Oh, Martin, are 
 you hurt?" for Martin had struggled to his feet, and now 
 stood looking extremely sheepish and ashamed of himself. 
 
 " Not by no means, miss," he replied, touching his fore- 
 head where his ha,t should have been. " Leastways, I think 
 not. What happened, mister? We was a-coming along 
 quiet arid easy like " 
 
 " Free and easy," said Jack in the tone in which a man 
 who is sober addresses the man who is not. " This is a three* 
 year-old, isn't it? Did you think vou'd got a child's roeking- 
 norse in the shafts?" 
 
 The man looked at him with a kind of good-tempered re- 
 sentment. 
 
 " We'd a-been all right if it hadn't stopped suddenly," he 
 said. 
 
 " For shame, Martin!" Miss Vancourt broke in. " The 
 horse was bolting, and this this gentleman stopped it in the 
 the most wonderful way. It is a marvel he wasn't injured, 
 and that you're not killed." 
 
 Martin^, though not killed, looked very much wounded in 
 spirit. 
 
 "Me, miss! Lor* bless your innercenfc heart! I've betn 
 tumbling out of carts all my life " 
 
 " You'll tumble once too often, my friend," said Jack, 
 who wanted to cut the business short and get on his way. 
 " Tumble up now, and keep a steady hand on her. You're 
 all right bj now, aren't yon?" he added, significantly.
 
 80*, WVE, TEE TYBAOT. 
 
 The man understood and nodded. 
 
 " Bight as rain, mister! Sorry I've caused all this rumpus, 
 though if the mare had been let alone " He moved toward 
 the cart, but stopped and winced, and put his hand to his leg 
 with an air of surprise and humiliation. " Blest if I don't 
 think I've been and hurted my blessed leg!" he muttered. 
 
 " Esther, you surely will not permit the poor man to drive 
 that dreadful horse in his injured condition!" said Miss 
 Worcester, in a flutter of excitement and anxiety. 
 
 Esther bit her lip softly and looked about her helplessly, 
 then her face cleared. 
 
 " Of course! Aunt, you must drive to the farm and tell 
 them to send someone, and I'll wait here; unless " 
 
 Jack saw it coming and resigned himself. 
 
 " I'll drive him home," he said. " Is it far?" 
 
 " Oh, will you? Thank you very much," said Esther, 
 with obvious relief. " It is the home farm at the lodge, 
 you know. It is very kind of you, and I we are very much 
 obliged, I'm sure." 
 
 Jack raised his hat, but was too busy hoisting Martin into 
 the cart to pay much attention to these polite expressions. 
 
 " We'll follow and wait to see if he is hurt," she added. 
 
 " He's either broken or sprained his leg the latter, I 
 think," said Jack. " Anyway, he'll want a doctor." 
 
 " Of course!" said Esther, again, apologetically. " We'll 
 go and fetch him: it is only into the village." 
 
 Jack made Martin comfortable in the bottom of the cart, 
 and mounting, kept the mare who, with the cuteness of her 
 sex, was well aware that she had met her master at a walk. 
 Presently Martin began to fidget with his hand at his coat, an 
 anxious expression on his ruddy face. 
 
 " Lost anything?" asked Jack. 
 
 Martin succeeded in lugging a bottle out of his pocket md, 
 with a sigh of relief, remarked: 
 
 " It's all right! Blest if I didn't think I'd broke it. It's 
 whiskey have a drop, mister?" 
 
 Jack laughed and shook his head. 
 
 " No, not just now, thanks. No, yon don't!" and he took 
 the bottle away as it was approaching Martin's lips. " That's 
 the wrong sort of stuff for your complaint." 
 
 " Whiskey's good for every thing," said Martin, in a sol- 
 emn and injured tone of voice. " You're talkin' foolish, 
 young man!" 
 
 They reached the lodge at last, raid Mrs. Martin came
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 31 
 
 oat. She uttered a little cry, but did not appear to oe over- 
 whelmed with astonishment. 
 
 " Is he very much hurt this time?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, no!" said Jack, cheerfully. " Lean on me, my 
 friend. He's not much hurt. We'll get him upstairs, though. 
 Shut that door there's no need to frighten the child," he 
 added, in a lower voice. 
 
 The woman looked at him: the mother's look of apprecia- 
 tion and between them they got Martin upstairs. When 
 Jack came down again the jingle was just driving up; and 
 there was annoyance and impatience in Miss Vancourt's face. 
 
 " The doctor is out," she said. " So provoking! Is he 
 very much hurt?" 
 
 " Simple fracture," replied Jack. 
 
 She looked at him. 
 
 " Are you a a doctor?" she asked. 
 
 " No," said Jack. " But I've seen a broken leg before. 
 The doctor will be here presently, I suppose?" 
 
 " Oh, yes; we left word," she said. " How unfortunate 
 it is. And Nettie, Mrs. Martin's little girl, ill. I'll go in 
 and see her; perhaps she's frightened." 
 
 She entered the little passage, but Jack unceremoniously 
 stepped in front of her and blocked her way. 
 
 " You can't go in there," he said, in his curt, not to say 
 masterful, way. 
 
 She looked at him with amazement in her beautiful grey 
 eyes. 
 
 " What?" she said, her face flushing. ;< Why can I not?'* 
 
 " The child has the measles," he said, quietly. 
 
 " Well?" 
 
 " Well!" he echoed, rather impatiently. " Why, you may 
 catch it; and it's a bad kind." 
 
 The colour deepened on her face, and her eyes fell before 
 his cool and somewhat weary and bored ones; then she looked 
 up with a liauteur which, if the truth must be told and the 
 truth shall be told of Esther Vancourt in this record was 
 not a little assumed. 
 
 " Please stand aside. Do you think I'm afraid? I'm 
 I'm ashamed of you!" 
 
 Jack shrugged his shoulders.and stood aside, and she swept 
 in like a queen; but looking over his shoulder a moment 
 cifter, he saw her kneeling besido the cot and kissing the 
 child, whom she had taken in her arms. 
 
 " Like the picture in a Cl^Ltaiaa number I" be iaifl tt
 
 32 LOVE. THE TTEA3JT. 
 
 himself. " Well, I'll be off and take that rememorance of 
 her with me." 
 
 He called Bob, who was sitting bolt upright eyeing the pro- 
 ceedings with a philosophic calm, and made bis way to the 
 &oorc But he was not to escape so easily. 
 
 " Oh, where are you going, my good man?" asked Mic , 
 Worcester from the jingle. 
 
 " To London, ma'am," said Jack, raising his hat. 
 
 " Oh er really I think you had better stay!" said the 
 old lady, with the calm assurance Jack mentally called it 
 cheek of her age and class. " My niece may want you. At 
 any rate, I shall be glad if you will remain here till she has 
 spoken to you and the doctor conies." 
 
 Jack bowed and leant against the porch. 
 
 " 1 chuck up the sponge!" he said to himself, with an air 
 of resignation and long suffering. " Bob, Fate's one too 
 many for us! This is the last time you and I do a friendly 
 deed, old man: the very last time; and don't you forget it!" 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 JACK went round to the stable to see if the young mare waa 
 hurt he had given her in charge of a chuckle-headed youth 
 whose eyes threatened to drop out with staring at the stranger 
 who looked like a tramp and talked like the gentry and wan- 
 dered about the rick-yards until the doctor drove up; then he 
 '^;-.i!red round to the house to see if he could be of any use. 
 
 I Lie doctor was an old man, bent and grey with years of 
 toil a country doctor's life is perhaps the hardest a man can 
 lead. He sits in a gig or on a horse all day, and there is al- 
 ways the off chance that he will be called up in the night to 
 do a dozen miles or so in rain or snow; but there was a good- 
 tempered twinkle in his shrewd eyes and a cheerful ring in 
 his voice, and though his manners were somewhat brusque, he 
 p/as agentleman. 
 
 " Well, what is it this time?" Jack heard him ask Mrs. 
 Martin. " Fallen off a haystack, got chawed up by the 
 threshing-machine? Oh, horse run away: broke his leg, has 
 ce? Well, there's one good thing, he can't break his head . 
 it's too thick. Hallo, young lady, what are you doing here?" 
 be broke off, addressing Esther as she came to the door. 
 '-' You've no business here; don't you know there's a case of 
 measles in the house?" 
 
 Esther laughed.
 
 LOTE, THE TYRAOT. " 83 
 
 w I've been scolded for that already, doctor,** sh began, 
 giving Him her hand, then she caught sight of Jack and 
 pulled up short. " Yes, Fin sorry to say poor Martin has 
 met with an accident. The mare bolted, and Martin might 
 iia73 been killed " 
 
 " Not he!" interjected Doctor Grey. 
 
 " If this this gentleman had not stopped her." 
 
 The old doctor turned sharply on Jack and scrutinised him 
 keenly. 
 
 " Humph! Looks as if he could. Not hurt yourself, I 
 see. It's a great pity. Such a nice creature it was the 
 young cart mare, I suppose? And it was market day ah, 
 yes! Just so. Well, I'll go upstairs and settle him. I've 
 Brought my tools; for when 1 heard it was Martin, I knew 
 be'd broken something. I wish they'd put more water in 
 w'i it they call their whiskey at the King's Head." 
 
 He went upstairs, and Esther stood at the door, and Jack 
 leant on the gate in silence. 
 
 " We shall be dreadfully late for dinner, Esther," said 
 Miss Worcester, with plaintive resignation. " But we cannot 
 go until we hear the doctor's opinion. Would you mind hold- 
 ing the pony's head, young man?" 
 
 She was getting tired of sitting in the cramped position de- 
 manded by a jingle, and was still in mortal terror lest Toby, 
 demoralised by example, should take to bolting on his own 
 account. 
 
 Jack helped her out and stood beside the pony, eyeing it 
 
 fravely, and apparently unconscious of the presence of the 
 eautiful girl in the porch, who, with equal gravity, was 
 watching him, without appearing to look at him: a sleight of 
 eye which can only be performed to perfection by a woman. 
 Presently Bob rose with a yawn, and ran up to her anc 
 wagged his tail by way of opening a conversation. She sal; 
 down on the settle and took his head in her hands and looked 
 ; nto his big, soft orbs, then lifted his leg and inspected his 
 foot. 
 
 " Your dog seem to be all right now," she said, her clear 
 voice carrying to Jack quite easily. " Did you get the thorn 
 out?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said. " By the way, Miss Vancourt, I dioi 
 not thank you for your kind attempts. " 
 
 Esther raised her brows: for it was not usual for men in 
 seedy attire, with unwaterproof boots> to address her as " Miss 
 Vancourt." There was no disrespect in the tone, but a sug- 
 gestion of equality that Esther thought rather strange.
 
 34 WVE, THE TTRAKli. 
 
 " Bob was very grateful, and so was I, though we forgot, C :> 
 mention it" 
 
 " I am fond of dogs," she said, " especially when they are 
 well-bred and handsome, and beautifully mannered, as this 
 one is." 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Jack. " Though you often find a com- 
 mon mongrel well-mannered and affectionate: but beauty 
 and birth have the first pull, of course." 
 
 " This accident has detained you, I am afraid." she said, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " Oh, it's of no consequence," remarked Jack, resignedly. 
 " I'm in no particular hurry. It's all in the day's work." 
 
 Esther looked at him curiously not for the first time. 
 
 " What is your work?" she asked. 
 
 " Nothing at present. I'm looking for some. I've been 
 working at the docks dock labourer, you know; but I snj 
 pose I can call myself a farmer farm-hand." 
 
 " You will find it difficult to find work now," said Esther. 
 " All the farmers have engaged their men; they do so afc 
 Lady Day, and it's just past." 
 
 " I daresay," he assented. " I'm going to London. 
 There's always the docks there, if there's nothing else." 
 
 " It is terribly hard work, isn't it?" she asked. " I've 
 read about the men at the docks, and I know they carry tre- 
 mendous weights." 
 
 *' Oh, it's hard enough, but I've seen harder. You don't 
 think this pony is going to run away, do you?" 
 
 Esther laughed by way of reply, and Jack, who objected to 
 talking at such a distance from his auditor, strolled up the 
 
 garden. Esther coloured faintly, for there was something to 
 er rather appalling in this young man's coolness, not to say 
 sang-froid. And, woman-like, she was fighting against his 
 evident strength and equally obvious grace. 
 
 " Do you like driving?" he asked, after a pause, as he 
 leant against the porch. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied Esther, wondering what he was going 
 to say now, and whether she was going to be offended, 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Oh, well, I daresay you will think it is like my cheek; 
 but I was wondering why you didn't drive something different 
 to that little beast, which, regarded as a nursery toy, is well 
 enough, but as a horse, leaves something to be desired. B" f 
 perhaps you like going at two miles an hour?" 
 
 " No, I don't , said Esther, indignantly. " But will, I 
 yrtfer it to a regular carriage, and though there is a 4og
 
 LOVE, THE TYEAST. 35 
 
 cart, of course, I'm not used to it. I've only been at the 
 Towers a short time that is, I didn't know whether they 
 were mine " She coloured and bit her lip, feeling that the 
 dark eyes were studying her coolly. 
 
 " I beg your pardon: very rude of me. But you should 
 try it. Given a well-balanced dog-cart with a clinking 
 mare Here's the doctor. " 
 
 " All right, my dear young lady. Only a broken leg." 
 
 " Only!" said Esther. 
 
 " Do Martin all the good in the world to be quiet a bit; 
 that is, if he doesn't worry; and he doesn't usually; but he's 
 worrying now. Seems that he's a man short his foreman 
 left him suddenly, and Martin declares things will all go 
 wrong if he can't get about. Where's the young man who 
 played the hero? Oh, there you are! Do you want me to go 
 over you? Sure you haven't broken or sprained anything? 
 That young mare is strong and heady." 
 
 " Quite sure, thanks," said Jack. " Well, I'll be moving. 
 Glad it's nothing serious with the farmer. Good-day!" He 
 raised his hat and prepared to depart, and as he did so, 
 Esther, with a touch of colour in her face, leant forward and 
 said something in a low voice to the doctor. 
 
 " Eh? What? Yes; just so; but we don't know anything 
 about him," he muttered, in response. 
 
 " Oh, I'm sure he's he's honest, and can be trusted!" 
 said Esther, swiftly. " Be quick, doctor, or he'll be gone!" 
 
 The keen eyes looked at her, as if he were amused by her 
 impetuosity. 
 
 " Oh, if you answer for him " he said. " Hi, young 
 man!" 
 
 Jack stopped with a sigh and an inaudible word of one 
 syllable. 
 
 " Are you looking for a job? Excuse my abruptness." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Jack, courteously. " Y-es. I am." 
 
 " Well, here's one ready to drop into your mouth!" said 
 the doctor. " My friend Martin wants a hand a foreman 
 and Miss Vancourt tells me you have been a farm-hand, and 
 she is kind enough to speak for you." 
 
 Esther hadn't bargained for this, and she coloured, then 
 drew herself up and gazed straight before her with the in- 
 difference of a hundred-ton gun. 
 
 Jack stood with his hands in his pockets, the picture of 
 doubt and uncertainty; and the doctor, rather nettled by the 
 young fellow's hesitation, said:
 
 36 LOVE, THE TYRAlHi 
 
 " It's a good offer, my young fr^nd, and if 1 were yon 1 
 
 should jump at it." 
 
 " Right," said Jack. " I jump." 
 
 The doctor smiled. 
 
 " That's better. Well, you'd better come in at once, I 
 should think. Go upstairs and talk to Martin I'll give you 
 ten minutes. I suppose you've got a character?" 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, gravely; " but it's not a particularly 
 good one." 
 
 The doctor tried to look grave, but there was a twinkle in 
 his shrewd eyes. 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear that but we'll risk it. You've got 
 the right look about you." 
 
 '* Thank you: it's about all I've got about me," said Jack, 
 pleasantly; *' and I'm much obliged to you for giving me tha 
 place. I won't let Martin overtalk himself." 
 
 " From your style I should say you'd been abroad colonies 
 Australia, eh?" queried the doctor, eyeing the stalwart 
 figure and tanned face curiously. 
 
 " Oh, I've been around a bit," assented Jack. 
 
 Esther had risen, but seemed, somehow, as if she could not 
 go until the colloquy was over; but she walked down the path 
 now, and Jack went and opened the gate for her. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Vancourt," he said, simply. 
 
 She inclined her head in the best lady-of-the-manor style 
 and passed out; but Jack, undaunted, helped the ladies 
 into the jingle and closed the door in proper form. 
 
 " What a singular young man!" said Miss Worcester, as 
 they drove off. " But he has behaved remarkably well. I'm 
 sure it was shocking, the way that dreadful horse and he 
 struggled! I never saw such a thing! For a common tramp, 
 he displayed extraordinary heroism." 
 
 " I don't fancy he is a common tramp, aunt," said Esther, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " No? Perhaps you didn't notice his clothes, my dear 
 Esther. My eyes are sharp, and I am a particularly observ- 
 ant woman." 
 
 Miss Esther had noticed a great deal more than the young 
 man's clothes; but she said nothing, and Miss Worcester 
 rambled on: 
 
 " To tell you the truth, I was rather taken by the poor fel- 
 low; his manners were almost almost gentlemanly." 
 
 " I think he was rather forward," said Esther, severely. 
 J^ " Yes? Well, perhaps they were. He is very good-look
 
 LOVE, THT5 TYRAUT. Jfl 
 
 iig. It is strange how sometimes one sees a really high type 
 of face among the quite common neople. And his voice 
 
 Esther burst out laughing, but it was rather an impatient 
 laugh. 
 
 " My dear aunt, don't let us talk any more about him, or 
 th^ whole affair will get on my nerves, and you know what 
 that means. Get up, you you nursery toy! Aunt, do yon 
 think you'd be afraid to ride in a dog-cart? 
 
 " A dog-cart!" echoed Miss Worcester, aghast. " My -dear 
 Esther, what ever put that into your head? 
 
 " I I don't know," replied Miss Vancourt, turning her 
 head away to hide the blush which caused her very much an- 
 noyance. " I I just happened to think of it. Beally, Toby 
 is too ridiculous!" 
 
 She was silent after this condemnation of Toby. Presently 
 Miss Worcester remarked that they really were dreadfully late 
 for dinner. 
 
 " I wonder whether they will think to giye him any?" said 
 Esther, absenrty. 
 
 " Him? Whom?" asked her aunt, ot reasonably sur- 
 prised. 
 
 Esther coloured again. 
 
 " The the young man," she said. 
 
 " My dear Esther, why should you worry yourself about; 
 him! Of course they will, or he'll ask for it; that class of 
 people always do Why, dear me; what can that be!" she 
 broke off, staring before her, in her near-sighted fashion. 
 
 They were jogging up the avenue by this time, and Esther, 
 looking up, saw a gentleman standing on the terrace. He 
 was in evening-dress and had the air of having bean waiting 
 for pome time. 
 
 " Looks like a human man," she said, coolly; but she was 
 not without curiosity. 
 
 Miss Worcester reddened with conf usion and nervousness. 
 
 " My dear Esther, it is Mr. Lay ton!" she gasped. Esther 
 turned to her quickly. 
 
 " But he does not come until to-morrow the seven- 
 teenth," she said. 
 
 Miss Worcester's agony was painful to witness. 
 
 " Was it the seventeenth or the sixteenth? I thought it 
 was the seventeenth,' but it may have been to-day J My dear 
 Esther, what a dreadful mistake! What shall we 4o?" 
 
 Esther laughed and glanced at the gentleman. He was a 
 young man, and good looking, distinguished looking rather 
 than handsome, with a smile that was almost too sweet for a
 
 g LCWE, THE TTEA3ST. 
 
 man, but Wmon war counterbalanced, connfcerscted, by a 
 peculiar tidst of the upper lip. 
 
 " Is it Mr. Lay ton?'* she asked in a low roice. 
 
 " Yes yes! murmured Miss Worcester, agitatedly. 
 " What will he think, Esther?" 
 
 " That we're late for dinner, I should say." 
 
 " He he doesn't look as if he were ill-tempered afcout it- 
 he's smiling so," said poor Miss Worcester. 
 
 " Y-es," asserted Esther, in a low voice; " I wish he 
 Wouldn't." 
 
 Meanwhile, the man with the smile was saying to himself, 
 s& he came to meet them: 
 
 " So she's pretty, is she? That makes it more difficultl" . 
 
 OHAPTEE V. 
 
 ME. LAYTOST stood, hat in hand, waiting with a smOo for 
 the introduction. 
 
 " This is Mr. Selby Layton, Esther," said Miss Worcester, 
 nervously. 
 
 Mr. Layton bowed, but Esther held out her hand. 
 
 " We are very glad to see you, Mr. Layton," she said, 
 "and you must be very glad to see us. I'm afraid yon 
 thought you were not going to get any dinner to-day. I am 
 eorry we are so late; but we haVe had a chapter a whole 
 volume of accidents " 
 
 " Please don't apologise," he said in a peculiarly soft voice 
 which had something caressing in it. " I only arrive^ a short 
 time ago, and I was afraid that it was I who would be late." 
 
 Miss Worcester drew a breath of relief. 
 
 " So nice of you to say so," she murmured; " and we will 
 not keep you a moment longer than we can help will we, 
 Esther?" 
 
 " I do hope you will not hurry," he responded, with almost 
 unnecessary earnestness. " The short time I have waited has 
 been so pleasantly passed looking at the glorious view from 
 the terrace, and admiring the front of this grand old place." 
 
 Now, he could not have hit upon a shorter cut to Esther's 
 favour, for she was already proud of the Towers, and praise 
 of it was sweet in her shell-like ears. So she smiled at him 
 for the first time, and Selby Layton felt that he had said the 
 right thing. 
 
 " We will be vary quick," said Esther. "Will yon go 
 into the drawing-room, or would you rather wait here?" 
 
 They had reached the terrace by this time.
 
 S0v"E, THE TYSAOT. '^ 
 
 **0h, here, please, if I may," he said, softly. 
 
 Esther ran up the stairs, followed more slowly and sedately 
 by Miss Worcester, and Selby Layton looked after her before 
 he turned back to the terrace. 
 
 As he did so the smile faded from his face, his well-cut lips 
 drew together thoughtfully, and his eyes grew sharp. 
 
 " She's more than pretty: she's beautiful will be very 
 much so. A charming girl; but no fool, my dear Selby. 
 There's a look in those grey eyes which 1 don't alto- 
 gether like. I shall have to go slow and cautiously very 
 cautiously. What a place it is!" He looked round him 
 slowly with a new expression in his eyes: the expression 
 against which the commandment, " Thou shalt not covet,** 
 is especially applicable. " And all in the hands of a girl a 
 girl who was only a few weeks ago giving music-lessons to 
 tradesmen's daughters! The old man's will was worse than 
 wicked: it was absurd. What could I not have done with 
 this? Well, who knows? It's not too late!" 
 
 He stroked his fair and carefully cultivated moustache with 
 a hand as white and slim and as small as a woman's, and 
 lighting a cigarette, leant his elbows on the rail and smoked 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 In her eagerness for her seeming neglect of him, Miss 
 Worcester was dressed first, and she went to Esther's door 
 and knocked. Esther knew the nervous, timid knock, and 
 said: 
 
 " Come in!" 
 
 The maid had gone down for a flower for Esther. 
 
 " Ready already, aunt?" she said. " Sorry to keep yon 
 waiting; and it's my fault, not Marie's. Yon see, I'm not 
 used to a maid, and, as Marie says, I don't * keep quiet.' If 
 I'd stand like a wooden image or a dress-block she would get 
 me dressed ever so much sooner. Poor Marie, I'm afraid I 
 try her dreadfully." 
 
 * Yes, my dear, I daresay you do," said Miss Worcester. 
 " What what do you think of Mr. Layton, Esther?" 
 
 " I'm afraid I haven't thought much about him, aunt," 
 responded Esther. " He seems very gentlemanly how I 
 hate the word! It's nearly as bad as f respectable,' and if he 
 wouldn't smile quite so much and hadn't quite so soft a 
 voice " 
 
 " My dear Esther! I am sure he has an exceedingly pleas- 
 ant smile, not to say sweet, and his voice is very refined " 
 
 " '-Our double refined oil,' " murmured Esther, quoting 
 from the grocer's advertisement.
 
 THE TYRANT. 
 
 " And he has been exceedingly kind. He is the only 
 one of the family who lias taken the least notice of us! All 
 the rest have been most unfriendly." 
 
 " Not unnaturally," remarked Esther. 
 
 Indeed it was not unnatural that the Vancourts should be 
 " unfriendly " to the young girl who had " stepped into " 
 the vast estates and fortune of Sir Richard. It was not a 
 large family, and all the members were only remote relations. 
 But they had flocked to the funeral in the hope of receiving 
 some crumbs from the dead rich man's table, and had gone 
 away bitterly disappointed. That Sir Eichard should leave 
 everything to his nephew, Sir John, was bad enough, but that, 
 this nephew having died out in Australia, the whole should 
 go to a girl as distantly connected as the others, was infin- 
 itely worse. Some of them had maintained a sullen silence, 
 others had threatened to upset the will much to Messrs. 
 Floss & Floss's amusement but only one had extended the 
 hand of friendship to the heiress. 
 
 This one was Mr. Selby Layton. He was a " thirty-second 
 cousin," or something of the sort, to Sir Eichard, and had 
 conie down to the funeral with so little expectation of deriving 
 any benefit from the will that he was not in the least disap- 
 pointed. But, whereas the rest had departed shaking thb Just 
 of the Towers from their feet, he had gone away cheerfully if 
 thoughtfully, and had written a letter of congratulation to 
 Esther, and had even called at the little house in the dreary, 
 dingy street ia which Esther and Miss Worcester lived. 
 
 Esther had been out teaching at the time, and had not had 
 the pleasure of seeing Mr. Selby Layton; but Miss Worcester 
 had seen him and been very much impressed by his good 
 looks, his pleasant manner, and more than all by his charm- 
 ing smile and sweet voice. 
 
 It was she who had suggested that he should be asked to 
 pay them a visit, and Esther had at once complied; and the 
 more readily by reason of Mr. Selby Layton being one of the 
 relations left out in the cold. 
 
 She felt so much pity for them that she was anxious to do 
 something for them, and would have been quite willing to 
 share, say, half Sir Eichard's money with them; but Mr. 
 iHoss, the senior partner of the firm, had his own ideas on 
 that project, and nipped it in the bud. But the desire still 
 remained with Esther; and while her aunt was singing the 
 praises of Mr. Selby Layton, Esther was asking herself whether 
 that gentleman might not be able to help her in the matter. 
 
 "And I am sure he is very good-natured," said Miss 
 

 
 1OVE, THE TYRANT. 41 
 
 " There he is on the terrace smoking a cigarette 
 quite contentedly, though we are dreadfully late, and men do 
 so hate being kept without their dinner. Don't you think he 
 has a very distinguished appearance, Esther?" 
 
 Esther went to the window as she put the finishing touch 
 to her toilette, and looked down at the gentleman lounging 
 not ungracefully on the terrace below. 
 
 " Y-es, I suppose he has," she said, absently; then she 
 flushed svith a tinge of shame, for she had caught herself com- 
 paring the elegant figure of Mr. Layton with that of the 
 young man who had stopped the runaway mare. 
 
 " And he looks so clever. But I suppose all barristers are 
 clever," remarked Miss Worcester. 
 
 " 1 suppose so," said Esther; " it's their only excuse. I 
 don't like lawyers, aunt, since I've seen something of them." 
 
 " But I don't think he practises," said Miss Worcester; 
 *' in fact, I think I remember his saying so. I do hope 
 you'll like him, my dear." 
 
 " Why, of course," assented Esther. " What a lovely 
 spray, Marie! How did you manage to get it? Mr. Gib- 
 son " Mr. Gibson was the gardener, retained at a tremendous 
 salarv to grow flowers which he guarded jealously from the 
 attacks of even his mistress " is so reluctant to cut his 
 flowers," 
 
 Marie hid a smile. 
 
 " I told him that they were for yourself, miss," she said, 
 " for you to wear, and I coaxed him into letting me choose 
 them." 
 
 Esther smiled. 
 
 " I must thank him to-morrow morning when I go into the 
 green-house." 
 
 " Thank him for your own flowers, Esther!" exclaimed 
 Miss Worcester. 
 
 " Well, they're mine, I suppose I never feel quite sure; 
 but I am sure that Gibson considers them his. Anyway, he 
 grows them." 
 
 Marie fixed the spray of delicate white blossoms in Esther's 
 dress, and looked at her young mistress with approval and 
 admiration, for the graceful figure in the soft folds of black 
 net which threw up the clear pallor of the beautiful face and 
 the deep grey of the eyes, made an exquisite picture of girlish 
 loveliness. 
 
 " All my war-paint on, Marie? Well, then, we'll go down 
 and face our natural foe Man," said Esther, smiling. 
 
 Mr. Layton was awaiting them in the drawing-room, and
 
 42 LOVE, THE 
 
 Palmer, the butter, with a more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger air, 
 at once announced dinner. Mr. Layton gave his arm to Misa 
 Worcester, and Esther followed them into the dining-room. 
 
 The daylight was beginning to wane, and the candles had 
 been lit, and the soft light fell pleasantly on the handsome 
 room with its rich but subdued decorations, and upon the 
 magnificent plate and glass for which the Towers was as 
 famous as for its pictures and collection of bric-a-brac. 
 
 Esther, at the nead of the oval table, was rather silent and 
 absent-minded, and left most of the talking to Miss Worces- 
 ter, but Mr. Selby Layton was quite at his ease and conversed 
 pleasantly and with that slow fluency which obtains in good 
 society. Erery now and then he glanced at the young girl, 
 and at every glance his admiration increased. There was 
 something impressive ia the calm serenity of the violet eyes, 
 an. impress! veness which was deepened by the sudden anima- 
 tion with which she roused from her abstraction and joined in 
 the conversation when it touched on a subject which inter- 
 ested her. 
 
 Palmer and his two footmen waited with perfectly trained 
 assiduity, and the dinner, notwithstanding its postponement, 
 was an admirable one. 
 
 When the dessert had appeared, and the servants departed, 
 Esther woke up to the duties of a hostess. 
 
 " Would yon like port or claret, Mr. Layton?" she said. 
 " There are both here I'll pass t'.em; and presently you will 
 want to smoke, won't you? All men smoke after their meals, 
 don't they? There is a billiard- and smoking-room at the end 
 of the hall ; but you won't care to sit there in solitude. Please 
 smoke your cigarette here. We will wait until you have lit 
 your cigarette, because we like the scent of it, don't we, 
 auntie?" 
 
 Another man might have protested that he didn't want to 
 smoke; but Selby Layton was too clever for such a banality, 
 and he took out his silver cigarette-case presently. Esther 
 lingered for a minute or two, then rose. 
 
 " You will find your way to the drawing-room, Mr. Lay- 
 ton? But please don't hurry. Enjoy your cigarette." 
 
 When he had opened the door for them, and returned to 
 his .place, Selby Layton leant back and smoked in serene en- 
 joyment; but he was very thoughtful as his eyes wandered 
 round the magnificent room and rested on the pictures and 
 the plate, the bronzes and the antique glass. 
 
 "Yes, she's lovely," he murmured, " and a lady. Strange 
 how she manages to look and speak as if she'd been uaod
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 43 
 
 11 this from her birth! Scarcely spoke to me through dinner, 
 and wasn't even listening half the time. Wonder what she 
 was thinking of? The old lady will be easy enough soft as 
 putty but the girl ! I've got my work cut out for me. 
 Anyhow, I've got a fair start. There can't be any one else, 
 yet and " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, but turned his head and 
 surveyed his reflection in the great mirror on the wall at his 
 side. 
 
 Esther went straight to the piano and began to play softly 
 and dreamily, so softly that Miss Worcester could " talk 
 through " the music. 
 
 " Remarkably pleasant he seems, Esther," she said, taking 
 up the knitting with which Esther had been familiar since she 
 was a child. *' He is a barrister, and he doesn't practise. 
 1 think he has a small income of his own. And he moves in 
 very good society. Did you hear him mention Lady Blan- 
 kyre?" 
 
 " No; I wasn't listening all the time," said Esther, ab- 
 sently. How sternly, almost roughly that young man, " the 
 tramp," had ordered her to stand away from the mare " I 
 was thinking about something else." 
 
 " You are so dreamy, my dear Esther," said Miss Worces- 
 ter, with gentle rebuke; " I remember I used to call your 
 attention to that failing as a child. He lives in rooms in. 
 Claremont Street, May Fair, and he is fond of music and 
 er art generally. I think he is a highly cultivated young 
 man." 
 
 " Is he?" said Esther. How quietly " the tramp " had 
 spoken to his dog. Perhaps, if she, Esther, had been a dog he 
 wouldn't have spoken so roughly to her? 
 
 " Yes, oh, remarkably so. And did you notice his hands, 
 Esther?" 
 
 " I'm afraid I didn't, aunt" 
 
 " They are really beautiful hands; almost like a woman's." 
 
 " Don't think I like small hands in a man sign of weak- 
 ness. Anyway, it's poaching on our preserves, aunt!" 
 
 " Nonsense, Esther! And he really is very kind and 
 thoughtful. He has been making enquiries about the young 
 baronet, poor Sir John " 
 
 Esther stopped her playing, and looked round with sudden 
 interest. 
 
 " Yes? Why did he do that? What has he discovered?" 
 
 " Discovered? Nothing more than we know; but you can 
 ask him. Here he comes. Now, would be like a liqueur
 
 44 ICVE, THE TYBAITR 
 
 with his coffee, or not, Esther? I've heard that men like* . 
 liqueur " 
 
 Esther shrugged her shoulders, 
 
 " Then I daresay Palmer has given it to him." 
 
 She turned as Selby Layton came in with the slow self-pos- 
 session of a man who is conscious of his grace am? his good 
 looks. 
 
 " You have found out something about my cousin is he 
 my cousin Sir John Vancourt, Mr. Layton?" she said, with 
 her characteristic directness. 
 
 He went to the piano and leant against it, his legs crossed, 
 his head bent, with a mixture of ease and respect. 
 
 " I have been making some enquiries," he said;. " but 1 
 have discovered little that is new very little beyond what ii 
 already known. Sir John he is your cousin, hut ever sc 
 many times removed certainly died in Australia. He was 
 shot by bushrangers, and was discovered immediately aftei 
 his death his murder by the police, who identified him and 
 supplied Messrs. Floss & Floss, the lawyers, with the infoi* 
 mation and proof." 
 
 Esther bent over the piano and touched the keys softly. 
 
 " Poor fellow!" she said in a low voice. " To lose his life 
 just as it had become worth living!" 
 
 Mr. Layton looked down sympathetically, then his lip 
 twisted; and Esther, who was quick-eyed, looked at him en 
 quiringly. 
 
 " Don't you think so!" she asked. 
 
 Selby Layton seemed to hesitate. 
 
 " He was very ill with fever so the police said when he 
 was shot, and would not, in all probability, have lived. I an 
 afraid he had lived rather a wild life." 
 
 Esther's fingers stopped as if she were interested. 
 
 " How do you know that?" she asked. 
 
 " I met a man who had been out in the same parts, and 
 had heard of Sir John Arthur Burton, as he called himsell 
 and my informant told me that Arthur Burton was one of 
 the maddest of the mad, that all sorts of stories were told of 
 him. A sort of desperado, I gathered. He had for compan- 
 ion * chum,' they call ita man as reckless and wild at 
 himself. I suppose it was the man who was with him when 
 he was killed." 
 
 " What was his name this * chum ' of Arthur Burton's 
 it is so difficult to remember that he was Sir John VmcourV 
 Esther said, thoughtfully. 
 
 " I don't know," replied Selby Layton. " ijy inforoiaa
 
 LOVE, THE TTRA2fT. 45 
 
 the maa who told me all this did not know his name; and 
 afcrange to say, the police, in their information, failed to give 
 it. Either they did not know it, or they had forgotten it." 
 
 " What became of him this other man?" asked Esther, 
 musingly. " I should like to see him, to hear all about Sir 
 John." 
 
 Selbv shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " He disappeared rather suddenly, and could not be found, 
 though the police wanted his evidence in the case. .iTher 
 searched for him, but could not trace him. I imagine it la 
 easy for a man to hide himself out there; there are plenty of 
 persons wimng to aid him in escaping, disappearing." 
 
 Esther's brows came together. 
 
 " Why should he want to disappear escape?" she mur- 
 mured, more'lohsiaelf than to Mr. Layton. 
 
 He smiled and shrugged his shoulders again. 
 
 " No doubt he had sufficient reasons," he said. " But he 
 is of no importance " 
 
 " He was Sir John's friend and companion was present 
 fit his death," said Esther in a low voice. 
 
 " Ah, yes, yes; just so!" murmured Mr. Layton, sympa- 
 thetically. " I know that there was plenty of proof of Sir 
 John's death without the missing man's evidence. There is 
 no question as to your right of possession, Miss Vaucourt." 
 
 " No; I'm afraid not," said Esther, with a sigh. " Is thafc 
 all 7ou heard, Mr. Layton." 
 
 " That is all," he said, after a moment's pause, as if ho 
 were thinking. " I thought you would like to hear it." 
 
 " Thank you, yes. I am greatly obliged to you. I won- 
 der whether I could ask you to add to the obligation?" 
 
 She looked up at him with sweet gravity, and Selby Lay- 
 ton's eyes sparkled. There was nothing he desired more than. 
 to place the heiress of Vancourt Towers under a real or sup- 
 posed obligation to him. 
 
 ** I should be greatly honoured and greatly pleased if I 
 could be of the slightest service to you, Miss Vancourfc," he* 
 said, with just the proper amount of eagerness. 
 
 Esther hesitated a moment or two, touching the keys too 
 softly to produce any sound. 
 
 " As you know, Mr. Layton," she said at last, and with a 
 faint touch of colour in her face, " I have inherited have 
 got the whole everything that was Sir Richard's the land 
 and the house and the money." 
 
 " Yes," he said, simply. " And I am sore it oould not 
 ha?e fallen into better hands."
 
 46 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " And I think it could scarcely have fallen into worse!" said 
 Esther, flashing. " A young girl, unaccustomed to wealth- 
 But we won't argne that; you would stick to your assertion 
 for the sake of politeness what I wanted to say was, that I 
 wanted to share some of the money with the other relations." 
 
 Mr. Layton inclined his head. 
 
 " All distant ones," he murmured, " so remote that there 
 is actually no one to succeed to the baronetcy, and it is there- 
 fore extinct." 
 
 " They are not more remote than I am," said Esther, 
 " and they have a right to feel disappointed and neglected. 
 Now, I want to to make it up to them a little." 
 
 " Yes, yes," he murmured. " The lawyer, Mr. Floss " 
 
 " Won't hear of it," she said, " and I "-she laughed 
 " am terribly afraid of that old man." 
 
 Mr. Layton smiled. 
 
 " He is rather fearsome," he admitted. 
 
 Esther laughed again. 
 
 " He has a way of knitting his brows and saying * Tnt, 
 tut!' which fills my soul with awe. He knit his brows very 
 much, and said l Tut, tut!' four distinct times when I told 
 him what I wanted to do. He said I was too young, that I 
 had no right to play the part of a female Quixote, and, im 
 short, browbeat me. But I have a large income, have I 
 not?" 
 
 " Very; one might, without exaggerating, call it im- 
 mense," said Mr. Selby Layton, with a soft smile, but sup- 
 pressing a sigh of envy. 
 
 " Very well, then; why shouldn't I devote half of it to to 
 the others who were left nothing?" 
 
 Mr. Selby Layton was filled with horror at the idea, for to 
 him such a proposal seemed absolutely wicked. 
 
 " If you could afford it," he said, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Afford it! just now you said my income was immense," 
 remarked Esther. 
 
 " Ah, yes; but so also is the estate, and it will take a large 
 sum of money to keep it going." 
 
 Esther sighed and laughed with a touch of impatience. 
 
 " You are almost as bad as Mr. Floss!" she exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, not quite, I hope," he said, with his sweet smile. 
 " I was merely suggesting that a half is a large amount pos- 
 sibly too large." 
 
 " Well, then, a third, a quarter what I can afford!" said 
 Esther, impatiently. " I thought you would help me to do 
 this without Mr. Floss knowing anything about it* I suppose
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 47 
 
 I can spend xriis money how I please, if I keep up the estate 
 properly?" 
 
 " Certainly!" he said. " And I shall be more than glad to 
 help you. Need I say that I am also proud of your confi- 
 dence, Miss Vancourt?" 
 
 His voice was as soft as the note of a flute, and he bent for- 
 ward with a smile sweeter than ever. 
 
 Esther nodded. 
 
 "It's very good of you. I am afraid it will give you a 
 great deal of trouble I haven't realised yet how much, foi 
 the idea has only just come into my head. But I thought 
 you would be able to find out which of them were in need of 
 of money, assistance you know them, perhaps; I don't, 
 you see." 
 
 " I am ashamed to say I don't," he said. " I have lived 
 apart, they are so scattered But I will find out, and make 
 a list, on one condition. Miss Vancourt." 
 
 " What is that?" asked Esther, looking tip quickly. 
 
 " That you except one person." 
 
 " Yes?" she said, curiously. " Who is that?" 
 
 " Selby Layton," he said in a low voice. 
 
 Esther coloured.. 
 
 " What must you think of me? It was as if I had been 
 offering you money!" she said, quickly. " But I didn't even 
 know that you were poor." 
 
 He laughed with an admirable assumption of frankness. 
 
 " I am as poor as the proverbial church mouse," he said, 
 lightly. " I trust I am also honest, but certainly I am proud. 
 So exclude Sslby Layton from the list: that is agreed?" 
 
 Esther inclined her head. She did not know what to say. 
 There was silence for a moment or two. Then she looked up. 
 
 " This must be a secret between us, please, Mr. Layton. I 
 do not wish any one to know of my idea." 
 
 She glanced at Miss Worcester, nodding over her knitting, 
 and Selby Layton, with inward exultation, bowed. 
 
 " Yes, yes; I quite understand," he murmured. " Yon 
 may trust me. I think I know exactly what you want: To 
 benefit those of the family who need assistance without letting 
 them know from whence it comes." 
 
 Esther nodded. 
 
 " That is it exactly!" she said, quickly, and in as low a 
 voice. " I am very grateful to you, Mr. Layton." 
 
 " The gratitude is on my side for your trust and confi- 
 dence in me," he said, very sweetly. 
 
 Esther threw her head back with an air of relief.
 
 48 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " Do you care for music?" she asked. " If so, I will p'% 
 to you. I am afraid you will find it very dull and slow here. ' ' 
 
 She did not wait for him to protest, but began to play. 
 
 He went to a chair, and leant back, and begged her to 
 play again; and she was about to do so, when she said, as if 
 she had suddenly thought of it: 
 
 " Perhaps you play or sing? Pray do so, if you do." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders apologetically, and hesitated, 
 but got up at last and went to the piano. 
 
 There were many persons who disliked, not to say hated, 
 Mr. Selby Lay ton; but no one had ever possessed the temerity 
 to deny that he was a musician. 
 
 Esther had moved away from the piano, expecting the kind 
 of performance on the piano which men generally treat us to; 
 but as Selby Layton struck the first chords of an accompani- 
 ment, she turned her head with a sharp and sudden surprise 
 and interest; and as the song progressed, her eyes began to 
 deepen to a violet hue; for the man not only had an exquisite 
 voice, but played and sang like an artist. And with Esther 
 music was a passion. 
 
 Miss Worcester, roused and startled, raised her eyebrows 
 and whispered: 
 
 " My dear Esther, what a beautiful voice!" 
 
 But Esther paid no heed. The " beautiful voice " was 
 holding her in thrall. The notes were rich and liquid, and 
 the phrasing perfect. Mr. Selby Layton at, and away from, 
 the piano, were two different persons. The colour stole into 
 Esther's face, her eyelids drooped, and her bosom hsaved 
 slowly, and every fibre of her being responded to the flood of 
 melody which floated, now soft and tender, now deep ( and sol- 
 emn, through the large room. 
 
 Mr. Selby Layton appeared appeared (juite unconscious 
 of the effect he was producing, and sang quite easily, looking 
 before him as if he were trying to remember the words of the 
 song, and as if he were doing the most natural thing in the 
 world. 
 
 When the exquisite notes of the finale had died away, 
 Esther went straight up to the piano. 
 
 " Why didn't yon say you sang like like a Sims Reeves?" 
 she said. 
 
 Selby Layton looked up at her wth the sweet smile and a 
 little air of surprise. 
 
 " It's a good thing Sims Reeves can't hear you, Miss Van- 
 court. He'd be almost as shocked as I am," he said. " But 
 I'm glad you liked the song," he added, as be rost.
 
 THE TYBAOT. 49 
 
 "Don't thiiut of getting up!*' she said, almost imperi- 
 ously. " You ought to be chained to a piano." 
 
 " Rather like a monkey," he retorted, with a pleasant 
 lau^h; but he resumed his seat and sang again. 
 
 This time it was just a simple ballad; but what a ballad 
 Mr. Selby Layton made of it! The tears were not far from 
 Esther's eyes as she listened. 
 
 " You'd make a fortune on the stage," she said in her 
 abrupt fashion. 
 
 He smiled a modest repudiation. 
 
 " Oh, no; I assure you not! There are thousands of bet- 
 ter voices." 
 
 Esther shook her head. 
 
 *' I know. I " with mock consequence '' taught masicfe 
 you know." 
 
 He was hunting amongst the music and held up a song. 
 
 " Will you do me the great favour?" 
 
 Bir Esther shook her head. 
 
 " I'd rather not." 
 
 He turned over the music again and found a duet. 
 
 " Then, will you siug this with me?" he asked, very 
 sweetly. 
 
 Esther shrugged her shoulders and went reluctantly to the 
 piano. The duet went well, but Esther noiiced that Mr. 
 Selby Layton artfully in the literal sense of the word-- 
 subordinated his voice to hers throughout the whole of it. 
 
 " You are nursing me," she said, laughing. " No, I won't 
 sin? again: I think I'm tired." 
 
 M.-ss Worcester rose and rolled up her knitting. 
 
 " You know your room, Mr. Layton. I hope everything is 
 comfortable." 
 
 He bowed and accompanied them to the hall, and Esther 
 pointed to the door of the billiard -room. 
 
 " You will find there the things the soul of a man loveth 
 before he goes to bed, Mr. Layton," she said, as she wished 
 him good-night. 
 
 Mr. Selby Layton held the small, warm hand, and would 
 have liked to press it, bat there was something in the calm 
 gaze of the lovely grey eyes which checked him. 
 
 But he went off to the billiard-room very well pleased with 
 himself; and as he mixed a glass of soda and whiskey, and lit 
 one of the choice Havanas which Sir Richard had left, with 
 the rest of his worldly goods, to Miss Esther Vancourt, he 
 smiled complacently. 
 
 " Not bad lor one night. I'm in her confidence and
 
 50 LOVE, THE TTBANT. 
 
 charged with a secret mission : and my voice did its little part. 
 Not bad by any means. How beautiful she is! I've always 
 had a fancy for a good-looking wife. This girl satisfies my 
 artistic sense." He looked round the room critically. " All 
 very good, excepting the frieze: I should alter that!'* 
 
 When Esther had almost driven her aunt out of her room, 
 she stood in a dressing-gown before the glass humming softly 
 the notes of Mr. Selby Layton's ballad, and thinking of the 
 scheme for benefiting Sir Richard's poor relations; but sud- 
 denly her mind switched off, and with a start she remembered 
 the stalwart young man of whom she had seen so much that 
 day. She went to the window and drew the curtain back a 
 little and looked out. She could see the roof of the home- 
 farm quite plainly in the moonlight, and she stood and looked 
 at it dreamily for a minute or two; then, with a sudden gest- 
 ure of impatience, she let the curtain fall back to its place, 
 and turned away, as if she were annoyed at herself for think- 
 ing of him. 
 
 But when she had fallen asleep, the tall figure, the tanned 
 face, the deep musical voice with its masterful tone, haunted 
 her in her dreams. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHEN Esther and Miss Worcester had driven away, Jack 
 stood at the gate and looked after them with anything but a 
 pleased expression of countenance. For though he had ob- 
 tained employment, it was at the last place he would have 
 chosen. 
 
 It was all very well to give tip his estates to a young lady, 
 but he had not calculated upon having to spend some time in 
 looking on while that young lady ruled over his land and 
 spent his money* 
 
 " But it's all in the day's work," he said to himself. 
 " It's for her brother's sake the brother who gave his life 
 for me. But it's been a queer performance to-day, all 
 through! I wonder whether there's a scene in which dinner 
 comes in, for I'm precious hungry." 
 
 At that moment, as if she had read his thoughts, Mrs. 
 Martin came to the'door and timidly called him in, and Jack 
 found a substantial meal awaiting him. 
 
 " I thought you might be hungry," she said, apologetically. 
 
 " Mrs. Martin, you have just saved my life, but it's by the 
 narrowest squeak!" said Jack, as he sat down and fell to. 
 " I omght to be used to feeling half famished, for there hav
 
 LOVE, THJE TYSAUT. 51 
 
 been days In my life when everything has occurred but mealc. 
 You don't mind my giving Bob this bone? He's a perfect 
 gentleman and will take it on the mat." 
 
 Mrs. Martin shook her head. 
 
 " I'm glad you're going to stay, Mr. " 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 " Gordon Jack Gordon," said Jack, helping himself to a 
 dice of the home-cured ham. 
 
 " I don't know what we should have done if you hadn't 
 come as you did. It's Providence, I suppose." 
 
 Jack thought that market-day and whiskey had something 
 to do with it, but didn't say so. 
 
 " Our last foreman looked after the farm almost entirely; 
 for Martin " 
 
 She paused again; but Jack understood. 
 
 " I'll do my best, Mrs. Martin," he said. " But Martin 
 must please make allowance for my short-comings. I think 
 I can say I understand farming. It was very good of Miss 
 Vancourt to recommend me and on such slight acquaint- 
 ance. It seems to me that you are all very confiding: for 
 how do you know I sha'n't murder you all in your beds and 
 bolt off with the the spoons?" 
 
 Mrs. Martin smiled, and did not appear to think the ques- 
 tion required an answer. _^ at 
 
 " She is a very kind young lady," she said. "Poor 
 thing!" 
 
 Jack looked up from the plate. 
 
 " Poor thing!" 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Martin, with a sigh. " She is quite a 
 girl, to have so much money and responsibilities laid upom 
 her." 
 
 " Oh, she'll bear up under it, you'll see," said Jack, cheer- 
 fully, thinking how well he could have endured the weight of 
 Vancourt Towers and Sir Richard's untold thousands. " And 
 now, as, I am sorry to say, I cannot eat any more, I think I 
 will go round the farm, if I may." 
 
 " I'll call Georgie, and he'll show you," said Mrs. Martin. 
 " He'll show you the foreman's cottage. You can sleep there 
 there isn't room here but you may have your meals here, 
 for a time, at any rate. I hope you will be comfortable." 
 
 Jack laughed easily. 
 
 "I've slept in the open too often, and not in the best of 
 weather, to be very particular; and I expected nothing better 
 than a shake-down in a hay-loft, where Bob and I have slept 
 several times, and like tops."
 
 52 LOVE, THE TYBAUT. 
 
 He lit his pipe asking permission first, Mrs. Martin no- 
 ticed and went out, followed by Bob. As his firm step 
 sounded on the sanded floor, Nettie's voice called out in a 
 thin treble: 
 
 " Is 'oo coming back?" 
 
 " Yes," he called back. " My name is Bad Penny. 
 Didn't you know that? You go to sleep." 
 
 With the gaping Georgie at his s ide, Jack went round a 
 portion of the farm. The late foreman was supposed to have 
 " seen to it entirely;" but he had seen to it very badly. 
 Jack's keen eye detected bad management and waste in every 
 direction. 
 
 " And they wonder why farming doesn't pay in England/" 
 he said to Bob, but in too low a voice for Georgie to hea^, 
 " I should like to know what Miss Vancourt's butter and 
 eggs cost her. Half a crown a pound, and five shillings a 
 dozen, I should say. Well, we'll try and alter it a bit, old 
 man; and much thanks we'll get for it! No matter; directly 
 our friend Martin is well enough to get about, we'll bolt." 
 
 They came to the cottage presently it was some distance 
 from the lodge and Jack found it to be a pretty little box of 
 a place with three tiny rooms, a thatched roof, and a rough 
 little garden from which the clematis clambered over the 
 walls and round the small windows. Jack thought of the 
 hideously ugly shepherd's hut " out on the other side," ani 
 looked at the cottage admiringly, and sighed. He went in, 
 A farm-girl had lit a fire, and the two rooms the sitting- and 
 the bed-room looked cosy. 
 
 " We've fallen in a soft place, Bob!" he said. " It's al- 
 most a pity it isn't a permanent one. Open all the windows, 
 there's a good girl," he said to the maid. " I'm very deli- 
 cate, and the doctor says I am to have plenty of air." 
 
 She gaped with eyes and mouth at the stalwart figure, and 
 smiled as she did as she was bid. 
 
 Jack resumed his tour of inspection. He learnt from 
 Georgie that any number of " hands " could be got from the 
 estate, and told him to hunt up a couple and have them there 
 next morning. 
 
 " They won't need to bring a broom, Georgie," he said; 
 " they'll find one here, and he's going to sweep clean." 
 
 Georgie's mouth yawned like the Persian Gulf, and his eyes 
 nearly dropped out; for he began to suspect that the new 
 foreman was mad; for there wasn't a broom anywhere near 
 
 Jack got back to the i*rm lodge by supper-time. Martin
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 53 
 
 Asleep, but Nettie was awake, and after **, aad satisfied 
 his exl -emely healthy hunger, he smoked a pipe, and talked 
 to Mrs. Martin about the farm. 
 
 " I'm going to go on without worrying Martin," he said. 
 " That will be all right, I suppose?" 
 
 Mrs. Martin assented thankfully. 
 
 " He does just what he likes," she said, " Miss Vancourt 
 never interferes or asks any questions." 
 
 " Singular young lady!" said Jack. " Is that Nettie I 
 hear in there? Would there be any objection to my bidding 
 her good-night?" 
 
 He went in to the child, who had been lying listening to 
 him, and greeted him with her eager, brilliant eyes. 
 
 *'* What did you say you name was?" she asked. 
 
 " I said Bad Penny, because I'd come back to yon, yoa 
 know. But I'm called Jack Gordon." 
 
 " I like ' Jack, 7 " she said. 
 
 "It's lucky there are two names to choose from, isn't it?*' 
 he said, with that twinkle in his eyes which children love. 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " And 1 like 'oo. I wish 'oo'd sit here beside me and talk 
 to me all night. Do 'oo know any stories?" 
 
 " Heaps!" said Jack. " You lie down and close your eyes 
 yon can't hear a story properly unless you do; fact! And 
 I'll tell you one." 
 
 He dropped his voice after a time, and when she had fallen 
 asleep, kissed her and stole out. Mrs. Martin had been 
 watching him with a mother's gratitude. 
 
 " You you are a good man," she said, timidly, " I 
 don't wonder the child takes to you!" 
 
 Jack went off to his cottage with these words in his ears; 
 of course feeling ashamed of himself, as a man always does 
 when a woman tells him he is good. Half-way to the cottage, 
 he stopped and looked round him. He was not a bit sleepy, 
 and he felt a desire to have a look at the Towers by moon- 
 light. He fought with the desire for a moment or two, but 
 it overcame him, and, vaulting the low park fence, he 
 strolled slowly across towards the house. The light shining 
 through the windows struggled with the moonlight streaming 
 upon the old place; it looked weirdly beautiful in the night, 
 and Jack, sauntering on absently, felt a strange wistfulness 
 creeping over him. This grand old place was his! Oh, no, 
 it wasn't! It was Miss Esther Vanconrt's. 
 
 He was turning away with a sigh, when .he beard the
 
 54 LOVE, THE TYBA1TB. 
 
 strains of a piano, and then a man's voice singing. He leant 
 against the terrace, in the shadow, and listened. 
 
 " Fine voice; sings like a fellow at the opera. Wonder 
 who he is?" 
 
 There was a pause, then he heard the two voices. 
 
 " That's Miss Vancourt's," he said to himself. " I'm 
 sure of it, though I don't know why. Like it better than th$ 
 other." 
 
 Presently the wistfulness grew into a melancholy. He felt 
 like an outcast, out there in the night listening to other peo- 
 ple's voices singing hi his house. 
 
 " I think we'd better go to bed, old man," he said to Bob, 
 who had curled himself up at his master's feet, but was list- 
 ening and watching for the slightest movement. " Don't 
 you bark or make any kind of a row, Bob, for we're tres- 
 passing. Trespassing! Oh, my goodness; if it wasn't so 
 beastly serious it would be amusing!" 
 
 Ke waited until the duet was finished, then he went off to 
 bed. 
 
 He fell asleep at once, Bob lying beside the bed; but sud- 
 denly, in the middle of the night, Bob sprang up and whined, 
 for his master had started up and with outstretched handy 
 and eyes that looked upon a vision, cried: 
 
 " No, no, old man! I'll keep my promise! The little 
 sister's all right. I'll keep my promise; I won't take it away 
 from her, old fellow! Ah, God! he's dead!" 
 
 The whine of the dog waked him, and he looked round. 
 The sweat was on his brow, and he was shaking as he had 
 shaken that night his chum had fallen at his feet. 
 
 " All right, Bob!" he said, his voice shaking too. " Only 
 a dream. Lie down; it's all right!" 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 JACK woke in the morning, fresh as paint, notwithstanding 
 his dream. But it had left an impression behind, as some 
 dreams have a knack of doing. If he had at any time wav- 
 ered in his resolution to sacrifice himself for his for his dead 
 chum's sister, the vision of the night had confirmed his dtter- 
 mination. 
 
 ' No need to haunt me again, old man!" he said. " HI 
 stand by my word!" 
 
 Early in the morning he visited an outlying part of the 
 farm, and found things in anything bat a satisfactory state;
 
 LOVB, THE TYRANT. 55 
 
 and having set George and the men to work, he went to the 
 lodge to breakfast. 
 
 Mrs. Martin was looking ont for him, and welcomed him 
 E3 the timid woman welcomes the strong man upon whom she 
 is beginning to rely, and Nettie hearing his steps, called out 
 a piping: 
 
 " Is that 'oo, Mr. Jack? Are 'oo coming to say good- 
 morning?" 
 
 " Not till I've had something to eat," Jack called back, 
 " It wouldn't be safe. I once ate up a little girl just about 
 your size because I happened to come across her when I was 
 nungry and not half as hungry as I am now." 
 
 " Martin's been worrying," said Mrs. Martha. " He wants 
 to see you." 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " There's nothing to worry about; I'll put his mind at 
 rest presently." 
 
 He ate his breakfast and went up to the now thoroughly 
 sober and remorseful farmer. 
 
 " I've come to report," he said, seating himself on the 
 bed. " Better lie down. Leg painful, of course? Strange 
 how keenly a leg resent being broken: you may bend it as 
 much as you like, but you mustn't break it. Oh, yes, I've 
 been round the farm. What do I think of it? Well, ahem!" 
 
 " There's that four acre wants hoeing," commenced Mar- 
 tin, fretfully and apologetically. " It ought to have been 
 done before; bub I've been that short-handed " 
 
 " I've set George and a couple of scarecrows they call 
 themselves hands, I daresay upon it." 
 
 " And there's that field on the side of the hill " 
 
 " Yes, I know. Best bit of land you've got, I should say; 
 but it's surrounded by trees. You can't expect to get a 
 crop " 
 
 " Yes, yes, you're right!" cut in Martin. " I know that, 
 of course! But what can I do? Sir Richard wouldn't have a 
 tree cut do\vn to save my life, leave alone a crop." 
 
 *' But Sir Richard has gone where I hope his love of timber 
 Will be gratified," said Jack. " Miss Vancourt is mistress 
 now, and she may not be so fond of 'em." 
 
 " True," assented Martin; "but I haven't had time to ask 
 her." 
 
 " It wouldn't take five minutes," remarked Jack. 
 
 " And I don't like mentioning the subject," said Martin. 
 " Sir Richard, he allus swore at me if I as much as mentioned
 
 56 LOVE, THE TYRAKT. 
 
 " And you think his niece might do the same? Well, I'm 
 not afraid of a swear word or two, and I'll ask her, if you 
 like." 
 
 Martin drew a breath of relief. 
 
 " I wish you would. Tell her I sent you, and she'll treab 
 yon civil, I'm sure." 
 
 " Just so," said Jack. "I'll go at once. The trees most 
 come down if that field is to be saved. And now, don't you 
 worry. Is there anything I can do for you?" 
 
 Martin looked rather uncomfortable. 
 
 " There was a bottle with some very old and special whis- 
 key you remember? I'm thinking that a little drop would 
 do me good " 
 
 " Sorry," said Jack, calmly. "But I disposed of it all 
 last night." 
 
 Martin stared at him with a mixture of regret and admira- 
 tion. 
 
 " Yon must have a good head, mister," he said, ruefully. 
 
 " So, so," said Jack. " But whiskey's been my favourite 
 drink since a boy: that's what's made me what I am -a fore- 
 man on the Vancourt home farm. No, my dear Martin, you 
 will have to try a new drink while you're nursing that leg. 
 You'll find it strange at first, but you'll get to like it after a 
 bit." 
 
 " What is it?" asked Martin, doubtfully. 
 
 " Water!" said Jack, with a grin; and as he left the room 
 he heard Martin sigh heavily. 
 
 After an interview with Nettie, he and Bob set out for the 
 Towers. The place had looked poetic and picturesque in the 
 moonlight, but in the bright sunlight of the spring morning 
 it looked superb and imposing. Jack eyed it gravely as he 
 approached the terrace, but he did not even sigh; his dream 
 rose to his mind and crushed out any sense of covetousness. 
 He had relinquished his possessions once and for all, and there 
 was an end of it. 
 
 Palmer, the butler, met him at the door, and when Jack, 
 in his cool, self-possessed way, asked for Miss Vancourt, eyed 
 him curiously and rather doubtfully. 
 
 " Tell Miss Vanconrt the foreman of the farm would be 
 obliged it she could see him," said Jack. 
 
 Palmer's look of curiosity increased. He had a large 
 acquaintance with farmers and their men, but none of them 
 had looked like this stalwart young fellow, or been so much 
 Ot their eaM
 
 LOVE, THE TTBAST. 57 
 
 " If you'll step into the library, FU tell Miss Vancourt, " 
 he said. 
 
 Jack nodded, and remembering the room, walked straight 
 into it. Palmer was rather surprised, and still more so when 
 the foreman of the home farm went to the window and looked 
 out, " as if the place belonged to him," as Palmer remarked 
 afterwards in the servants' hall. 
 
 Jack, when he had studied the view and tried to remember 
 some of the points, turned to the room. One of the Van* 
 courts had been a bibliomaniac, and had got together a very 
 fine collection of books, and Jack walked round the cases and 
 read some of the titles of the rare volumes of whose worth he 
 had little idea. Then as he glanced about him, he caught 
 eight of a glove lying on the writing-table. It was a woman's 
 glove: Suede; size, six and a half. 
 
 He took it up and held it in his brown palm, and gazed at 
 it absently. It was a wee, soft thing, and like the voice of 
 the dream, seemed to plead for its owner. He had barely 
 time to drop it when Palmer entered. 
 
 " Miss Vancourt is out of the house," he said. 
 
 " Oh! Where is she? Do you know?" 
 
 Palmer felt inclined to resent the excessive coolness of this 
 young man in the worn cord suit, and answered, rather stiffly: 
 
 " Miss Vancourt may be in the garden; on the other 
 hand" 
 
 " She may not," said Jack, cheerfully. " I'll see if I 
 can find her:" and out he strode, followed by Bob, who had 
 been told to wait on the terrace. As he passed out, one of 
 the maid-servants crossed the hall and looked at him without 
 appearing to do so. 
 
 " What a handsome young man, Mr. Palmer 1" she said. 
 " Who is he?" 
 
 " Judging by his coolness, not to say cheek, Mary, I 
 should say he was one of the royal family; but he happens to 
 be the new foreman at the farm," replied Palmer, with dig- 
 nity, as he stalked away to his pantry. 
 
 Jack strode down the terrace and across the lawn, stopping 
 now and again to look round him; but he eoald see nothing 
 of Miss Vancourt, and, with a shrug of the sliouiclcra, vaulted 
 the park railing, and was taking a short cat for the farm, 
 when Bob uttered a soft growl, and stopped short. 
 
 " Babbit, old man?" said Jack. "Better let it alone. 
 Miss Vancourt or the keeper mightn't like it." 
 
 But Bob's growl changed into a soft bark of pleasure as he 
 ran into the trees, and Jaek presently saw that the rabbit, in
 
 58 I*VE, THE TYBA2?T. 
 
 a white dress and with a sunshade, was sitting at the foot ef 
 big elm with a book in her hand. Bob sprang to her, thrust 
 nis nose against her bosom, and wagged his tail, then, with a 
 sigh which said quite plainly, " How delightful to meet you 
 again like this!" stretched himself at her feet, and, placing 
 one huge paw on her white dress, looked up at his master 
 with a kind of " Here's the pretty girl we saw yesterday, you 
 know!" 
 
 Jask raised his hat. 
 
 " I apologise for my dog, Miss Vancourt. He means well; 
 but he's a little too free with people he takes a fancy to. 
 Come here, Bob!" 
 
 Esther inclined her head, then snuggled her face against 
 Bob's soft and silky one. 
 
 " Don't call him, please. I think it is very nice of him to 
 remember me." 
 
 " Oh, Bob never forgets a friend or a benefit," said Jack. 
 " He leaves that to us men." 
 
 Esther held Bob's long nose in her white hand, and Jack, 
 as he looked at it, remembered the size of the glove. There 
 was a faint colour in her face, and she seemed so engrossed ia 
 the dog as to have forgotten his master's presence. 
 
 " Sorry to have disturbed you, Miss Vancourt," said Jack, 
 after a pause, " but I've just been up to the house to see you, 
 and they said I might find you about the grounds." 
 
 " You want to see me?" said Esther, rather coldly. " How 
 is Martin this morning?" 
 
 " Getting on all right, I think." 
 
 " I am glad," she said as coldly as before. She had glanced 
 up at him for a moment under half her lids, then she fell to 
 caressing Bob again with an air of indifference to the man's 
 proximity which the youngest girl can manage so cleverly. 
 
 Jack was slightly nettled by it the man is intended to be 
 nettled and, rather abruptly, he said: 
 
 " Do you mind my cutting down most of the trees in one of 
 the farm fields, Miss "^ancourt?" 
 
 Esther looked up quickly, open-eyed now. 
 
 " Cutting down the trees," she echoed, vaguely. " Why? 
 Why do you want to cut them?" 
 
 Jack stood bolt upright and stifled a sigh. Explaining the 
 elementary rales of farming to a young girl is a large order 
 for the most patient of men, and Jack Gordon was anything 
 but patient. 
 
 " You can't grow corn and mangels, any kind of crop, ia 
 and trees as well, in one field," he said.
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAOT. 59 
 
 Bether stared at him. 
 
 " Why do yon try, then?" she asked. " Trees are erer se 
 
 much prettier than mangels. What are mangels, Mr. ?" 
 
 she hesitated. 
 
 " Gordon! Jack Gordon," he said, raising his hat slightly 
 
 She returned the salutation with a bend of her head, then 
 was wild with herself for doing it and flushed. 
 
 " Mangels are roots: cows eat 'em," said Jack. 
 
 " Can't you grow them somewhere else?" asked Esther, 
 languidly. 
 
 " Oh, certainly; but this field happens to be the best OQ 
 the farm. 
 
 " Then why didn't they grow them before? How old is 
 your dog, Mr. Gordon?" 
 
 " Coming four," replied Jack, rather curtly. " They have 
 tried, like the idiots they were, but, of course, it wasn't any 
 Use." 
 
 " Why didn't Sir Richard cut down the trees?" 
 
 " Because he had a fancy for them: some persons have." 
 
 " I have," said Esther, haughtily. 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " All right: then we'll grow 'em and give up the crops.' 1 
 He looked at Bob as if he were going, then paused. " Have 
 you any idea how much your home farm costs you, Miss Van- 
 court?" he said, half reluctantly, as if he were obeying a 
 conscientious impulse. 
 
 Esther stared. 
 
 !< Not in the least. Why?" m 
 
 " Oh, because well, I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm 
 sorry to have bothered you, and I'll wish you good-morning." 
 
 He called Bob, and the dog stretched himself and wagged 
 his tail with a wistful glance at the beautiful lady with the 
 soft lap on which his head was pillowed. 
 
 " Wait, please," said Esther, with her lady-of-the-manor 
 air. " I wish to understand. Perhaps you know that I have 
 only just come, have only recently become mistress of the 
 Towers; and I I don't know much about anything concern- 
 ing the estate." The colour came into her face, and she for- 
 got her hauteur. " How should I know anything about 
 mangels: they didn't grow them in Islington I mean where 
 I lived before Sir Richard left me all all this." She lifted 
 her sunsnade so that she might look round with a compre- 
 hensive glance. 
 
 Jack felt uncomfortable.
 
 60 ttJVE, THE TYRANT! 
 
 *Ive I've beard something about it," he said. - 
 here yon are, yon know, and " 
 
 " It's time I learnt something now, you mean?" she broke 
 in, as he hesitated. " I suppose that is what every one says 
 and thinks. But people expect too much. Do you know, 
 Mr. Gordon, a few months ago I had as little expectation of 
 being mistress of Vancourt Towers as of being the the 
 Queen of England!" 
 
 Her eyes were glowing, her lips apart, and she looked at 
 him in a half-absent, half-absorbed fashion. Jack leant 
 against the tree with his hands in his pockets, and she was so 
 engrossed that she did not notice his free-and-easy attitude; 
 indeed, she was vaguely conscious of its grace. 
 
 " This place, and all Sir Richard's money, ought to have 
 gone to his nephew, Sir John Vancourt. But he died." 
 
 She sighed and looked straight before her. 
 
 '* Rather hard on him," said Jack, drily, " but rather 
 fortunate " 
 
 " For me? Do not say that!" she exclaimed, almost in- 
 dignantly. "You would not, if you knew the whole story. 
 It is a very sad one terribly so. He he was murdered out 
 in Australia just after his uncle's death. On the very night 
 that the letter announcing his succession reached him. 
 
 " Poor beggar!" said Jack. " But that was no fault of 
 yours, you know." 
 
 " N-o; I know; but somehow I never think of it without 
 feeling in some way guilty." 
 
 1 1 shouldn't think of it," remarked Jack. 
 
 " I don't when I can help it!" she said, with a naivete 
 which made Jack smile behind his moustache. " And so so 
 as he was dead, I came into the property. Don't you think 
 It is sad dreadfully sad?" 
 
 "For you?" asked Jack. 
 
 She looked at him almost angrily, and gave an impatient 
 jerk to the sunshade. 
 
 " Ah, you don't understand, of course," she said. " I 
 meant for me. Bat there's no use talking about it." 
 
 " Not the least in the world," he said, cheerfully. " And 
 I'm not to cut down those trees, Miss Vanconrt?" 
 
 She jerked the sunshade again so that he could see her 
 face. It looked wonderfully lovely and bewitching with its 
 touch of girlish impatience and temper in the grey eyes. 
 
 " Oh, cut them down, if you like!" she rei" 
 teiy. " / don't care I mean* I don't knowr
 
 LOVE, THE TYEANT. 61 
 
 " But 1 do," he said, coolly. " The trees ought to go^ 
 Miss Vanconrt; mangels won't grow " 
 
 " You said that before," she interrupted him, pettish" 
 fagly. " But, there! I suppose you ought to grow mangels; 
 Are you you comfortable? Do you think you will like yois 
 place?"" 
 
 For the life of her she could not help hesitating before the 
 word " place." The young fellow looked so like a gentle- 
 man lounging against the tree that she found it hard to be- 
 lieve that he was a servant of hers, a sort of farm labourer. 
 
 " Oh, yes; very comfortable. Mrs. Martin is a good sort, 
 and Nettie and I are chums already. I shall hold out all 
 right till Martin gets better." 
 
 She looked down at Bob. 
 
 " And then what will you do?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' ' The future lies on the knees of the gods," he replied, 
 carelessly. 
 
 " What a strange expression!" she said; her lips parted 
 with a smile that made them very lovable, so lovable, that 
 Jack, upon whom she had not before smiled, gazed at her 
 with the man's too candid stare of admiration; whereat the 
 smile vanished and a slight frown took its place. 
 
 " It's Egyptian, I believe. Heard it from a chum: dead 
 now, poor chap!" 
 
 He stopped and winced: for he was speaking of this girl's 
 brother! 
 
 " A chum? One of whom you were fond? I know by the 
 way you spoke," she said in a low voice. 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " Yes," he said, curtly. " I'd reason to be." 
 
 ;< Why?" she asked. " Did he do you a great service?" 
 
 " Yes; he saved my live gave his life for me that's all," 
 said Jack. 
 
 She looked up at him with a sweet gravity and sympathy, 
 and with an interest and curiosity too obvious to be ignored. 
 
 " It's too long a story," he said, a little huskily r almost 
 roughly. 
 
 " And too painful," she said, swiftly, with a woman's 
 quick delicacy. " Some day, perhaps, you will tell me." 
 
 " I think not. You'll have to excuse me," he said, grimly. 
 
 There was a moment's pause, during which she was trying 
 to recover the attitude and air of dignity with which she had 
 received him; then Jack woke as if from a
 
 62 WVE, THE TYBAUli 
 
 " PL get those trees felled at once. Good-morning, Mia 
 Vancourt." 
 
 He raised his hat and called Bob, this time in a tone which 
 demanded instant obedience, and Esther nodded rather 
 coldly. Then she said, as if struck by a sudden thought: 
 
 " I suppose I ought to see those trees, Mr. Gordon, to see 
 if they ought to be cut down or not?" 
 
 Jack had some difficulty in repressing a smile; but he man- 
 aged it. 
 
 " Certainly," he said. " If you were a man, you would 
 naturally." 
 
 She raised her chin haughtily. 
 
 " Oh! it doesn't follow that because I am a woman I 
 should be an absolute idiot. Is it far?" 
 
 " The other side of the farm," he replied. " And if 8 
 warm walking." 
 
 She coloured and bit her lip. 
 
 " Very well, then, I won't come. Yes, I willl" with a 
 portentous sigh. " I suppose it's my duty!" 
 
 " Then come on," said Jack, abruptly. She stared at 
 him, her face flushing. " I I beg your pardon, Miss Van- 
 court," he stammered. " I mean that I shall be honoured! 
 1 hope you'll forgive my abruptness: I'm I'm only a work- 
 ing-man, and not used to ladies, you see." 
 
 " Of course I could see that!" she said, with deadly sweet- 
 ness. " It's of no consequence." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THEY walked on in silence for some moments, Bob, in be- 
 tween them, glancing up at one and the other enquiringly, as 
 if he were asking himself what was the matter, and why these 
 two friends of his couldn't be friends with each other. 
 
 Presently he pricked up his ears and ran forward with his 
 nose to the ground. 
 
 " What is it?" asked Esther. 
 
 " He sees or smells something; Bob has the nose and eye 
 of an Irish terrier: he's had a hard bringing up. Ah, there 
 it is: hare, I expect," said Jack. 
 
 He followed the dog and picked up a hare that had been 
 caught in a snare. 
 
 " Oh, poor thing!" exclaimed Esther. " Is it dead?" 
 
 *' Yes, quite," replied Jack. " Been there some time* 
 That'* ft well-made snare," he added, eyeing it critically.
 
 , THE TYSA3ST. 63 
 
 "Yon've some skilful poachers on the estate, Miss Van- 
 court." 
 
 " Poachers?" echoed Esther. She had read about them, 
 and felt quite a romantic thrill. " It was a poacher, then, 
 who caught this?" 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, rather grimly, as he put the snare in 
 his pocket. " You don't appear to preserve your game very 
 carefully." 
 
 " Don't I?" said Esther, looking up at him doubtfully. 
 " I don't know anything about it. Oh, yes! I remember 
 Mr. Floss saying that Sir Bichard had neglected the game." 
 
 " Yes; he went in for collecting curiosities, and that's 
 rather an absorbing amusement." 
 
 " How did you know he did that?" she asked, with some 
 surprise. 
 
 Jack shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, I have heard it from somebody or other," he replied, 
 carelessly. " When a man goes in for a hobby like collect- 
 ing, he's sure to neglect his duties. It's the duty of every 
 landowner to look after his game." 
 
 '' It seem to me that a landowner has a great many du- 
 ties,*' remarked Esther, rather ruefully. " I'm hearing of 
 some fresh ones every day from Mr. Floss, and Miss Worces- 
 ter my aunt and now from you. I should like to do my 
 duty, Mr. Gordon; but it's rather hard, seeing I don't know 
 anything about it." 
 
 " Very hard: but you'll pick it up in time," said Jack, en- 
 couragingly. 
 
 " Now, if Sir Richard's nephew, poor Sir John the young 
 man who died, you know I told you " 
 
 " Yes, I know." 
 
 " If he had lived and inherited this property, he would 
 have preserved the game, I suppose?" 
 
 " He certainly would!" asserted Jack, emphatically. 
 
 " Well, then, / must!" she said, with a sigh, but reso- 
 lutely. " I want to do everything he would have done." 
 
 " Oh, I hope not! I mean," he corrected himself hastily, 
 " perhaps not everything." 
 
 "What would you do about the game, Mr. Gordon?" she 
 asked, after a pause. 
 
 " Engage another gamekeeper," he said, promptly. " Get 
 a fresh start, in fact. I suppose you'll have some company 
 presently, a shooting-party in the autumn, and so on?" 
 
 " I suppose so " absently.
 
 64 LOVE, THE TYRAOT. 
 
 " At any rate, your friends and neigho oun.. ^a peoplt 
 round about, will expect to be asked over to shoot." 
 
 " Will they? You see, I don't know. Only a few weeks 
 ago I was living in a dingy, dusty little street in Islington, 
 teaching music; and what should I know of of all these 
 things, excepting what I've read in books?" 
 
 " And books are generally all wrong," said Jack, with the 
 practical man's contempt for fiction when it deals with sport. 
 ** And you taught music?" 
 
 " Yes. Are you fond of it?" 
 
 " Love it," he said, succinctly. " I heard you singing and 
 playing last night." 
 
 " Yes? Why, where were you?" she asked, quickly. 
 
 " Just walking round," said Jack, carelessly. "Making 
 a kind of inspection. There was someone else singing, too." 
 
 '* Yes; that was Mr. Selby Lay ton, a friend who is staying 
 with us. vHasn't he a splendid voice?" she said, enthusi- 
 astically. 
 
 " Splendid," assented Jack, absently. 
 
 Selby Lay ton! Where had he heard the name before? He 
 cudgelled his brains in the usual way, but failed to knock oat 
 the memory. 
 
 " He is a distant relation of mine," said Esther. " And 
 he has been very kind; he is going to help me in in a little 
 matter What cottage is that? I've not seen it before," 
 she broke off to ask. 
 
 " That's the foreman's cottage," replied Jack. " And as 
 I'm the foreman for the time being, I may say that it is 
 mine." 
 
 The door was open, and she went up to it. 
 
 " Will you walk in?" he asked, civilly; but she just looked 
 in, then drew back. 
 
 " No, thanks. It looks very comfortable." 
 
 " It is," said Jack. 
 
 She sighed. 
 
 " How funny!" 
 ' Beg pardon?" 
 
 " I was thinking that a few weeks ago I should have 
 danced with delight if any one had told me that I was going 
 to live in a pretty, picturesque cottage like this," she ex- 
 plained. " I always longed for a cottage in a wood!" 
 
 " Seems to me that a mansion in a park is better," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose it is." She sighed again. " Of eourse 
 it is! Jtafr-'*
 
 TOVE, THE TYBANT, 65 
 
 He stepped in, flung the hare on the tablt* and took a 
 woodman's axe from its nail on the wall. 
 
 " What are you going to do with that?'* she asked; " you 
 are not going to cut down the trees at onoe, now?" 
 
 " Oh, no. I'm only going to mark them," he said. " It's 
 not much farther." 
 
 He swung the axe over his shoulder, and they walked on. 
 The path grew narrow in places, and, having to show the 
 way, he walked in front. She looked at him, now that he 
 could not see her, with a woman's close attention: how 
 straight he was, how broad across the shoulders, and how 
 firmly, yet lightly, he walked! Not for the first time since 
 she had first seen him, she wondered what his history might 
 be; that there was a history she was sure. 
 
 She was thinking of him so intently, that she started 
 slightly when he stopped and said: 
 
 " Here we are, the best field on the place, and those trees 
 spoil it com-plete-lv spoil it," he said, pointing to the elms 
 and beeches which surrounded it. 
 
 " They must all come down, then," she said, rather re- 
 Inctantly. " Couldn't you " pleadingly " save one or 
 two?" 
 
 " * Woodman, spare that tree!' " he said, with a smile. 
 "Well, we'll see." 
 
 He took off his coat, pitched it on to a bank, and, taking a 
 survey, cur, a not ch in one of the trunks, skipped the next, 
 and notched its fellow; selecting the worst trees for destruc- 
 tion, and evidently so absorbed in his work as to have quite 
 forgotten her presence. She walked beside him with an in- 
 terest which sm prised her. 
 
 *' It seems very easy," she said, absently. 
 
 He looked round, as if recalled to a sense of her presence. 
 
 " Oh, it's easy enough," he assented, calmly. 
 
 " I should like to try," she said. " How bright ths axe 
 is!" 
 
 She held out her hand. 
 
 " Better not," he said. " It's sharp as well as bright, and 
 ft has a nasty trick of turning round in the hands of an un- 
 accustomed person. ' 
 
 Esther coloured and raie d her chin. 
 
 " I'm not afraid. Give it me, please!" she said, haughtily. 
 
 Jack looked at her for a moment, then, with a scarcely 
 perceptible shrug of the shoulders, he held the axe out to her. 
 
 " Oh, it's heavier than I thought," she said, as the tocfe
 
 66 LOVE, THE TYRANl. 
 
 it, then she bit her lip. " I suppose it's "because I'm not 
 used to it." 
 
 But she was too proud to wait for any instructions, and 
 standing in front of a tree, swung the axe back slowly, 
 fortunately and made a cut at the trunk. The axe swung 
 downwards, as it has a trick of doing when you don't know 
 how to work it, just grazed an inch or two from the bark and 
 fell from her hand. 
 
 " That wasn't my fault," she said, biting her lip with im- 
 patience. " The thing caught something as I swung it 
 (back." 
 
 The " something " was Jack's shoulder, where he could 
 feel a dull ache and smarting which told him that he was 
 " touched," as woodmen put it. 
 
 " A small branch or twig, most likely," he said, quietly, as 
 he put on his coat. " Have you hurt your hand twisted 
 your wrist?" 
 
 " Oh, no!" she said, lightly. " I shall do it better next 
 time." 
 
 He picked up the axe and gave it to her, and she made an- 
 other swipe. 
 
 " It's not nearly so deep as yours, but it's better," she re- 
 marked, looking at the cut with satisfaction. " But how it 
 tires one's arm!" 
 
 " Didn't hold it tight enough," he said. " If you really 
 want to do it proper! y,for goodness' sake I mean, permit me 
 to show you how, Miss Vancourt." 
 
 " Well, then," she assented, grudgingly. 
 
 He took the axe from her and held it in proper form. 
 
 " See? I grip it tight just here like this. Then I 
 swing it back with the edge this way. Don't get behind me; 
 stand at the side, and I ' The axe described a magniflcent 
 curve, struck the tree, first upwards and then downwards, 
 and the notch shone clear and white in the bark. 
 
 " I see! Please," she took the axe, and, of course, held it 
 in the wrong place. 
 
 " No, no! Just here," he said, almost impatiently; and 
 he put his hand on hers and moved it to the right position. 
 His hand, long and brown, but in its way as shapely as hers, 
 covered her soft, white one, and, as it closed round it com- 
 pellingly, the warm firm pressure sent a strange thrill 
 through the girl. She felt the colour rising to her face, and 
 fought in vain to keep it down. 
 
 " Thanks," she said, curtly; " but I don't think I car* 
 ?ery much about it now."
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANTS 67 
 
 " Oh, bave another try," he said, resignedly, " now you've 
 begun. Better! Now swing it back like this. Don't be 
 afraid; there's no branch behind you this time. See! That's 
 it!" He guided the axe, still keeping his hand on hers, then, 
 at the downward stroke, left her free. " That's all right, 
 now strike up. No! Better not!" 
 
 " Why not?" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, it occurred to me that you would probably miss the 
 tree and cut your own head off," he said. 
 
 " Nonsense! I should do nothing of the sort!" she re- 
 torted. " Take care, I'm going to try." 
 
 " I think not," he said, coolly, and he took hold of the 
 axe. 
 
 She held it firmly and stared at him haughtily; then her 
 face changed, and she let go and drew back with a faint cry. 
 
 " What's the matter now?" he asked. 
 
 "Why oh, look! there's something it's yes, it'a 
 blood, on the handle! Oh!" and she shuddered. 
 
 Jack looked at the handle, and wiped it quickly across his 
 sleeve with an expression of annoyance. 
 
 " So it is," he said. " I wonder" 
 
 She shuddered again. 
 
 " Oh, I know! It must have come from that hare!" 
 
 Jack's face cleared and he laughed. 
 
 " Of course," he said. " I hope you haven't got any on 
 your hands?" 
 
 She held out her white paws and regarded them with 
 shrinking apprehension,, 
 
 " Yes there is! How horrible!" she said; and holding 
 the stained hand away from her as far as possible, she drew 
 out the small square of web-like cambric which her sex desig- 
 nate a handkerchief. 
 
 Jack looked at it doubtfully. 
 
 " Don't use that it's too good," he said. " Take mine. 
 It's a clean one. I bought a couple on the road," he added, 
 as she hesitated. 
 
 " Oh, thanks," she said. " But I can't take yours. It's 
 not much of a stain though it's horrid! and mine will do." 
 
 She wiped away the smudge with the dainty iiiindkerchief, 
 with a shudder at" each wipe, then with a final " TJghl" flung 
 the square of cambric from her. 
 
 As she did so, a step sounded near them, Jack and Bob 
 heard it, and the latter sat up with a low growl; but Esther 
 was too absorbed in her distasteful task to notice. 
 
 " I was afraid jrn'd managed to eut yourself," said Jack.
 
 ; 68 LOVE, THE TTEAST. 
 
 'It would only have been what I deserved," sfce 
 " Persons who play with edged tools, yon know " 
 
 Bob sprang forward between them with an angry growl; a 
 man's voice was heard, in accents of alarm, calling out coax- 
 ingly: 
 
 " Down, sir! Good dog! There! good dog hi! You, 
 there, call off your beastly dog!" 
 
 Jack called Bob, and as he obeyed reluctantly and still 
 growling, the graceful figure of Mr. Selby Layton, dressed in, 
 a spick-and-span knickerbocker suit came towards them. For 
 a moment he saw only Jack, and began in a hectoring fash- 
 ion, his face still rather pale: 
 
 " Why the devil don't you look after your dog, my man! 
 The brute was nearly springing at me " 
 
 Then he saw Esther, and, colouring, stopped short, look- 
 ing from one to the other with surprise and embarrassment. 
 
 " I I beg your pardon, Miss Vancourt, I'd no idea you 
 were here! I er have been looking for you." 
 
 By this time the sweet smile was in its usual working 
 rder, and he turned it on as if there was no one else present. 
 Esther had also coloured for a moment, but she said quite 
 casually: 
 
 " I have been looking at some trees with " 
 
 As she paused, the two men regarded each other. Layton 
 with a kind of faint doubt behind his superciliousness, Jack 
 with the steady calm of the strong man looking on the weak 
 one. 
 
 " This is the foreman of the farm," she said. " Mr. 
 Gordon." 
 
 For a moment Selby Layton had been puzzled by th.3 face 
 and figure of the man before him, for he thought he knew a 
 gentleman when he saw him, but at " This is the foreman of 
 the farm," his superciliousness returned in full vigour. 
 
 "Oh!" he said, condescendingly. " Rather a dangerous 
 dog of yours, isn't it?" 
 
 " No," said Jack, with the slow drawl which had put 
 many a blusterer to confusion; " he ia all right. He's as 
 quiet as a lamb, as a rule, and only goes for doubtful char- 
 acters." 
 
 Selby Layton's face flushed, and he opened his mouth to 
 retort angrily, but suddenly restrained himself, and with a 
 curl of the lips that turned his smile to a sneer, said: 
 
 " Sounds as if he takes mt; for one, my friend!" 
 
 " The best of dogs make a mistake sometimes," said Jack, 
 quietiy. " Though you don't do it often, do you, Bob?"
 
 KJVB, THE TYRANT. 69 
 
 lie raioed his hat to Esther, and was turning away; then 
 fee paused as if he had suddenly remembered his manners. 
 
 " Do you want me any longer, Miss Vancourt?" 
 
 Now, Esther had been standing, looking from one to the 
 other with a certain sense of embarrassment. Selby Layton's 
 tone and manner of addressing the other man had jarred upon 
 her and hurt her; on the other hand, Jack's cool retort had, 
 though it had savoured of insolence coming from a servant 
 and an inferior, extorted the woman's admiration; conse- 
 quently, being afraid lest she should reveal it, she said coldly r 
 with her head well up, and her chin out: 
 
 " Ho, thanks; you may go, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 Jack raised his hat again, and strode off. When he was 
 out of sight he took off his coat, for it was his only one, and 
 he didn't want to spoil it: his shoulder was bleeding pretty 
 freely. 
 
 When he had reached the cottage he took off his shirt and 
 looked at the cut. It was neither deep nor long, and he 
 laughed rather grimly: 
 
 " Serves me right for standing so close behind a woman 
 fooling with an axe!" 
 
 After he had washed the wound, he lit a pipe and went off 
 in the direction of the farm; but at the crossing of the paths 
 he paused. He went on again, paused again, and ultimately 
 strode back to the field. Even at the hedge he stopped again; 
 but, as if it were a magnet, the little blood-stained handker- 
 chief drew him. 
 
 He stood and looked at it for a moment wistfully, and with 
 self-mockery for his weakness. At last he stooped and picked 
 it up, and with a laugh, half of shame the man's shame for 
 sentiment he thrust the dainty, useless thing into his breast- 
 pocket. 
 
 It was a long day for Jack the new bioom always finda 
 plenty of sweeping to be done and the farm-hands speedily 
 discovered that they had now got a foreman who not only 
 knew what work was, but could take his share in it. 
 
 Every now and then, as he lifted his arm, the flesh-wound 
 on his shoulder smarted and reminded him of Miss Vancourt's 
 performance with the axe; but there was something else, 
 lying enugly near his heart, which helped to keep her in his 
 memory. Once or twice he had felt inclined to take the 
 handkerchief from its place and throw it away; but it re- 
 mained there, safe enough. 
 
 After dinner which he ate in a hurry he went out IB 
 search of some men to fell the trees.
 
 70 XOTE, THE TYRAOT* 
 
 Beyond thw rimall village was a row of those tumble-down 
 cottages which one finds on every estate. To these drift the 
 idle and ne'er-do-well of the labourers, and Jack stopped and 
 looked at them, thinking that it he were master of Vancourt 
 they would come down pretty quickly. 
 
 While he was looking at them and wondering whether he 
 should find the men he wanted there, a young girl came to 
 one of the open doors, and shading her eyes with her hand, 
 looked down the road as if she were in search of someone. 
 
 She was a remarkably handsome girl, with a wealth of 
 auburn hair framing a face in which the dark brown eyes 
 were striking features. There was an anxious expression in 
 them at that moment, and as Jack went up to the gate, and, 
 raising his hat, gave her " Good-afternoon," she started and 
 shrank back, and the brown eyes turned to him with a startled 
 gaze. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, much more gently than he 
 had as yet spoken to Miss Vancourt. " I am trying to find 
 some men to fell some trees. Is there any one here who 
 could manage it, do you know?" 
 
 She shook her head, her eyes lowering, her manner one of 
 marked reserve and repression. 
 
 " No; there is no one here who could do it," she replied in 
 a low voice that had a deeper ring in it than in that of most 
 women: the contralto note. " They are nearly all women 
 who live here." 
 
 " Thank you," said Jack. " Sorry to have troubled you," 
 
 She made a gesture of acknowledgment, blushing slightly, 
 and Jack went on. As he came to the turn of the road, he 
 met a man shambling along the path. Jack saw that he had 
 been drinking, and stood aside to let him pass. The man 
 was muttering to himself, and took no notice of Jack, who, 
 watching him, saw him stumble up to the girl, who had come 
 down the little garden to meet him. She spoke to him in a 
 low voice of remonstrance and rebuke, and they entered the 
 cottage together. 
 
 Jack found three men, after a great deal of hunting, and 
 only returned to the farm in time for supper. Then ne lit 
 his pipe and went off to the cottage, intending to go to bed, 
 for he was tired. But he was seized by a fit of restlessness, 
 and the sight of the hare lying on the table where he had 
 thrown it reminded him of the poachers. The man who had 
 Bet the snare would be certain to visit the spot that night, 
 sad it occurred to Jack that it would be rather amusing to
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAira. 71 
 
 meet the gentleman. At any rate, any occupation was better 
 than sitting there in silent meditation upon Miss Vancourt. 
 
 He cut a thick stick from one of the sapling oaks, and 
 shutting Bob in the bedroom, went out. The moon was 
 hidden by a mass of cloud, but dark as it was, he experienced 
 no difficulty in finding his way, for a path once trodden by 
 him was never forgotten, and he reached the spot where he 
 had found the hare, stretched himself comfortably amongst 
 the bracken, and waited with the patience of the backwoods- 
 man. 
 
 He had almost given his man up, when he heard footsteps, 
 and raising his head, saw a figure coming through the dusky 
 avenue of the wood. 
 
 The man was moving without any attempt at caution or 
 care, and he stopped and struck a match as boldly as if he 
 were strolling in his own grounds. 
 
 " Not the first time you've been here, my friend," thought 
 Jack. " Yes, certainly Miss Vanconrt ought to sack her 
 head-keeper!" 
 
 The match went out, and, quite as boldly, the man struck 
 another. As the light flashed full on his face, Jack recog- 
 nised the man as the inebriated individual whom he had 
 passed near the old cottages. 
 
 The poacher found the spot where he had laid the snare, 
 and went to it, feeling about for his catch, and as he knelt, 
 Jack rose suddenly and kid a hand upon the man's shoulder. 
 
 With an oath, the poacher turned upon him; but Jack had 
 gripped him by both arms, and held him as if in a vice. 
 
 " I've got what you want, my man," he said, quietly. 
 " It's at my cottage: we'll go together and get it." 
 
 " Let me go, or !" growled the struggling man; but 
 Jack held him tightly. 
 
 " No good: I'm younger than you, and twice as strong. 
 My good chap, I could put you over my shoulder quite easily 
 I could indeed. Better come quietly." 
 
 The man ceased struggling and seemed to be listening. 
 
 " You're not a keeper?" he said, sullenly. 
 
 " Well, I don't know; I'm keeping yon, anyway," said 
 Jack, cheerfully. 
 
 As he spoke, he felt the man trying to slip his hand into 
 nis side-pocket, and knew that he was trying for a knife. 
 With a quick movement Jack threw him on his back, then 
 caught up the thick stick, and, with his knees on thp man's 
 chest, 0aid:
 
 72 LOVE, THE TYBABT. 
 
 <s Don't be an idiot! I don't want to hurt yv& ^and up 
 tkat knife ! No, don't trouble; I'll get it for you!" 
 
 As he fished the knife out of the man's pocket and slipped 
 it in his own, his grasp relaxed somewhat, and seizing his op- 
 portunity, the poacher wriggled to his knees and tried to grip 
 Jack. 
 
 Belactantly enough, Jack raised the stick; but at that mo 
 ment a cry arose quite near them, and the light from an 
 Ordinary lantern flashed upon them. Jack looked up and 
 saw the the girl of the cottages: she had snatched the lantern 
 from under her shawl, and was peering at them with a look 
 terror in her dark brown eyes. 
 
 " No, no!" she cried. " Don't! Ah, for God's sake, 
 don't! Father, father! what are you doing here? You prom- 
 ised me you promised me! Don't don't hit him, please; 
 please don't!" 
 
 Jack sprang up and dragged the man to his feet, took the 
 lantern from the girl's shaking hand, and held it aloft so that 
 he could see both of them. 
 
 The man stood, dogged and sullen, with downcast eyes; the 
 girl had covered hers with one hand, and had seized her 
 lather's arm with the other. Suddenly she threw herself at 
 Jack's feet and caught his arm with both hands. 
 
 " Oh, spare him, sir! It's it's only lately He's not 
 been home long We're poor, and and Let him go, 
 sir; for God's sake, have pity, and let him go!" 
 
 Jack raised her. 
 
 " Keep quiet, my good girl," he said, gravely. " He is 
 four father?" 
 
 Before he could get any farther, the man uttered an ex- 
 clamation. It was one of surprise, amazement; amazement 
 so intense that it struck both the girl and Jack silent. 
 
 In an instant the poacher's manner changed, and he lowered 
 his head and resumed his former sullen attitude. 
 
 " What's your name, my man?" asked Jack, sternly. 
 
 The girl broke out, as if she feared her father's manner of 
 reply might rouse Jack's anger. 
 
 " Transom sir," she said, tremulously. " We live you 
 saw where this afternoon. We're honest it's only the 
 poacMng Oh, father, if you'd only kept your promise ! 
 And it has not been often he's only just back from abroad 
 If if you'll let us go, sir !" 
 
 She clasped her hands on her bosom and bent forwards im- 
 ploringly, panting for breath; and Jack nodded to her 
 quickly, but glanced towards her father sJ
 
 I0VE, THE TYRAOT. 73 
 
 " Yes; you may go," he said he stopped her thanks with 
 a movement of his hand " but I need scarcely say that if I 
 find your father in the woods again " 
 
 " No, no! He will never set foot in them again I" she 
 panted. 
 
 " Very good," said Jack. " Here's your lantern. Keep 
 your word, or you'll find I shall keep mine. Good-night/' 
 
 She took the lantern with a trembling hand, then stood and 
 looked at the bronzed, handsome face. She said not a word, 
 called down no blessing on his head just simply looked at 
 him; but Jack remembered the look to his dying day. It 
 fixed him to the spot some time after she had moved away 
 with her hand upon her father's arm. 
 
 They walked on in silence until they had reached the end 
 of the wood, then Transom passed his hand across his brow 
 in a dull, absorbed fashion. 
 
 " What's what's that fellow's name, Kate?" he asked, 
 glancing at her from the corners of his bloodshot eyes, 
 
 The girl shook her head. 
 
 " He is he's a stranger," she said, her voice full of 
 trouble and anxiety. " He he was good to you, father t 
 You oh, you won't forget?" 
 
 " Nol I sha'n't forget," he responded, thoughtfully. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " No, I sha'n't forget," repeated Transom, in the same 
 Curiously thoughtful tone. 
 
 Kate looked at him. 
 
 " You don't bear him any malice, father?" she said, anx- 
 iously. " He was kind and merciful. He let you go, and 
 he might have prosecuted you. You don't mean him any 
 harm?" 
 
 " Harm? No," he responded. " Who says I do? No, 1 
 don't wish him no harm though it was no business of his; he 
 ain't a gamekeeper. And how long has he been foreman? 
 Where did he come from? who is he?" 
 
 He glanced at her with an air half cunning, half curious, 
 then averted his gaze as if he could not meet her eyes. 
 
 " I don't know. Mr. Martin broke his leg, and this gen- 
 tleman " 
 
 " 
 
 " Gentleman?" be said, with another sidelong glance. 
 What do yea call him that for? He's only Martin's
 
 74 IXJVE, THE TYBAHT. 
 
 Kate was silent a moment, as if the question had perplex*! 
 her. 
 
 '* 1 don't know why I said ' gentleman;' only that he's 
 different to to the others. Didn't you notice how he spoke, 
 father, and how quiet he was? I can't explain; but -he is 
 different, that's all He came yesterday; nobody knows any- 
 thing about him." 
 
 Transom grunted, and they relapsed into silence for the 
 test of the way. 
 
 When they had entered the cottage, Kate put the lantern on 
 the table, and her father fell into a chair, tkrust his hands 
 into his pockets, and stared thoughtfully at the floor. She 
 looked at him moodily, and, as if still uncomfortable under 
 the gaze of her magnificent eyes, he shuffled his feet, and at 
 last looked up angrily. 
 
 " Hadn't you better be off to bed, Kate?" he asked, 
 roughly. 
 
 " We will both go," she replied. " You won't go out 
 again to-night, father?" 
 
 "I'm not going,!" he retorted, sullenly. "Don't you 
 worry yourself about me. Be off to bed." 
 
 She lit a candle and moved to the door, but stopped sud- 
 denly, for she heard footsteps coming up the garden path. 
 They were followed by a soft tap at the window, and a mo- 
 ment or two afterwards tne door was opened cautiously and a 
 man stole in. He was young and well formed, with a face as 
 dark as a gipsy's, with the black, yellow-shot eyes which one 
 sees only in members of that race, and with the full red lips 
 which also belong to it. He was handsome enough, but it 
 was with the " beauty of the devil," as the French say, and 
 there was something in the expression of both eyes and lips 
 which was anything but prepossessing. 
 
 He did not see Kate for a moment, for she was screened by 
 the door, and he came into the room with a jaunty air and 
 threw a fine salmon on the table. 
 
 " Hallo, Transom! Got back, then. What did you get?" 
 he exclaimed; then, as Transom looked warningly towards 
 Kate, the young fellow turned with a peculiar swift and 
 lissom movement and nodded. 
 
 " What, Kate, not in bed!" he said, with an attempt at 
 ease and a forced smile. " It's late for you!" 
 
 She stood quite stiil and looked at him, her lips drav,';: 
 tightly, her splendid eyes sombre and repellent 
 
 " It is late," she said, with a coldness which masked her
 
 I0VE, THE TYRANT. 75 
 
 resentment and anger. " Why have you come? what do yon 
 want at this time of night?" 
 
 He pushed his soft cap from his forehead, on which the 
 black hair clustered in short curls, and regarded her with a 
 mixture of deference and banter. 
 
 " I saw a light, and came hi to say ' good-night.' I've 
 brought you a present, Kate.'* 
 
 He nodded towards the salmon, and smiled. 
 
 " Thank you. I don't want it, Dick Reeve," she said. 
 " Where did you get it?" 
 
 She knew well enough, for a magnificent salmon river ran 
 through the Vancourt estates. 
 
 " In the Hawk's Pool," he said, pretending to misunder- 
 stand her. " It's always a safe throw. I should have had a 
 couple; but the net broke, and one got away. It's a beauty, 
 isn't it? Will YOU accept it?" 
 
 He took off his cap, and with the gipsy grace made a half" 
 mocking sweep with it. 
 
 The colour rose to her face, and her eyes grew darker. 
 
 " No. I'm not a receiver of stolen goods, Dick Reeve," 
 she replied, looking him full in the face. 
 
 His cheek flushed under its bronze, and his eyes flashed, 
 but they met hers with a bold stare. 
 
 "You talk as if I were a London thief, offering you part 
 of the swa-sr, Kate," he said. " I'm not a thief, if I do lift a 
 salmon or snatch a hare now and again." 
 
 " Every man is a thief whe steals what doesn't belong to 
 him," she said, her nostrils dilating. 
 
 Dick Reeve turned to Transom with a short laugh. 
 
 " Talks like a Methody, doesn't she?" he said, mockingly. 
 
 Transom looked from one to the other abstractedly, took 
 his pipe from the mantel-shelf and lit it, and with a shrug of 
 his shoulders sauntered out of the house. 
 
 The young fellow looked after him curiously, then returned 
 to Kate. 
 
 "What's come to you both? WTiat's the matter?" he 
 asked. " You seem upset. Touching the salmon it's a 
 good fish, and I netted it fair enough; I didn't snatch it; and 
 them as it belongs to won't miss it. What's a single fish, or 
 a dozen, for that matter, to Miss Vancourt? She wouldn't 
 eat 'em all if she had 'em. She's rolling in riches, and 
 oughtn't to begrudge a bit of fish or game to a poor man " 
 
 Kate interrupted him with an impatient gesture. 
 
 " I don't want to listen to you. I don't want the salmon,"
 
 76 MJVE, TET5 TTKA*T. 
 
 she said. t{ Yes, something has happened. Fathers been 
 caught poaching in the woods." 
 
 ''- Whew!" whistled Dick. " That's it, is it?" He looked 
 round cautiously. " Was it Baynes, the keeper?" 
 
 " Ho," she replied, " not Baynes; but but someone else. 
 It doesn't matter," she added, quickly. " He was caught, 
 and is known, and has given his word that he won't poach 
 won't go into the woods again." 
 
 Dick Reeve smiled. 
 
 " Is that all?" he said, significantly. 
 
 66 Yes; and he will keep it. That is, if you'll let him 
 alone," she said, with sudden anger. 
 
 " If I'll let him alone!" he echoed. " You talk as if he 
 was a child." 
 
 " He is in your hands, Dick Reeve," she retorted, swiftly. 
 " Ever since he came back from abroad you've been at his 
 elbow. You are always here, leading him to the public and 
 into evil ways. You have got an influence over him that will 
 bring him no good." 
 
 She stopped, as if her pride had suddenly awakened, and 
 turned away from him, her lips quivering, her eyes smarting 
 with the unshed tears of resentment and helplessness. 
 
 The man regarded her in silence for a moment cr two, 
 then he approached her in the smooth, gliding way peculiar 
 to him. 
 
 " You're right in one thing," he said; " I come here pretty 
 ozten; but it isn't to see your father. You know why I 
 come, Kate. I come because of you!" 
 
 His voice was low, but it rang with suppressed passion, and 
 the black eyes with the yellow bar across them gleamed in the 
 flickering rays of the lantern. 
 
 " It's because he's your father that I've made a pal of 
 him. I'd chum up with any one belonging to you, Kate, and 
 you know why!" 
 
 He paused, but she did not speak, and bis short, fierce 
 breath punctuated the silence. 
 
 "I've loved you ever since we was boy and girl, when we 
 used to play together, and you let me carry you across the 
 etream yon don't remember, I daresay, but I don't forget 
 and I've gone on loving you, though sometimes you won't 
 speak to me; or, if you do, throw me a word as a man throws 
 a bone to a doer''* 
 
 He tossed his cap from his forehead as if bis head were 
 tamr & ani stretched out his hand to touch car* bob ihe
 
 THE TTBAOTL 77 
 
 drew back beyond his reach and stood with averted face, in- 
 sulted by a cold reserve which chilled while it maddened him. 
 " There is no one like you, not one of the girls half so 
 beautiful and and witching and though some of 'em 
 would speak me fair enough and wouldn't turn from me as 
 you do, I can't give a thought to them. I can't get you oufc 
 of my mind day or night. It's because I love you, Kate, and 
 I want you! I've never spoke to you before, but you've 
 known all along how it's been with me. You've known that 
 you could do what you liked with me. I'm like a bundle of 
 straw in your hands, just to scatter abroad or bind together. 
 It's because I should see you, look into those great eyes 
 
 He stopped for lack of breath and stood with clenched 
 hands, his eyes fixed on her face with the look that is as old 
 as the hills, the look which will burn in men's eyes when they 
 rest on the woman they love until the world crumbles into its 
 original dust and ceases to be. 
 
 Kate's face was pale, but her eyes and her lips were cold. 
 His passionate words, and more passionate voice, awakened no 
 echo in her heart, no responsive love. His ardour repelled 
 and troubled her, that was all. 
 
 But with the coldness and lack of expression was mingled 
 the subtle fear with which Dick Eeeve was regarded by 
 nearly all who knew him. He was more than half a gipsy 
 his mother had been a member of the nomadic race, and his 
 father had a touch of the Zingari blood in his veins and 
 Dick Reeve had inherited that singular power of influencing 
 others for good or evil which belongs to his people.- The man 
 was a ne'er-do-well, a poacher and idler, the kind of man 
 such a girl as Kate Transom who had done well at the Board 
 School should have been able to dismiss with a word or two; 
 but she found the word or two difficult to speak. Then,, 
 again, a girl is strangely moved by her first declaration of 
 Jove, from whomsoever it may come. It is the crown of her 
 womanhood, the acknowledgment of her sovereignty. The 
 words " I love you!" from the lips of any man make a girl a 
 queen amongst women. 
 
 " What do you say, Kate?" he demanded, his swarthy face 
 pale with emotion, his dark eyes glaring with mingled hope 
 and fear. " If you'll say ' yes,' if you'll be my wife, I swear 
 I'll maktjoa happy. I'll give up the poaching and the pub-
 
 78 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 He ; I'll get work on the estate, and I'll settle down with the 
 
 best o' them. Come now ! speak me fair " 
 
 He was foolish enough to take hold of her arm. Now, 
 when a girl loves a man, his touch turns her heart to water 
 and she is just as potters' clay in his hands; but if she does 
 not love him, the touch arouses all her antagonism, all her 
 maiden strength and ferocity. 
 
 At his touch, Kate shuddered and wrenched herself free, 
 the color flooding her face for one moment, the next leav- 
 ing it white and cold. 
 
 His hand dropped from her round, warm arm, and his 
 face darkened. 
 
 "You don't love me !" he said, fiercely. "And I love 
 you better than life itself!" 
 
 She made a petulant movement. 
 
 "It's no time to speak of what you've been speaking. I'm 
 anxious about father " 
 
 "Your father's all right; and he's a friend of mine, Kate. 
 Say that I've got a chance, just a chance 
 
 "No !" she broke in. "I can't ! I don't want to love any- 
 body." 
 
 His face darkened, and his eyes lost the yellow bar in their 
 blackness. 
 
 "There's no one else, Kate, is there?" he said, hoarsely. 
 "I've watched you all the time, and I haven't seen any one. 
 But" he swore one of the simple country oaths before 
 which the London oath waxes pale "but if there should be, 
 he'd better look out for himself ! Whoever he is, he's got to 
 reckon with Dick Reeve !" 
 
 She drew herself up proudly, and the color flooded her 
 face. 
 
 "There is no one else," she said, with an indrawing of her 
 breath. "There is no one." 
 
 Then she paused. 
 
 "I'm glad of it, for his sake, whoever he might be," he 
 said, with a savage snarl. "If I thought there was another 
 man " 
 
 White to the lips, she shrank back from his menace ; but 
 before she could speak, the door opened, and her father 
 came in. 
 
 "It's late," he said, with the air of a man who has beea 
 lost in thought. 
 
 Dick Reeve nodded in assent. 
 
 "Good-night, old man," he said. "Good-night, Kate."
 
 THE TYRANT. 79 
 
 He held out his hand to her, but, as if she had not no* 
 ticed it, she turned aside and picked up the lantern. 
 
 She lighted her father to his room, and then went up to 
 her own. It was a tiny square under the thatch roof and 
 poorly furnished. There was just the bed, a chair, and the 
 dressing-table and wash-stand; but it was all scrupulously 
 clean and neat; and a bunch of primroses on the table, the 
 arrangement of the curtains, together with a shelf of books, 
 spoke eloquently enough of the results of a Board-School 
 training. 
 
 Kate went to the glass a small affair of the cheapest kind 
 and began to undress. She let down her hair, which fell 
 in a marvellous auburn torrent, before she looked in the glass; 
 then she gazed into its murky depths with a new and strange 
 solicitude. 
 
 And she saw, not the reflection of her own girlish beauty, 
 but the face and form of the man who had come upon her 
 father in the woods. 
 
 Not for one moment since she had seen him had she for- 
 gotten him. Even while Dick Reeve had been declaring his 
 love for her, the handsome, sun-tanned face had haunted 
 her. 
 
 Haunted her was the only way of expressing it. His voice, 
 so quiet, so masterful, had rung in her ears, drowning that of 
 Dick's, her lover's. He this stranger had spoken in ac- 
 cents new to her, in accents that had stirred something hi the 
 depths of her heart. She remembered every word; every 
 gesture, every look of his was engraven on her mind. She 
 tried to forget him, to put him away behind her anxiety about 
 her father, behind Dick Reeve's avowal of love; but this 
 strange man, whom she had seen only twice, thrust himself 
 forwards and obliterated everything else. 
 
 She undressed slowly and threw herself on the bed; but 
 though she slept at last, her very dreams were haunted by his 
 form and face and voice. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ESTHER would rather have died than admitted it, but she, 
 like Kate Transom, thought a great deal about Jack Gordon, 
 the foreman of the home farm. There was something about 
 the young fellow which, as she would have put it, " got on 
 her nerves." He was so terribly good-looking, and his deep 
 Voice waa so musical. And with all his roughness, he seemed
 
 80 LOfE, THE TYBASTTo 
 
 so genotewid tender-hearted: see what care nt> dad taken of 
 her in the axe business, and how fond he was of his dog! 
 
 But all the same, she told herself that she did not approve of 
 him; he was far too rough and brusque. Why, he had almost 
 been rude and disrespectful to her, Miss Esther Vancourt of 
 the Towers, if you please, his mistress. She made up her 
 mind that the next time she met him she would snub him 
 and put him in his proper place. But the worst of it was she 
 had snubbed him more man once, and he didn't seem to 
 care; he had even argued with her and opposed her will; he 
 had almost forced the axe from her hand, she remembered. 
 But, being just which is strange in a woman she remem- 
 bered that he had opposed her for her own good; and here 
 is a tip for the too complacent young man of the period 
 women who are worth having like being opposed for their 
 own good. 
 
 No doubt her thoughts would have dwelt a great deal more 
 Hpon Jack Gordon but for the presence of Mr. Selby Layton. 
 In these liberal days one gives even the devil his due, and to 
 give Selby Layton his, one must admit that he was an ex- 
 tremely pleasant companion. Esther and Miss Worcester had, 
 if the truth must be told, been rather bored before his ar- 
 rival. They had been in mourning for Sir Kichard, and 
 could neither go out nor entertain; and the vast place, with 
 its innumerable rooms and tremendous surroundings, had 
 weighed upon them rather heavily, and the advent of Mr. 
 Selby Layton, a man about town, had come as a pleasant 
 relief. 
 
 He talked well, and on all sorts of subjects, many of which 
 were new to Esther; he sang and played like an angel, and 
 he showed b_y word and look and gesture his evident desire to 
 win the good graces of the two ladies. He did not confine his 
 attentions to Esther, but directed them to Miss Worcester, 
 with whom he talked Browning and the Palestine Explora- 
 tion, and for whom he held h?" skein of wool. 
 
 He drove and walked with the ladies, and was always ready 
 to sing and play to them; but being a remarkably astute young 
 man, he was careful not to inflict much of his presence upon 
 them. He went out for long walks alone; and, as be could 
 take a long walk without going outside the estate, he became 
 fairly familiar with it, and the more he saw of it, the more 
 he admired it, and longed for it. 
 
 At night, when the ladies had gone to bed, he sat over his 
 Whiskey and soda and Sir Richard's choice cigars, and plotted
 
 WJVE, THE TYBAOT. 81 
 
 and planned, with one sole object in view the possession 01 
 
 Esther and the Vancourt estate and money. 
 
 Now, as they drove or walked, they occasionally came 
 across Jack Gordon. Sometimes he was striding along, some- 
 times he was riding a half-broken colt, riding it with that 
 perfect ease which is only owned by a Mexican or a back= 
 woodsman. He always raised his hat with marked if cold 
 respect, but Esther, struggling with a blush, vouchsafed him 
 only the coldest of bows, and Selby Layton touched his hat as 
 he would to any inferior. 
 
 He knew nothing of Esther's first meeting with Jack, and 
 never spoke of him. To Mr. Selby Layton, astute as he was, 
 Jack Gordon was just the foreman of the home farm, and, 
 gentlemanly and handsome as he was, of no account. 
 
 But, charming companion as Selby Layton knew himself 
 to be, the time sometimes hung heavily on Esther's hands. 
 If the truth must be told, she actually missed in this life of 
 luxury and ease the past daily drudgery of music-teaching. 
 One day, while looking listlessly through one of her many 
 wardrobes, she came upon a riding-habit. She had ordered 
 it because her tailor had told her that she would need it, 
 though she had never been on a horse in her life. As she 
 looked at it, she was struck by the idea that the mistress of 
 Vancourt Towers ought to be able to ride, ought very pos- 
 sibly to be able to hunt, and she got out the habit and put 
 it on. 
 
 There is no costume, which even Worth himself can invent, 
 11 which a young and graceful girl looks to better advantage 
 j'iian in a riding-habit. It defines every curve of the figure; 
 its severe lines and colour set off a girl's beauty, if she has 
 any, and Esther was very beautiful. 
 
 She looked at herself approvingly for a minute or two, then 
 she got back into her morning frock and went down-stairs. 
 Mr. Selby Layton was smoking a cigarette on the terrace, 
 and discussing the last library book which Miss Worcester was 
 reading. 
 
 Esther went up to them and looked round wistfully. 
 
 " What a lovely morning for a drive or a ride, Mr. Lay- 
 ton! Do you ride?" 
 
 Someone had said, and with a certain amount of tratb., that 
 there are two things which an Englishman will always declare 
 he can do shoot and ride. Selby Layton had only been on 
 a horse two or three times in his life, but he replied, unhesi- 
 tatingly: 
 
 " On, yes', delightful exercise riding, isn'
 
 82 L07E, TgR TTBAOT 
 
 Esther laughed. 
 
 " I don't know; I've never been on a horse in my life; but 
 I should like to try, and we'll go for a ride, if you're sure you 
 won't be bored by a beginner." 
 
 " That would be impossible!" said Selby Layton, with his 
 sweet smile. 
 
 " My dear Esther, pray be careful," implored Miss "Worces- 
 ter, nervously. " It is so easy to meet with an accident, and 
 I am sure that there is not a horse in the stable fit for you to 
 ride. I looked in the other day and they all seemed quite 
 wild ; and I saw Giles riding one yesterday, and it was pran- 
 cing about like like anything." 
 
 Selby Layton smiled a sickly smile; but Esther, who had 
 inherited the Vancourt pluck as well as the Towers, laughed 
 
 " Oh, I daresay Giles will be able to find me something 
 very old and very safe, and I may not hurt myself very much 
 if I do come off. How soon will you be ready, Mr. Layton?" 
 
 " In five minutes," he replied, with a little bow. 
 
 " Oh, I shall be half an hour, at least," said Esther. 
 
 She ran upstairs, calling Marie, and in three quarters of an 
 hour they had got the habit on. She found Mr. Laytcn in 
 knickerbockers, which was his nearest approach to a riding- 
 suit, and they went down to the stable; ne in inward trepida- 
 tion, Esther with that light-heartedness which is born of 
 ignorance. They found Giles superintending the grooming of 
 a horse by one of the under-hands. 
 
 " Giles, we are going for a ride," said Esther. " I want 
 quite a safe and sober horse; but you must give Mr. Layton a 
 good one." 
 
 Selby Layton's heart misgave him, but he smacked his leg 
 with the whip he had taken from the hall and tried to look at 
 his ease. Giles touched his forehead and looked doubtful 
 for a moment, then he led the way to the stables. 
 
 " 'Ere's a mare as would suit you, miss," he said. " She's 
 old, but she's steady and sure-footed, and she's been used to 
 carrying a lady. There's no difficulty in fitting you, sir; I'll 
 saddle the chestnut you saw me on yesterday." 
 
 Selby Layton's heart grew heavier, for when he had seen 
 Giles yesterday, the chestnut was prancing and rearing in an 
 alarming fashion. Esther went up to the old mare and patted 
 her and rubbed her nose. 
 
 " You must be very good with me," she said confiden- 
 tially; "because I don't know anything about riding or
 
 I0VE, THE TYRANT. 83 
 
 horses, and if you aren't very careful, my dear, I shall come 
 off." 
 
 " There's no fear, miss," said Giles. " Old Polly will 
 carry you right enough, if you don't press too hard on hr 
 mouth. Give her her head and she'll carry you like an arm- 
 chair." 
 
 The horses were saddled with the alacrity with which all 
 the servants of the Towers waited upon their mistress, and 
 Giles stood aside waiting for Mr. Selby Layton to put Esther 
 in her saddle. It is a very simple performance if you know 
 all about it: Selby Layton didn't. He made two or three 
 bungling attempts, and then Giles, who had been watching 
 him rather curiously, came forward, showed Esther how to 
 put her foot on his knee and her hand on his shoulder, and 
 tipped her easily into the saddle. 
 
 " You hold your reins this way, miss," he said. " Hold 
 'em loosely, and don't fret the old mare." 
 
 Then he went to Selby Layton who, after many vain at- 
 tempts, had got into his saddle, and, still eyeing him curi- 
 ously, said: 
 
 " Keep your horse well in hand, sir; but don't let Miss 
 Vancourt press the mare." 
 
 Selby Layton smiled in a would-be superior fashion and the 
 chestnut sidled out of the stable court-yard, followed demure- 
 ly by the mare. Giles looked after them critically and rather 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " Gentleman don't look much of a 'orseman, Mr. Giles,** 
 remarked his second in command. 
 
 " Rides like a d d tailor," responded Giles, contemptu- 
 ously. " Shouldn't wonder if he comes off. But Miss Van- 
 court's all right, if she don't curb the mare. PVaps I'd 
 better gone with 'em. It's too late now, though." 
 
 The chestnut was young and though free from vice, full of 
 frolic. A good rider would have enjoyed his gamesome- 
 ness and would have allowed him to dance around and 
 get rid of his superfluous spirits; but every erratic move- 
 ment of the horse filled Selby Layton with fear up to his 
 back teeth, and he tried to check him, which only fretted the 
 chestnut and told it plainly that he had an inexperienced 
 horseman on his back. Polly plodded on steadily and me- 
 thodically, and Esther, with heightened colour and dancing 
 eyes, which at another time would have aroused Selby Lay- 
 ton's artistic admiration, exclaimed: 
 
 " How jolly it is, isn't it? I'd no idea riding was so de-
 
 84 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 lightfoL 1 toxiafl go in for it; I shall ride every day. Bo*- * 
 wish I could ride Eke you!" 
 
 " Y-e-s," jerked out Selby Layton, with an affectation of 
 ease, but with a sinking at his heart. " It's a delightful ex 
 ercise, and you'll soon get into it." 
 
 As he spoke, the chestnut gave a little bound, and he nearly 
 came off. He tugged at the curb, and the horse rose, amazed 
 by such treatment. 
 
 " Your horse seems very fresh," remarked Esther, inno- 
 cently. 
 
 " Y-e-s; but he'll be all right directly," stammered Selby 
 Layton. " I I haven't ridden for some time. Whoa! 
 Steady; whoa!" 
 
 In happy ignorance of her companion's incapacity, Esther 
 rode on gaily, the mare going steadily, the chestnut prancing 
 and fidgetting at the ill-managed curb. They went down the 
 avenue, the pride of so many Vancourts, and got on to the 
 road. Esther rode badly, of course; but the mare's paces 
 were easy, and presently she began to get into the rise and 
 fall of the trot; and while Selby Layton jogged and shook 
 beside her, she, on a quieter horse, went pretty comfortably. 
 At the end of the road they came upon the open common over 
 which she was lady of the manor, and the mare naturally 
 went for the grass in preference to the hard road. 
 
 On the hard gravel the chestnut had been fidgetty enough, 
 but, when it felt the springy turf beneath its feet, it became 
 more restless and impatient. Esther looked at it. 
 
 " I think your horse wants to go, Mr. Layton," she said. 
 " Shall we try a canter or a gallop, or whatever they call it? 
 'I think I can stick on; and if I can't, it won't matter on this 
 grass," 
 
 " Pray be careful my dear Miss yancourt," he im- 
 plored, jerkily, the sweat gathering on his face; but Esther 
 touched her mare with the whip, and Polly broke into a 
 canter a gentle cantor which Esther found delightfully easy. 
 
 " It is delicious!" she exclaimed. " I don't wonder peo- 
 ple are fond of riding! Are you enjoying it, Mr. Layton?" 
 
 Mr. Layton was anything but enjoying, but he murmured 
 " yes "and smiled a sickly smile, and tried all he knew to 
 keep the chestnut from breaking into a gallop. It would 
 have been easy enough to do, if he had known anything about 
 it; but the more Selby Layton pulled at the curb, the more 
 the chestnut chafed and fought for its head, and presently it 
 got away and bounded in front. 
 
 Polly, obejing its instinctive desire to keep alongside ita
 
 LOVE, THE TTBAUT. 85 
 
 stable companion, also took to a gallop. Esther, half 
 amused, half alarmed, tried to pall it up, and, of course, dis- 
 obeyed Giles's injunction and put the curb on too tightly. 
 Polly looked surprised for a moment, then shook her head 
 impatiently and increased the pace; Esther pulled a little 
 harder, and the mare, who, though she was old was well-bred, 
 got puzzled and argry, and quickened her stride. 
 
 The chestnut heard her behind and tore along at a racing 
 pace, with Mr. Selby Layton hanging on with white face and 
 trembling limbs. Esther felt as if she were going to fall, but 
 her courage did not fail her. The swift pace, the flying land- 
 scape, the beat of the mare's hoofs upon the springy turf, pro- 
 duced a sense of exhilaration; and though there was a good 
 deal of doubt in her mind, there was absolutely no fear. 
 
 At the end of the common, the chestnut, which had about 
 enough of it, decided that it would go home, and turned 
 swiftly and sharply in the direction of its beloved stable; its 
 rider being no more able to check it than a fly. Polly sverved 
 too, and Esther nearly came off; but she gripped the pommel 
 and held on somehow or other, and to her credit be it said, 
 laughed at her helplessness. 
 
 As they went up a hill, the horses, which were by no means 
 bolting, though they were going fast, slackened a bit, and a 
 good rider could have got the chestnut in hand easily enough; 
 but Mr. Selby Layton was in a mortal funk, and the chestnut 
 knew it and of course took advantage of it. When they got 
 to the top of the hill, the horse rushed forward again, with 
 his stable in his mind, and the mare followed. 
 
 It is not easy for a beginner though he or she always has 
 the luck, whether it be at cards, billiards or riding to go at 
 full pace down a hill, and Esther found herself swaying in a 
 dangerous fashion. She had got half-way down when she saw 
 a horseman cantering across the fields on her left. Even at 
 that moment, she recognised him; it was Jack Gordon riding 
 the unbroken colt; and even s.t that moment, she noticed and 
 admired enviously the ease and grace with which he rode. 
 
 He pulled up as he saw them, then suddenly he seemed to 
 recognise her danger, for he touched the colt with his heel 
 and bounded forward, and Esther saw him coming towards 
 her like an arrow from a bow. He rode at a slant, with the 
 evident intention of heading her; but Esther felt sure he 
 could not reach her, for there was a fairly high hedge be- 
 tween the field and the road. 
 
 Jack was quite as aware of the hedge as she was, and he 
 was not at all sure that the colt, which was only half-bred,
 
 86 LOVE, THE TYUAJTT. 
 
 would ftoe it; but he held the young thing well in hand, and 
 as they approached the obstacle he drove the spurs in and 
 lifted the colt with a word of encouragement. It hesitated 
 for a moment, then it rose, cleared the hedge like a bird, and 
 landed Jack within a few paces of the m'are. 
 
 Long ago he had seen that Esther could not ride, and he 
 called out in a voice of command: 
 
 " Sit tight, and don't be afraid!" 
 
 Then he put the colt to its utmost, overtook the mare, and 
 rode beside it for a moment or two before he slid his hand 
 along the mare's bridle and gradually, with perfect ease, 
 brought it to a standstill. 
 
 Esther jogged and jumped in her saddle, then she looked 
 at Jack, at the man who had rescued her, and laughed with a 
 mingled sense of relief and annoyance. Her hat was on one 
 side, her wonderful hair had half escaped from its coil, her 
 face was flushed, her lips parted: she looked lovely and be- 
 witching enough to stir the pulses of any man; but Jack was 
 not thinking of her beauty but of her audacity and the risk 
 from which he had saved her. 
 
 " That's not the pace to come down a hill," he said, 
 almost roughly. " On an old horse, too. If she'd stumbled, 
 where woufd you have been?" 
 
 At another time, Esther would certainly have resented his 
 Freeeh and the tone in which it was uttered; but she was too 
 fnrried now for resentment. 
 
 4 * On my head, I suppose," she said, with a laugh that 
 c \wered in spite of herself. " It's the first time I've been on 
 horseback " 
 
 " So I should say," Jack broke in. " But why on earth 
 didn't you go with a man who knew the ropes?" 
 
 " Oh, I was with Mr. Selby Layton, who knows how to 
 ride," she said. 
 
 Jack looked after the disappearing chestnut, whose rider 
 was clinging on to its mane like grim death, and smiled 
 grimly. 
 
 " Oh! does he? It looks like it!" 
 
 Esther glanced after the vanishing horseman anxiously. 
 
 " Oh, can't he? Do you think he'll come to any harm?" 
 
 " No," said Jack, curtly. " His horse is slackening off. 
 He'll take him to the stables safe enough. What on earth 
 possessed you, who can't ride, to go out alone with him?" 
 
 " I didn't know," said Esther, almost meekly. " Need 
 you hold my bridle?" 
 
 The mare was fidgetting to rejoin her companion.
 
 LOT*, THE TYRANT. 87 
 
 "Yes," laid Jack. "She may bolt, or she mayr't; so I 
 won't chance it. Loosen your reins; you're fretting her. 
 Miss Vancourt, you have been very foolish. You might have 
 had a serious accident. If you wanted to ride, and didn't 
 know anything about i<, why didn't you take lessons?" 
 
 "Whom could I take lessons of?" asked Esther. "I didn't 
 know there was any danger." 
 
 "I'll teach you," said Jack, thoughtlessly. 
 
 "Oh, but wouldn't it be a great deal of trouble?" asked 
 Esther, with a mock humility which was lost upon Jack, who 
 was only a mere man. 
 
 "I daresay," he said; "but I don't mind. Anything's 
 better than that you should risk your neck in this absurd 
 fashion." 
 
 They had ridden on, and by this time they had reached 
 the home farm. 
 
 "If you have done scolding me, Mr. Gordon," said Esther, 
 with dangerous sweetness, "I'll ride home." 
 
 "All right," said Jack, "I'll go with you." 
 
 She said nothing to this; but as they reached the lodge, 
 Mrs. Martin came out with Nettie in her arms; and at sight 
 of Jack the child set up a cry of welcome. 
 
 "Here I am, Jack, quite ready," she said. 
 
 "Can't take you now," said Jack. "Promised to carry her 
 out for a little while," he explained to Esther. 
 
 She pulled up at once. 
 
 "You sha'n't break your word. I can ride home, all right." 
 
 "No," said Jack. "It's not far; you can walk. I won't 
 trust you out of my sight." 
 
 She tried to look at him haughtily ; but somehow or other 
 the look broke down. 
 
 "Very well, I'll walk," she said 
 
 Jack gave the two horses into Georgie's care, and took 
 Nettie in his arms, and he and Esther walked side by side 
 towards the Towers. They were very silent, but Nettie did 
 all the talking that was necessary. 
 
 "I thought oo'd never come, Jack," she said, "and I was 
 nearly kying; but mother said you was sure to come, 'cos 
 she's never known you break your word. How nicely you 
 carry me ! Isn't he strong, Miss Vancourt, and isn't he nice ? 
 I love Jack; don't you, Miss Vancourt?" 
 
 The blood suff used Esther's face, but Jack did not seem 
 at all embarrassed.
 
 88 "MOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " Little girls should never ask personal questions, Hettie. 
 my child!" he said. 
 
 " No?" said Nettie. " I'm sorry, but I like you, Jack, 
 and so ought she, 'cos you're good and kind." 
 
 Jack said nothing to this but hoisted her into a more com- 
 fortable position. They entered the wood, Esther with rathei 
 a downcast face, for the child's remark had embarrassed her, 
 
 " Isn't she heavy?" she asked. " Let me carry her!" 
 
 " She's like a feather," said Jack. " You're all right, 
 Nettie, eh?" 
 
 " Quite comfy," said Nettie. " If oo'll bend your head, 
 Jack, I'll give you a tiss." 
 
 Jack bent his head and she kissed him. 
 
 " Wouldn't you like to tiss him too, Miss Vancourt?" said 
 Nettie. " Mother says he saved your life; she saw him catch 
 your horse on the hill." 
 
 Esther's face flamed. Jack put his hand over the child's 
 mouth. 
 
 " Shut up, Nettie," he said, quite calmly. " You are 
 talking nonsense." 
 
 Eat though he was calm, Esther was trembling, and she 
 glanced at him under her long lashes. Jack did not see thu 
 glance; but it was seen and noted by Kate Transom, who, 
 sheltered by a tree, was looking at them. She had been 
 gathering sticks, a bundle of which she held in her hand, and 
 she had drawn out of sight and watched them. She caught 
 the glance, which passed unnoticed by Jack, and it was like a 
 dart piercing her bosom. She shrank behind the tree; her 
 face paled suddenly, and her hand, which held her shawl 
 gripped at her heart as well. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Now, while Esther was walking through the wood with 
 Jack and Nettie of the embarrassing remarks, the chestnut 
 had raced homewards with about as much regard to the un- 
 fortunate man on his back as if he were a fly. Mr. Selby 
 Layton clung on to the mane like grim death, but, all the 
 same, was nearly flung over the horse's head as it tore into 
 the stable-yard and stopped suddenly at the door of its own 
 stall. 
 
 Giles and some of stable-helps rushed to Mr. Selby Lay- 
 ton's assistance, and he got down and stood surveying the 
 hateful animal with mingled fear and rage. He was bathed 
 in peispiratio.n which trickled in a muddy channel down his
 
 WYE, THE TYBA1TP. 
 
 bafc face; his wd&r had come undone, his neck-scarf was all 
 awry, and he was trembling with fright and exhaustion; in- 
 deed, he was such a pitiable-looking object that even Giles, 
 full of contempt as he was, could scarcely refrain from com- 
 passionating him. 
 
 " That horse is a vicious animal, and extremely dangerous," 
 said Mr. Lay ton, when he could speak. " He bolted with 
 me, and would have broken my neck if I hadn't been able to 
 hold on." 
 
 Giles was too well-trained a servant to show his contempt. 
 
 "Very sorry, sir; never know Mm to bolt before; he is 
 rather free, but he only wants a little managing. Where's 
 Miss Van court, sir? I hope she's safe." 
 
 Selby Layton had been too much occupied in thinking of 
 his own safety to bestow a thought upon Esther; and he 
 looked round, as if he expected to see her immediately be- 
 hind him. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he stammered, " she was just behind me. Her 
 horse was quite quiet." 
 
 " Miss Vancourt is just coming through the wood, sir," 
 said one of the stablemen. " She is walking." 
 
 Selby Layton would have given a great deal to have been 
 able to avoid Esther's eye, or any eye, in his present condi- 
 tion; but that was not possible; so he went to meet her, but- 
 toning his collar, setting his tie straight, and trying to mop 
 himself into a semblance of coolness. 
 
 He was still full of inward rage and self-reproach. He had 
 been an awful fool to venture upon a horse when he knew so 
 little about riding; the whole business was most unfortunate; 
 for Selby Layton was too clever not to know that nothing is 
 more disastrous for a man than to appear ridiculous in the 
 eyes of a woman. Why hadn't he been content to confine 
 himself to his singing and playing and other " parlour 
 tricks," and left the noble art of horsemanship to commoner 
 men? 
 
 As he crossed the lawn he saw that Esther was not alone, 
 and the fact that her companion was that " impudent fel- 
 low " from the farm, as Selby Layton called him, did not 
 tend to make him more cheerful; bnt he smoothed the 
 nasty twist from his lips and assumed an expression of 
 tender anxiety as he drew near. Esther did not see 
 him for a moment, for she was talking and laughing with 
 Nettie, and seemed quite absorbed in the child; and she 
 looked up as Selby Layton appeared, as if she had quite for* 
 w they had parted.
 
 90 ^ I0VE, THE TYSAUT. 
 
 " I do hope you are not hurt!'* he exclaimed, anxionsly. 
 
 *' Oh, not rn the least," replied Esther. " Were y 
 hurt?"' 
 
 " Oh, no," said Selby Layton, with a beautiful air of con- 
 fidence. " My horse bolted; but, though I had him in hand 
 all the time, I thought it better to ride home, in case he 
 should startle your mare. I hope he did not?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Esther. " She was going very fast, 
 and I lost all control over her, and I suppose I should have 
 come off; but Mr. Gordon happened to oe riding near, and 
 he caught her and took charge of me." 
 
 This was gall and wormwood to Selby Layton; but he 
 smiled sweetly and nodded quite pleasantly to Jack. 
 
 " That was very fortunate," he remarked; "though the 
 mare is so quiet that I don't suppose anything would have 
 happened." 
 
 Jack stood, with that impassive countenance which he could 
 assume when it suited him, and did not contradict Mr. 
 Layton. 
 
 " I think we'll go back now, Nettie," he said; but Nettie 
 met the suggestion with a distinct negative. 
 
 " I don't want to go back," she said. " I want to see the 
 peacocks on the tewace the pretty lady's been telling us 
 about." 
 
 Esther blushed slightly at this candid tribute to her per- 
 sonal appearance, and, with a laugh, said: 
 
 " Better bring her on to the terrace, Mr. Gordon; she 
 won't be happy it you don't." 
 
 " I'm afraid not," said Jack, severely. " Nettie's getting 
 spoilt. But you wait, young lady, till you're quite clear of 
 the measles, you'll find you won't have your own way quite 
 so much!" 
 
 Nettie laughed incredulously, and hugged his neck a little 
 tighter. 
 
 " I ain't afwaid," she said. 
 
 They walked across the lawn to the terrace, and Nettie 
 gave a little cry of delight as she saw the peacocks basking in 
 the sun. 
 
 " Put her down on one of the seats, Mr. Gordon," saic 1 
 Esther; " you must be tired with carrying her so far." 
 
 '* I am worn out," said Jack, with a mock groan. 
 
 '* What a story!" exclaimed Nettie, indignantly. " He 
 tarries me ever so much fairer than this every evening; don't 
 YOU, Jack?"
 
 VOTE, T3E TYRAIfc 91 
 
 The " Jack * scunded strangely to Esther, but very pleas- 
 antly, as it was uttered by the child's sweet and loving voice 
 
 *' Now you can see the peacocks and the flowers," she said; 
 " and I wonder whether you'd like a glass of milk and some 
 cake? I suppose she may have it?" to Jack. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, cheerfully; " she is eating all day, 
 like a little pig." 
 
 At this moment, Palmer came from the house in his stately 
 fashion, and presented a letter to Selby Layton, who was look- 
 ing at the child with a sweet smile that masked his disgust 
 and annoyance at the whole business. 
 
 He took the letter, and with a murmnred request for per- 
 mission, opened it. For a moment, as he read it, the smile 
 fled from his face, which grew pale, notwithstanding his heat. 
 
 " It's of no consequence," he said, casually; " but perhaps 
 I'd better answer it by this post. I shall just have time." 
 
 " Do, by all means," said Esther. " Will you please send 
 out some milk and cake, Palmer?" 
 
 When Selby Layton had gone into the house, she seated 
 herself by Nettie, drawing the child towards her and carefully 
 wrapping the shawl round her. Jack stood by them for a 
 moment, then he began to feel himself in the way. 
 
 " I want a word with Giles, Miss Vanconrt," he said. " I'll 
 go down to the stables, and come back for Nettie presently." 
 
 " Very well," said Esther, with a laugh. " I think you'd 
 make a very good nurse, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 Jack thought of the many weeks he had nursed his chum, 
 this girl's brother, and smiled rather gravely, but said noth- 
 ing. He went down to the stable and found Giles and his 
 satellites gathered round the chestnut. Giles had been ex- 
 pressing himself with a freedom which he had not permitted 
 nimself in Mr. Lav ton's presence. 
 
 ;- What's the matter with the chestnut, Giles?" asked 
 Jack. 
 
 Giles touched his cap, as he always did instinctively when 
 he met Jack, and swore under his breath. 
 
 " There ain't anythink the matter with him; but there 
 Boon will be if he's "allowed to have his way like this," he 
 said. " Any horse would be spoilt as was allowed to rampage 
 round the country as he pleases. Next time he goes out he'll 
 want to do the same thing. It's a wonder the gentleman 
 didn't break his neck. It ain't for me to make remarks about 
 my betters, but I do call it cheek for a gent to get on a horse 
 when he can't ride no more than a new-born baby; and I 
 wasn't much, better than a blessed infant to let him go; for I
 
 92 I0VE, THE TTBAUT/ 
 
 saw bow it wad when he got up. And where's thw mare, I 
 should like to know?" 
 
 " The mare's a f , the farm all right; you'd batter send down 
 for her," said Jack. '* Put the saddle on the chestnut 
 again, will you?" 
 
 Giles obeyed at once, though it was scarcely the plfuce for 
 the foreman of the home farm to give orders to Miss Van- 
 court's servants. But the saddle was put on and the stirrups 
 adjusted to Jack's long legs, and he got on the chestnut. 
 The horse had had a rare good time with its late rider, and it 
 was under the impression that it might have another witji the 
 present one; but it discovered its mistake in less than a'min- 
 nte and a half. 
 
 He reared and jumped in a fashion which would have sent 
 Mr. Selby Layton flying, but only caused Jack's knees to 
 press inwards with a force which nearly drove the breath out 
 of the astonished chestnut. Jack took him out of the stable- 
 yard and into the park, let him go quietly for awhile, then 
 put him to his top speed, and kept him at it long after the 
 chestnut had had enough. 
 
 " You ought to be able to jump, my friend," he said; 
 "let's see." 
 
 He put the horse at the iron railing, and though the animal 
 refused twice, Jack got him over the third time; and he 
 jumped him backwards and forwards until the astonished 
 chestnut was heartily sick and disgusted; then Jack rode him 
 back at a sweet and sober trot. 
 
 Giles and his merry men had watched the performance with 
 feelings of profound satisfaction and admiration. 
 
 " That's what I call riding," said Giles. " Never saw a 
 better seat. And he rides like a gentleman, too. I know 
 the difference, mind you! Some of you chaps can stick on 
 right enough, but you've none of you got that style. Wherever 
 he learnt riding it was a jolly good school, and he was a jolly 
 good scholar. Not a bad horse, Mr. Gordon?" he said, as 
 Jack rode up. " He'd suit you down to the ground." 
 
 Jack nodded and suppressed a sigh; and it flashed across 
 his mind, with a strange sense of unreality, that net cnly the 
 chestnut but every horse in the stable belonged to him. 
 
 " He's quiet enough, and won't give you any trouble 
 now," he said. " I should give him a basin of gruel to-night 
 after this bucketing." 
 
 " I will, sir," said Giles. 
 
 And, instinctively again, he touched his cap. 
 
 A couple of footmea brought out the milk and cake tar
 
 I0VE, THE TYRANT. 93 
 
 Nettie. It would not have been a very hard task for on:; 
 tout everything was done in a stately fashion at the Towers; 
 and Esther had at first been somewhat bothered and worried 
 by the number of servants which surrounded her, and their 
 devoted though silent attention; but she was getting used to 
 it by this time, and it did not now surprise her or make her 
 uncomfortable when two men in the rich but chaste Vancourt 
 livery appeared when one would have been sufficient. They 
 brought the cake and milk on heavy salvers of solid silver, 
 and placed them on a rustic table which they dragged for- 
 ward for the purpose, then retired with the impassive counte- 
 nance which they would have worn if Miss Vancourt had or- 
 dered them to dance a jig. 
 
 Esther held the glass and broke up the cake, and as Nettie 
 ate and drank, she talked as children will. 
 
 " Jack's a very tind man," she remarked. 
 
 " Very, I should say," assented Esther. " But ought you 
 to call him ' Jack/ Nettie? His name is Gordon." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Nettie; " but he told me to call him 
 Jack, and I like it better than Mister Gordon. Mother said 
 I wasn't to call him ' Jack/ beeps, though he's dadda's fore- 
 man, he's a gentleman. What is a gentleman?" 
 
 Ac this question, which has puzzled the world ever since 
 the word was invented, Esther was rather " flummuxed," as 
 Jack himself would have said: for who shall say what a gen- 
 tleman is? But she knew that she would have to answer the 
 question, and she did her level best. 
 
 "A gentleman, Nettie," she said, "is one who is very 
 brave and very true and very gentle; who will never do any- 
 thing he is ashamed of." 
 
 Nettie thought this over for a minute or two as she 
 munched her cake. 
 
 " Then I'm sure Jack's a gentleman," she said, " because 
 he's very brave. He stopped father's horse, and father said 
 he might have been tilled; then he 'urt himself with a axe, 
 that day he went with you to see the trees; his shirt was all 
 over blood " 
 
 Esther started, and the colour rushed to her face. In an 
 inspirit she remembered how her axe had met something in 
 its backward stroke: she had thought it was the branch of a 
 tree: had she struck him? She said nothing, and Nettie went 
 on: 
 
 " And one day I saw a handkerchief sticking out of his 
 mustwafr ft tiav ickla handkerchief} and that was all over
 
 94 KWE, TFE TYRAUT. 
 
 blood; so he most have 'urt hisself again, and said nothing 
 about it." 
 
 The colour deepened on Esther's face. She remembered 
 that she had thrown her blood-stained handkerchief away. 
 Was it possible that Mr. Jack Gordon had gone back and 
 picked it up and was carrying it about him? For a moment 
 the thought was strangely sweet to her; then she remem- 
 bered the difference between them between the man who 
 was the foreman of her home farm, and had been little better 
 than a tramp, and herself, the mistress of Vancourt. She 
 tried to feel proud and full of resentment at his strange con- 
 duct; but, somehow or other, there was a warm feeling at her 
 heart, which puzzled and worried her. 
 
 " Then he is very gentle," said Nettie. " He tarries me 
 for ever so long, and it's as cumfy as if I was in bed more 
 cumfy; and when he speaks to me his voice is soft, like 
 mother's when she talks to the chickens. And what was the 
 other? He t'inks of others? Well, so does Jack. The 
 other day Georgie that father's man 'urt 'is 'and, and 
 Jack went and did 'is work for 'im. And Jack won't tell a 
 lie. I 'eard 'im tell father that all the things about the farm 
 were old-fashioned and no use, and that if he was father he'd 
 ask Miss Vancourt that's you to buy a lot of new things; 
 and father said that Sir Richard wouldn't have new things, 
 and that he that's father had always said they was all 
 right. And Jack said that if he was the farmer he wouldn't 
 tell a darned lie like that." 
 
 " You shouldn't say ' darned,' Nettie, dear," said Esther. 
 
 "Is it a wicked word?" asked Nettie, open-eyed. "I 
 don't t'ink it can be, 'cos I astinctly heard Jack say it. But 
 don't you t'ink Jack's a gentleman, Miss Vancourt?" 
 
 " Yes, I think he is," said Esther, in a low tone of voice. 
 
 At this moment Miss Worcester came out from a room in 
 the west wing. 
 
 " My dear Esther, have you been riding?" she exclaimed. 
 " And who is that jumping the park railings? The horse 
 seems dreadfully wild, and I shouldn't be surprised if there 
 was an accident. Who is this little girl?" 
 
 " Nettie Martin," replied Esther. She got up and went 
 to the end of the terrace from whence Miss Worcester had 
 come, and from that point saw Jack, deeming himself quite 
 unseen, riding the chestnut. She leant against the balustrade 
 and watched him. Quite ignorant of any observant eye, Jack 
 was taking the chestnut over the railings again and again, 
 and, B he rode like a Mexican or an Amtndian
 
 LOVE, THE TYBANT. ' 95 
 
 Better riders the sight was a pretty one, to say the least of 
 it, and Esther looked on with a sense of admiration. Horse 
 and rider seemed one, and the man was the epitome of grace 
 as he sat the fiery horse. The child's words, innocently 
 spoken, recurred to her. According to her own formula, the 
 man was a gentleman. But he was only her foreman of the 
 borne farm, an he had no right to conceal the fact that she 
 had struck him with the axe, no right to carry her blood- 
 stained handkerchief about. She summoned all her pride to 
 her aid. The man must be checked, snubbed. She went 
 back to Nettie and Miss Worcester, who had already struck 
 up a friendship, for Miss Worcester, with all her dignity and 
 sense of position, had taken to the candid and confiding mite. 
 
 " It is Mr. Gordon," said Esther. 
 
 " Dear me!" said Miss Worcester, disapprovingly, " I 
 thought it was a gentleman some visitor." 
 
 They sat with the child between them, and presently Jack 
 came back, looking quite cool, as if he had only been strolling 
 about the stable-yam. He raised his hat to Miss Worcester. 
 
 " I'll take Nettie now, Miss Vancourt," he said. 
 
 Esther inclined her head coldly, and drew the shawl about 
 Nettie, and Jack picked her up in his arms. As he did so, 
 she was attracted by the pictures in the hall wkich she could 
 see through the open door. 
 
 " What pretty pickshers!" she said. " I want to see 
 them!" 
 
 " Not now; another time!" said Jack. " I must get back; 
 I'm late already." 
 
 His tone surprised Miss Worcester and stirred Esther's 
 pride. 
 
 " Of course you shall see them, Nettie," she said. " Bring 
 her into the hall, please, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 With an imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, Jack fol- 
 lowed the ladies into the hall, and Nettie gazed round her 
 with a mixture of childish awe and delight. 
 
 " What a booful place!" she exclaimed. " I didn't think 
 there was so many pickshers in the whole world. And look 
 at those funny men in iron!" She meant the figures in 
 armour. " And what a lot of books! What's that big thing 
 up there with the pipes?" 
 
 " That's an organ, Nettie," said Esther. " Come and see 
 \hese still funnier little men in this cabinet." 
 
 She opened the door and took out some carved Indian 
 figures and showed them to her; bat Nettie found the pict>
 
 96 IXJVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 nres more attractive, and ordered Jack to take her nearer to 
 them. 
 
 " Who is that big man with the great boots and a sword?" 
 she asked. 
 
 Esther had turned aside to speak to a servant; and it was 
 Jack who, ransacking his memory, supplied the information. 
 
 " That's Sir Randolph Vancourt," he said. " He fought, 
 with that sword, for the king, and lost his life doing it. That 
 pretty lady next him was his wife. I think her name was 
 Isabel. While her husband was at the wars she stayed at 
 home, here at the Towers, and did a little fighting on her 
 own account. The moat was full of water then, and she shut 
 the doors and kept the people, who were fighting against the 
 king, outside. She wore tnt/. helmet and breastplate you see 
 up there. That gentleman in the wig was 1 forget his 
 name but he fought for King George: with his tongue. 
 They called him the Eloquent Vancourt, which means that he 
 could jaw the hind leg off a donkey; and that little boy with 
 the coat ever so much too long for him was his son. He was 
 famous, too; he wrote a lot of books; they are all in the 
 library, and nobody reads them now." 
 
 " How clever you are, what a lot you know, Jack!" re- 
 marked Nettie, admiringly. 
 
 Jack's river of information dried up suddenly, and he 
 glanced over his shoulder apprehensively. Esther was stand- 
 ing staring at him with surprise and curiosity; but he only 
 lost his head for a moment. 
 
 " Oh, you'll be able to read all about it, when yor.'re older, 
 in the ' Guide to Vancourt Towers,' price sixpence." 
 
 " You appear to have read it, Mr. Gordon," said Esther. 
 
 " Yes; it's very interesting," said Jack, unblushingly: he 
 had never set eyes on it. 
 
 " There are a great many more pictures upstairs in the 
 corridor," said Esther. " You must come and see them all, 
 Nettie. I'll drive Toby over for you some day, and very 
 soon. Would you like to take a piece of cake home with 
 you?" 
 
 Nettie held out her hand; but it was impossible for her t 
 hold the cake and keep her shawl closed. 
 
 " I'll put it in my pocket," said Jack, and he did so, as if 
 it were the most natural thing in the world. " Thank Miss 
 Vancourt, Nettie for her great kindness." 
 
 " T'ank you, Miss Vancourt, for your gate tindness," said 
 the child.
 
 LOVE, THE TYBAUT. 97 
 
 Esther cain- forward and kissed her, and in doing so tha 
 soft tendrils of her dark hair almost touched .Jack's cheek. 
 
 The blood flamed in his face for a moment, a znorasnt 
 only; bat he kept his eyes steadily in front of him, and. his 
 T'oice was quite calm as he said, " Good-morning^ Ladies," 
 and strode out. 
 
 " A very singular young man," remarked Miss Wcroesisr. 
 " A little too brusque and self-confident to please me. He 
 doesn't appear to quite er realise his position; bii there 
 must be a great deal of good in him, or that sweet litfcls thing 
 wouldn't be so fond of him." 
 
 Esther laughed as she looked after the pair rather absently. 
 
 " I believe that idea is an utter fallacy, aunt. Dogs and 
 children often take to the most worthless of human beings; 
 look at Bill Sykes's dog, for instance!" 
 
 " Ob, I shouldn't say Mr. Gordon was at all like Bill 
 Sykes," said Miss Worcester, who always took things literally. 
 " Where is Mr. Selby Lay ton? The bell rang some time 
 ago." 
 
 Afc that moment Mr. Selby Layton was in his room chang- 
 ing; but he was performing the operation in a very preoccu- 
 pied fashion and every now and then he glanced distastefully, 
 and with a moody brow, at the crumpled letter which Palmer 
 had brought him on the terrace, and which now lay open on 
 the dressing-table. It was a very short one, and ran thus: 
 
 " DEAR SIR, There are no letters to-day; but last evening 
 a gentleman, if I may call him so, called and asked for you. 
 He was very much put out when he heard that you weren't 
 in London, and asked for your address; but I did not give it 
 fco him because he \vas intoxicated, leastways screwed, and did 
 not seem a gentleman. He swore at me dread Cul. He would 
 not leave his name, but said he would call in a couple of 
 days' time, and I was to write to you. He was a tall man, 
 very dark, with a black moustache and an insolent way. He 
 asksd me for a drink, but I said it was locked up. 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " WILLIAM LEVEIT." 
 
 As his eyes rested on the note, which came from his rooms 
 in Claremont Street and was written by his valet, Selby Lay- 
 ton's face grew darker and the twist of his lip positively ugly; 
 and when, having dressed, he tore the note into fragments, 
 he muttered " Curse him!" with a vindictiveness which few 
 of his numerous friends would have deemed Mr. Selby Layton 
 capable o
 
 98 LOVE, THE TYBAUT, 
 
 His smile was as sweet as ever as he went down to the 
 ladies, oat it was more than a little sad. 
 
 " I am sorry to say that I shall have to go up to town to- 
 morrow," he said. " But, indeed, I have made a very long 
 stay, and I am sure you will be glad to get rid of me." 
 
 Esther was not heart-broken at the prospect of his depart 
 ore, but she expressed her regret very prettily. 
 
 " We shall be dreadfully dull after you have gone!" she 
 eaid. " We shall miss the music so much. I hope it is nt 
 unpleasant business which has called you away." 
 
 ** Oh, no," said Mr. Selby Layton. " It is only a small 
 matter, but it needs my personal attention, and I am partly 
 consoled for leaving the Towers by the thought that 1 mav 
 begin the execution of the commission you have honoured me 
 with." 
 
 He added this in a lower tone intended only for Esther's 
 ears; and she smiled at him gratefully. 
 
 Mr. Selby Layton made himself very pleasant these last 
 hours of his first visit to the Towers, and not only to Esther 
 but to both ladies. He talked with Miss Worcester on all her 
 favourite topics, and when he was alone with Esther discussed 
 her secret plan for benefiting the Vancourt family, as if the 
 project were as close to his heart as to hers. He hung about 
 Esther all the evening, and he sang some of his prettiest songs 
 in a voice of melting tenderness; and every now and then he 
 
 glanced towards her with a wistful, devoted expression in his 
 lue eyes which meant unutterable things. But, as it hap- 
 pened, Esther did not catch one of these glances; for, as she 
 listened to the flood of melody which would have made Selby 
 Layton's fortune on the operatic stage, she was thinking of 
 Mr. Gordon of all persons in the world ! She was recalling 
 the way in which he had ridden up to her and so skilfully 
 saved her from what might have been a serious accident; of 
 his gentleness with the child whose love he had so evidently 
 won; of his wonderful self-possession; and, more than all 
 else, of the strange fact, which Nettie had innocently dis- 
 closed, that he carried her blood-stained handkerchief about 
 him. Why did he do it? It was very disrespectful of him. 
 He had no right to keep her handkerchief. Should she ask 
 him for it? No; she could scarcely do that, and, after all, it 
 didn't matter. Martin would get well presently, and this 
 strange Mr. Gordon would leave the place. She sighed and 
 murmured: 
 
 "Thank you! Very beautiful!" as Mr. Selby Layton 
 finished his last ravishing song, and Miss Worcester gathered
 
 1OVB, THE TYBAIT?. 99 
 
 jp her knitting as a sign that it was time for bed. She left 
 Esther and Selby Lay ton alone for a moment or two, and he 
 drew near to the girl, and looked down at her pensively and 
 sighed. 
 
 It was too soon for him to speak yet; something about 
 Esther warned him to be careful; but there was so much at 
 stake that he thought he must venture upon at least, a hint. 
 
 " I cannot tell you how happy I have been at ths Towers, 
 Miss Vancourt," he said, his voice like a flute; " or with what 
 sorrow I leave it. This has been the happiest time of my 
 life; and I shall think of it as I sit in my lonely chambers re- 
 calling the delightful hours I have spent here." 
 
 " It's very kind of you to say so," said Esther. " I am 
 sure we shall miss you very much, and I am very glad that 
 you've not found it very dull. We hope that you will come 
 down again.'* 
 
 " I may have something to tell you about the Vanconrt 
 people," he said. " Perhaps you will let me bring my re- 
 port." He took the hand she held out to him, half raised it 
 to his lips; but no man had ever touched Esther's cheek or 
 hand, and, with a little touch of colour in her ivory face, she 
 drew her hand away. Mr. Selby Layton's smile remained 
 sweet until he had reached his room, then it fled and his lips 
 took on their nasty twist. 
 
 " Proud as the very devil, and cold as a stone!" he mut- 
 tered. " I'll pay her back in her own coin some day!" 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE Towers seemed rather dull after Mr. Selby Layton 
 had gone. Miss Worcester deplored his absence openly, and 
 Esther missed his wonderful voice in the evenings. She paid 
 and received visits amongst her neighbours, but she did not 
 know enough of them yet to be friendly, and the time hung 
 heavy on her hands. She did not go near the home farm for 
 a couple of days; but that did not prevent her from thinking 
 of Mr. Gordon, and the more she thought the more annoyed 
 with herself she became. On the third day she met him quite 
 by accident as she was walking across the end of the home 
 farm. He was on the colt, but the horse was at a stand-still, 
 and its rider was locking rather moodily over the wido stretch 
 of grass-land before him. Esther came quite close up to him 
 before he saw her, then he raised his hat as if he expected her 
 to pass on. Esther would like to have done so, bat she 1 
 stopped as if she couldn't help it*
 
 100 MVE, THE TT&UTfc 
 
 " Good-mwuing, Mr. Gordon," she said. " You look like 
 .Napoleon surveying a battle-field. Is anything the matter? 
 Isn t the grass growing to your liking?" 
 
 " Oh, the grass is all right," he replied; " and there'll be 
 a good crop; but I was wondering how on earth we were going 
 to get it in." 
 
 " How do you generally get it in?" she asked, looking 
 round her helplessly. 
 
 " Well, the way they try to get it in is to put half a dozen 
 old men in to cut and carry it; and while they're muddling 
 about, the rain comes, and the crop's spoilt. To save it 
 properly, you want a hay-cutting machine, a hay-turning ma- 
 chine, and those you haven't got." 
 
 " Why not?" asked Esther. 
 
 " Because you haven't," he said in his brusque fashion. 
 " Last year half the crop was spoilt, Martin tell me; all for 
 the want of machinery. Out in Aus out in the colonies 
 they'd have all the latest machinery, and save the whole 
 thing." 
 
 " Then why don't we have it here?" enquired Esther. 
 
 Jack shrugged his shoulders, and got off his horse. It was 
 not fitting that he should be seated while Miss Vanconrt, of 
 the Towers, was standing: Esther noticed his change of posi- 
 tion. Yes; if not actually a gentleman, he " behaved as 
 euch." 
 
 " Because Sir Richard didn't take enough interest. I've 
 explained that before. Everything's been neglected; the 
 game, the farm, everything. And it wouldn't cost much. 
 Give me two hundred, three hundred pounds, and I'd buy 
 the machinery and pay for it almost in the first season." 
 
 This is the way a woman likes to hear a man talk. Esther's 
 eyes sparkled as she turned them to him swiftly. 
 
 " Then take the three hundred pounds and go and buy it, 
 Mr. Gordon," she said. 
 
 Jack caught fire at her enthusiasm. 
 
 " All right," he said, holding out his hand. '* Give me 
 the money." 
 
 Esther laughed. 
 
 " I don't carry three hundred pounds about with me, Mr. 
 Gordon; bat if you'll come up to the house, I'll give yon a 
 cheque." 
 
 " I shall have to go up to London," said Jack; " I shall 
 save sixty pounds. I want it at once." 
 
 " Come to the house," she said. 
 
 He walked beside her, and giving the colt to ft groom* en*
 
 W5VT5, THE TYRANT. 101 
 
 tared the hall with her. She left him and went into the 
 library and wrote a cheque for five hundred pounds, which 
 she held out to him. 
 
 " What's this?" said Jack. " I said three hundred." 
 
 " But there are your expenses!" explained Esther. '* And 
 and I don't know whether you've been paid any salary?" 
 
 Jack shook his head. He had about ten shillings in his 
 pocket. 
 
 " That'll come later," he said. 
 
 " I wish you to take it now," she said; " at five pounds a 
 week." 
 
 Jack stared at her and laughed. 
 
 " That's nonsense," he said. " About thirty bob a week 
 is my wage." 
 
 Esther drew herself up haughtily. 
 
 " That is for me to decide, Mr. Gordon," she said. Then, 
 as she saw the unrelenting look on Jack's face, she added, 
 meekly: " Say three pounds a week." 
 
 Jack shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " All right. It's not for me to quarrel about that. IH 
 go up to London to-night and buy " 
 
 " Buy what you like," paid Esther. 
 
 Jack laughed. 
 
 " That's rather a large order and a free hand, Miss Vaa- 
 court." 
 
 " I don't understand anything about it," said Esther. " I 
 trust to you." 
 
 Jack's face grew suddenly grave. -^ 
 
 " I'll do just as if the farm were my own," he said, quietly. 
 " Don't you be afraid, Miss Vancourt." 
 
 " I'm not afraid," said Esther, proudly. 
 
 He nodded, and stalked out of the hall. There were weep- 
 ing and wailing from Nettie when he declared his intention of 
 going up by the night train, and he had to get her to sleep 
 in his arms, so great was her grief; then Georgie drove him to 
 the station, and, with Miss Vancourt's liberal cheque in his 
 pocket, Jack was carried to London. On the journey he 
 thought a great deal. His was certainly the strangest posi- 
 tion in which a man had ever been placed. He was acting as 
 servant on the estate which actually belonged to him. This 
 was strange enough, but more strange and remarkable was 
 the fact that he was not unhappy in his position. The home 
 farm interested him, but the mistress of Vancourt Towers in- 
 terested him still more. He regarded her with a strange feel- 
 iiig, in which something like pity predominated: she seemed
 
 102 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 so alone, so helpless. And she reminded him of his dead 
 chum in every word and gesture. There were times when she 
 spoke and smiled that the real Jack Gordon seemed to stand 
 before him. 
 
 He reached London, and he put up at a quiet and inexpen- 
 sive hotel. At breakfast the next morning, he realised that 
 he was still in his old riding-suit well enough in the coun- 
 try, but scarcely suitable to London; and that desire to be 
 properly clad which is the instinct of every gentleman assailed 
 him as he was getting through his second egg; but, with his 
 duty strongly before him, he went off and interviewed the agri- 
 cultural engineers before he sought a tailor, with whom, as 
 " Arthur Burton," he had had numerous dealings. The 
 man remembered him, and greeted him with a respectful cor- 
 diality. 
 
 " I've get a dress-suit that I made for you just before you 
 went abroad, Mr. Burton," he said, " and I was wondering 
 whether you'd ever call for it." 
 
 " All right," said Jack. " Send it on;" and he gave the 
 address of his hotel. 
 
 He spent the remainder of his first day inspecting the agri- 
 cultural machinery, and when he got back in the evening, 
 he found his dress-suit, overcoat and all complete, awaiting 
 him. It was a very long while since he had donned evening 
 attire, and the sight of the clothes reminded him of past days, 
 when he had dressed every night for dinner, in accordance 
 with the custom of the set to which he belonged. He dressed 
 that night and thought he would go to the theatre: it was a 
 long time since he had been inside any place of amusement in 
 London. 
 
 His reflection in the glass, when he had put on the things, 
 smote him strangely. Say what you will, man is very much 
 what his tailor makes him, and Jack Gordon of the home 
 farm looked a very different person in correct dress clothes. 
 He smiled at himself grimly, thinking, " Fine feathers make 
 fine birds;" and having eaten his dinner, walked down to the 
 Strand and turned into a theatre. Every seat was full, and, 
 not much disappointed, he lit a cigar the first cigar he had 
 smoked for many a long day and strolled westward. 
 
 He made his way towards Hyde Park, and paused beside 
 the railings which front Park Lane to look at the flowers in 
 the park on one hand, and those sumptuous and costly build- 
 ings which face it; and for a moment the thought struck 
 him, if he were to claim his own, he might be living in one
 
 THE TYRANTS 103 
 
 of these sonptnous houses which are reserved for the English 
 nobility and the African millionaire. 
 
 As he was looking at the flowers through the railings, a 
 little girl came up to him and offered him, in whining ac- 
 cents, a bunch of roses. He gave the child a shilling; and, 
 with a look of surprise, she ran on in front of him. A mo- 
 ment later a tall, dark man with a black moustache passed 
 him. The flower-girl, encouraged, perhaps, by Jack's lib- 
 erality, stopped this man and offered him her bunch of faded 
 blossoms. She was very persistent and troublesome, no doubt, 
 and Jack saw the man half j)ush, half strike her from his 
 path. She fell against he railings and whimpered; and, with 
 a rush of blood to his head, Jack sprang forward and caught 
 the man by the collar of his seedy coat. Jack had merely 
 meant to expostulate with him, to call him to account for 
 pushing and striking a helpless waif of the street; but as be 
 seized the man, a sudden flood of recollection swept over 
 him. 
 
 He had seen the man before. The dark face, the cold, 
 malicious eyes awakened a memory. Unless he were mad or 
 dreaming, this man's face was that of the chief of the rangerg 
 who had burst into the hut, who had killed the real Jack 
 Gordon, his chum! For a moment he was too overwhelmed 
 by the resemblance to utter a word; then he cried: 
 
 "It's you! You!" 
 
 The man staggered back, then he struck out wildly, and 
 his blows were smart and heavy. Jack struck back, still keep- 
 ing hold of the man. All the past came back to him vividly. 
 Wonderful, marvellous as it was, this was the man who had 
 shot his chum. The chief of the rangers. Here in London! 
 
 The two men struggled and fought, as if to the death. The 
 flower-girl crouched against the railing, the cabs and car- 
 riages rattled by. Jack got his opponent down on his knees 
 for one moment, but the man was as slippery as an eel, and 
 he slid to his feet again and closed with Jack. But Jack's 
 enormous strength would have told and the man would have 
 been at his mercy, if at this moment a stalwart park keeper 
 had not run forward and thrown his arms about Jack. 
 
 ; ' What's wrong here?" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Hold that man!" exclaimed Jack. "I know him don't 
 let him go!" 
 
 But the park keeper, seeing that Jack was the stronger, 
 dung to him, the man slipped from his grasp and took to his 
 heels, and Jack stood, helpless, in the hands of the sturdy 
 guardian of order. The bushranger, if it were indeed he,
 
 104 LOVE, THE TYEANT. 
 
 fled down South Audley Street, and Jack was teit/ Attiv 49fh 
 the keeper and the frightened flower-girl. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 THE park keeper who struggled with Jack was a big man 
 and a strong, and it was a minute or two before Jack could 
 free himself and acquaint the keeper with the fact that he 
 was detaining the wrong man. At last he did succeed in get- 
 ting free, and, with the little breath that was left him, de 
 mauded angrily and, I fear, with a familiar expletive: 
 
 " Why on earth did you hold me and let the other fellow 
 go?" 
 
 * Well, sir, I saw you strike the gentleman saw yon with 
 toy own eyes and I naturally went for you." 
 
 " I struck the villain because I saw him strike that child 
 there; and then I recognised him as a " He stopped; for 
 it was of no use telling the park keeper that the man who had 
 escaped was the chief of a gang of Australian bushrangers: 
 the park keeper would probably think he was out of his mind, 
 and would want to drag him off to the nearest police station. 
 " But it's no use bothering about it now," he continued; 
 " the man's got away. Let us see if the child's hurt." 
 
 But long before this the little street-girl, who had regarded 
 the park keeper's appearance on the scene as that of a natural 
 and official foe, to be dreaded only one degree less than the 
 hated policeman, had fled the scene. 
 
 " Very sorry, sir!" said the park keeper, who long before 
 this had decided that he was speaking to a gentleman; " al- 
 ways difficult to tell, when there's a row between two persons, 
 which is in fault. I hope you're not hurt, sir?" 
 
 " Not at all," said Jack, with a short laugh. " I'm a bit 
 crumpled, though," looking down at his crashed shirt-front 
 and twisted tie. He gave the keeper a shilling, wished him a 
 pleasant " good-night," and then went down South Audley 
 Street with rage and disappointment burning in his heart. 
 
 That the ranger should be in London was marvellous 
 enough, but that he, Jack, should have met him and had 
 him in his grip, and then lost him, was maddening. Jack 
 was the last man to bear malice the malice of the low and 
 common nature. If the ranger had confined the attack in 
 the hut to himself, there would have been no craving for re- 
 venge in Jack's heart: he had been too used to fighting dur- 
 ing his rough life to bear malice against a foe, vanquished or 
 ooBcpiering; bat this villain had shit the real Jack GorcUo,
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 105 
 
 had murdered Jack's chum, and that chum was Esther Van- 
 court's brother; and it is not too much to say that Jack 
 thirsted for the man's blood with an earnestness which was, 
 alas! very heathenish. The man was not fit to live, and if 
 Jack had met him out in the wilds, he would assuredly have 
 shot him on sight. 
 
 He walked down South Audley Street, looking abort him, 
 though he felt certain that the man had escaped, and that 
 only & chance, such as that which he had lost, would bring 
 him face to face with him again; but, if such a chance should 
 occur, Jack told himself that the man would not be per- 
 mitted to escape a second time. 
 
 At the end of the street he turned to the right and walked 
 on aimlessly, still keeping a sharp lookout. Suddenly, to his 
 delight, he saw the man passing the end of the street. Jack 
 slipped into a door- way and thought for a moment. If he 
 followed, the ranger, with the start he had got, would be sure 
 to outrun him; so Jack, with the cunning of the backwoods- 
 man, struck the street parallel to the one which the ranger 
 had entered, and running down it, turned the corner and 
 waited, ready to spring upon the man as he passed. He set 
 his teeth and gathered himself together for the spring, for he 
 knew that it would be a hard struggle; but the seconds grew 
 into minutes, and his prey did not appear. Very cautiously, 
 keeping in the shadow of the houses, Jack stole to the corner 
 of the street. It was empty; there was no one in sight. Not 
 a little startled and surprised, Jack hid in a door-way and 
 considered the situation. It was evident that the ranger had 
 entered one of the houses: but which? It was a long street, 
 and Jack could not very well knock at every door and enquire 
 if a tall, dark man had entered. There was nothing to be 
 done but to wait and watch on the chance of the man's reap- 
 pearance. 
 
 If he could have been in the street & minute earlier, he 
 would have been in time to see the ranger knock at the door 
 of No. 14. It was opened by Levett, and before he said a 
 word, the ranger closed it quickly. 
 
 " Is Mr. Selby Lay ton in?" he asked. 
 
 The astonished and indignant Levett replied that he would 
 go and see. 
 
 " That means that he is," said the ranger. " Don't yon 
 trouble to announce me. I'll go straight up to him. I'm an 
 old friend;" and he sprang up the stairs before the outraged 
 Levett could intercept him, even if he had intended doing so. 
 
 Selby Layton was lying back in the easiest of easy-chairs,
 
 1C6 LOVE, THE TYEAOT. 
 
 smoking , cigar and reading the last minor poet. The room 
 was the picture of comfort and bachelor luxury; the furniture 
 was Chippendale, excepting the easy-chair, which was far too 
 comfortable for that elegant but severe style; the decorations 
 and hangings were in the best taste; the water-colours on the 
 wall were good examples of modern masters; there was a 
 semi-grand piano by Broad wood; there were flowers on the 
 table and cabinets, and a rosewood book-case filled with vol- 
 umes in choice and expensive bindings. Mr. Layton had 
 taken off his dress-coat and donned a light and comfortable 
 dressing-gown, and looked serene and peaceful and altogether 
 at his ease. 
 
 But all his serenity and ease fled as the door opened and the 
 tall, dark man stood and glowered at him. Selby Layton 
 forced a sickly smile, and rose with an attempt at welcome. 
 
 " Ah, Denzil!" he said. " How do you do?" 
 
 His voice shook slightly, and his affectation at heartiness 
 would not have deceived an infant. Denzil closed the door, 
 and, taking no notice of Selby Layton's proffered hand, sank 
 into the easy-chair from which his host had risen, drew a 
 long breath, and wiped the perspiration from his face with an 
 angry, impatient gesture. 
 
 I suppose if I hadn't come up, you would have told that 
 lying hound you weren't at home.'"' he said. 
 
 *' My dear Denzil, how unjust!" said Selby Layton. "I 
 came back from the country on purpose to meet you. Yon 
 seem hot. What is that on your face surely not blood?" 
 
 " Very likely," said Denzil, curtly. " I had a row with a 
 drunken beast just now. And I am hot: give me a drink, 
 sharp!" 
 
 With a smile Selby Layton was about to ring the bell, but 
 thought better of it, and got out some Dda and whiskey from 
 a chaste-looking cabinet. 
 
 " Say when, my dear Denzil," he said. 
 
 Denzil said *' when " as the glass was half full, and taking 
 the tumbler before Selby Layton could add the soda-water, 
 drank off the neat spirit. 
 
 " Ah, that's better! Now you can give me a long drink 
 and a cigar." 
 
 Selby Layton mixed the drink and handed the silver-gilt 
 cigar-box. Denzil took one of the choice Havanas, filled his 
 pockets with the remainder, and looked at the silver box 
 longingly, as if he would like to put that in his pocket also ; 
 and placed it, with marked reluctance, on the table. 
 
 " And how .have you been, and where have .you been, mj
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAOT. 1C . 
 
 dear Denril?" asked Selby Layton. " I thought you were in 
 Australia." 
 
 " You mean you wished I was," said Denzil, as he lit his 
 cigar and threw himself back with an insolent air of self- 
 assurance. " But I'm not; I'm here in London, you see." 
 
 " So I see," said Selby Layton, still smiling, but with the 
 twist of his upper lip beginning to show. " Of course I don't 
 want to interfere in your affairs, my dear Benzil; but do you 
 think it is wise?" 
 
 " That's my lookout," said DenziL 
 
 " Quite so," remarked Selby Layton, smoothly. "But the 
 police have long memories, my dear Denzil, and that little 
 affair of yours was so very very desperate, that I am afraid 
 if you were seen and recognised Forgive me, but I cannot 
 help thinking that you were safer in Australia." 
 
 "You mean that you were safer," retorted Denzil, with an 
 ugly sneer. " Australia was well enough, but it didn't suit 
 ma, and I got tired of it." 
 
 " Just so just so!" assented Selby Layton. " It is a won- 
 derful country, rich in resources; I hope that you did well 
 there, my dear Denzil?" 
 
 " On the contrary, your ' dear Denzil ' did very badly; so 
 badly that he was obliged to come back, and very glad he is 
 to get back. You appear to be in clover, my dear Selby," 
 he remarked, mimicking Selby Layton's soft voice. " Pros- 
 pering, eh? You always were the cunning kind of dog that 
 can get the meat while others have the bones." 
 
 " Admiring my room, iny dear Denzil? Yes, it is comfort- 
 able, and I am fairly prosperous. Hard work, you know; 
 hard work." 
 
 Denzil laughed a mirthless and contemptuous laugh. 
 
 " Hard work! You never did a day's hard work in your 
 life! I wish I'd had you out in Australia with me; I'd have 
 shown you what work meant. How do you manage it, eh? 
 That's no business of mine. I'm glad you're prospering, be- 
 cause you're able to help a pal who's down on his luck. 
 
 Selby Layton looked grave and shook his head. 
 
 " I shall be only too delighted to help you, my dear Den- 
 zil," he said. " But I fear" 
 
 Denzil expectorated on the Persian carpet and looked Selby 
 Layton full in the face with calm insolence. 
 
 " I want a hundred pounds," he said, as if he were remark* 
 ing that he wanted another glass of whiskey. 
 
 Selby Layton. started and sank into a chair.
 
 108 IJOVE, THE TYRAKT. 
 
 " It's qtrite impossible," he said. " I haven't a 
 pounds in the world. I might manage five-and-twenty." 
 
 Denzil looked round the expensively furnished room sig- 
 nificantly. 
 
 " You can raise a bill of sale on this for more than doubk 
 the amount," he said, coolly. 
 
 The ugly twist in Selby Layton's lip became more pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 " There may be a bill of sale on it already, my dear Den- 
 zil," he said, 
 
 " I don't care. A hundred pTJunds I want, and mean to 
 have it. Borrow it, steal it, get it how you like; I don't 
 mind, I mean to have it before I leave here to-night." 
 
 Selby Layton crossed his legs, and clasping his knee with 
 his white hands, looked at his companion with a smile that, 
 in its way, was as ugly as Denzil's. 
 
 " My dear Denzil, don't you think you are a little exigent, 
 not to say a tittle presumptuous? And does it not occur to 
 you that I may refuse to give you anything; indeed, that I 
 may summon my servant, send for a policeman and give you 
 in charge? Really, it would be the simplest and wisest way 
 of meeting your exorbitant demand." 
 
 Denzil did not seem at all impressed. 
 
 " Simple enough, I daresay," he said, reachimg for the 
 whiskey decanter; " but not very wise." 
 
 " 1 don't know," murmured Selby Layton, thoughtfully. 
 " The police would take you off my hands, and I should be 
 lid of you. for How many years do they give for forgery?" 
 
 Denzil's sinister face grew black and his eyes glittered. 
 
 " You don't bluff badly, Selby," he said. " But you for- 
 get that you don't hold all the cards. I hold some. Here's 
 one of 'em." 
 
 He took a dingy pocket-book from his pocket, and leisurely 
 extracting a long slip of paper, waved it significantly. 
 
 " Call the police, and I'll hand them this, and tell them 
 the little secret you've kept so carefully; and I'll take care to 
 let the person this concerns know where to find you. I fancy 
 you'd pay more than a hundred pounds to keep me quiet." 
 
 Selby Layton's face went pale, and he watched the slip of 
 paper, as it was restored to the pocket-book, in silence. 
 
 ** Judging by your surroundings, I should imagine yoa 
 don't want to be disturbed in the little game you're playing 
 wnatever it may be," said Denzil. " There's sure to be some 
 little game, there always was, for you couldn't run straight. 
 any more than some othars of us; and I daresay you're DC
 
 1C 
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 109 
 
 more anxious to face the police than I am. We're in the 
 same boat, you and I, Selby, and if it goes down, we go down 
 together. I'll say nothing about this, and I'll hold my 
 tongue for a hundred pounds. Give it me in notes, and try 
 and do it cheerfully." 
 
 Selby Lay ton sat in silent thought for a moment or two, 
 his upper lip twitching, his white hands strained round bis 
 knee. 
 
 " If I were sure that a hundred pounds were the grand 
 total, my dear Denzil," he said. " But from what I know 
 ?f you, I feel sure that it is not. With a man of yonr ex- 
 pensive tastes such a sum, large though it is, does not go 
 very far. It is quite possible that you'll be here in a week's 
 time, bent on further blackmailing." 
 
 Denzil shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I daresay I might," he said; " but it's not very probable, 
 I want to leave the country again, and I shall do it with this 
 money. But I don't want to argue, and I don't want to 
 haggle. And I don't make any promises, neither. Give me 
 the money, or call the police, as you threatened; but while 
 they are coming, I'll make it worth while sending for them." 
 
 He rose, and with the cigar in the corner of his mouth, 
 'iook out a revolver and covered Selby Layton. 
 
 Selby Layton did not move, and smiled contemptuously. 
 
 " My dear Denzil, my man is in the hall down-stairs; you 
 sould not leave the house any other way the window is too 
 nigh. Eevolvers may be very useful in Australia, but they 
 are quite out of place in London quite out of place." 
 
 Denzil's nostrils expanded with an ugly smile. 
 
 " Move an inch and I'll shoot you!" he said. " I'm des- 
 perate, and I'd as soon be lagged for this as for the other. 
 I'll give you one minute to make up your mind." 
 
 " You really mean it?" said Selby Layton. " I suppose I 
 must give you a cheque " 
 
 "Thanks; I think not," said Denzil. "You have the 
 notes by you, I know; for you knew I was coming, and would 
 be prepared." 
 
 Selby Layton laughed. 
 
 " Your perspicacity is remarkable. Yes, 1 expend to be 
 blackmailed by you, and I am prepared. I make this ad- 
 mission, my dear Denzii, because I assure you that it is the 
 last money I shall give you, let the consequences be what they 
 may. As you say, if we go down, we go down together, and, 
 from what I know of you, I am convinced that you value 
 your own safety too highly to endanger it lightly. If you'll
 
 110 LOVE, THE 
 
 excuse me one moment, I will get you the notes. They are 
 in the next room " 
 
 Denzil nodded grimly. 
 
 " Leave the door open," he said. " If you attempt to 
 escape, I fire." 
 
 Selby shot a glance at him fall of hate, but said nothing, 
 and went into the next room. He was back again in a minute 
 with some notes in his hand. 
 
 " There is the money," he said. " The last you will ever 
 have." 
 
 Denzil put the notes In his pocket-book, filled his glass 
 again, and drank it leisurely, as leisurely lit another cigar, 
 and, with a nod, sauntered to the door. There he turned 
 and looked at Selby Lay ton with sinister curiosity. 
 
 " I wonder what your little game is? You would not give 
 me a hundred pounds to hold my tongue unless my silence 
 was well worth it. Is it anything I can help you In, Selby? 
 If so, say so, and we'll go into partnership." 
 
 Selby Lay ton eyed him under haltclosed lids. 
 
 " I desire your assistance as little as I desire your presence, 
 my dear Denzil. You have got your money; let me advise 
 you to depart before I change my mind," 
 
 With a laugh of insolent contempt Denzil opened the door, 
 listened for a moment, then went down-stairs and let himself 
 out. He opened and shut the door so softly that Jack, 
 hidden in his door- way, though he was listening with all his 
 ears, did not hear him; but he caught sight of him presently 
 as Denzil passed down the other side of the street. 
 
 Now, while he had been waiting, Jack had had time to 
 consider the situation. He had intended springing out upon 
 the man, overpowering him, and giving him into custody, 
 charging him with the murder of the real Jack Gordon; but 
 on consideration he saw that this course was scarcely advis- 
 able. In the first place, he would find it difficult to substan- 
 tiate the charge the crime was committed in Australia, he 
 had no witnesses nothing beyond his bare word, which would 
 not be sufficient to prove the man's identity. Then again, if 
 he gave the man in charge, he would have to declare his own 
 identity, would be compelled to break his promise to his dead 
 chum, to reveal the fact that he himself was Sir John Van- 
 court, and that Esther, the sister of the man who had laid 
 down his life for him, was only a usurper. 
 
 As the reader will no doubt have discovered, Jack was n^ 
 supernaturally clever, and the problem puzzled him. E" 1 
 could only decide to follow the man, to track him to his laii>
 
 LOVE, THE TYBAOT. Ill 
 
 Wuerever it w, and to postpone the day of reckoning to a 
 more convenient time: Jack swore to himself that the day of 
 reckoning should come. 
 
 He waited until Denzil, walking quickly, had passed him 
 und reached the end of the street, then he followed him. As 
 lie had expected, Denzil got into a hansom cab, and Jack 
 jumped into another. 
 
 " Follow that cab," he said. " And don't lose sight of it; 
 but don't let the other driver know you're following him." 
 
 The cabman winked he thought Jack was a detective 
 and the pursuit began. Denzil's cab struck off north to the 
 great thoroughfare of Oxford Street, passed into a quieter 
 part of the town, and pulled up suddenly at the corner of a 
 forsaken and neglected little square. It was a dingy place 
 with shabby and squalid houses. Deuzil's cab had stopped at 
 a dirty and flaring public-house, and Jack, at a discreet dis- 
 tance, saw Denzil pay and dismiss his cabman and enter the 
 public. Telling his man to wait, Jack got out, and, button- 
 ing up his coat closely, approached the public-house, and, 
 having assured himself that there was no exit from the back 
 by which Denzil could escape, waited for his man to come 
 out. 
 
 There was a good deal of noise inside the house, as if some 
 of the customers were drunk. Presently two or three men 
 came out. They were low-looking ruffians, and, though they 
 were fairly sober, Jack could see that they had been drinking 
 heavily. They passed him, all three walking close together 
 and talking eagerly and in an under-tone; but as they went 
 by, Jack distinctly heard one word " Notes." Presently 
 they separated and disappeared, one down an alley, the others 
 up the narrow streets branching from the square. A minute 
 or two afterwards Denzil came out of the public-house, 
 paused for a moment to look round him warily, then went in 
 the direction the men had taken, and passed Jack almost as 
 closely as they had done. 
 
 Jack remained in the door-way which screened him until 
 Denzii had gone about fifty yards; then he set out to follow 
 him. Denzil passed the mouth of the alley, a low whistle 
 sounded, a man sprang from the alley, threw his arms round 
 Denzil's neck, and the two other men came running from 
 their hiding-places to help their confederate. 
 
 This new move took Jack by surprise, and he stopped short 
 and watched for a minute, asking himself what he should do. 
 But very few Englishmen can stand idle while one man is 
 fighting against odds, though that one mao should be his
 
 112 "LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 deadly foe, and Jack, with a shout, ran towarun tnem. Th*> 
 thieves heard him, and, being only common footpads, they at 
 ones took the alarm, and flinging Denzil to the ground, made 
 off. Jack expected Denzil to remain quiet for a time, at any 
 rate; but the man rose quickly, as if he were not hurt, and, 
 without waiting to see how he had been rescued, ran down the 
 street and disappeared round the corner. 
 
 Jack started after him, but as he reached the spot where 
 Denzil had fallen, his foot struck against something. He 
 picked it up and found it to be a large and shabby pocket- 
 book. Slipping it into his pocket, he took up the pursuit 
 again; but Denzil was not to be seen. 
 
 The place was a network of narrow streets, each so like the 
 other that Jack soon got confused. Every now and then the 
 line of houses was broken by a court or alley, down any one 
 of which his prey might have darted. 
 
 Very much disappointed, Jack, after a good deal of diffi- 
 culty, found his way back to his cab, and told the man to 
 drive him to the hotel; and having paid the man liberally, 
 went up to his room. He had been so absorbed in his pursuit 
 and his disappointment at his failure to track the ranger, 
 that he had forgotten the pocket-book; and it was not until 
 after he had had his supper and was going to bed that the 
 sight of his overcoat, which he had thrown across a chair, re- 
 minded him of his " find." He went for it eagerly, and ex- 
 amined it, turning out the contents of the pockets on to the 
 dressing-table. 
 
 To say that he was amazed at the sight of the packet of 
 bank-notes, quite inadequately describes his sensation; but 
 there they were, staring up at him, to the extent of a hun- 
 dred pounds. The only other loose paper was a certificate of 
 marriage between " Adolphus Robinson " and " Margaret 
 Mayhew." 
 
 On the leaves of the pocket-book were written faded and 
 almost indistinct memoranda, and the only other loose paper 
 was a pawn-ticket for a silver watch. So far as he knew, 
 there was nothing to prove that the pocket-book which lay 
 there on the table was the property of the ranger. His name 
 might be Robinson; but it might not Jack had no means of 
 knowing. The thing might have fallen from the pockets of 
 one of the thieves, though it was unlikely that such footpads 
 should possess so large a sum of money. 
 
 The thing was a mystery, and Jack felt not a little con- 
 fused and embarrassed. Here was a hundred pounds in 
 aotes; and what should he do with, it? If he took it to tha
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 113 
 
 police which would be the easiest thing to do they would 
 at once ask inconvenient questions questions which Jack 
 would find it difficult to answer; for the first would be: 
 " What is your name, sir?" 
 
 " I am afraid I shall have to take charge of this myself/' 
 he said. "If it belongs to that scoundrel, he can have it by 
 applying to Mr. Jack Gordon, foreman of the Vancourt home 
 farm!" 
 
 Considering that it was the proper thing to do, he wrapped 
 the pocket-book with its notes in a sheet of paper, and ring- 
 ing for some sealing-wax, sealed it and put it safely away in 
 his bag. Then he went to bed and dreamt, not of the ranger, 
 but of Esther Vancourt! 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 JACK would very much have liked to have gone down to the 
 place where he had lost sight of the ranger and have tried to 
 track him; but he remembered that he was Miss Vanoourt'a 
 servant, and that he had come up to London on her business. 
 So, having arranged with the manufacturers to send down the 
 machines he had bought, he packed up his things and took 
 train for home; and though it may be presumed that a man 
 with money in his pocket would enjoy a longer acquaintance 
 with the delights of the wonderful metropolis, he got into the 
 train with a sense of relief and pleasure. 
 
 He was going back to hard work; but he was fond cf hard 
 work, and he had grown fond of the home farm. He might 
 have added, of Vancourt Towers and the mistress thereof; 
 but he would not admit as much, even to himself. When he 
 got out at the small country station with the bag which con- 
 tained, amongst other things, his dress clothes which had 
 seen such adventures, and the mysterious pocket-book, he was 
 prepared to walk to the home farm; but he found a dog-cart 
 from the Towers awaiting him. 
 
 " Miss Vancourt sent to meet you, sir," said Giles, touch- 
 ing his hat as usual. 
 
 " Very kind of her," said Jack. " Any news, Giles?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Gordon," said Giles. " Leastways, not much. 
 Martin got out of bed yesterday, and hurt hisself, and the 
 doctor sent him back again. And there's been some poach- 
 ers in the West Spinney." 
 
 " Martin's an idiot; and that poaching will have to be 
 stopped," said Jack.
 
 114 IXJVE, THE 
 
 "Hope you've enjoyed yourself in Lunnun, sir?" 
 Giles. 
 
 " Oh, very much, thank you,"' replied Jack, drily, think- 
 ing of his adventures. 
 
 The dog-cart sprang along the road, and Jack, as he drove 
 the good horse, drew a long breath and felt how pleasant it 
 was to be back. As they were passing the principal gate of 
 the Towers, who should come out but Miss Esther Vancourt 
 herself. At sight of her, Jack's heart gave a curious little 
 bound: he thought it was one of admiration; for she was a 
 beautiful picture, standing there in her white frock, with the 
 sunlight dancing in her grey eyes. Close beside her was Bob 
 Bob apparently quite happy and contented. Jack raised 
 his hat and was going to drive on; but she held up her hand 
 with a little imperious gesture which struck Jack as de- 
 licious, and so he pulled up. 
 
 " You have come back, Mr. Gordon?" she said, with a 
 faint smile and as faint a blush in the clear pallor of her 
 cheek. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Vancourt/' he said. " I've got the machines 
 all right; they'll be down directly." 
 
 " I hope you've had a pleasant time," said Esther. " You 
 see, I have Bob here. He fretted after you had gone, and I 
 brought him up to the house. He seems to have taken to me, 
 and he appears to be pretty happy. He follows me about 
 everywhere; but of course he'll desert me now," she added, 
 as Bob, having heard his master's voice, made futile attempts 
 to climb into the dog-cart. 
 
 " Thank you very much," said Jack. " Go back, Bob! 
 Go back at once!" 
 
 Bob, with drooping tail and a reproachful glance, sidled 
 back to Esther. 
 
 " Oh, let him go with you!" she said. " He will be heart- 
 broken." 
 
 " No, no," said Jack, " Bob mustn't be ungrateful; and 
 he must learn to obey." 
 
 Raising his hat, he drove on, and was in due course de- 
 posited at the home farm; and there he found Bob awaiting 
 him : obedience and loving devotion had been in conflict, and 
 the latter had won. 
 
 Jack went up to Martin, and found him despondent and 
 rebellious. 
 
 " You were an ass to get out of bed," said Jack, " though 
 I can quite understand it: I should have been just as great an 
 ass myself. And now you'll have to lie here a few weeEs
 
 LOVE, THE TYBAOTc 
 
 longer. But don't you worry! Things are going on all right; 
 I've bought the machines you've wanted all these years, and 
 we'll get in the crops as they should be got in; and by the 
 time you're right again I shall be able to sheer off with a clear 
 conscience." 
 
 It was not so easy to escape from Nettie, who welcomed 
 him as if hi had been away for years, and who insisted upon 
 sitting upon his knee while he had his tea. 
 
 " Miss Vancourt's been very tind to me while you have 
 been away, Jack," she said. " I've been ever so many rides 
 in the jingle with her. And we talk about you most of the 
 time. She said I must be very good and do as you tell me. 
 But I do, don't I, Jack?" 
 
 "It would be very bad for you if you didn't," said Jack, 
 with mock severity. " Now I've come back, I'm going to 
 keep you in order. This measles business is about played 
 out, and you'll have to carry me instead of me carrying you. 
 So Miss Vancourt has been ' tind ' to you, has she?" 
 
 After he had had his tea he went to the cottage and 
 changed his clothes. With his wages he had bought a new 
 suit to replace his torn and weather-staiaed one, and he put 
 this on before starting on his round of inspection ; for the 
 foreman of the farm, such as that of Vancourt, needed to be 
 always on the alert. He went round the fields, gave some 
 directions to the men and Georgie the latter still regarded 
 him with saucer-like eyes and gaping mouth and then walked 
 towards the plantation. It was so called because Bichard, in 
 a sudden spasm of duty, had planted some larch and firs on 
 the edge of a steep declivity to the west of the home farm; 
 but although he had planted it, he had neglected it after 
 planting it; and Jack had resolved to thin out some of the 
 young trees. 
 
 While he was looking at them meditatively, a girl came 
 from amongst them and stood on the edge of the little preci- 
 pice which was made by the sudden drop of the land. 
 
 She was tall and graceful and wore a thin shawl over her 
 head, and Jack saw that she was Kate Transom, the daugh- 
 ter of the man he had caught poaching in the wood. She was 
 gathering the broken branches which the wind had torn from 
 the trees, and Jack watched her absently enough. The 
 labourers on the estate enjoyed the privilege of gathering the 
 dead wood, and she was, therefore, not trespassing; but Jack, 
 as he watched, could not help thinking that it was a poor 
 kind of occupation for so beautiful and so strong a girl. 
 
 Quite unconscious of his presence, Kate went on with her
 
 116 MJVE, THE TYRAOT. 
 
 task, aad presently stood on the extreme edge of tho small 
 precipice. 
 
 " If that bit of ground were to give way, she'd fall and 
 hurt herself," thought Jack. 
 
 The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than the thing 
 which he had contemplated happened. The strip of soil 
 overhanging the hollowed bank yielded beneath the pressure 
 of her foot, and she fell almost at Jack's feet. 
 
 In failing, she struck her head against the trunk of an 
 overhanging tree, and she lay motionless and lifeless. 
 
 Jack knelt beside her and raised her head to his knee. She 
 had fainted f i om the blow and the shock, and she looked like 
 one already dead. 
 
 If the accident had occurred in Australia, Jack would have 
 had his brandy flask ready; but he had no flask with him 
 now, and there was no water at hand wit.h which he could re- 
 store her to her senses. She was in a dead faint, and there 
 were no means at hand to recover her. There was nothing 
 to be done but to carry her to the nearest house; and the 
 nearest house happened to be his o\ n cottage 
 
 It was the most natural thing in the world that he should 
 carry her there. Though she was tall, she was slim and 
 light, and raising her in his arms, he put her over his shoulder 
 and slowly carried her to the cottage. 
 
 The door was open, and he placed her in the old-fashioned 
 chair in which she could recline almost at full length; then 
 he got some water, and, awkwardly enough, no doubt, dabbed 
 her face with it. 
 
 Kate was a particularly handsome girl, and most men 
 would have been struck by her regular features, by the rich 
 mass of hair which framed her white face; but Jack was so 
 intent upon restoring her to consciousness, that he had no 
 mind left for her personal beauties. 
 
 She opened her eyes at last and sighed. 
 
 " It was not my fault, father," she murmured. " I didn't 
 know that I was so near the edge. I'm sorry!" 
 
 " It's all right," said Jack. " You didn't know that the 
 ground was hollowed out there. Do you feel better now?" 
 
 She sat up and looked round her confusedly; then, as her 
 eyes rested on.Jack's face, the colour dyed her face a deep 
 crimson. 
 
 " Where am I?" she asked. " Did I fall?" 
 
 " You are in my cottage," said Jack. " The edge of the 
 plantation gave way with you. Bat I hope you're not hart?
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAOT. 117 
 
 YOM fell and struck your head. Let me look at it. Yes; a 
 nasty blow, just on the temple. 1*11 bathe it for you." 
 
 He got some more water and bathed the wound. She lay 
 back, breathing painfully, with her eyes half closed. 
 
 " You have saved my life!" she said. 
 
 Jack laughed. 
 
 " Nonsense!" he said. " I happened to be near when you 
 fell that's all. Hold on a minute; I'll give you some tea. 
 We Australians always think tea a sovereign remedy for every 
 ill that man is heir to." 
 
 " Do you come from Australia?" she asked, faintly. 
 " Father has just come back from there." 
 
 Jack bit his lip, and in silence made the tea. She drank a 
 little of it, then rose and looked round the tiny room, as if 
 she were embarrassed. 
 
 " I will go now," she said. " I am quite "well. But 1 
 want to thank you, and I can't!" 
 
 She stood, her eyes, dark and lustrous, fixed on his, then 
 veiled by their lids. There was something in her gaze, in her 
 very reticence, which made Jack uncomfortable. If it were 
 not inhuman, he almost wished she would go. 
 
 " Sure you're all right?" he asked. " Shall I go with yo? 
 I know where you live, you know." 
 
 " No, no!" she said. " I am quite well, quite able to 
 walk now." 
 
 Jack held out his hand, and she took it in hers; a long 
 hand, browned by labour, bat shapely as a lady's. She raised 
 his hand to her lips, and kissed it. 
 
 " You have saved my life," she said. " I shall never for- 
 get! Some day some time I may be able to tell you how 
 grateful to repay you But I can't speak nowl Good- 
 bye!" 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE morning after Jack's return, Esther woke with a 
 strange sense of happiness, so strange that it half puzzled her, 
 because the last two or three days she had felt dull and out of 
 spirits and restless. She sang while she was dressing, and 
 she was singing as she came down with a light step into the 
 breakfast-room where Miss Worcester was awaiting her. 
 
 " You seem happy this morning, my dear," said that lady, 
 as Esther kissed her; and she looked fondly and admiringly 
 at the beautiful face with its sparkling grey eyes and 
 " which the sun had kissed to crimson.
 
 118 X0VS, THE TYRAiTT. 
 
 said Esther. "I think I am. % no wouldn't 
 be happy om such a lovely morning? Did you ever see the 
 sky so blue, the flowers so gorgeous. Oh, it's fine to be rich 
 and to live in a beautiful house; to look out upon one's own 
 park and woods and fields, and to know that one is mistress 
 of Vancourt Towers. Think of it, aunt! But for Sir Rich- 
 ard's will " She stopped a moment as if struck by a sud- 
 den thought " and the death of that poor young fellow, his 
 nephew," she added, gravely, " this morning I should just be 
 starting out on the daily drudgery of the piano instead of 
 sitting here at this gorgeous breakfast, my own mistress, with 
 all the day before me to do what I like in. Aunt, I am 
 firmly convinced that this is the best of all possible worlds!" 
 she wound up with a laugh. 
 
 " You are not quite free to do what you like to-day, my 
 dear," said Miss Worcester, with a smile. " We have to 
 lunch with the Fan worths this morning, you know." 
 
 Esther made a little grimace, then, as if ashamed of it, 
 said quickly: 
 
 *' I like Lord Fanworth; he is so pleasant and good-nat- 
 ured; and though Lady Fanworth is rather stiff and formal, 
 not to say awesome, I think she is kind at heart. Oh, jes, I 
 shall enjoy it; I feel as if I could enjoy anything to-day. 
 What a pile of letters! I suppose most of them are begging 
 letters, as usual. Every poor person in the world seems to 
 have learnt of my good fortune and flown to me for assist- 
 ance. I wish I could, send a thousand pounds to each of 
 them, and I don't like to believe Mr. Floss when he says that 
 nine-tenths of the letters come from impostors." 
 
 " Charity begins at home, my dear Esther," remarked 
 Miss Worcester,* as if* she were saying something desperately 
 original. " I am sure there are plenty of poor in Vaucourt." 
 
 " 1 am afraid there are," said Esther. " I ought to know 
 them all; but I am still so new to the "business that I am 
 rather shy. I always feel that if I were very poor I shouldn't 
 like the rich person of the place to come poking into my cot- 
 tage and asking me impertinent questions; I should be proud 
 and disagreeable. But I must do my duty, as Mr. Gordon 
 says." 
 
 Miss Worcester sniffed. 
 
 " Very impertinent of Mr. Gordon to make such a remark, 
 I think, my dear." 
 
 ** Oh, no; Mr. Gordon is sometimes rough, but he ia 
 never impertinent,." Esther said, as she turned over her let-
 
 I07B, THE TYBAOT/ 119 
 
 ters bufly. 4: It was in regard to the farm and the game 
 that he made the remark." 
 
 " 1 hear he is back," said Miss Worcester; " but I don't 
 suppose it is true, for that dog of his was lying on the terrac* 
 yesterday afternoon." 
 
 Esther coloured slightly. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon told him to stay with me, and he would have 
 done so, but that I saw that he was breaking his heart for his 
 master poor Bob, he looked at me so piteously so I sent 
 him home; and he's happy enough now, I'll be bound." 
 
 Amongst her letters was one from Mr. Selby Lay ton, and 
 she opened and read it. It was a charming letter, full of re- 
 grets that he was in smoky London instead of at delightful 
 Vancourt; but it was also a business letter. He had been 
 making enquiries and had discovered some of the poor mem- 
 bers of the family; and he thought that if Esther could send 
 him two hundred and fifty pounds he could distribute it 
 judiciously, and, of course, anonymously. He would furnish 
 Esther with the names of the recipients when he had com- 
 pleted his task. 
 
 Esther was very grateful to him, and after breakfast she 
 went to the library and unlocking the drawer, in which she 
 kept her deliciously new cheque-book, carefully wrote a 
 cheque for the amount named and enclosed it in a pretty let- 
 ter of thanks. He was not to bother about giving her the 
 names, and she would be glad to send a much larger sum if 
 he could dispose of it. 
 
 She felt that morning as if she would like to make every- 
 body in the world happy. 
 
 She went out on the terrace, and leaning on the stone 
 balustraJe, looked about her, singing softly; but presently 
 her eyes were fixed on the blue wreath of smoke which rose 
 from the farm lodge, and, perhaps it was only natural, her 
 thoughts wandered to Jack Gordon. 
 
 She did not realise how often she thought of him, and cer- 
 tainly did not realise how much she had missed him while he 
 had been away; and all her thoughts this morning were fa- 
 vourable to him. Woman is quick to recognise a strong nat- 
 ure, and she cannot come in contact with one without feeling 
 its influence. There was something about Jack's independ- 
 ence and self-reliance, his prompt and masterful way of get- 
 ting what he wanted, of doing what he wished, which fasci- 
 nated her. And yet with all ms masterfulness and dominance 
 there was combined a gentleness and tenderness towards all 
 things weaker than himself which impressed her more tham
 
 120 LOVE, THE TYRANT* 
 
 all else in his character. He was like a woman in his otre 
 and affection for Nettie and Bob; and even to herself he had 
 at times been gentle and almost tender. 
 
 Since he had come to the farm she had been conscious of a 
 sense of security, of encouragement, which seemed strange and 
 inexplicable, seeing that she was the mistress of Vancourt 
 Towers and the man was only her servant. She felt that 
 sense of security very strongly this morning as she knew that 
 he was back and was near her, almost within call. 
 
 As the thought occurred to her, she was conscious of a de- 
 sire to see him, to call to him, and it startled her, and after a 
 moment annoyed her. 
 
 Why should she be thinking so frequently of this young 
 man, this stranger who had come from no one knew where, 
 who had to be off again no one knew whither as soon as Mar- 
 tin could get about again? 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders with a little gesture of impa- 
 tience. 
 
 " All this wealth and luxury is making me slothful and 
 fanciful," she said, with self-rebuke. " I must find some- 
 thing to do, something to occupy what I call my mind." 
 
 Her aunt's speech about the Vancourt poor occurred to 
 her. There were several vacant hours before they need to 
 start for the Fanworths; she would fill in the tune by visiting 
 some of the poor cottagers; she had to make a start with the 
 thing, and the sooner she did so the better. She got her 
 broad-brimmed hat from the hall, and with a strange feeling 
 of happiness singing about her heart, went out forthwith. 
 Now, the nearest way to the village was through the home 
 farm; but just because of her vague desire to see Mr. Gordon, 
 she made a detour round the park and came on the village by 
 the west lodge. There were very few people about, but those 
 who were, greeted her as if she were a kind of queen; as, in- 
 deed, she was to those simple folks with whom the Towers 
 was quite as grand and important a place as Windsor Castle 
 or Buckingham Palace. 
 
 The men touched their hats, the women curtseyed, and 
 some gave " Good-morning, miss," with that mixture of feu- 
 dal respect and affection which still flourishes in rural Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Esther stopped and spoke to some of the children, and 
 asked questions of a woman respecting a sick child which she 
 held closely wrapped in a blanket. The woman was nervous 
 and overwhelmed by Miss Vancourt's kindness, and Esther 
 was a little sky at first; but her shyness wore off after awhile.
 
 KJVB, THE TYRAST. 121 
 
 She promised to send down some dainties for the child from 
 the Towers, then went on her way. She had often noticed 
 the dilapidated cottages at the end of the lane or street, and 
 as she came to them now she thought it would be as well to 
 visit one of them. 
 
 The Transoms' door happened to be open, and she went up 
 to it and knocked gently; then, seeing a girl bending over the 
 fire, she stepped in with a pleasant " Good-morning!" 
 
 Kate started, and turned and regarded her visitor with a 
 half-frightened look. The sunlight was streaming unon 
 Esther, and in her beauty and grace she looked like a vision 
 to the labourer's daughter, who gazed at her in silence. On 
 her part, Esther was somewhat startled by Kate's rustic 
 beauty. She noticed the girl's hair, bound in a glorious coil 
 of bronze at the back of her head; and presently she saw that 
 after the momentary flush, the girl's face was pale and wan, 
 as if she were ill or in trouble. They stood and looked at 
 each other for a minute, neither of them guessing how im- 
 portant a part each was to play in the other's life; then 
 Esther said: 
 
 " Will you be so kind as to give me a glass of water? It is 
 so very hot, and I am thirsty." 
 
 Kate murmured something inaudibly, drew a chair up for 
 her visitor, and taking up a glass, went out for the water. 
 When she had filled the glass, she stood looking straight be- 
 fore her, her brows knit, her lips closely set. Since the day 
 she had watched Jack Gordon walking beside Esther, Kate 
 had taken an instinctive dislike to her, though why she could 
 not have told. Any one of the other women in the village 
 would have felt honoured and flattered by a visit from the 
 young mistress of the Towers; but to Kate, Esther's presence 
 was unwelcome. Her very beauty and grace roused some- 
 thing antagonistic in Kate's bosom, and even the gentle voice 
 jarred upon her. As she remembered how Mr. Gordon and 
 Miss Vancourt had laughed and talked and looked at each 
 other as th^ey passed her hiding-place in the wood, Kate's 
 handsome face darkened and a strange feeling of resentment 
 rose within her. Why had she come? What did she want? 
 Why could not the mistress of \ aucourt Towers leave such 
 humble people as themselves alone? She had Mr. Gordon tc 
 walk with and talk with. What else did she want? 
 
 She went in with the water at last, and set it down on the 
 table beside Esther, and Esther drank some. 
 
 " Thank you very much!" she said. " How deliciously 
 colditisl I am ashamed to trouble you. I daresay you know
 
 122 LOVE, THE TTEANT. 
 
 who I am, but I am sorry to say that I don't know who ywi 
 are. You must remember that I have only just come to the 
 Towers, and that I have not had time to make acquaintance 
 friends with all my the people." 
 
 She said this very pleasantly and apologetically, but Kate 
 was not softened. Esther's morning frock, plain though it 
 was, her gauntlet gloves, old though they were, affronted her. 
 Everything about her, simple and neat though it was, seemed 
 to mark the difference between the mistress of Vancourt 
 Towers and herself. 
 
 " My name is Transom, miss; Kate Transom/' she said. 
 
 "Kate!" said Esther. "What a pretty name! I wish 
 my godmothers and godfathers, or whoever had the naming 
 of me, had called me Kate. My name is so ugly Esther; .'.': 
 is so hard and unsympathetic. But I suppose we never likj 
 our own names. What a pretty cottage you have!" 
 
 Kate had gone back to the fire-place and was doing some- 
 thing with the large kettle hanging on the crook. 
 
 " It is very old," she said, " and the rain comes through 
 the thatch, and when there's a storm the water floods the 
 floor." 
 
 Her tone was almost sullen, though, at ordinary tunes, 
 Kate was seldom sullen. 
 
 " Oh, dear!" said Esther, " that must be put right at once. 
 I will speak to Mr. Gordon about it." 
 
 Kate shot a quick look at her. 
 
 ** Mr. Fulford, the t steward, generally sees to such things,'* 
 Bhe said. " But it's not often that he troubles." 
 
 Esther coloured faintly and bit her lip. How was it that 
 she had thought of Mr. Gordon before Mr. Fulford, the 
 proper person? 
 
 ""Of course!" she said. " I will speak to Mr. Fulford, 
 and it shall be done at once. If I had known, it should have 
 been done before; but I know so little about the estate. You 
 live here with your father and mother?" 
 
 "With my father, miss," said Kate. " My mother's 
 dead." 
 
 " I am sorry," said Esther, gently. " Does your father 
 work on the estate?" 
 
 Kate coloured and turned to the kettle again. 
 
 " No, miss that is, sometimes. He has only just come 
 from abroad." 
 
 " And you live here all alone with him?" said Esthei. 
 '' And he k out all day? You most feel very dull sometimes.
 
 LOTE, THE TYBAJTT. 123 
 
 What pretty flowers yon have in your garden! Are yon fond 
 of them?" 
 
 " Fond of them? Yes, miss; I suppose so." 
 
 " Will yon come up to the Towers some day and see the 
 flowers there? Will you come to-morrow? No, not to-mor- 
 row; on Saturday on Saturday afternoon. I shall be at 
 home and will show them to you." 
 
 " Thank you, miss," replied Kate, coldly. 
 
 There was silence for a moment or two a silence which 
 Esther found awkward and embarrassing. She wondered why 
 this handsome girl with the bronze-gold hair and the dark 
 brown eyes should be so cold and ungenial; and with a sort 
 of resolve that she would woo her to a pleasanter mood, be- 
 fore she, Esther, went, she sat on, trying to think of some- 
 thing pleasant to say something that would melt this cold 
 and reluctant rustic beauty. If this was the kind of recep- 
 tion she was to get from all her " people," she would not be 
 encouraged to continue her visiting. 
 
 " I suppose you have very hard winters here?" she said. 
 
 " Winters?" interrogated Kate. " Oh, yes! they are hard 
 enough, miss. Last winter we had the snow " 
 
 She stopped as if she were listening, and Esther heard a 
 firm step coming up the garden path. Kate was looking to- 
 wards the door, her pale face colouring, her thick eyebrows 
 moving nervously. Esther looked at her and waited to see 
 what had embarrassed her. 
 
 A knock sounded at the door, and turning her head, Esther 
 saw Jack Gordon in the door-way. 
 
 He seemed surprised at seeing her, but was quite self-pos- 
 sessed, and raised his hat to both girls. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Vancourt," he said, still standing in 
 the door-way. " How are you, Miss Transom? None the 
 worse for your accident last night, I hope?" 
 
 His voice struck a manly note between the two feminine 
 ones. He stood erect as a dart, his handsome face perfectly 
 grave and serene. Kate's had flushed a rosy red, then gone 
 pale; her hand fell on the back of a chair, which she gripped 
 tightly. 
 
 " I am quite well, thank you, sir," she said. 
 
 " That's all right," said Jack, with his peculiar drawl. 
 " Good-morning. Good-morning, Miss Vancourt;" and off 
 he went. 
 
 Esther had Oeen startled by his appearance, and a faint 
 colour had risen to her face. It was there still as she turned 
 a look of inquiry upon Kate.
 
 124 W>VE, THE TYBAOT. 
 
 " Did yon have an accident yesterday?" sh asked. 
 
 Kate turned her back and lifted the kettle from its crook. 
 
 " Yes," she said, reluctantly. " It was nothing much. I 
 was gathering sticks in the spinney. I was on the cutting 
 they'd made for the quarry, and the earth gave way and I 
 fell." 
 
 " I am so sorry! Did you hurt yourself? How did Mr. 
 Gordon know?" said Esther. 
 
 " He was down there below me," replied Kate, still reluct- 
 antly . " I wasn't hurt much; but my head struck against 
 something, and I fainted." 
 
 " Yes?" said Esther, with keen interest 
 
 Kate made an impatient gesture. 
 
 " And Mr. Gordon picked me up, and and carried rae to 
 his cottage, and brought me to." 
 
 Esther, open-eyed and eager, looked at her. 
 
 " How fortunate for you that he was there! It is just what 
 he would do. You say that he carried you? You must be 
 very heavy." 
 
 " Yes, he carried me," said Kate, almost sullenly. " He 
 is very strong. I soon came to. I am all right again. It 
 was nothing." 
 
 Esther rose. 
 
 " I am so glad," she said. " If Mr. Gordon if no one 
 had been there you might have lain there for ever so long- 
 Are you sure you are quite well? You are looking very pale. 
 May I send you some wine?" 
 
 The colour flooded Kate's face. 
 
 " No, thank you, miss," she said. " I don't want any 
 wine. I don't want anything." 
 
 Esther was frozen by the girl's emphatic refusal. 
 
 "Very well," she said. "Good-bye. But you will not 
 forget to come up on Saturday to see the flowers." 
 
 She held out her hand and tried to smile pleasantly; but 
 the girl's manner had made the smile difficult. Kate took 
 the small hand from which Esther had withdrawn its glove, 
 and Esther felt the girl's hand burning hot. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WITH another good-bye she left the cottage. For some 
 reason or other the happiness of the early morning had fled. 
 She felt no inclination to sing now; she pictured Mr. Gordon 
 carrying Kate Transom in his arms to the cottage, and it was 
 net a pleasing picture to her mental vision. How strong he
 
 LOVE, THE TYBANT. 125 
 
 inust be, for the girl was tall and finely proportioned. She 
 was handsome, too, if not actually beautiful, and, of course, 
 any man would admire her. The girl had flushed when Mr. 
 Gordon had entered: of course she would admire him and be 
 filled with gratitude for his goodness to her. Esther's brows 
 drew straight and a cloud came over her face. If any ona 
 had told her that she was jealous, she would have been ready 
 to slay them in her pride and wrath; and yet why had all 
 her happiness ed, why did the picture of Mr. Gordon carry- 
 ing the girl haunt her so persistently and unpleasantly? 
 
 While she was asking herself the question, Jack came round 
 the corner. He was coming along with his firm, quick stride, 
 his whip in his hand. He looked exasperatingly handsome 
 and graceful in his new riding suit; and again Esther thought: 
 how could the girl help admiring him? She was about to 
 pass him with a cold bow, but Jack pulled up, and raising his 
 hat said, in his cool, self-possessed way: 
 
 " When will it be convenient for you to go into accounts 
 with me, Miss Van court; I mean about the money I have 
 spent in London? I have all the receipts, and it won't take 
 five minutes." 
 
 " Not to-day," said Esther, trying to speak as coldJy as 
 she had bowed. " I am going to lunch at Lord Fan wo * > _'d 
 and I am late already." 
 
 " Yes?" he said, cheerfully, as if he had not observed her 
 coldness. " It's an hour's drive." 
 
 " How do you know that?" asked Esther, with some sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Oh, every one knows where the Hall is," he said, with a 
 slight shrug of his shoulders. 
 
 " But you are a stranger here!" argued Esther. 
 
 " Yes; but I don't walk about with my eyes and ears 
 shut," he remarked in the laconic fashion which so often 
 astonished and nettled her. 
 
 He was walking beside her as if he had the right to do so. 
 Presently they passed the public-house. Two men were lean- 
 ing against the door Transom and Dick Reeve. Transom 
 touched his cap, then looked down on the ground; Dick 
 Reeve touched his, but in a sullen fashion, and stared at them 
 with a sort of impudent defiance. 
 
 " Who are those men?" asked Esther. 
 
 " The elder is Kate Transom's father; the younger is a fel- 
 low called Dick Reeve. A bad lot, I'm afraid; and I suspect 
 the worst poacher in the district; he has gipsy .blood in him, 
 and he is I am told, a desperate rascal. Like all gipsies, ho
 
 126 LOVE, THE TY35AOT. 
 
 is as cunning as a weasel, and always manages to escape 
 Baynes, the keeper; bat we shall get hold of the fellow some 
 day, I've no doubt." 
 
 Esther was not in the least interested in the picturesque 
 ruffian; but she was interested iu everybody connected with 
 Kate Transom. 
 
 " You know the girl whose cottage I have just left, Mr. 
 Gordon?" she asked, with an assumption of indifference, but 
 glancing at him with covert scrutiny. 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, casually, " I've made the acquaint- 
 ance of most of the people, hunting up farm bauds, and so 
 on." 
 
 " Don't you think she is a very beautiful girl?" asked 
 Esther, with that suave serenity with which a woman masks 
 her intense interest. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose she is," assented Jack. " Got nice hair 
 and eyes, hasn't she? Haven't noticed her myself particu- 
 larly." 
 
 I thought you sajd you didn't walk about with yonr eyes 
 shut, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 Jack laughed at this neat retort. 
 
 " Oh, they're open enough for anything which interests me 
 or concerns my business," he said. " She isn't any business 
 of mine." 
 
 " And yet she tells me that you were very kind to her last 
 night," said Esther, with the same deceptive suavity. 
 
 " Oh, did she? It was nothing to speak of. The poor girl 
 fell over the bank and knocked her head. I couldn't very 
 well leave her in a fainting fit, and so I picked her up and 
 brought her to. Of course she hadn't any right to be there 
 at all, but I understand the people on the estate have always 
 been allowed to gather wood in the woods and spinneys." 
 
 " Oh, yes yes!" said Esther. " I wouldn't stop it for the 
 world; so don't, please, talk of my duty, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 She had drawn a breath of relief and the cloud had van- 
 ished from her face; it was bright and smiling as she turned 
 it to him now, and the sudden sunshine on it struck Jack, so 
 that, unconsciously, his eyes dwelt upon her with an admira- 
 tion which she could not fail to feel; for Master Jack's eyes 
 were exceedingly expressive ones, and you could tell in an in- 
 stant, unless he chose to put on his impassive look, whe^'^r 
 he was angry or pleased, admiring or contemptuous. Esther 
 felt the blood rise to her face under his contemplative gaze, 
 and she turned her face away.
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 127 
 
 "You haven't told me anything about your visit to town," 
 she said, presently, "though I understood you'd had a good 
 time." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Jack; and he laughed grimly as he thought 
 of his encounter with the bushranger and his capture of 
 the pocket-book, with its valuable contents, which was locked 
 up in his bag in the cottage. "I was pretty busy all the 
 time, getting the best machinery I could for my money 
 beg pardon, I mean your money ! It will be down to-mor- 
 row or next day, and I hope you'll come and look at it. We 
 shall begin cutting the grass as soon as possible; season's 
 early this year. We shall want all the hands we can get. 
 I suppose you wouldn't condescend to help, Miss Vancourt?" 
 
 Esther's eyes sparkled. 
 
 "Of course I will ! Why, it will be delightful ! We must 
 have a hay-party, and a harvest-supper that's the proper 
 thing to do, isn't it, Mr. Gordon?" 
 
 Jack laughed at her innocence and ignorance as he looked 
 into the grey eyes, glowing like a child's with anticipation. 
 
 "Oh, that comes later, when we get in the corn," he said, 
 "Yes; we'll have a supper, a regular beano." 
 
 Esther could not help noticing his masterful tone; but 
 somehow, she did not resent it. She had an uneasy feel- 
 ing that if he had said there should be no supper, indeed, 
 no harvest, there would have been neither. 
 
 Though she had intended to return by the way she had 
 come, she had mechanically walked beside him toward the 
 home farm. Every now and then Jack stopped to pick some 
 of the wild hyacinths which grew in profusion around them, 
 and by the time they had reached the cottage he had a large 
 bunch of them in his hand. Now, Esther had been watching 
 this flower-gathering with a concealed curiosity and interest. 
 What was he going to do with them ; was he going to offer 
 them to her? If so, ought she to accept them or to feel of- 
 fended at his presumption? 
 
 When they reached the cottage, Jack stepped in and placed 
 the hyacinths in a jug of water; then he was coming out 
 again, but paused. 
 
 "I've got all the receipts here, Miss Vancourt," he said, 
 "and the balance of the money ; won't you take them ?" 
 
 "Couldn't you bring them to the house ?" she asked, coldly ; 
 he had evidently no intention of offering her the flowers; 
 had, as evidently, no idea of common politeness. 
 
 "Well, I'm very busy," said Jack. "I've been away, 
 know, and every minute's of value to me."
 
 12S IOVE, THE TYRAirr. 
 
 " Oh, if you insist upon it!" said Esther, a little haughtily; 
 and she stepped inside. 
 
 Jack drew a chair forward, unlocked his bag and placed 
 the receipts and the money upon the table in the most self- 
 possessed and business-like way. 
 
 " You'll find an account of my personal expenses, Miss 
 Vancoart," he said. " I hope you won't think them heavy." 
 
 Esther gathered up the papers and the money, and put 
 them, in the mysterious pocket somewhere behind her. 
 
 " Aren't you going to look over them?" he asked. 
 
 " Perhaps I may when I get home," she said, carelessly, 
 " and perhaps I mayn't. I hate accounts; and I am quite 
 sure I can trust you, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 Her eyes wandered round the room, as Jack turned to lock 
 his bag. She felt a strange interest in everything in it. In 
 the gun standing in the corner, in the pipe and tobacco-pouci) 
 the latter made of some skin which she did not know; but 
 more especially in the axe which hung on the wall, the axe 
 with which she had struck him the blow which he had con- 
 cealed so skilfully from her knowledge; and the thought 
 flashed through her how lonely and solitary a life he spent 
 there, and how the presence of a woman would cheer and 
 brighten it. Perhaps some day he would fall in love perhaps 
 with that girl with the bronze-gold hair? 
 
 Jack turned from his bag to look at her. 
 
 " How do you know you can trust me?" he said in his 
 brusque way. " You know nothing about me, and I may be 
 a perfect villain for all you can tell. Don't trust any man 
 until you know him." 
 
 Now, as he spoke, Esther thought of the two hundred and 
 fifty pounds which she had just sent Mr. Selby Layton: but 
 of course she knew him! 
 
 " That sound like a copy-book heading, Mr. Gordon," she 
 said. " But I've no doubt you're right, and I'll go over the 
 papers to see that you haven't cheated me. How beautiful 
 those hyacinths are/'she broke off, with a woman's irrelev- 
 ance, and looking at the flowers almost wistfully. 
 
 " Oh, hyacinths,' are they?" said Jack. " I couldn't 
 think of the name of them. They're for Nettie; she's very 
 fond of them and likes me to take her some every evening 
 when I go to supper." He stretched out his hand, towards 
 the jug as if he were going to take out some of the flowers 
 but his hand stopped half-way and he did not do so. 
 
 The colour mounted to Esther's face and she bit her lip 
 quickly, and rising suddenly so suddenly that she startled
 
 THE TTEAUT. 129 
 
 Bob, tvho nad been sitting beside her with his head npoo. her 
 
 lap -she said, haughtily: 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Gordon!" and swept ont of the cot- 
 tage with her lady-of-the-manor air full on. Jack looked after 
 her with a puzzled expression and tugging at his moustache. 
 
 " Now, what the Moses offended her, I wonder?" he said 
 to himself. " Something I said, I suppose; but for the life 
 of me, I can't tell; can you, Bob?" 
 
 Before she had reached the Towers, Esther began to feel 
 ashamed of herself. What right had she to expect him to 
 give her the flowers; and how much less right had she to treat 
 with such scornful hauteur the man who served her so de- 
 votedly and worked so hard in her interest? She told herself 
 that she had behaved like a shop-girl. It was a, strange 
 thing that every time she met Mr. Gordon she " forgot her- 
 self," forgot that she was Miss Vancourt of I he Towers and 
 that he was merely the foreman of her home farm. She re- 
 solved that she would not see him again for some time that 
 she would put so insignificant a person out of her mind. 
 
 Miss Worcester was ready and waiting, and received her 
 with the look of a deeplv injured person. 
 
 " The carriage has been waiting some time, my dear 
 Esther," she said; " and I am afraid we shall be late. Where 
 have you been?" 
 
 " Been doing my duty, aunt," said Esther. " Been play- 
 ing the Lady Bountiful amongst ' my people.' ' 
 
 She said nothing of her meeting with Mr. Gordon, and she 
 hated herself for not being able to speak of it. Marie and she 
 scrambled on her things, and the two ladies drove to the 
 Hall. Though it was understood that no large party could be 
 asked to meet Miss Vancourt, who was in mourning, the Fan- 
 worths had invited, informally, one or two neighbours to 
 lunch. Of course, they were all very pleasant to Esther. 
 The Towers was the principal place in the county, and she 
 was an heiress possessed of immense wealth; and she was also 
 one of the most beautiful girls in the county. Lord Fan- 
 worth had taken a great liking to ker and made a great deal 
 of her, and, of all the county people she had seen, Esther 
 liked him best. He was a tali and aristocratic-looking old 
 man with iron-grey hair and a close-shaven face which almost 
 always wore a pleasant and genial smile. 
 
 Lady Fanworth was rather a stately dame who was folly 
 conscious of her position, and had been prepared to patronise 
 the young music-teacher who had stepped into Vancourt 
 Tower* and a huge fortune; bat Esther was not easy te
 
 130 I0VE, THE TYKAOT. 
 
 patronise, and held her own to a degree which surprised and 
 inwardly discomfited her starchy ladyship. The other visitors 
 were Sir Robert Bruce and his sister, and a Major Long, who 
 had distinguished himself in our last little war. They all paid 
 court to the beautiful Miss Vancourt, and Esther had a very 
 pleasant time of it, and her mind was so occupied with the 
 attentions of her cavaliers that she felt that siie was succeed- 
 jig in forgetting Mr. Gordon. But alas! as she was walking 
 across the lawn with Lord Fan worth, Jack was again brought 
 to her inind. 
 
 " 1 rode over to the Towers the other day, Miss Vancourt," 
 he said, " but, to my inexpressible disappointment, you were 
 not at home." 
 
 " Yes, 1 know. I am very sorry," said Esther. " If I 
 had known, I would have remained at home." 
 
 " That is very sweet of you," he said. " I tried to con- 
 sole m self by riding round your farm you know how keen 
 I am about farming? How very much improved your farm 
 is! I was quite surprised and puzzled " he laughed " for 
 I've known Martin and his way of doing things for many 
 years, until I was told you had got a new foreman during 
 Martin's illness. He must be a splendid fellow, and we must 
 not let him go out of the district. I was told that he was 
 going when Martin got about again. If thac is so, and yoa 
 want to get rid of him and have nothing against him, 1 bhould 
 like to take him on here. He is just the kind of man I want, 
 a man of ideas, and one who evidently knows his business, 
 By the way, they told me his name, but I have forgotten it.*' 
 
 " His name is Gordon," said Esther, rather coldly. " Ye&, 
 I suppose he will leave when Martin is able to look after the 
 farm. I will tell him that you would like to have him, if 
 you like." 
 
 " Thank vou very much," said Lord Fanworth. " But if 
 I may be permitted to advise you, I should say that you had 
 better keep him yourself; he must be simply invaluable. " 
 
 " T believe that he understands his work," saiti Esther, still 
 more coldly so coldly that Lord Fanworth glanced at her 
 curiously, and thought that there was something against the 
 new foreman which she did not like to tell him, and changed 
 the subject. 
 
 Sir Robert Bruce and the major had joined them and took 
 her away from Lord Fanworth; but though they made them- 
 selves extremely pleasant, and paid her the attentions which 
 were due to so beautiful and wealthy a girl, Esther could not 
 lorget Jack Gordon, who Lord I an worth's innocent words
 
 LOVE, THE TYKAOT. 131 
 
 had recalled to her mind; and as she drove home, her aunt's 
 comments on the lunch and the people they had met fell upon 
 unlistening ears. 
 
 " One of the oldest baronetcies in the kingdom the 
 Bruces' my dear Esther. They are descended from the 
 Scotch Bruces. I thought their place, when we called there 
 the other day, was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen." 
 Esther might ha^e said that neither she nor her aunt had 
 seen many, but she refrained. " Sir Robert asked me ever 
 BO many questions about you and your life at the Towers. I 
 think he was interested in you intensely so, if I may say so. 
 He is a very charming man, and is still really quite young. 
 He has not a grey hair, and has that kind of figure which 
 lasts. Major Long, too, seemed particularly struck how 
 well that tailor-made costume becomes you, Esther! They 
 tell me he has a large estate in Yorkshire; and' he is quite 
 famous. He asked me if we should be at home one day next 
 week, and I named Thursday. I suppose I was right; we 
 have no engagement for Thursday?" 
 
 " No, I think not, aunt," said Esther, absently. " Yes, 
 they were all very kind; but I think I like Lord Fan worth 
 best. He calls me * My dear ' now and then, and it ' kind o* 
 cheers me," as the Americans say." 
 
 She seemed very listless and thoughtful for the rest of the 
 drive, and listened with deaf ears, as the Spanish say, to her 
 aunt's eulogiums of the people they had just left. So Mr. 
 Gordon meant to leave them? How long would it be before 
 Martin got about again? 
 
 For tne next two or three days Esther did not leave the 
 boundary of the park, and carefully avoided the home farm. 
 The machinery came down, and Jack Gordon superintended 
 its careful unpacking. He was rather disappointed that Miss 
 Vancourt did not show up to inspect her new purchases; but 
 he had not much time to indulge in disappointment, and he 
 was quite engrossed in the putting together of the machinery 
 which he had bought, and with which he intended to revolu- 
 tionise the coming hay harvest. He was always at work, 
 tramping across the fields with Bob at his heels, overlook! i;g 
 the men and arranging for the cutting of the grass, whicE 
 now swayed knee-deep in the summer breeze. He was so in- 
 terested that at times he forgot that the wide-stretching fields 
 actually belonged to him, and that he was Sir John Vancou-rt, 
 the owner of the Towers and the land over which he rode, 
 that Esther was a usurper. 
 
 But he had not forgotten that Esther had desired to have
 
 132 I0VE, THE TYBA1TT. 
 
 what he caued M beano, and the day before tee catting tie 
 sent word up to the Towers by Georgie that flhey were going 
 to do so. 
 
 Esther simply said, " Very well," and sent the delighted 
 Georgie round to the servants' hall that he might be regaled 
 with the pie and ale which his simple soul loved. 
 
 She had almost resolved that she would not go down to the 
 home farm and would take no part in the hay harvest; but 
 all the same, she told Marie to look out a white cotton dress 
 and a sun-bonnet for her. She was viewing these with a 
 strange mixture of feeling when Miss Worcester burst in upon 
 her, though " burst in "is scarcely a phrase applicable to 
 Miss Worcester's dignified movements, for that lady always 
 moved with stately precision. 
 
 " Here is a telegram from Mr. Selby Layton, my dear," 
 she said. " He is coming by this evening's tram. There is 
 just time to meet him." 
 
 Esther nodded indifferently. She had almost forgotten Mr. 
 Selby Layton; she was engrossed by the thought that for 
 some days how many? she had not seen Mr. Gordon. 
 
 Selby Layton arrived just in time to dress for dinner; and 
 Esther found him, clad in his immaculate evening attire, in 
 the drawing-room. His manner was, as usual, soft and 
 charming, and he apologised for his visit in well-rehearsed 
 terms. 
 
 " I have so much to tell you, my dear Miss Vancourt, that 
 I could not write; that I felt that I ought to come down. I 
 trust yon will pardon my presumption?" 
 
 Esther said that she was glad to see him; and, to a certain 
 extent, she was; for the last few days in which she had not 
 seen Jack Gordon had hung heavily upon her hands. Mr. 
 Selby Layton made himself very pleasant at dinner; he was 
 full of London gossip, which he retailed with the most perfect 
 art; and every now and then Esther found herself listening 
 to him with something like interest. After dinner, he joined 
 them in the drawing-room and sang two or three songs in his 
 sweet, not to say perfect, voice. He had made himself very 
 pleasant, bat he had said nothing of the business which had 
 brought him down. No doubt he was reserving this for the 
 next day. Esther did not mind in the least. He amused her 
 and kept her from thinking of other things. 
 
 When the ladies had retired for the night, Mr. Selby Lay- 
 ton lit a cigarette and went out on the terrace. It was a 
 bright, moonlight night, aud half absently he went down the 
 steps, crossed the park and entered the wood. A nightingale
 
 LOVE, THE TTRAJTT. 133 
 
 was, *higi.g bewitchingly; and Selby Layton made hid way 
 amongst the trees in a contemplative mood. Ho was think- 
 ing of the girl who owned all this, and was so absorbed that 
 he went farther than he had intended. Suddenly a sound, 
 the sound of footsteps near him, caused him to stop short. 
 As he did so, a girl stepped cautiously from amongst the trees 
 and stopped, startled and affrighted, in front of him. It was 
 Kate Transom. The moonlight shone full upon her face 5 
 and its rustic beauty smote Selby La; ton, who was suscepti- 
 ble, very susceptible, to feminine charms. 
 
 They stood and looked at each other in silence for a mo- 
 ment, then Selby Layton said: 
 
 " Who are you, and what are you doing here?" 
 
 Kate's face had flushed crimson, but it was now pale. She 
 stood before him, embarrassed and nervous, and said noth- 
 ing. Selby Layton looked at her with admiration glowing in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " It's late for a young girl like you to be ot in the woods,'* 
 he said. " What does it mean? What is your mame?" 
 
 " Kate Kate Transom, sir," she said. " My father** 
 She stopped. 
 
 " Your father's here, eh?" said Selby Layton. * : Tres- 
 passing poaching, I suppose?" 
 
 As he spoke, there was a rustle in the brake behind himj 
 but he neither heard it nor saw the figure of Dick Reeve 
 which stole up close beside them with his gun hi his hand. 
 
 Kate clasped her hands. 
 
 *' Don't tell on them, sir!" she said. " I'm afraid my 
 father's here but I'm not sure." 
 
 Selby Layton took a step towards her and got hold cf her 
 hand. 
 
 ' 'Don't be frightened," he said, " I am not going to tell. 
 What a pretty girl you are! You ought not to be here, at 
 alone at this time of night. Come, give me a kiss and I'll 
 see you home!" 
 
 He drew her towaru him, and Dick Reeve raised his gua 
 to his shoulder; but he lowered it, as Kate, with a !e>w cry, 
 hrcke from Selby Layton and was lost in the wood. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 WHEN" Kate broke away from Selby Layton she set of? run- 
 '-ing; but presently, when she found that he had not pursued 
 her, she slackened her pace and went on snore slowly. Her 
 teart was beating fast, but with, indignation rather tiiaa fear.
 
 134 KJ7E, THE TYBAUT. 
 
 and the hot blood came atid went in her pale face, and her 
 eyes flashed. 
 
 No one had ever dared to speak to her as this gentleman 
 had done, and all the girl's maiden pride was outraged and in 
 arms. 
 
 She had nearly gained the edge of the wood when she heard 
 footsteps. Her hand flew to her heart, and she stepped be- 
 hind a tree to conceal herself; but concealment was difficult 
 from the man who was now approaching tier; for it was Jack 
 Gordon, and he had seen her and tracked her easily. 
 
 He had his gun over his arm, and Bob was following at his 
 heels. The head keeper had been discharged, and during the 
 interregnum, between his going and the new man's coming, 
 Jack sometimes took a stroll through the woods, doing ama- 
 teur keeper's work. He raised his hat and said " Good- 
 evening, Miss Transom," even before he came up to the 
 tree. 
 
 Kate stepped out and faltered a response, and Jack saw 
 that she was trembling and that the hand against her bosom 
 was clenched tightly as she stood with downcast eyes before 
 him. 
 
 " Is anything the matter?" he asked in a kindly way. 
 
 " N-o," she faltered. " I came into the woods because 
 I was afraid my father Have you seen him?" 
 
 Jack understood. 
 
 " It's all right," he said. " I saw him going down the 
 street just nw." 
 
 He did not say " going into the inn." 
 
 She drew a breath of relief and pushed the thick hair from 
 her forehead with a weary little gesture. 
 
 " I am glad," she said in a low voice. " I am always afraid 
 he will break his promise, that he will forget } our kindness 
 and get into trouble." 
 
 " I think he'll keep his promise," said Jack. " There has 
 not been so much poaching lately, I think; they know I'm 
 keeping a sharp lookout. You didn't sse any one in the 
 wo-yds?" 
 
 Her face flushed, and she turned her head aside as she 
 shuok it. With a- murmured " Good-night, Mr. Gordon," 
 she was leaving him, when an owl flew screeching from a tree, 
 and, with a cry, she started back. Jack saw that she was 
 nervous and overstrained, and he said: 
 
 " I'm guing back, and will pro wiih you if you'll allow 
 me." 
 
 She shot a grateful glance at him from her superb eyes,
 
 T33 TYRASTT, 135 
 
 they walked together through the remainder of the wood, 
 tm?-. by one of the gates on to the high road. Jack said very 
 
 cie just farmer-talk about the crops and the coming 
 harvest and she only replied in monosyllables; but she was 
 drinking in every word he said, and his deep voice was like 
 music in her ears. As they passed through the gate, a man 
 and woman came along the path; they were Marie Esther's 
 maid and Giles, who were " keeping company " and had 
 been out for a lover's stroll. 
 
 Gilos touched his cap and gave Jack " Good-evening, sir/* 
 and Jack said, " Good-evening, Giles. Fine night!" in his 
 frank and genial way; but Kate coloured deeply and shrank 
 back; and with a hurried " Thank you, sir. I can go alone 
 now. Good-night!" walked away from him quickly. 
 
 '* Who was that with Mr. Gordon?" asked Marie, as she 
 and Giles passed them. " Wasn't it Elate Transom?" 
 
 " Yes," said Giles. " Old Transom's daughter." 
 
 " Oh," said Marie, " I didn't know they were keeping 
 eompanv." 
 
 " Are they?" said Giles. 
 
 M'irie laughed. 
 
 " Why, aren't they out walking together, and they've just 
 come from the woods, too! If they ain't keeping company 
 they ought to be. Some persons think she's rather good- 
 looking," she added, with an air of critical fairness; " but I 
 don't admire red hair myself." 
 
 " No more do I," said Giles: Marie's hair was dark. 
 
 Kate almost ran the rest of the way, entered the cottage, 
 and sank into a chair. The colour was still going and com- 
 ing in her face, and there was a dreamy look in her large 
 eyes. Mr. Gordon had evidently not minded in the least 
 being seen alone with her at that time of night, had thought 
 nothing of it; but Kate knew what would be thought and 
 eaid by those who had seen them, and her heart beat with 
 mingled apprehension and pleasure. Ever since the day she 
 ^ 1 first seen Mr. Gordon, a change had been coming over 
 eren tenor of her life. Like Esther, the mistress of the 
 i'owers, Kate Transom, the labourer's daughter, could think 
 of little else but him, and Fate had so willed it that almost 
 every time she met him, accident had forced him to play the 
 part of protector and friend. He had spared her father, yield- 
 ing to her entreaties; he had rescued her when she had fallen 
 from the bank hi the spinney; to-night he had walked ^th 
 her because she was alone and nervous, and always he had 
 fcer with a gentleness and courtesy as novel as they
 
 1?6 ifcYB, THE TYHANT. 
 
 were fascinating. She was only a labourer's daughter, bst 
 from the very first she had noticed the difference between him 
 and the other mea om the estate, and, while she appreciated 
 it, it troubled her and made her unhappy. He was only the 
 foreman of the farm, and yet he was so high above her; ho 
 looked and spoke like one of the gentry, and even the proud 
 Miss Vancourt was not too proud to walk and talk with him. 
 
 Wii;h her head resting on her hand she dwelt upon every 
 look of his, every word he had spoken to her: and they all 
 amounted to so little! Just commonplace words of kindness 
 and courtesy, such as a gentleman would speak to a poor and 
 humble girl like herself. He had never even looked at her 
 admiringly, as most of the young men did. Supposing he 
 had taken hold of her and spoken to her as the gentleman in 
 the wood had done that night, would she have been angry, 
 indignant, and have broken away from him? 
 
 As she asked herself the question, the passion welled up in 
 her heart, and she hid her crimson face with her arm; for she 
 knew that she would not have been able to fly, that she would 
 have sunk into his arms, would have been helpless to conceai 
 ker love, and only too glad to avow it. 
 
 The door opened and her father lurched in. He had been 
 irinking, but was not drunk, and he took a bottle of spirits 
 from his pocket and placed it on the table. A man in his 
 position only purchases whiskey for home consumption when 
 he is flush of money; and Kate, who knew that he had done 
 ao work for some time past, guessed where the money came 
 from. Thougk he himself might not be poaching, he was 
 sharing in the spoil got by others. She knew that Dick Eeeve 
 would give her father money because she was his daughter. 
 
 " Hallo, Kate, my girl, where have you been?" he asked. 
 " Give me a drop f water; I'll take it hot." 
 
 Kate got the water in silence, for she knew it was useless 
 to remonstrate. 
 
 " Won't you kave some supper, father?" she asked, pres- 
 ently, and she put some bread and cheese upon the table. 
 
 He looked at it and shook his head indifferently. 
 
 " Don't famcy bread and cheese," he said. "It's poor 
 kind of tackle for a man as has been used to a joint of meat 
 three times a day. Seems to me England's a played out 
 country, and a man's as likely to starve as not here. Austra- 
 lia's the place; there's plenty for everybody there." 
 
 " Why did you come back then, father?" she asked. 
 " Why didn't you stay there and send for me? I might have 
 been a help to you."
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 137 
 
 transom shot a half suspicious glance at her, then langhed 
 rather uneasily. 
 
 " I came back because well, because perhaps I was tired 
 of it," he said. " And you couldn't have helped me ia the 
 tha job I was doing there; but, all the same, I wish I was 
 back there." He mixed himself another glass and sat smok- 
 ing moodily. 
 
 " Why don't you get some work here, father?" Kate asked. 
 " I know that that Mr. Gordon wants some hands, and if 
 you were to speak to him he might employ you." She had, 
 turned away to the dresser as she spoke, and her face flushed 
 as she pronounced Jack's name. 
 
 Transom took the short black pipe from his mouth and 
 looked at her sideways and sharply. 
 
 " Oh, would he?" he said. " Yes, perhaps he would give 
 me a job; but a pretty hard job it would be; hoeing or ditch- 
 ing; twelve hours a day, and two shillings at the end of it. 
 No, my gal, T fancy I know a better trick than that." He 
 chuckled and shook his head with an air of tipsy cunning. 
 " Perhaps I know a thing or two as I can make money on; 
 but I'm biding my time. Biding my time, that's what I 
 am." 
 
 " What do you mean, father?" she asked: for a certain 
 significance in his tone and manner arrested her attention. 
 
 Transom laughed to himself. 
 
 " Never you mind, Kate, my gal," he said, with a hic- 
 cough. " I know what I know; but I can keep my mouth 
 shut, and I mean to keep it shut till the proper time for 
 opening it; then I'll open it wide enough for certain," 
 
 " Do you mean that you know something about Mr. Gor- 
 don?" she asked, growing pale. 
 
 Transom looked up at her sharply and suspiciously. 
 
 " Who said anything about Mr. Gordon," he said, thickly. 
 " I didn't mention no names; I've never opened my lips to a 
 living soul, and i don't moan to. 1 know better. And what's 
 more, my gal, don't you try to drive me into a corner. You 
 think yourself mighty clever, I daresay; but you won't get 
 anv thing out of me for ail your artfulness." 
 
 " Father!" cried Kate, reproachfully, " I only asked the 
 question you had been speaking of Mr. Gordon " 
 
 Transom rose unsteadily and glared at her angrily. 
 
 a lie," he said. " I never said anything about* him; 
 T --over mentioned his name; I never said I knew him, ani 
 't you try ami fiz it on me! You take my advice
 
 138 LOVE; THE TYRANT. 
 
 leave me alone: I'm not a badger to be drawn by my ewn 
 
 i t * * 
 
 gal!' 
 
 He sank into his chair, clutching at his glass, and con- 
 tinued to mutter tp himself moodily, until he fell into the 
 heavy doze of intoxication; and Kate went up to her room 
 full of strange forebodings. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE moment after Kate had left him, Selby Lay ton knew 
 that he had made a mistake. He was one of those men who 
 cam never resist a temptation to force their attentions upon 
 any pretty girl, inferior to themselves in position, whom they 
 may meet; but though he was a blackguard at heart, he was 
 too cunning not to know that he had acted unwisely. He was 
 playing a difficult game and how dangerous a one only he 
 knew and a flirtation with the daughter of one of Esther's 
 labourers would certainly not help him to win Esther herself 
 and the Vancourt property. The moonlight had shown him 
 that the girl was extremely handsome, and if his hands had 
 not been quite so full, he would have regarded her as legiti- 
 mate prey; but he felt that he had made a great mistake in 
 addre.? 'n<* her, and he trusted devoutly that she would not 
 recognise him agaim. 
 
 The more he thought of it, the more annoyed he was with 
 himself; for he felt that everything vras going swimmingly 
 with him. Esther had evidently been glad to see him;j3he 
 had extended a very friendly welcome, was grateful for what 
 she supposed he had done for her, and haa sat beside the 
 piano and listened to him with rapt attention as he sang song 
 after song with that wonderful voice of his, and he felt that 
 he was well on the way to the winning-post. 
 
 A French philosopher has said that any man can gain the 
 love of any woman if he be persistent enough and unflagging 
 in his devotion, if her heart be not already engaged; and 
 Selby Layton had no reason to suppose that Esther was not 
 fancy free. Had there been any one in the field before him, 
 he, Selby Layton, must have known it. No; the field was 
 open to him; and he knew that he had many points in his 
 favour. He was good-looking, had what women call a charm- 
 ing manner, and, more than all else, possessed a wonderful 
 voice which made it difficult for a woman to withstand him. 
 
 Often at crowded receptions he had drawn a crowd of wor- 
 shipping women from the poldier, the poet, the statesman of 
 the hoar- had drawn them to the piano as by a magnet A
 
 I0VB, THE TYRAJTE, Io9 
 
 beautiful voice is always spoken of as a gift from Heaven ; 
 but the devil has a knack of wresting it to his own uses. 
 
 As he strolled back to the house, Selby Layton looked up 
 at the vast pile of buildings towering in stately fashion above 
 the lawn, aiid his heart beat with the desire of possession, 
 and his eyes glistened as he thought how delightful it would 
 be to be master of Vancourt Towers the principal place in 
 the county and of all the advantages accruing to that im- 
 portant position; and he resolved to continue the game, dan- 
 gerous though it was, and notwithstanding that since the visit 
 of Denzil he had once or twice quailed before the risks which 
 he must incur in his enterprise. 
 
 He did not see Esther again that night, but the nexf morn- 
 ing, after breakfast, he asked her if she would give him a few 
 minutes in the library, and Esther at once complied, though 
 with no great eagerness; for she was feeling rather absent- 
 minded that morning. 
 
 For some days she had not been near the home farm nor 
 seen Mr. Gordon. As she stood by the open window of the 
 library she could just hear the rattle and click of the hay- 
 making machine and could smell the scent of the new mown 
 b.ay from the meadows in the distance. She had promised to 
 
 fo to the hay-inaking supper, and had got out the cotton 
 ress as being suitable to the occasion; but all the same, she 
 was not obliged to go unless she liked. But she felt thai she 
 did like, that it was just what she wanted to do. She wanted 
 <o see the people, her people; but more than all else she 
 knew, in her heart of hearts, that she wanted to see Mr. Gor- 
 don, to hear that resolute, masterful voice of his which had 
 so often called her pride to arms. 
 
 She almost started, so engrossed with these thoughts was 
 she, when Selby Layton's soft voice said: 
 
 " / am afraid I shall bore you terribly, Miss Vanconrt; and 
 yet L must do so if I give you a full report of my mission." 
 
 Esther turned her head and saw that he had a lot of papers 
 in his hand, and with a woman's shrinking from business de- 
 tails, she laughed and shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 * Oh, I don't want to know all the particulars," she said. 
 
 He was as bad as Mr. Gordon, who insisted on her going 
 over his bothering accounts. 
 
 This suited Mr. Selby Layton very well; but he remon- 
 strated sweetly. 
 
 <; But really you ought to know," he said. " You sent me 
 a large sum of money, and I have a proposal for the disposal 
 of a till larger sum that is, if you approve. I will wad you
 
 140 LOTS, THE 
 
 the names of the persons who are already in receipt of 
 bounty," he added; and he unfolded a formidable list. 
 
 Esther made a little impatient gesture. 
 
 " Oh, please spare me!" she said. " I don't want to know 
 all their names; I shouldn't know any of them. Until this 
 great fortune came to me, I did not know any of the family, 
 and I am almost as ignorant now. As long as the proper 
 persons get the money, I am content." 
 
 " You trust me entirely!" he said, his voice with the flute 
 stop on, his eyes upturned to hers with an intense devotion. 
 
 Entirely," she said, lightly. " I have every confidence 
 in your discretion and judgment. I think it is very kind of 
 you to take so much trouble; but I shall feel that your kind- 
 ness is very much lessened if I have to go into every particu- 
 lar. You said that it was a large sum I had sent you.'" 
 Anyway, Selby Layton had found it a very useful sum when 
 he had paid it into his own bankers. " But I did not think; 
 it a large sum; I thought you would ask for ever so much 
 more." 
 
 His heart grew warm, and a comfortable feeling spread all 
 over him. 
 
 " I was going to ask for some more," he said; " in fact, I 
 was going to ask you for a thousand pounds." 
 
 There was a falter in his voice, genuine enough; for he ex 
 pected Esther to be startled. But she had been told so often 
 by old Mr. Floss, and by Selby Layton himself, that her in- 
 come was an enormous one, that a thousand pounds seemed 
 very little to her. 
 
 " Is that all?" she said. 
 
 Selby Layton felt that he had made a mistake in not ask- 
 ing for two or three thousand. 
 
 " All at present," he said. 
 
 She went to the bureau, and taking out her cheque-book, 
 wrote a cheque. 
 
 " Of course, you will take care that they shall never know 
 from whence it comes?" she said, as she gave it to him. 
 
 " I'll be very careful," said Selby Layton, placing the 
 cheque in his pocket-book. " Your trust in me is very great, 
 Miss Vancourt, and I am very sensible of it" 
 
 Esther laughed. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I trust you?" she said; " and I am very 
 grateful for all the trouble you have taken and are going to 
 take, and still more grateful that you have not insisted upon 
 giving me the details. Old Mr. Floss dear old man! would 
 Have insisted neon going into every particular, and wouldn't
 
 &9VB, *H3 TYBAHft 141 
 
 hare been satisfied until I said that I understood every minute 
 detail. Yon don't know the trials of an ignorant young 
 woman who has suddenly come into a large fortune, and baa 
 no idea how to manage it." 
 
 Selby Layton's breath came fast as he bent over her. 
 
 " I think I can understand/' he said. " You need some 
 one to whom you could come in any and every difficulty a 
 man with a knowledge of the world a man upon whom you 
 could rely; who would share with you the responsibilities of 
 this vast estate. That man, whoever he may be, mast need 
 be a proud and happy man." 
 
 His voice quavered and his eyelids drooped; but Esther 
 failed to see the significance of the beautifully delivered 
 speech. 
 
 '' Oh, I daresay I shall get on very well," she said, inno- 
 cently so innocently and unsuspectingly that Selby Layton 
 coloured, and a nasty twist of his lip showed itself as he 
 turned away. 
 
 Miss Worcester came to the open window at that moment. 
 
 " You will not forget, Esther, dear, that we are dining at 
 the Bruces' to-night?" she said. 
 
 Esther had forgotten all about it, and her face fell. If she 
 dined at the Bruces', she certainly could not be present at the 
 hay-makers' supper. Well, it would be a very good excuse. 
 
 ** All right, aunt," she said. " But I had forgotten all 
 about it, and I must tell Marie. She likes to know, so that 
 she may worry about my dress. I always wondered why peo- 
 ple kept ladies' maids; but now I know. It is to save i hem- 
 selves the trouble of deciding what they shall put on. Marie 
 always goes through the form of asking me what I will wear; 
 but I notice that I always wear just what she chooses." 
 
 It was too hot for even a drive, and Esther fluctuated be- 
 tween her own cool and shady room and the still cooler and 
 shadier shrubbery and park. She could hear the rattle of the 
 hay-making machines all day, and they seemed to sound an 
 invitation in her ears. The people and Mr. Gordon would no 
 doubt be disappointed by her absence: no, Mr. Gordon would 
 ot be disappointed; he would not care. Perhaps it was her 
 unty to be present. She felt undecided, and the feeling of 
 indecision, combined with the heat, gave her a woman's head- 
 ache. She was silent and abstracted all through lunch and 
 the afternoon tea, and paid little attention to Selby Layton's 
 soft murmurmgs; and when she went up to dress, her head 
 was so bad that Marie was quite concerned, and was not at 
 all asuTxiaert whan Esther said:
 
 142 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " I don't think I will go, Marie. Please go and tell Miss 
 Worcester and Mr. Layton that they must go without me. I 
 shall lie down." 
 
 Of course Miss Worcester came up full of anxiety and 
 offered her eau-de-Cologne and sal volatile; but Esther would 
 have none of them. 
 
 " We will all stay at home,*' said Miss Worcester. 
 
 But Esther would not consent to this. 
 
 " Why should I deprive you and Mr. Layton of a pleasant 
 evening!" she said, speaking with her head turned away, and 
 with her eyes closed. " Please go, both of you, and don't 
 bother!" 
 
 When Esther spoke hi this tone, her aunt knew there was 
 nothing for it but to obey; and so, with more anxious mur- 
 murings, she departed. 
 
 Esther tried to sleep but she could not, though the scent of 
 the hay and the distant rattle of the machines came soothingly 
 through the window; but scarcely soothingly, for they still 
 reminded her of Mr. Gordon's invitation. After a time her 
 headache fled, after the fashion of such headaches; she rose 
 and bathed her face, and opening the wardrobe drawer looked 
 wistfully at the cotton dress and sun-bonnet which she had 
 intended to wear. Why should she not go? 
 
 She was ashamed to summon Marie and she slipped out of 
 her morning-dress and put on the cotton frock and sun-bon- 
 net quickly. When she had donned them she looked at her- 
 self in the glass, and with a blush of surprise discovered 
 *.hey were exceedingly becoming; the sun-bonnet especially, 
 for it made a deliciously effective frame for the clear oval face 
 and the soft dark hair. 
 
 " Perhaps if I were a labourer's daughter, I should be ever 
 so much happier," she thought. " But why can't I be happy 
 as 1 am? I am the mistress of Vancourt Towers; I have 
 more money than I know what to do with, and all the beau- 
 iif ul dresses and jewels I used to covet a few months ago, and 
 yet and yet " She shrugged her shoulders aud tiled to 
 laugh away the feeling of discontent and wistf ulness which 
 had of late come upon her. 
 
 She was almost ashamed to go through the house in her 
 rustic get-up; but she put a bold front on it and marched 
 down the stairs with her chin well up. As it happened, there 
 was no one in the hall to see her nearly all the servants had 
 gone to the hav-fields, and she left the house and went across 
 the park towards the home meadows. 
 
 The hay-making was in fall swing. Jack had had a busy
 
 I0VE, THE TYRANT. 143 
 
 day, and nntier his cool, out energetic swav, the hands had 
 worked as they had never worked before. The new machines 
 had answered admirably; the grass had been cut quickly 
 Trith a rapidity which amazed the old-fashioned Vancourt 
 folk and, the heat being great, the hay had " made " almost 
 at once and was now ready to carry. Before Esther had left 
 the house, the waggons, or wains, as they were locally called, 
 were in the field, and the men were beginning to load. 
 
 The scene was one of those charming ones which can only 
 be seen in Old England. The hay formed huge billows on 
 the smooth, newly cut field, and men, women, and children, 
 were spread about in picturesque groups. In a corner of one 
 ^f the fields sat Mrs. Martin, with Nettie beside her, and in 
 frcnt of them were huge cans of tea, and still huger mounds 
 of bread and butter and eake, with which the hay-makers re- 
 galed themselves. 
 
 Jack seemed to be all over the place at once; now he was 
 directing the tossing-machines, at another moment he was 
 pouring out beer from a four-gallon jar it is wonderful how 
 much beer a hay-maker can drink and now he was pitching 
 hay into the first of the wains. 
 
 Every now and then, as he passed Mrs. Martin and Nettie, 
 the child would call to him and Jack would stop and throw 
 himself down beside her and take the piece of cake or bread 
 and butter which she had ready and waiting for him; and 
 once or twice he picked her up in his arms and dropping her 
 upon one of the nay cocks, covered her with hay. 
 
 He was the life and soul of the party and whenever he 
 strolled near a group of workers, that group worked all the 
 harder. 
 
 To him the few meadows of limited acres must have seemed 
 very small compared with the miles of pasture with which he 
 had been familiar in Australia; but Jack was one of those 
 men to whom the work of the moment was all important and 
 lid not admit of comparison; and he worked as hard as if the 
 hay he was getting in for Miss Esther Vancourt were actually 
 his own. 
 
 Every now and then, when his duty of supervision took 
 him to the crest of the hill he glanced towards the Towers. 
 He had sent her an invitation, but she had not come. She 
 was evidently too proud, too indifferent. All right! It did 
 not matter; they could get in the hay without Miss Vancourt 
 of the Towers. 
 
 Amongst the workers was Kate Transom. She, like 
 Either, hid hesitated abos* coming; bat she had not been
 
 144 LOVE, THE TYRJLNT. 
 
 able to remain away. She had started working in company 
 of two or three other girls, but she had gradually drifted away 
 by herself. At times Jack came up to her and spoke to her. 
 On the first occasion he noticed that she was working with a 
 heavy hay fork. 
 
 " That's too big a weapon for you, Miss Transom," he 
 said. " Here, I'll find you a lighter one." 
 
 He strode across the field, found a smaller fork and brought 
 it to her. 
 
 " Don't you work too hard now," he said. " You're not 
 Strong, you know." 
 
 " I am very strong," she said. " See!" 
 
 She lifted up a forkload of hay above her head; but she 
 had taken more than she could hold and she staggered and 
 seemed about to fall. Jack put his arm round her quickly, 
 as he would have put his arm round the oldest and plainest 
 woman in the field, and prevented her from falling. 
 
 "You see!" he said. "Don't take up too much. I 
 should never forgivo myself if you hurt yourself." 
 
 The red flooded her face, but it was hidden by her sun- 
 bonnet as she turned away. 
 
 Now, it chanced that this little episode was seen by Esther 
 as she entered the field. She could not hear Jack Cordon's 
 quite composed and commonplace tone and words, but she 
 saw him put his arm round the girl, and she stopped dead 
 short with a strange feeling of doubt and disgust. Had she 
 stayed away from the Bruces' dinner, donned rustic attire 
 end come down to the hay-making solely to witness Mr. Gor- 
 don caressing a rustic? 
 
 After a moment she went forward, softly biting her lip, 
 and Jack from the farther end of the field, noticing, with his 
 quick eye, a new-comer, strode up to her. He was so ab- 
 sorbed in his work, that he saw only another country girl in a 
 cotton frock and sun-bonnet; she, glancing up at him almost 
 shyly, saw a stalwart man without coat or waistcoat, his shirt 
 open at the neck, a broad leather belt round his waist. He 
 looked every inch a man, with his sun-burnt face and quick, 
 flashing eyes; and the woman's adoration for strength and 
 grace rose reluctantly strongly within her; reluctantly, be- 
 cause of what she had just seen. 
 
 " Want something to do?" he asked. " Rake this hay 
 into a heap for the wain that's coming here. Here's a rake;" 
 and he caught up one and held it out to her; then he saw 
 who it was, and the blood rushed to his face. But it was onJj 
 or a moment; then he said coolly enough:
 
 LOVE, THE TYBANT. 145 
 
 ** Oh, yon have come, Mis? Vancourt! Do yon only wan* 
 to look on, or do you want to work like the rest?" 
 
 " I want to work like the rest," said Esther. 
 
 " All right," he said in a matter-of-fact way. " Here's 
 the rake; rake that line into a heap, and I'll lift it into the 
 
 Esther made a weak and feeble attempt to rake the hay 
 into a mound, and he watched her for a moment or two iu 
 Silence, just as he had watched her attempt to notch the trees. 
 
 " That's not the way," he said, quietly. " Hold your rake 
 in this fashion, and get hold of the hay like this." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders with affected indifference; but 
 she tried to obey his injunctions. The wain came up, and 
 Jack, with his huge fork, gathered up the hay and hoisted it 
 into the cart, and he took no more notice of her than if she 
 had been one of the peasant girls working in the field. 
 
 It nettled her, and presently she said: 
 
 " Give me your fork, Mr. Gordon, I want to hoist some 
 hay up." 
 
 He looked at her doubtfully. 
 
 " You can't; you'll make a mess of it." 
 
 " No, I sha'n't," she said; and she stuck her fork in the 
 heap of hay and tried to raise it. Though it looked so light, 
 it was so heavy that it seemed to bear her back with it; but 
 she still persisted, and she would have fallen ignominiously if 
 Jack had not stretched out his strong arm and supported herj 
 just as he had supported Kate! 
 
 " Now, hoist!" he exclaimed. 
 
 He put his hand to the handle of the fork as he spoke, and 
 np the hay went. But the other hand had gone round her 
 waist and had held her in a grip of iron. 
 
 She felt his arm round her a band of steel, of living mus- 
 cle, it seemed and the blood rushed to her face, and her 
 breath came so fast as almost to suffocate her. 
 
 " You took too much," he said, quietly. " That's the 
 'vav with women; they will never be satisfied." 
 
 He left her at once, and she saw him striding across the 
 Seld towards another wain. A foolish feeling of indignation 
 and resentment took possession of her at his desertion. Evi- 
 dently this Mr. Gordon considered her of no more importance 
 than any one else on the field. And she was Miss Vancourt 
 of the Towers! Surely, he ought to have staged beside her. 
 She had given up a dinner-party to be present at this hay- 
 of his, and he treated her is if she wu a nobody.
 
 146 LOVE, THE TYRAOT. 
 
 The blood mantled in her face, and she caught her breath; 
 but she still worked on. 
 
 Jack did not come to her again for another half hour. She 
 saw him striding hither and thither, the tallest man amongst 
 them all, his shoulders thrown back, his head erect. Now 
 and again she heard his voice the voice of the man who is 
 accustomed to command giving directions, and she noticed 
 that his directions were promptly and cheerfully obeyed by 
 every one. 
 
 But still he did not come near her. Was she of no account? 
 She was the mistress of all; and yet here she was, working in 
 the field like a common peasant-girl; she, who might have 
 been queening it at the Bruces this very moment! 
 
 The wains were filling; everything was carried save one 
 load. She saw the waggons proceeding slowly to the farm, 
 and presently Jack came up to her. 
 
 " We are all loaded, excepting the last, which we reserve 
 for after the supper," he said. " Will you come to the barn, 
 or would you rather go home, Miss Vancourt?" 
 
 Esther would have liked to have said that she would g 
 home, but she could not. 
 
 " I will go to the barn, Mr. Gordon," she said. 
 
 " All right," he said in his cavalier fashion. " They've 
 gotihe supper all laid, and they're only waiting for you. I 
 said I thought you'd come." 
 
 She walked beside him and the wain which was already 
 loaded, and they entered the barn. A hearty cheer arose as 
 they entered, and Esther paused, shy and uncertain; but 
 Jack, quietly but masterfully, put her at the head of the 
 long table. Mrs. Martin, assisted by her underlings, brought 
 in huge dishes of boiled beef, potatoes, greens, and cake. 
 Every man and woman stood expectantly. 
 
 " Say grace," said Jack to Esther. 
 
 Esther crimsoned and turned pale. 
 
 " I can't," she said. " You say it." 
 
 Perfectly self-possessed, Jack pronounced the old world 
 grace: 
 
 " For what we are going to receive may God make us truly 
 thankful!" 
 
 There was an instant clatter of knife and fork on plate. 
 Jack seized a piece of boiled beef and put it before Esther. 
 
 " Eat," he said; " they'll be offended if you don't." 
 
 She had had a very poor lunch, and she tried to eat; but 
 her heart was beating fast. This man had taken full posse*
 
 LOVE, THE TYBA1T& 147 
 
 son 01" Her, and she was trying to fight against his influence, 
 bat in vain. 
 
 But the rest of the hay-makers, free of any such sentiment, 
 ate heartily enough. When they had finished, they sang 
 songs, and cracked jokes as old as the flood. They were 
 happy with a happiness beyond words, and Esther envied 
 them. Why could not she be happy? What was it she 
 wanted? 
 
 Suddenly Jack rose to his feet. They were evidently ex- 
 pecting a speech, and they knocked the table with the handles 
 of their knives. 
 
 " My friends," he said, " I give you the health of our mis- 
 tress, Miss Vancourt. She is here to-day, to share our labours 
 and to join in our prosperity. Here's her health, and long 
 life to her!" 
 
 They all rose to their feet and gave a hearty cheer. 
 
 Esther, white and red by turns, looked round her. 
 
 '' What shall I say?" she asked of Jack. 
 
 " Say what yon like," he replied. 
 
 She rose, her beautiful face flushed, her eyes sparkling. 
 For the first time she realised that these people belonged to 
 her, that she was their mistress, almost their queen. 
 
 " Thank you very much," she said. I thank you 
 verv much!" 
 
 Then she sat down abruptly; but it was enough. Cheer 
 after cheer arose, and the sound rang in her ears gratefully. 
 She turned to Jack; but he had remembered the last load, 
 and had risen. 
 
 " We haven't quite finished, friends," he said; " there's 
 still another load. 
 
 He went out of the bam followed by the rest. A wain 
 stood in the moonlit field beside a heap of hay. He caught 
 up a fork and began the loading; his example was followed 
 by others, and the waggon was soon filled. 
 
 " Now, who's to go home on her?" cried an old man. 
 
 " The fairest in the field!" came the expected shout from 
 the crowd. 
 
 Jack turned to Esther. 
 
 " Get up," he said in his masterful way. 
 
 She hesitated, but he put his arm round her and hoisted 
 her up. 
 
 This was bad enough, but worse was to follow. The cart 
 had been badly packed, and Esther, as she sat on the top of 
 the load, felt it sway uncertainly beneath her. She said noth- 
 ing, and aat tight, bat as it iieared he rick towards which it
 
 148 VOTE. THE TTRAOT. 
 
 was going, she relt the hay move dangerously, as if it arete 
 going to fall. As it happened, there was no one beside her 
 but Jack Gordon; the rest had gone off for more ale. She 
 looked down at him uncertainly, 
 
 " Mr. Gordon " she said. 
 
 Then the hay beneath her began to slide, and she felt her- 
 self slipping. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon! I am falling!" she exclaimed; and he 
 stretched out his arms and caught her as she slid down the 
 slippery side. 
 
 She was so helpless that she fell like a bundle of straw into 
 his arms, and they closed round her tightly, firmly. They 
 were face to face, lip to lip, so to speak. For an instant they 
 etpod thus, then suddenly, with the blood flaming in his facs, 
 his lips met hers, and he kissed her. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 HE had kissed her. Had he suddenly gone mad? For a 
 moment it seemed to him that he had been bereft of reason; 
 and in that moment he stood and looked at her as a man 
 might look who expects the heavens to oppn and the light- 
 ning to flash out and strike him. He felt her quiver in his 
 arms, then they fell from her and hung at his sides, as if hi) 
 were waiting for the doom he deserved. 
 
 As his lips had touched Esther's her amazement had domi- 
 nated every other emotion, then, following on the instant was 
 a strange feeling that should have been one entirely of anger 
 and indignation at the outrage, but was not. She had quivered 
 at the shock, but the thrill had not been altogether a shudder 
 of resentment and stricken pride. 
 
 The blood had flown to her face, and a sense of helpless- 
 ness almost of faintness had swept down upon her and en- 
 veloped her like a cloud. Wrath and indignation would come 
 presently and swiftly, but in that one electric moment the 
 emotion that shot through her was compounded of neither. 
 The red slowly ebbed away from her face, she grew white to 
 the lips he had assaulted, the mist cleared from her eyes and 
 they shone out on him with passionate resentment, and she 
 stood and gazed at him, her bosom heaving with the breath 
 that was too laboured, came too painfully to permit her to 
 speak. 
 
 His eyes fell before the anger that burnt in hers, and he, 
 too, could not speak, though every fibre in his body clamoured 
 mutely for bar forgiveness. Suddenly as if the incapacity of
 
 LOVE, TETE TYRANT. 149 
 
 speech maddened her she raised her hand; and he waited 
 patiently for the blow; but her hand fell to her side, and 
 without a word she turned from him and walked away, not 
 quickly he might have ventured to follow her then but 
 slowly with the air of an outraged queen; and yet with some- 
 thing in the droop of her head that was sweetly womanly, 
 something that hurt him more than the blow would have 
 done. 
 
 She walked slowly until she had left the field, and reached 
 the shelter of the wood, then she stopped and with an impa- 
 tient action pushed the bonnet from her head and covered her 
 eyes with her hands. She was trembling now, trembling so 
 that, half-unconsciously, she sank to the ground and leant 
 against the trunk of a tree for support. 
 
 It was hard to realise it. This man, this stranger, her own 
 servant, had dared to touch her lips with his, had treated her 
 as if she were no higher, no more account than one of the 
 farm girls! Had he gone mad had he been drinking heavily: 
 no, she could find no such excuse, if excuse it could be. He 
 was neither mad nor intoxicated; and yet, at the moment he 
 had bent forward to kiss her, something like madness, intoxi- 
 cation had shone in his dark eyes. The anger swelled in her 
 bosom, and yet There had been something of worship and 
 reverence in his eyes, the kiss had been gentle and tender, 
 not rough or insolent, and, the moment he had done the 
 deed, she had seen his face grow white with remorse and self- 
 reproach and the mute prayer for forgiveness. It was the 
 first time in her life that a man's lips other than her 
 father's had touched hers, for Esther had had no flirtations, 
 no " past " to make her familiar with a caress. The thing 
 had fallen like a bolt from the blue, suddenly, without warn- 
 ing. He had always been kind and gentle with her, but he 
 had never by word or look conveyed the presence of any 
 warmer feeling than respectful friendship. Indeed, he had 
 often offended her by his brusqueness and the curt, masterful 
 manner which in another man in his position would have 
 been considered disrespectful. 
 
 Why had he done it? He had seemed the least impulsive 
 of men, so singularly self-possessed and cool; and yet in that 
 instant, as his arm had tightened round her, his self-posses- 
 sion had fled and he appeared to be swayed by an uncon- 
 trollable impulse. As she was trying in a confused and be- 
 , ildered way to solve the problem, to find some salve for her 
 outraged pride, she suddenly remembered Xettie's prattle 
 about the handkerchief: was it oossibk- Miat he had arone back
 
 150 LOVE, THE TYRAITT. 
 
 for the hanokercnief and carried it in his bosom because 
 loved her? 
 
 The colour rose slowly to her face, and a thrill of surprise 
 and subtle joy ran through her. She tried to put the thought 
 from her, to thrust it away as of no importance to the ques- 
 tion; but she could not; it came back upon her with a per- 
 sistence that forced all other thoughts from her mind. Did 
 he love her? Was that the reason why, finding her in his 
 arms, he had lost all self-control? She made an impatient, 
 self-scornful gesture with her hand, as if ashamed of dwelling 
 upon the thought, ashamed of the strange sense of joy which 
 nestled warmly about her heart. 
 
 And it was shameful that this man, this this tramp, who 
 had come from no one knew where should dare to love her, 
 should dare to kiss her! 
 
 She put up her hankerchief to dash it across the lips he had 
 profaned, but her hand faltered half way and it fell in her 
 lap; and her head drooped, bowed down with the torturing 
 sense that the kiss had been sweet to her, that even the re- 
 membrance was sweet with a jov, a delight which over- 
 whelmed and bore down the anger and resentment with 
 which she ought to be burning. 
 
 What should she do? He must go away at once. She must 
 not see him again. Instantly her heart grew heavy as lead, 
 and a feeling of irreparable loss, of crushing sorrow came 
 over her. She fought against it as a woman fights against 
 the suspicion that she loves a man whom she should not love, 
 that her heart is stealing from her to one unworthy of it; but 
 the struggle was a futile one. She knew that it was too late. 
 
 The pang of pain, almost of agony, which had smote her 
 at the prospect of never seeing him again, was a revelation. 
 She knew now why she had always been so happy when he 
 was near her, why the sight of him, the sound of his deep, 
 musical voice had filled her with a peace, a sensation of rest 
 and serenity which took the place of the restlessness which 
 consumed her when he was absent. 
 
 " Is it possible that I love him'"' she mut-mured, her 
 breath labouring under the stress of the thought. " That I 
 love this man, this stranger of whom I know not'niag? Oh, 
 it is shameful, shameful I" 
 
 Her hand flew to her face as if she would hide from herself 
 the blush that burnt her; then she looked straight before her 
 with knitted brows and tightly strained lips. 
 
 If it was so, she must crush it ttown, tear this lovs out of 
 her bosom, must hide it from every eye, must kill it with self-
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 151 
 
 and ridicule. She would remind herself, a hundred 
 times a day, if necessary, that she was a Vancourt, the mis- 
 tress of the Towers, and that this man was little better than 
 one of the labourers on her own estate. 
 
 It was a grand resolve; but, alas! as she made it, the wish 
 that she was one of the labourer's daughters swept across her. 
 And she knew, too, that, tramp though he had seemed, the 
 man was a gentleman; that in manner and speech and bear- 
 ing he had always seemed her equal until to-night, when he 
 had so strangely lost self-control. Yes, she must forget him, 
 and he must go; but how hard that forgetfuluess would be 
 she knew with an almost fierce bitterness. Every hour of the 
 day she would miss him, every hour of the waking night 
 and it seemed to her as if she should never sleep again. If 
 he had only gone before before to-day! 
 
 Suddenly she remembered the love story of one of her 
 pupils. The girl was one of those gentle, placid, saintly 
 creatures, apparently as cold as Diana: absorbed in her grey 
 and colourless life, with no thought of or desire for love. 
 Then the man had come, and wooed her, but in vain. 
 
 " I could not care for him," she had said to Esther, in her 
 placid, maidenly way. " I am told that he is not good, 
 and I do not think he is. I hope I shall not see him again." 
 
 And a fortnight later she had told Esther, as they sat at 
 the piano, that she was going to marry him: and that she 
 loved him! 
 
 Esther had stared at her in amazement. The girl was 
 transformed; there was a light in her dreamy eyes, a faint 
 smile on her lips. A subtle change had been wrought in her. 
 
 " Why, you told me you could never possibly care for 
 him!'' Esther had exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes- I remember," responded the girl, simply. " And 
 I meant it. But it was this way: He came in here, into this 
 room " she had looked round as if the room has also been 
 transformed from a commonplace drawing-room to the ante- 
 chamber of paradise " and told me that he loved me. Then, 
 even ^hile I said ' no!' he took me in his arms and kissed 
 me and that changed it all, somehow Oh, yes, I told you 
 that I should never care for him: but he hadn't kissed me 
 then." 
 
 Esther had not understood it, had been puzzled and be- 
 wildered: but she understood now as she sat face to face with 
 her own heart in the stillness of rhn wood. She knew now! 
 
 " But I am, differentl" she exclaimed, almost aloud. " J
 
 152 I0VE, THE TYRAOT. 
 
 will not yield as Sophie Clark did. I will fight against it 5t 
 the death, will crush it out whatever it may cost me." 
 
 She rose as she uttered the words through her clenched 
 teeth, intending to go home and begin the fight in her own 
 room; but while she was dragging her sun-bonnet on she 
 heard footsteps approaching. She knew them too well, alas! 
 and with a beating heart she leant against the tree and waited 
 till they should pass. 
 
 Jack had even a worse time than Esther. One of the dis 
 advantages of being a gentleman is the remorse which he 
 suffers when he forgets the fact and sins against his creed. 
 And Jack knew that he had sinned very deeply, heinously, 
 criminally! 
 
 As Esther walked away he wished that some one would be 
 kind enough to shoot him, and felt very much inclined to go 
 home and shoot himself. For some time past he had been 
 fighiing against his love for Esther, and had flattered himself 
 that he was succeeding; but that love had sprang up like a 
 giant, like a despotic tyrant, as he felt her in his arms; and 
 in that moment passion had swept away all restraints of self- 
 respect, of his homage for women, of the instincts of civilisa- 
 tion, even! 
 
 "I'm a ruffian, that's what I am," he said to himself, 
 grimly. " I'm as bad as the worst of the men I used to look 
 down upon out there in the bush. Poor little girl! I wish 
 she'd struck me. I deserve it. Deserve it!" He swore 
 under his breath. " There's nothing too bad for me. What 
 am I to do? There's only one thing; I must clear out at 
 once. I mustn't run the chance of meeting her again. The 
 mere sight of me would be an insult to her. And I promised 
 poor Jack that I'd take care of his little sister. I must have 
 been mad for the moment. Yes, I ought to be shot as some- 
 thing too dangerous to be left at large." 
 
 He leant on a hay-fork and shook with the conflicting emo- 
 tions that racked him. 
 
 "God! how I love her!" he muttered. "And I shall 
 never see her again! That's bad to bear never see her 
 again " 
 
 He started and raised his head as one of the men cams up, 
 and the man stopped short and stared at him. 
 
 " Do'ee feel queer, master?" he asked. 
 
 Jack laughed, and the laugh made the man shrink back a 
 step. 
 
 What the devil do you mean? Why don't you finish up? 
 What axe TOO loafing about for?" Then lie bit his lip and
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAOT. 153 
 
 set his teeth hard. " All right. Yes, Fm rather queer: but 
 it's all right now. What do you want?" 
 
 " If you please to give an eye to the rick before us leaves, 
 sir," the man stammered; and Jack, with a nod, followed 
 him, mounted the rick and mechanically put the last touches 
 to it. Then he came down and sent the men home. When 
 they had gone he walked round the fields, as was his duty; but 
 he moved like a man in a dream, and every now and then he 
 stopped and leant on the fork he still carried, as if he ware 
 worn out. A gate had been left open, and he went wearily 
 to shut it. As he did so, Kate Transom passed down the lane 
 before him. She raised her head and glanced at him. Jack 
 lifted his hat; then she paused as if struck by the look on his 
 face, and stood gazing at him with timid anxiety. 
 
 " Are you are you ill, sir?" she asked. 
 
 Jack forced a smile. 
 
 " Not a bit," he said. " Only tired. I'm afraid you are, 
 too. Good-night." 
 
 She was moving away, but she paused again, and yery 
 timidly drew nearer. 
 
 " I'm I'm sure you are ill," she said, tremulously. " Let 
 me can't I get something? You you helped me when I 
 was ill." The colour rose to her face, and her eyes implored 
 him mutely. " Let me run back to the farm and get some 
 spirit. I will not be a moment or two." 
 
 He put out his hand and caught her arm to stay her. 
 
 " No, no," he said. " You are very kind kinder than I 
 deserve. I'm all right. Good-night." 
 
 She stood looking up at him while one could count twenty, 
 then she sighed, and turned and left him. 
 
 Jack closed the gate and tramped back through the now 
 deserted fields to the cottage; and Bob followed sadly with 
 drooping head, for he knew that his beloved master was un- 
 happ>r about something, 
 
 Jack sank into a chair and looked round wistfully; then he 
 laughed grimly, and patted the dog, whose head lay on his 
 .knee. 
 
 " Ydfe; we've got to clear oat, Bob," he said. " It's m; 
 fault all my fault. We must get on the tramp again, oli 
 chap: it's rough on you for you were happy as happy as 
 myself, eh? but there's no help for it. We'd better pack at 
 once. It won't take us long, that's one comfort." 
 
 He rose and began to get his few things together in a me- 
 chanical fashion; but presently he drew a long breath a? if he 
 Were stilling.
 
 , THE TYRANT. 
 
 " It's hot, Bob, isn't it? "We'll take a turn in the woods 
 for the last time, the last time!" 
 
 Bob gave a short bark of approval; no doubt thinking that 
 his beloved master might get more cheerful in the open air, 
 and Jack, mechanically taking up his gun, went out Hii 
 brain was beginning to clear from the confusion which re- 
 morse had produced, and as he walked along with bent head, 
 fie was asking himself whether there was any escape from the 
 misery which lay before him, for he knew that this was the 
 one love of his life, and that it would last him for as long as 
 he should live. 
 
 " Once or twice I've fancied that I've been hit," he mused. 
 " but it was only fancy, and passed off like Nettie's measles 
 but this this is the real thing, and I've got it badly; and it's 
 hopeless! If I hadn't done what I did to-night, and behaved 
 like a brute, I might have tried to win her. But no, she 
 would never have stooped to marry a man so far beneath her 
 as she thinks I am, and I couldn't have told her who I really 
 am. That would have been worse still, for her pride and 
 my darling is as proud d& a female Lucifer, bless her! I love 
 her all the better for it would have been up in arms, and 
 she would die rather than marry me. She'd think I'd only 
 asked her so that she shouldn't lose the estate! Oh, Lord, 
 what a maze it is! But it doesn't matter; I've settled my hash 
 with perfect completeness. She must hate me; she must 
 feel oh, I know what she must feel!" 
 
 He stopped and wiped the drops of sweat from his face it 
 was still pale and drawn, as if he were suffering physical pain 
 and looked round him, and at the glimpse of the Towers 
 which he could see through the trees. 
 
 " And jet people say there is no such thing as luck!" he 
 muttered, bitterly. " There is, and I've got the devil's own. 
 I've had it since I was a boy, and it clings to me like a horse- 
 leech. That place is mine but I hear of it just after I've 
 given it away in a sacred promise, and so I'm doomed to a 
 tramp's life. In there is the girl I love, and I've not only no 
 chance of winning her, but I've offended her beyond the hope 
 of pardon What's that?" 
 
 His quick eye had caught sight of something moving lightly 
 behind a tree, and Bob had uttered a low and warning growL 
 
 " One of these poaching thieves, I suppose. Dick Keeve^ 
 perhaps. Well, if he only knew, he could blaze away at mfr 
 to-night, and I shouldn't trouble to stop him. I'd better go 
 and see though it's not my duty," he added, grimly. 
 
 But as he went towards the spot, Bob's growl changed to a
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 155 
 
 bark of welcome, and he ran forward. In another moment 
 Jack saw that it was Esther. She was standing erect as an 
 arrow, the moonlight falling on her face, white as if carved 
 in stone: a statue of wounded pride and resentment, in Jack's 
 eyes. 
 
 * He stopped dead short, and was about to turn and walk 
 away, but the longing to hear her speak once more, even 
 though it were in anger and scorn, mastered him, and he 
 moved towards her. It was very probable she would not re- 
 main, that she would be afraid of him. Afraid of him! It 
 was a bitter reflection, and made him want to cry out; but, 
 to his surprise and relief, she waited for him, her grey eyes, 
 violet now, fixed upon him steadily. 
 
 He took off his hat and held it in his hand. She could not 
 see his face distinctly, for his back was to the moonlight, but 
 the action was not lost upon her. He had bared his head for 
 shame: there was that much of grace in his nature, at any rate. 
 Within a couple of paces of her he stopped and looked at her 
 in silence for a moment, and Esther's eyes still met his with 
 cold anger. 
 
 " May I speak to you, Miss Vancourt?" he said at last. 
 
 There was no brusqueness in his tone now; but though it 
 was humble enough, there was a touch of dignity in its gen- 
 tleness. It was the first time in his life that Jack had had to 
 sue for pardon, and he did it with the air of otie who does not 
 expect to receive forgiveness. 
 
 Esther's heart was beating fast, and her throat seemed dry, 
 but there was no tremour in her voice as she replied coldly, 
 proudly: 
 
 " What can you have to say to me, Mr. Gordon? And 
 what business have you in the woods?" 
 
 She asked the question with a woman's mercilessness, know- 
 ing well how it would sting him. 
 
 Jack winced. 
 
 " None. I know that I am trespassing," he said, grimly. 
 " but I didn't expect think to meet you," he said, with the 
 simplicity of the man. 
 
 She coloured, but too faintly for him to see, and her teeth 
 caught sharply at her under lip. 
 
 " I am going to the house, and I can only remain a mo- 
 ment. Say what yon wish to say quickly, if you please." 
 
 Jack drew his breath. 
 
 " It's only that I'm sorry," he said in his low, grave 
 ftice. " Of course, I know that ';hat doesn't better matters.
 
 156 LOVE, THE TYEA5TT. 
 
 Most men are sorry when they've acted like brutes ani. 
 and I acted like a cad just now in the field." 
 
 The red of shame flooded his face, and he looked down, so 
 that he did not see the responding crimson in hers. When 
 he looked her face was white and statuesque again. 
 
 "I can't tell what made me do it." He paused, and 
 strangled a sigh: for how well he could have told her if he 
 had been free to do so! "I must have been mad have lost 
 my senses. I never did such a thing before." 
 
 He volunteered this piece of information, not in a tone of 
 excuse, but as if he had been suddenly struck by the fact, and 
 as he said it, a keen pleasure, a swift sense of satisfaction, 
 stirred in Esther's beating heart. 
 
 " That's no excuse, of course. In fact, I haven't any ex- 
 cuse except " He paused and stumbled, and half uncon- 
 sciously his eyes rested on the white, lovely face with a pas- 
 sionate love and admiration which, alas! Esther could not 
 see. " Ah, well, it does not matter! There's no excuse, and 
 nothing I could say would lessen the offence. I behaved like 
 a ruffian, a madman, and I don't ask, hope, that you'll for- 
 give me. I'm not such a fool! No woman could forgive 
 such an an insult! And yet, before Heaven, I didn't mean 
 it as such!" 
 
 His voice had quickened and deepened, and his eyes flashed 
 as they rested on her, and for the moment Esther's sank be- 
 fore the fire in his. 
 
 " What else was it? What else did you mean?" she asked, 
 cjuietly enough, but with every word falling on his heart like 
 ice. 
 
 He swept his hand across his knitted brows. 
 
 " I don t know I can't tell you. I only know that I'd 
 rather die than insult you, or let another man offer you one," 
 he said, almost sternly. " I can only say that I am sorry; 
 that if there was anything I could do to wipe out the remem- 
 brance of my act I would do it, whatever it might be. When 
 a gentleman " 
 
 He checked himself as if the word had slipped from him 
 inadvertently, and Esther caught it up. 
 
 " I have always understood a gentleman is known by his 
 conduct, Mr. Gordon," she said, incisively. 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " That's true. I've no right to the term. I take it back. 
 When a man has behaved as I have, the only thing he can do 
 is to say that he's sorry and remove himself from the face c. r 
 the earth if he can; at anv rate, ont of the sierhf of the woman
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 157 
 
 he has offended. I've felt strongly tempted to shoot myself " 
 he laughed bitterly " hut that wouldn't have wiped cut 
 my black deed, would it?" 
 
 He did not see that her lips had quivered and, her eyes had 
 closed for an instant, and he went on, gravely: 
 
 " But I needn't say that I am going away at once. I sup 
 pose I ought to have had the grace to wait until you had dis- 
 missed me, Miss Vancourt? Yes; I didn't think of that! 
 You see what a thick-headed idiot I am!" 
 
 She leant back slowly until the tree supported her; but 
 said nothing. He was going! Well, that was right, was quite 
 right and inevitable. 
 
 " I will go to-morrow morning," he went on, checking a 
 sigh, and after a pause during which he had waited for her to 
 speak, with the, he knew, wild hope that she might Ah, 
 but it was too wild a hope. " Martin is nearly all right, and 
 the hay is in; and there really isn't any need for me to stay 
 on, under any circumstances. The wheat " 
 
 Esther made an impatient gesture with her hand. 
 
 " I don't know that I care to discuss the condition of the 
 wheat with you, Mr. Gordon," she said, haughtily, all the 
 more haughtily for the dull pain that was aching in her heart. 
 
 Poor Jack coloured under the little womanish stab. 
 
 " Of course not. I beg your pardon!" he said for the first 
 time, meekly. " I ought to have kept that for Martin; but 
 you've always taken an interest in the farm However, I 
 oeg vour pardon!" 
 
 ''You go to-morrow?" she said, after a silence, during 
 which he had tried to force himself to go, to tear himself 
 away from the woman for whom his heart clamoured. 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Yes; I'd go to-night, but I want to see Martin and it's 
 late." 
 
 " Just so," she said, as if she were speaking to a servant. 
 " There is no need for you to to leave your work unfinished. 
 You may remain until until the day afcer, if it is neces- 
 sary." 
 
 She tried to speak coldly; she felt as if she could dash the 
 words back from her lips; but they would come. To keep 
 him for even one day was oh, the shame of it! so much to 
 her. 
 
 " Thank you," he said, gravely. " Of course I'll take 
 care " he stammered and broke down " I'll be carefal that 
 I that you I'll keep out of your sight, Miss Vancourt. 
 I'll go to-morrow if I can I'd intended to: but Martin mat
 
 158 WJVB, THE TYKAOT. 
 
 want me there are one or two things to do bnt the day 
 after I can get away for certain." 
 
 She inclined her head. 
 
 " Where" She tried to stop herself, but failed. " Where 
 areyou going?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I don't know quite. It doesn't matter. To London, I 
 expect. There's always work in the docks perhaps abroad, 
 to the old game " He stopped. 
 
 Abroad! He would leave England! An awful sensation 
 of despair closed about her heart like ice. He would go away 
 poor and friendless. Oh! of course he deserved it all, but 
 but! She turned her head away from him, and fought 
 down the lump that rose in her throat. 
 
 " If if you want money," she began, then she stopped, as 
 the blood mounted to Jack's face. For a moment he stood 
 looking at her sternly, then he smiled. 
 
 " That is something like ' coals of fire,' Miss Vancourt," 
 he said, grimly. " But I deserve it. And I thank you. No; 
 I don't want money. There's my wages Good God! 
 women have no mercy!" 
 
 The last words were almost inaudible, but she caught the 
 sense of his exclamation, and she trembled. If he had throwa 
 himself at her feet if he had flung his arms round her head 
 she would have fallen on his breast and all would have been 
 well; but he stood wounded to the core; and she, feeling the 
 wound as keenly as he, yet hardened her heart, and setting 
 her teeth firmly would not yield an inch to the temptation 
 that assailed her; the terrible longing to cry: " No, no; I 
 did not mean it so!" 
 
 " I'm all right," he said, presently. *' I don't deserve 
 that you should give a thought fco my welfare, and I'm very 
 grateful to you. You've treated me better than I deserve; 
 and I'll take care that you sha'n't be annoyed by the sight of 
 me while I'm here." 
 
 There was a slight tremor in his voice which Bob heard, 
 and he went to his master and thrust his muzzle against him; 
 then he walked slowly to Esther and licked the white hand 
 that hung at her side. 
 
 Jack looked at the dog absently; then he said, as if the 
 thought had just struck him: 
 
 " Miss Vancourt, if you've any desire to heap further coals 
 on my head, you can do so by granting me a favour it's like 
 my cheek to ask you, but Well, I'm fond of him. and it 
 foe? hard with him while I'm on the tramo, or at work, and
 
 I0VE, THE TYBAN1* 159 
 
 it's likely as not I shall have him stolen I've haa one or two 
 Barrow escapes already. Will you I won't say accept him 
 but be good enough to give him a happy home?" 
 
 She understood, of course. It was trie most precious thing 
 he had got the only thing, indeed, he valued; and he was 
 offering it to her as a peace-offering, as a token of his peni- 
 tence and remorse. The lump rose in her throat; but she 
 Aardened herself again. 
 
 " No, I do not want him," she said in a strangely dull 
 iroice. 
 
 " All right," he said. " I thought perhaps you might 
 have been kind enough. Poor old Bob! he'll have a rough 
 time of it." 
 
 She looked at the dog's upturned eyes, large and sad as if 
 he knew what was being said and her breath came painfully. 
 
 " If you think he may be ill-treated that you may lose 
 him, you may leave him, if you like. He shall be taken care 
 of." ' 
 
 As she said it with seeming reluctance, she wondered he 
 did not see that her anger had melted, that her coldness was 
 more than half assumed. But Jack was a modest man, and 
 no lady-killer, and had not the least suspicion of the truth. It 
 only appeared to him that she was treating him very leniently, 
 that she regarded him as too common, too unimportant for a 
 continued resentment. 
 
 " Thanks!" he said, with forced cheerfulness, and averting 
 his e-.es from Bob. " I'll go now. If I dared, I'd ask you 
 to try and forgive me But that's impossible, I know," he 
 broke off, almost hoarsely. " Good-night, and good-bye, 
 Miss Vancourt." He put his hat on; he had held it in his 
 luiuu till now. " I'll send Bob with you now. He'll take 
 care of you to the house it's late, and some one may be in 
 the wood." He looked at the dog, then looked away again 
 quickly as he uttered the command: " Go with her, Bob!" 
 
 Esther could scarcely breathe for the painful throbbing of 
 her heart as she turned to go. But Bob, for the first time in 
 his life, refused to obey, and ran back to Jack with an im- 
 ploring whine. 
 
 " Never mind," she said. " I will send for him." 
 
 The tears were in her eyes; but he was bending over Bob 
 and did not see them. 
 
 <; One moment," he said, still with suspicious indifference. 
 " I'll tie something to his collar. He'll follow you readily 
 enough after you've led him a few yards." 
 b He hunted for his handkerchief, then remembered it was im
 
 160 LOVE, THE TTRANT. 
 
 the breast-pocket of his shirt, and thrust his hand in for it. 
 In taking it out, he took out another, and the second fell to 
 the ground. He stooped quickly to recover it, but Esther 
 had seen it: and recognised it: it was stained with blood. A 
 cry rose to her lips, but she stifled it, and her eyes rested on 
 his head with the look which a woman bends only on the man 
 she loves, and loves passionately and, Heaven, how that 
 love welled up in her heart at that moment! but she fought 
 it down with that strength which is woman's birthright, and 
 her voice sounded coldly enough to Jack as she said : 
 
 " I think that is my handkerchief?" 
 
 His hand closed over it, and he looked at her for a moment 
 steadily. Should he give it her? No! She might have the 
 Towers, she might have even Bob, but that little square of 
 dainty cambric he would keep at all costs. 
 
 " No, it isn't," he said. " It is one of Nettie's." 
 
 He uttered the lie calmly, unblushingly. And Esther was 
 too staggered by his denial, and by the joy it gave her, to 
 pronounce a word. 
 
 " There he is," he said, as he tied his handkerchief to 
 Bob's collar. " Go now, old man! Good-bye! There, 
 the re ! Good-bye, Miss Vancourt ! ' ' 
 
 He looked at her for a moment, then, before she could 
 raise her eyes in which surely he would have read the con- 
 fession of her love! he turned and strode away. But he 
 stopped when she was out of sight and listened to her retreat- 
 ing footsteps, and Bob's whine, both stabbing him to the 
 heart. There went the two creatures he loved. He waited 
 until he saw the two mount the steps to the house, then he 
 walked away with bent head and nerves on edge. 
 
 The distance to the house was short, but the struggle of 
 Esther's life took place in it. 
 
 " Go back to him! Call to him! One word only! Don't 
 let him go! He has your heart in his bosom; there, under 
 that handkerchief. Crush down that pride of yours and call 
 to him! The man loves you and he is a man, though your 
 inferior. Call him and tell him you love him, or, like a fool, 
 be wretched for the rest of your life!" 
 
 But she walked on, slowly and still more slowly; the un- 
 happy Bob looking up at her with great imploring eyes; he 
 also, echoing the cry of her heart. 
 
 She might have turned, even at the door, but Palmer was 
 waiting for her, and maidenly shame restrained her. 
 
 " Are are Miss Worcester and Mr. Lay ton back?" she 
 asked.
 
 THE TYRANT. 
 
 " Not yev, miss," he replied. 
 
 " I I am tired. Will, you ask them, please, to excuse me? 
 I am going to bed." 
 
 " Yes, miss," he said. 
 
 He was attached to her; indeed, all the servants were de- 
 voted to her, and he ventured to fetch her a glass of wine. 
 
 ** I thought perhaps, miss," he said, respectfully, almost 
 awefully; for the young girl had been transformed to a 
 woman that night, and there was something of woman's di- 
 vinity in the tall, slim figure, the white, lovely face " Thank 
 you, Palmer," she said, wearily. 
 
 She took the wine and drank it gratefully. 
 
 " Shall I take the dog, miss?" 
 
 She was about to yield it, then she shook her head. 
 
 " No; 1 will take it to my own room. " It it might bark 
 or howl. It will be quite good it sleeps in Mr. Gordon's 
 room: he has given it to me. Come, Bob!" 
 
 She led him upstairs, and when she had closed the door 
 flung herself down beside him and threw her arms round his 
 neck. 
 
 " Oh, Bob, I love him I love him!" she wailed " I love 
 him, and he is going away, going away from both of us!" 
 
 Bob uttered a plaintive little howl, and licked her face. 
 The door opened and Marie entered. 
 
 " Beg pardon, miss; I thought you'd be ready for me," 
 she said. 
 
 " Yes," said Esther, rising and averting her face. " Wait; 
 get some milk, biscuits, for Bob. Mr. Gordon has given him 
 to me he is going." 
 
 " Goin', is he, miss?" said Marie. " Well, that is a sur- 
 prise. Whatever will Kate Transom do?" 
 
 Esther had gone to the glass and was loosening her dress. 
 She turned sharply, her lips apart, her eyes fixed on the girL 
 
 " What will Kate What do you mean?" she demanded, 
 with a catch in her voice. 
 
 Marie smiled and simpered after the manner of her kind. 
 
 " Lor', miss! don't you know? They're engaged!" 
 
 Esther's hand stole behind her and gripped the edga of the 
 dressing- cable. 
 
 " Engaged 1 It's not true!" she said, with a forced 
 calmness. 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is, miss. They've been keeping company for 
 a long while. Why, Giles and me saw them in the woods the 
 other night. They was walking arm-in-arm, groper-like, and 
 
 && Was biasing hjQr "
 
 162 LOVE, THE TYKANT. 
 
 Before she had time to complete this bit of fiction, a gest- 
 ure from Esther stopped her. 
 
 " That will do," she said. " Take take the dog down, 
 and tell Palmer to have him shut up in the stable or any- 
 where. And I shall not want you again to-night. I shall 
 read and be late, perhaps." 
 
 She stood until the girl had gone, then, as the mist deep 
 ened before her eyes, she slipped to her knees, and her face 
 fell upon her arms outstretched on the table. 
 
 And wounded Love and outraged Pride had their cruel will 
 of her. 
 
 As Jack was passing the farm lodge, the door opened and 
 Mrs. Martin came out. 
 
 " Is that you, Mr. Gordon?" she asked, in a nervous 
 fashion. 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, as he stopped, keeping out of the moon- 
 light, so that she might not see his face; for he knew how 
 white and haggard it was. " Is anything the matter? Mar- 
 tinNettie?" 
 
 " No," she replied; " they're both asleep; but it's fool- 
 ish of me to be so nervous and timid a man came up to the 
 door a little while ago and asked the way to the Towers." 
 
 " A man?" said Jack, absently. 
 
 " Yes. A stranger, of course. A tall, dark man." 
 
 " A tramp?" 
 
 " N-o; he was too well dressed for that Looked some- 
 thing like a gentleman, and yet there was something in the 
 look of him I didn't like, and I was a bit afraid of him. But 
 there! it's all my fancy, I daresay." 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " Only a commercial traveller or photographer, or some- 
 thing of that sort, I expect, Mrs. Martin," he said. " Don't 
 be nervous. I'll take a look round before I turn in. Good' 
 night!" 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ESTHER lay awake the whole night. Only a woman can 
 understand the complex emotions which made that night a 
 torture. She had given her heart to a man not only a social 
 inferior, but a man who was either engaged to another woman 
 r had been carrying on an intrigue with her. 
 
 Wounded love, outraged uxide. and bitter shame of her
 
 LOVE, THE TYEAOT. 
 
 Own weakness, as she called it, rent and racked her as the 
 slow hours crawled along, each one forming a record on her 
 aching heart which she felt no time could eradicate. 
 
 But she fought hard, as the youngest and least experienced 
 of women will do. No living soul should ever guess her secret; 
 she would hide it, as the Spartan boy hid the stolen fox in his 
 bosom, and, though it tore and lacerated her, she would make 
 no sign. 
 
 There were dark shadows under her eyes when she came 
 down to breakfast, but she was cheerful, extraordinarily so, 
 and she came into the room singing blithely. 
 
 Who does not know that song, that smile and laugh, with 
 which one tries to hide, even from oneself, the aching, pain- 
 racked heart? 
 
 Miss Worcester and Selby Layton were already at the table, 
 and she noJJed to him and kissed her aunt with an air almost 
 ofgaiety. 
 
 " Sorry I'm late," she said. " I've had such a splendid 
 night, and I overslept myself. Did you have a good time 
 last night?" 
 
 Selby Layton looked at her reproachfully as he placed a 
 chair for her at the table. 
 
 " It was a very pleasant evening, I suppose," he said; 
 " but it was spoiled for me by your absence, Miss Vancourt. 
 
 " How kind of you to say that!" said Esther. " It is so 
 nice to be missed!" 
 
 " I am sure every one missed you," said Miss Worcester in 
 her prim way. " Lord Bruce was quite cut up when he heard 
 that you were not well enough to come. It was an extremely 
 pleasant little party. The Fanworths were there, and Major 
 Long, and the vicar and his wife. The dinner was admirably 
 cooked, was it not, Mr. Layton?" 
 
 He looked up from the dish from which he was helping 
 Esther. 
 
 " I er scarcely noticed," he said. " I hadn't much of 
 an appetite." 
 
 " How ungrateful of you!" said Esther, blithely, as she 
 pretended to make an onslaught on her omelette. 
 
 " Did you go straight to bed, Esther, after we had gone?" 
 asked Miss Worcester. 
 
 Esther coloured: the colour had been coming and going in 
 a hectic flush since she had entered the room. Oh, if she 
 had gone to bed, if she had not yielded to temptation and 
 gone to that hateful hay-making! 
 
 I got up and strolled about for a time, 1 ' she said
 
 J64 LOVE, THE TYBAST. 
 
 " It was so hot in my room. Didn't yon think tne Braces' o 
 grand place, Mr. Layton?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, indifferently. " But it will not com- 
 pare with the Towers." 
 
 " There is no place in the county so large and important 
 as the Towers," remarked Miss Worcester, with dignity. 
 
 " That's of course!" said Esther. " Well, I'm glad you 
 didn't find the party slow." 
 
 " It was not at all slow," said Miss Worcester. " Mr. 
 Layton was kind enough to sing, and he sang beautifully, as 
 usual. Lady Mary assured us she had never heard anything 
 like it out of the opera. It was a great success." 
 
 " Thanks to Miss Worcester's accompaniment," murmured 
 Selby Layton, in his sweet voice, and with a grateful bow to- 
 wards her. 
 
 " So you both covered yourselves with laurels," said Esther, 
 absently. " I am sorry I was not there to witness your tri- 
 umph." 
 
 Selby Layton glanced at her covertly. He had noticed the 
 dark shadows under her eyes, the hectic flush, the preoccu- 
 pied, absent manner, and he was asking himself what had 
 happened. Every change of mood in Esther was of import- 
 ance to him. Hitherto she had always been self -possesses 
 and mistress of herself; but this morning she seemed di& 
 traught and uncertain. Apparently absorbed in his break- 
 fast, he watched her narrowly. 
 
 " What are we going to do to-day?" she asked, presently, 
 as she put her plate aside. " What would you like to do, 
 Mr Layton? ride " Selby Layton winced inwardly, though 
 his smile did not waver " or drive or walk? Anything will 
 suit me, so that we get into the air. I have a craving for the 
 air to-day, the consequence of my headache last night." 
 
 " I am going to spend the morning in the library," said 
 Miss Worcester: she had imposed upon herself the task of 
 making a catalogue, and was full of the importance of ';he 
 undertaking. 
 
 " Shall we take a walk?" suggested Selby Layton. " Only 
 last night I learned that there was a ruined abbey or chapel 
 or something of the sort on the estate. Perhaps you would 
 be so kind as to act as cicerone, Miss Vancourt? 
 
 Esther looked up as if awakened from a dream. 
 
 " Is there? Oh, yes! You mean the Chapel ' i St. Cecilia. 
 A very appropriate saint for your devotions, Mr. Layton. It 
 is at Silworthv Cross, about three miles from here. Let OS
 
 LOVB, THE TYRANT. 165 
 
 go, by aH means. We'll take Toby or would yon prefer to 
 
 \me 9, dog-cart?" 
 
 " Ch, let us have Toby!" said Selby Layton, with an in 
 slant dread of a fiery animal which would rear or bolt. 
 
 " All right," said Esther. " Will you order Toby and the 
 jingle, aunt? And I'll get ready at once." 
 
 A strange lassitude fell upon her as she went up to her room 
 a lassitude cause by the feeling that nothing could ever 
 again interest or amuse her, or seem of the least importance; 
 that the future was like a blank before her a future in 
 which she had only to live, exist, like a mere vegetable. 
 
 But she put on her prettiest hat and came down smiling 
 and almost hilarious. 
 
 " I warn you that if you expect much you will be disap- 
 pointed," she said to Selby Layton, as he helped her into toe 
 jingle. " I believe it is only the poorest kind of ruin. I've 
 not seen it I haven't seen half the estate yet and I've a 
 suspicion we shall only find a heap of stones. My idea of a 
 ruin, a respectable ruin, is a towering castle covered with ivy r 
 and I don't think St. Cecilia's Chapel is anything like so dig- 
 nified." 
 
 " It will not mattei," he said. " Whatever it may be, I 
 shall be more than satisfied." 
 
 He gathered the reins together, and gave them to her with 
 that air of devotion which, exaggerated though it was, has its 
 effect upon women; and Toby, after an interval of coaxing, 
 was induced to start. As she drove along, Esther's thoughts 
 wandered to indeed, were fixed upon Jack Gordon, and she 
 almost forgot her companion. Why had he preserve!, her 
 handkerchief; why had he clung to it, even lied, about it, 
 while he was engaged to Kate Transom? All the questions, 
 the problems, which had rendered her night sleepless, rose 
 and tortured her. She scarcely heeded whither they ware 
 going, and she did not know that Selby Layton was watching 
 her absent, dreamy eyes with covert intentness. 
 
 " I think we turn to the left here," he said, after a long 
 silence. " And that looks like a ruin. I can see something 
 like a tower on the side of the hill." 
 
 Esther awoke from her reverie. 
 
 " Yes; I suppose that is it," she said, with simulated in- 
 terest. " It's pretty, isn't it? I'm glad I've got an historic 
 ruin on the premises." 
 
 " Yes; you seem to have all that the heart cod 5. desire, 
 Miss Vancourt," he said, softly. " What shall we do with 
 the pon?"
 
 166 WVE, THE TYBAUl 
 
 ct Ob, 3at tie him to these railings; if Toby kas 
 to eat, and we're not too long, he'll be quiet." 
 
 They got out and went up the grass-grown steps to the 
 chapel. Esther looked round absently, dreamily. It was a 
 romantic and delightful scene. The chapel had been built by 
 pious hands upon the brow of a hill overlooking one of those 
 valleys or coombes which make the county one of the most 
 beautiful and fascinating in England; and there was more 
 than a heap of stones remaining of the original edifice. 
 
 Esther climbed to the top and seated herself under a ruined 
 window. The place belonged to her, was part of the Van- 
 court estate; but at that moment she was thinking that she 
 would exchange the whole thing, every inch of it, for Jack 
 Gordon's undivided love. 
 
 " Very picturesque, isn't it?" said Selby Layton, throwing 
 himself down beside her. " The modern parvenue, the man 
 who has made his money in soap and candles, would give all 
 he is worth to possess this. You are very fortunate, Miss 
 Vancourt." 
 
 " Am I?" said Esther, with a stifled sigh. 
 
 " Yes," he said. He looked at her with covert attention. 
 She still seemed sad and preoccupied. Selby Layton had 
 made a study of women, and though he did not know so much 
 about them as he thought, he knew a great deal. He knew, 
 for instance, that women are slaves to moods, and that in 
 some moods they will do and say things at which they would 
 shy under an ordinary frame of mind. Was Esther in such 
 a mood that he might venture to make this grand coup ? He 
 would feel his way carefully. 
 
 " What more can you desire?" he said in his soft voice and 
 with a musical little laugh. " You have youth and beauty 
 forgive me! but the fact is so patent that one may venture 
 to speak if it as one speaks of the loveliness of the sky or the 
 flowers you come of an historic race, you are the mistress of 
 Vancourt Towers and immense wealth." 
 
 Esther made a slight and impatient movement of her hand. 
 
 " AD of which will not bring happiness," she said, with a 
 faint sigh, her eyes fixed dreamily on the view beneath her 
 the view in which nearly everything, land, houses, river, and 
 lake belonged to her. " Every Sunday the clergyman tells 
 us that wealth does not mean felicity and we hear it and 
 smile to ourselves we don't believe it. I used to smile a 
 little bitterly when I was slaving at music-lessons, in the old 
 days, which seem so far away, though they are so recent. I 
 used t think * It is all very well for wealthy people to talk
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAOT. 167 
 
 abont the vanity of riches; but they don't know what it is to 
 be poor; to eat cold mutton, and be glad to get it; to wear 
 ehaoby clothes, and have to ride in 'buses, or very often 
 walk.' But I understand now; one gets used to dainty food, 
 sump' uous apparel and a big house, and and there is some- 
 thing else something one wants above and beyond these 
 things." 
 
 " I think I know!" he said, softly. " And I was going to 
 add to the list of your possessions: * The love of all around 
 you.' You have won the hearts of all your people, Miss Van- 
 court; I hear your praises wherever I go." 
 
 " I am glad," said Esther, dreamily. 
 
 But the thought flashed through her mind that there was 
 One love for which she would willingly barter all the rest. 
 
 " But I know so well what is lacking," he said, checking a 
 sigh. " I can sympathise with you." 
 
 She looked at him with a smile. 
 
 " You? I thought you were one of the happiest of men," 
 she said. " You, too, are young, and if you are not rich, I 
 suppose you are rich euough; and your voice what was that 
 you were singing the other night? It haunted me for hours 
 afterwards. ' Oh, let me walk in lowly ways!' or something 
 like it, was the title." 
 
 " Oh, you mean that old English pastoral," he said; and he 
 began to sing it, very softly, very sweetly. 
 
 Sal by Layton's voice was one of the few that sound well in 
 the open air; and he put all the expression of which he was 
 capable into the simple words and melody. 
 
 Esther listened with rapt attention. Both words and music 
 harmonised with her mood. 
 
 " Not happy with such a voice!" she said, with a faint 
 laugh. " That is downright ingratitude. What more can 
 you want?" 
 
 " A great deal! So much that I dare not think of it, much 
 less speak of it," he said. " And yet I was happy enough 
 until a a few weeks ago. I envied no man, I was contented 
 with my lot." 
 
 " And what has happened to make you disappointed?" 
 asked Esther. 
 
 " The birth of a desire which I feel can never be satisfied!" 
 he said, after a pause, and with beautifully feigned reluct- 
 ance. 
 
 " Why should it not?" she said, half-absently. " Ycu are 
 ambitious, I suppose? Well, you are a man and it is easy, at 
 any rate it is not impossible, for a man to gratify his anibi-
 
 168 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 tion. If I were a man and wanted anything ?ery badly 1 
 would not rest content with simply wanting it; I would strain 
 every nerve, I would never rest until I had got it. Why, 
 that's the advantage you men have over us poor women. We 
 can only sigh and cultivate resignation." 
 
 " But if the thing one desires rests upon another? 5 " he said, 
 glancing at her. "If one felt utterly powerless, uuable to 
 even utter one's wish? Ah, then one cannot help being un- 
 happy, unhappy with the infinite longing of. despair! Miss 
 Vancourt, not all the wealth in the world, the highest rank, 
 Jie greatest honor, could count with me, without the posses- 
 sion of this one thing I want. And yet it is because I have 
 neither wealth nor rank that I cannot speak of my heart's 
 desire." 
 
 Esther had not been listening very intently, but something 
 in his voice rather than in his words caught her attention 
 She looked at him with a faint uneasiness. 
 
 " I suppose we ought to be going back," she said. 
 
 He sighed. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. The happiest moments are alwayfc 
 the most fleeting. Will you give me five minutes longer? 
 This may be the last time I shall see Vancourt for a long 
 periol, perhaps for ever." 
 
 " Why?" she asked. "Are you going away abroad? I 
 hope we shall see you very often, Mr. La} ton." 
 
 He shook his head. She had spoken in a kindly fashion, 
 as if she meant it. Should he venture? His heart beat fast, 
 and his voice had a genuine tremor in it, as he saiu: 
 
 " Yes; 1 think 1 am going abroad for a long time; I may 
 settle there. It is better that I should go, that at any rate I 
 should not come to the Towers again better for me. Ah! 
 Miss Vaneourt, can you not guess the reason? 1 know that it 
 is madness for me to speak, but but 1 cannot help it. Can 
 you not guess the reason? Has it never occurred to you that 
 I have a heart in my bosom, and that it was impossible for 
 me to see so much of you without " 
 
 Esther half rose. 
 
 " Let us go now," she said, her fji-"o growing suddenly 
 paler, her brows coming together; bat, ' put out his hand 
 very gently and imploringly. 
 
 " Ah, but listen to me now, now that I have been mad 
 enough to begin! Are you so surprised that I love y u:' 
 No, surely not surprised, though I can understand that you 
 should be offended at my sptaking of my love." 
 
 Esther clucked at the grass nervouslv. No woman is
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 169 
 
 offended witu man for telling her that he loves her; and 
 there was no anger in her heart against Selby Layton, though 
 she was surprised. 
 
 "I am not offended," she said, "but I did not know 
 guess. Oh, do not say any more, please!'* 
 
 " I will not. I obey you. It is the least I can do to atone 
 for my presumption. Yes, I am not so foolish as not to know 
 thct such presumption is almost unpardonable. I, poor, of 
 no account, to speak of love to you !" 
 
 His humility struck the chord he wanted. 
 
 "Poveity has nothing to do with it," she said. " If I 
 were a man, and and cared for a woman, I would not be 
 shamed to tell her, however poor I might be." 
 
 The colour rose to his face, and he leant forward eagerly* 
 
 " Then Miss Vancourt Esther may I, dare I hope ''' 
 
 He was unwise enough to try and take her hand; but he 
 saw his mistake as she drew it away, not sharply, but safely 
 beyond his reach. 
 
 " No, no, I did not say, did not mean !" she said, with 
 a catch of her breath. 
 
 " But if I may presume to speak, to tell you of my great 
 love, will you not give me an answer?" he said, in his sweet- 
 est, most caressing voice. " I love you with all my heart and 
 soul; I have loved you since the first hour I saw yoa shall I 
 ever forget it! but all the time I have told myself that my 
 love, great as it is, was hopeless. Ah, if I might cherish the 
 faintest hope that you " 
 
 " I Ido notI cannot say what you wish me to say," 
 she said. 
 
 She spoke very gently, and with a note of pity in her voice 
 a dangerous note when a woman is saying " No " to an 
 avowal of love. But Esther was inexperienced. This was the 
 first man who had told her in so many words that he loved 
 .her; and her own heart was so sore, so full of aching pain 
 that she could not help but pity him, for was he not suffering 
 as she was suffering? 
 
 " I did not ask, did not expect so great a thing as that you 
 should love me," he murmured. " 1 know how unworthy I 
 dm unworthy in every way; but let my love plead for me, 
 \t you do not dislike me, if you do not think it presumptu- 
 ous of me, give me a little hope that in time I may win your 
 love at least let me try and do so." 
 
 He was terribly in earnest Vancourt Towers, the Vancourt 
 money, and Esther herself, were the prize for which he was 
 striving. Was he going to win? His breath cams fast, and
 
 170 XiOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 his eyes gleamed as he gazed at her. Even a more experi- 
 enced girl than Esther might have been deceived, and felt 
 convinced that it was love, pure, disinterested love which he 
 was pleading. 
 
 She was greatly troubled. By luck rather than judgment 
 he had caught her in the mood most favourable to his pur- 
 pose. While he had been speaking, Esther had been thinking 
 of Jack Gordon. Had she by any chance let him see last 
 night that she cared for him? Her face flushed with shame 
 at the thought. If so, if she had betrayed herself, then by 
 marrying Selby Layton she should soothe her own pride. 
 Many a girl has committed the egregious folly of marrying 
 from pique, and it was pique that made Esther hesitate in 
 giving Selby Layton a decisive " No." 
 
 Then, again, she was not insensible of the undoubted charm 
 of the man's manner. His voice was like a strain of music, 
 and had never been sweeter, more impressive than now as it 
 spoke of his love for her. 
 
 She would have to marry some one or other the mistresa 
 of Vancourt Towers could not remain single as well marry 
 Selby Layton as another. It did not matter whom she ac- 
 cepted; she would never love any one but The red shame 
 rose to her face again. If she married Selby Layton she 
 would be compelled to forget the other man; it would be her 
 duty to do so, and she would do her duty by her husband, 
 whomsoever he might be. If she were still a poor music- 
 teacher she might remain a spinster for the rest of her life 
 how dreary a vista it seemed to her at that moment! but she 
 was the owner of that vast place. Already she had felt the 
 need of a help-mate, a partner and adviser it was because of 
 this need that she relied so much upon Jack Gordon and 
 Selby Layton would fill the position very well. And he loved 
 her: she would make one man happy, at any rate. 
 
 He watched the troubled face, never more beautiful than 
 at this moment, as she sat leaning her chin on her hand, the 
 glorious grey eyes, infinitely sad, fixed dreamily before her as 
 if she had forgotten him. Of what was she thinking? he 
 asked himself anxiously. Was she going to say " Yes," or 
 " No?" 
 
 " Will you not speak to me?" he murmured, imploringly. 
 " Will you not, let me hope? I ask for nothing more. I do 
 not expect you to bind yourself in any way. I will leave you 
 free, quite free. I only plead that you should grant me the 
 
 frivilege of trying to win your love. It is a great deal to ask, 
 know* but afat be merciful, Esther 1 lienxeuaber that,
 
 LOVE, THE TYRiirr. 171 
 
 though I am poor ana in every way unworthy, I love you as 
 devotedly as ever man loved woman; and that I am content 
 to wait until you can return something of that love." 
 
 She shook her head gently. She was very pale, and her 
 lips aud brows were drawn as with pain. 
 
 " I I cannot. I am sorry. I shall never love " 
 
 She faltered and turned her head away for a moment. 
 
 He took advantage of the pause. 
 
 "Forgive me! but that cannot be true! You you, who 
 are so tender-hearted, so full of sweet womanliness, not love! 
 It is because I know that you are capable of a love far tran- 
 scending that of the commonplace woman that I am in such 
 deadly earnest, so eager." 
 
 " Let us go," she said, rising. " I cannot thinkI did 
 not know; guess I am bewildered." 
 
 He was far too clever not to seize the moment, and rising 
 on one knee, he caught her hand. 
 
 " Only a hops 1 ask no more," he said. " You will nofc 
 refuse ine bhat? Oh, have some pity on me!" 
 
 She looked down at him, still half dreamily, confusedly; 
 but she did not withdraw her hand. She was, indeed, scarcely 
 conscious that he held it; but as with a low cry of gratitude 
 and joy, he was about to press his lips to it, she drew it away 
 from him. 
 
 " No, I did not say I gave no promise!" She drew herself 
 away and looked at him steadily. " 1 am to be quite free 
 you will not try and persuade urge me?" 
 
 " No!" he said, springing to his feet and gazing at her 
 with a magnificent assumption of unselfish devotion. ** Nc* 
 You shall be quite free. I will not speak to you again until I 
 see some sign of yielding, of permission. Forgive me if I 
 seem too eager too happy. The faint hope you have given 
 me But I will not speak of it again." 
 
 Esther went down the broken steps, and he followed her in 
 silence. If she had chanced to look back, she would have 
 been startled by the exultation, the triumph which shone in 
 his eyes and curved his lips. 
 
 He knew that the woman who hesitates is lost, that the 
 man who persuades a girl to give him hope, wins in the long 
 run, nine times out of ten, The glimpses of the Towers 
 through the trees intoxicated him; he should be master there 
 before long. 
 
 They found Toby placidly nibbling the long grass by the 
 roadside, and Selby Layton wt uld have helped Father into 
 the jingle, bat she sprang in before he could offer her bis
 
 172 LOVE, THE TYRANT* 
 
 hand, and they drove off. He was too cunning to permit gr 
 embarrassing silence, and he talked about the wild flowery 
 the birds, everything that presented itself; but though he was 
 careful to confine himself to the commonplace, he threw a 
 note of tenderness, of reverence into his voice which Esther 
 could not resent though it jarred upon her. 
 
 " Til walk up this," he said, as they came to a hill; and he 
 got out and picked some of the gentian and meadow-sweet. 
 Esther drove on slowly, and he was so absorbed in gathering 
 the flowers which he meant to lay upon the seat beside her 
 without a word, that he did not notice a man who was lean- 
 ing on a gate a little ahead of him. The man was watching 
 him with a sinister smile, and presently, when Selby Lay ton 
 was nearly up to him, laughed quietly and sardonically. 
 
 Selby Lay ton started and looked up, then, as his eyes fell 
 on the man, the colour left his face and he stood as if turned 
 to stone. 
 
 " Denzil!" he gasped. 
 
 Denzil nodded, his elbows hitched on the top rail of the 
 gate, the sardonic smile making of his face one dark sneer. 
 
 " How are you, Selby?" he said. " Rather startled you, 
 didn't I? Didn't like to speak before for fear of spoiling the 
 picture; you looked so sweet and innocent gathering the 
 pretty flowers!" 
 
 St;lby Lay ton glanced at the jingle, and then at the sneer- 
 ing face with an expression on nis own in which loathing and 
 fear were nicely combined. 
 
 " 'What the devil are you doing here?" he asked between 
 his set teeth. 
 
 Denzil laughed. 
 
 ** Admiring the beauties of nature, animal and inanimate, 
 my dear Selby." 
 
 " SpeaK lower you you beast! She'll she'll hear you!" 
 said Selby Lay ton, glancing at the jingle which had come to 
 a stand-still at the top of the hill." 
 
 " Oh, no, she won't. And if she did, what matters? Why 
 shouldn't Miss Vancourt witness the meeting between two 
 friends?" 
 
 Selby Layton drew nearer to him, and, fighting for self- 
 possession, forced a smile. 
 
 " You've an unpleasant way of of startling your friends, 
 my dear Denzil. I'm afraid I can't stop Miss Vancourt if. 
 waiting. What is it you want? You have followed me dowa 
 here with an object, I suppose?" 
 
 "' Tracked, is the word," said DenziL " With aa obioct
 
 HOVE, THE TYRANT. 173 
 
 Shall I join you? You can introduce me to your lady-friend. 
 
 She's pretty, more than pretty!" 
 
 Selby Lay ton ground his teeth. 
 
 '* I'll meet you later," he said. " I can't stay and talk tc 
 you now, and you know 1 it. Meet me by the boat-house on. 
 the lake you can find it easily at ten o'clock to-night." 
 
 " Humph!" said Denzil, doubtfully. " Why shouldn't <. 
 join you now? Why should I sneak out to meet you at 
 night?" 
 
 Selby Lay ton smiled, his lip twisted in its ugliest fashion. 
 
 " Because you would ruin both of us," he said. " You 
 see I'm frank with you. At ten by the boat-house. Take 
 this cigarette and a light. At ten," 
 
 " It's worth something to see you in a blue funk, Selby," 
 fiaid Deuzil, laughing; but he took the cigarette and lit it, 
 " Well, I'll humour you. I'll be there; but by the Lord if 
 you play any tricks!" 
 
 Selby Layton shook his head, and said aloud: 
 
 " Good-day to you!" and walked on, quickly. 
 
 " I beg your pardon for keeping you, he said to Esther. 
 " A man <lid you happen to see him?" 
 
 Esther nodded. 
 
 " Yes; what an unpleasant-looking man! What did he 
 want?" 
 
 " Onlv some tobacco," he replied. " He was asking his 
 Way to Hunt sh aw, and I was trying to tell him; that is what 
 kspt me. Please forgive me!" 
 
 ' Was he a tramp? He scarcely looked like one." 
 
 *' Oh, no; I think no f ; a tourist or something of the kind, 
 I should say," said Selby Layton, carelessly, as he laid the 
 flowers on the seat beside her and glanced at her with tender 
 devotion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 JACK did not attach much importance to Mrs. Martini 
 mysterious stranger, for he knew how slight a thing upset her 
 nerves; but he took a look round, before turning in, as he 
 had promised to do. There was, however, no one about, and 
 he went home to the cottage and wearily completed hia 
 packing, 
 
 It was simple enough, and only one thing bothered him: 
 the pocket-book containing the notes and the marriage cer- 
 tificate which he had picked up during his pursuit of Denzil 
 the
 
 174 LOVE, THE TYKAOT. 
 
 The possession of this property had often caused him a 
 troubled quarter of an hour, and he had not had an easy con- 
 science over it. The pocket-book and its contents belonged 
 to some one, and he ought to have placed it in the hands of 
 the police, or advertised it; but he was convinced that Denzil 
 had dropped it, and he was reluctant to let such a clue go out 
 of his hands, for he felt that some day or other he should 
 meet the scoundrel again and square accounts with him. 
 
 To-night he stood with the pocket-book in his hand ponder- 
 ing over it. To carry so large a sum with him would be 
 madness, for he might be stricken with illness during his 
 tramping in search of work; on the other hand, he did not 
 like to entrust it to any one to keep. Suddenly an idea oc- 
 curred to him, a very natural idea to a man who had been in, 
 the habit of hiding his valuables from the eyes of the roughs 
 and thieves of an Australian camp. 
 
 He got an empty tin, placed the pockeb-book in it, and, 
 carefully lifting the hearth-stone, deposited the tin under- 
 neath, replacing the stone as carefully over the treasure, so 
 that no one would be likely to see that it had been moved. 
 
 Then he went to bed. But not to sleep. Every time he 
 closed his eyes he saw the lovely face of the girl he loved, 
 heard her voice; a strong man's passion held him in thrall, 
 and tortured him with its infinite longing and infinite despair. 
 There is no tyrant so merciless as Love, and Jack was under 
 its iron heel. Every now and then the fact that he was not 
 only leaving Esther bufc Vancourt his own Vancourt flashed 
 upon him; but it was the parting from Esther, the thought 
 that he might never see her again, that outweighed every 
 other consideration. 
 
 He rose in the morning with the lassitude and weariness 
 resulting from such a night, and went round the farm in a 
 melancholy mood. It was wonderful how fond he had become 
 of the farm, and not only of the place but of the people. He 
 had intended telling the Martins at breakfast- time that he 
 was going that night; but he could not bring himself to do so 
 in face of Nettie's loving greeting. The parting with the 
 child would cut him to the heart. 
 
 " How pale 'oo look, Jack!" she said, as he dropped into 
 the chair beside her, and she put up her face for his morning 
 kiss. " Mother saus 'oo works too hard. Does 'oo? Bt 
 never mind; p'r'iips 'oo'll break 'oos leg, like father, and 
 have a long rest. Wasn't it splendid in the hay yesterday! J 
 wish it* was to tome to-day, and that Miss VancojOfc was doing
 
 , THE TYEAHfE 175 
 
 to play wiv us. She is a tind and pretty laay, isn't she, 
 Jack?" 
 
 " She is," said Jack, succinctly. 
 
 " And I think she likes 'oo very much, Jack; for I saw her 
 looking at 'oo yesterday as if she did, an' she said to me how 
 strong you was " 
 
 " Nettie, go on with your breakfast, and let Mr. Gordon 
 eat his," said her mother. 
 
 ** It isn't me," said Nettie, shrewdly. " Jack isn't eating 
 anything, is 'oo, Jack? Doesn't 'oo want any bekfast?" 
 
 " I'm a little off colour this morning, I'm afraid, Nettie,'* 
 said Jack. " Too much ale last night, I expect, Mrs. Mar- 
 tin. How is Martin this morning?" 
 
 As he asked the question Martin limped down the stairs. 
 
 " Now it's all right, mother!" he said, as Mrs. Martin 
 began to remonstrate. " I'm tired of being mewed up there 
 like an old hen in a coop, and I'm sound enough to hop about 
 agen, ain't I, Mr. Gordon? I'm a-going round the farm a 
 bit to-day, let the old doctor say what he may. It won't do 
 me no harm; anyways, I'm a-going to risk it." 
 
 This was a good opportunity for Jack to inform them of 
 his intended and sudden departure; but he could not bring 
 himself to do it before the child, who had slid on to his knee 
 and rested against him. Later in the day would do, he told 
 himself, with the man's desire to avoid a " scene." 
 
 " I suppose you didn't see anything of that strange man 
 last night, Mr. Gordon?" Mrs. Martin asked, as he rose to 
 go. 
 
 " Eh? Oh, no, no!" He had quite forgotten him. 
 " There was no one about, and I expect he's many miles 
 away by this time, Mrs Martin. If you've made up your 
 mind to hobble round, Martin, you had better come with me 
 so that 1 can give you a hand." 
 
 Though Vancourt was so small a place, it was not strange 
 that Jack had not met with Denzil, for that gentleman had 
 not put up at the village inn, but at a smaller and less fre- 
 quented one about two miles out. He was not fond of put- 
 ting himself in evidence at any time, and he had pood reasons 
 for not showing himself too much near the Towers. He did 
 not want to drive Selby Layton into too tight a corner, and 
 his request to be introduced to Esther was merely a piece of 
 bluff. 4 
 
 After Selby Layton had left him, Denzil lounged slowly 
 back to the Black Crow, as the tumble-down little inn wai 
 Galled, and baying eaten a midday meal of the usual country
 
 17 WWE, THE TYRAST. 
 
 fore eggs and bacon took his glasb of ale and a pipe in** 
 the porch, and smoked and drank with the comfortable antici- 
 pation of a prosperous future. That Selby Layton would 
 meet him and come to his terms he was convinced; how could 
 he do otherwise? As he thought of his victim and his help- 
 lessness, a cruel smile crossed nis sinister face, and once or 
 twice he laughed, the harsh laugh of malignant triumph. 
 
 He sat and smoked and drank and slept until nearly even- 
 ing, then he rose and stretched himself and sauntered down 
 the road towards the village. There were very few persona 
 abou!., and he was tempted to prolong his stroll the time 
 hung rather heavily on his hands and he had almost reached 
 the row of dilapidated cottages, when Transom came out 
 from his and walked towards him. 
 
 Denzil was on the point of turning back, but changed hia 
 mind and sauntered on with his half -impudent swagger, and 
 his hands in his pockets. The two men advanced towards 
 each other, Transom with his head hung down as usual; then, 
 suddenly, he looked up, saw Denzil, and as suddenly stopped 
 dead short and uttered a low cry of surprise and fear. 
 
 Denzil also started, and regarded Transom in silence for a 
 moment, then, with an oath, he said in a low voice: 
 
 " What, Hick?" 
 
 Transom was as white as if he were gazing at a ghost, and 
 though his lips moved, no word was audible. Denzil eyed 
 him with a sardonic amusement which yet had something of 
 uneasiness in it. 
 
 " Who the devil would have expected to see you here!" he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " I I live here," said Transom, glancing round him nerv- 
 ously. " What are you doing here? Hush! There's some 
 one coming! You mustn't be seen. My God! it means 
 death!" 
 
 Denzil eyed him intently. 
 
 " What do you mean? Why shouldn't I be here? I'm 
 safe enough; no one knows me but you." 
 
 " You're wrong," muttered Transom, hoarsely, wiping the 
 sweat from his face. " I tell you you're in danger yon 
 couldn't have come to a worse place! Here; come inside! 
 No, wait!" 
 
 He went back to the cottage, and opening the door, looked 
 in. 
 
 was doing some washing, and he held the door so 
 that she could not see his face as she looked round. 
 " Kate." he said, clearing his throat and trvina to speak
 
 IttVE, THE TYBANT. 177 
 
 earelessly, * just go to Martin's and borrow a heuging-hook 
 for me, will you?" 
 
 " Won't it do when I've finished, father?" she asked. 
 
 " No, it won't," he retorted. " Go at once, will you?" 
 
 Kate wiped her hands and caught up her sun-bonnet, an<* 
 went out the back way; and Transom, waiting until she had 
 disappeared, signed to Denzil to enter. He closed and even 
 bolted the door, and then sank into a chair and gazed at the 
 tail figure and dark face with a gloomy stare, in which fear 
 and amazement still struggled for mastery. 
 
 " So this is your place, is it, Mick?" said Denzil, seating 
 aimseif on the table, and swinging his leg. " You've come 
 back and settled down, have you? Well, you're right, and 
 you seem to be pretty snug. Married children?" 
 
 " A daughter," said Transom, mechanically. " She was 
 here just now she might have seen you." 
 
 Denzil shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " And if she did? There's nothing in her father meeting 
 an old pal, is there? She doesn't know where they mec be- 
 fore, or how they parted. You fool, you haven't told her 
 any one?" he broke out, threateningly. 
 
 Transom shook his head. 
 
 " No, no! I haven't told any one!" he said, hoarsely. '* Is 
 it likely I should? It is isn't that!" 
 
 " What is it, then, that puts you in such a funk?" asked 
 Denzil, contemptuously. " Who's to know me here, except- 
 ing yourself? Who's to know that honest old whatever your 
 naaio is, whatever you call yourself was one of the Wally- 
 Wally gang, and ttiat there's a price on our heads, eh?" 
 
 Transom rose in a paroxysm of terror, then sank down 
 again. 
 
 " What brought you here?" he said, huskily. " Whatever 
 it was, for God's sake leave the place at once. You're not 
 safe here. You're known to some one else besides me." 
 
 Denzil laughed scornfully. 
 
 '" Oil, yes! How did you know it? You mean " 
 
 " The man Gordon," said Transom. " The man whose 
 ehum you shot " -f 
 
 Denzil sprang to his feet with an oath, his face white, hia 
 eyes flashing with hate and apprehension. 
 
 "Him! It's a lie!" 
 
 " It's the truth," said Transom, sullenly. " Gordon's 
 here in the place has been here some time." 
 
 Now, it chanced that at this very moment Kate came back, 
 She had remembered that she had left a saucepan oa the fire*
 
 1" tOTE, TE TYRANT. 
 
 and that it wooLd boil over while she was away, and she nafl 
 run back to take it off. Her hand was on the latch of the 
 back door, when she heard voices and Jack Gordon's name. 
 Her hand fell from the latch, and she stood breathless and 
 trembling. 
 
 Who was with her father, and why had she been sent out 
 of the way? And why were they talking of Mr. Gordon? 
 As white as her father within the room, she leant against the 
 frame of the door and listened. 
 
 "Gordon!" muttered Denzil, as he sank on to the table 
 again. " Curse him! this is the second time he has crossed 
 my path! By God! if I meet him it shall be the last!" 
 
 " More likely yours!" said Transom, moodily and with 
 an air of conviction. " Remember, he knows you; he saw 
 you without your mask. There was murder hi his eves as he 
 looked at you that night." He shuddered. "I tell you, 
 Denzil, that if he sees you. it will be all up with you " 
 
 44 Or with him!" broke in Denzil, savagely. 4 ' How does 
 he come to be here in this place, too? Seems as if I'd dropped 
 into a complete nest of old friends," he added, with an ugly 
 sneer. 
 
 Transom's eyes dropped from the dark, evil ones. 
 
 44 He's staying working here. What does it matter? 
 He's here, I tell you, and if he sees you and he may do so at 
 any moment you are a last man! You know it! You're 
 not in the bush now; you're in England in England, where 
 they run a man down as easily as a hare. You're sitting there 
 with the rope round you neck, man!" he exclaimed, hoarsely. 
 
 Denzil grew pale and ground his teeth. 
 
 " Why didn't I shoot him that night?" he muttered. " It 
 was your fault, you white-livered hound! You stayed my 
 hand." 
 
 " I draw the line at murder, and you'd done it once that 
 night already," said Transom, moodily, and with a sup- 
 pressed shudder. " But there's no good talking about it 
 though as Heaven's my witness, I think of it day and night. 
 I can't forget it. What business has brought you here I 
 don't know, and I don't care; but whatever it is, take my 
 advice, for God's sake, and clear out. Leave England go 
 and bury yourself anywhere out of his sight!" 
 
 Denzil broke in with a laugh. 
 
 " Seems to me you're thinking of your own skin, Master 
 Mick," he said. " We're both in the same boat!" 
 
 Transom rose, clutching the table and shaking his 
 baud at hi* tormentor.
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAJTE. 1 
 
 " 00 yon think I don'fc know it? Do you thins I'm likely 
 to forget it? No! I've carried the burden, an* a heavy one 
 it is, since that night But there! It's a waste of time to 
 talk to such as you. You don't feel no remoise " 
 
 Danzil laughed contemptuously. 
 
 " Kemorse! You talk like a baby! It was a fair fight." 
 
 " It was murder!" said Transom; then suddenly he sprang 
 at Denzil and dragged him behind the front door. " Hushi 
 not a word! The man, the man himself, is coming up the 
 path!" 
 
 The two men crouched behind the door, a knock came, 
 and Jack's voice was heard calling: 
 
 " Transom! Miss Transom! Any one in there?" 
 
 He tried the door, then they heard him going down the 
 path. Transom leant against the door gasping for breath. 
 
 "That was him!" he panted, thickly. "If I hadn't 
 bolted the door Now, don't you see what you've got to 
 fear?" 
 
 Denzil stood gnawing at his moustache, his face pallid, his 
 eyes glowering. 
 
 " It's my luck!" he muttered. " Curse him I'd like to 
 meet him face to face! I'd settle accounts with him! But 
 you're right, Mick!" he said, after a string of oaths. " It 
 won't do to risk it. I'll clear out. I'll go to-night." 
 
 " Go now this very hour," said Transom. 
 
 Denzil shook his head. 
 
 " Can't! I've got some business to do here; but I'll sheer 
 off to-night. Keep up your pluck, Mick; you seem to have 
 lost it since you and I " 
 
 Transom shuddered and silenced him with a gesture. 
 
 " Go now," he said. " No! not that way, the back. You 
 can slink into the woods and keep in hiding. Where are you 
 staying?" 
 
 " At a hole of a place called the Black Crow, just outside. 
 You might drop in and have a glass " 
 
 Transom shook his head. 
 
 " Well, better not, perhaps. Open the door. Wait a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 He took out a revolver and examined the chambers, then 
 he slipped it back with a significant laugh. 
 
 " I might meet our friend," he said. " Well, I reckon I 
 can take care of myself if I do! Don't you be uneasy on my 
 account, Mick!" he added, sarcastically. 
 
 Transom waited and listened for a moment, then he opened 
 the back door, and looked round and with a -
 
 180 LOVE, THE TYEANT. 
 
 " Coast citidr? Well, so long, Mick!'* Densu went -jet. 
 
 Kate had dragged herself away from the door before it was 
 opened, and was now crouching behind the corner of the cot- 
 tage, her face bidder in her hands, her whole frame shaking 
 as if with ague. 
 
 CHAPTER XXTT. 
 
 EVEN at eight o'clock that evening Jack had told no one, 
 excepting Esther, that he was going; the nearer the necessity 
 for informing the Martins became, the more he shrank from 
 it; and yet he had resolved to leave Vancourt that night, for 
 the sooner he was gone the better. He had at first intended 
 to leave by the eveuing train, but it occurred to him that he 
 would be less unhappy walking, and he decided to tramp to 
 Barminster, and perhaps still farther, on the London road; 
 he had made himself a rough knapsack which would easily 
 carry all his clothes. 
 
 If he had not been weighed down by his love for Esther, 
 and his grief at parting from her, Jack would have viewed 
 the tramp before him with anything but regret, for the Van 
 court passion for adventure ran strongly in his veins, and his 
 old life in the bush had accustomed him to long tramps and 
 plain living. 
 
 By eight o'clock he had been all round the farm, and he 
 told himself that, at any rate, Vancourt had not lost any* 
 thing by employing him. Martin himself saw the improve- 
 ments, and frankly remarked on them and expressed his ap- 
 proval. 
 
 " You see, Mr. Gordon, you've got a way with you," he 
 said, shrewdh, " and you've managed to get everything you 
 want. Now, Ishould never have the face to badger the mis- 
 tress for all the things you've bought and all the improve- 
 ments you've made. You'm a good farmer, too, I'm bound 
 to say. Why, man, you ought to have a farm of your own." 
 
 Jack laughed rather grimly. 
 
 " Perhaps 1 may have some day," he said. " But no, I'm 
 afraid it wouldn't suit me; don't like bing stuck down to 
 the place; you see, I'm fond of roaming about. Don't be 
 surprised if I * up-stick ' and cut off some day without 
 Darning." 
 
 Martin laughed and shook his head. 
 
 " You'm too happy here, I'm thinking, to do that," he 
 said. 
 
 " I dan't know," said Jack. " I miaht even so to-night.
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 181 
 
 You're well enough now to look after the place. Don't be 
 surprised at anything I may do." 
 
 This conversation took place soon after tea, as Jack was 
 leaving the farm lodge; but the Martins did not attach much 
 importance to it, though his words seemed afterwards preg- 
 nant enough. 
 
 A little after eight he went into the cart-sheds and looked 
 at the machines which he had instructed the men to clean; 
 they had done their work imperfectly, and he took a cloth 
 and polished up the bright steel and glowing paints, trying to 
 forget his misery in the occupation. The stable clock at the 
 Towers chimed half-past nine as he left the sheds and went to 
 the cottage. He had tidied up the rooms, and his knapsack 
 stood ready packed on the table. There was no reason why 
 he should not go and say good-bye to the Martins and take 
 his departure; but he still lingered, reluctant to leave the 
 spot where he had found the greatest happiness and unhap- 
 pmess of his life. 
 
 " I'll just take one last look round," he murmured, 
 shamefacedly. " After all, it doesn't matter whether I start 
 at ten or half-past; I've got all the night to walk in. Won- 
 der where I shall be this time next week? Perhaps on the 
 way back to Australia and to the old life. Might do worse. 
 I shall feel precious lonely without Bob. Poor old Bob! It 
 was good of her to take him, and he'll have a happy home. 
 But I shall miss you, old man!" 
 
 He took up his gun and lit his pipe and went out, but with 
 a very different step to his usual light and brisk one. As he 
 went down the narrow cart-lane towards the woods he saw a 
 girl standing beside a gate. It was Xate Transom. She was 
 leaning against the gate in an attitude of dejection, her head 
 resting on her hand, and she seemed to be waiting for some 
 one. Jack quickened his pace and strode up to her and gave 
 her good-evening. 
 
 She started, and her face flushed, then the colour died 
 fvway, and he saw that she was very pale. 
 
 " Enjoying the cool of the evening?" he said, trying to 
 speak lightly. " It's not a bad night, though the clouds get 
 across the moon rather too much. Oh, by the way, I called 
 at your cottage this afternoon to ask your father if he'd take 
 some cattle into market for Martin to-morrow; but there was 
 no one at home at least I couldn't make any one hear." 
 
 Kate's eyes were lifted to his for a moment, and he saw 
 fchat they were clouded with an anxious, troubled expression. 
 
 *' What, time was that?" she asked in a low
 
 182 LOVE, THE TYBAST. 
 
 " Eh? on, something after two.*' 
 
 Her hand went to the gate, and she gripped it. It w*s he 
 then, who had come to the cottage while the man and her 
 father were talking. 
 
 " You you. are going into the woods?'* she said. 
 
 There was a note of apprehension in her voice which 
 slightly surprised him. 
 
 ?e Yes," he said. " Why?" 
 
 She seemed to hesitate, as if reluctant to give a reason for 
 fcer questions; then, as if she could not help herself, she 
 'altered: 
 
 " Is it safe, Mr. Gordon? You always go alone, and 
 and there may be poachers; they are reckless and des- 
 perate " 
 
 Jack looked at her sharply as she broke down. 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right,*' he said, " There's nothing to fear, 
 and I've got my gun, you see." He patted it with a smile. 
 " But have you any reason to expect a visit from the poachers 
 to-night?" he added, with the glance that could be keen and 
 piercing when he chose. 
 
 Her colour came and went, leaving her face as pallid as 
 before. 
 
 " N-o no," she said; " I know nothing. But but ah! 
 you will be careful, Mr. Gordon?" 
 
 In her earnestness she unconsciously clasped her hands. 
 Now, Jack was human, and the girl was exceedingly pretty, 
 He had befriended her more than once, and one always feels 
 kindly disposed towards those one has benefited. He was 
 touched by her regard for his safety. 
 
 " I'll be careful and keep my eyes open, Miss Transom," 
 he said. " It's very land of you to warn me to care what 
 happens to me." 
 
 Without thinking what he was doing, and meaning nothing 
 but kindly gratitude by the action, he held out his hand. 
 
 She took it in both hers, seemed to cling to it for a mo- 
 ment, then her head drooped until her soft warm lips touched 
 it. Jack reddened under his tan, and he stood in the awk- 
 ward silence of the man. She raised her head and looked at 
 him, as she had looked at him the night he had first seen her, 
 when he had spared her father, but with something added to 
 the expression of gratitude something that moved Jack to 
 the heart; then, with a stifled sob, she turned and was swal- 
 lowed up in the shadows. 
 
 " Poor girll" be mused, as he walked away, " I'm afraid
 
 LOVE, THE TTEANT. 183 
 
 die's not over happy! Come to that, who the deace of as is! 
 It's a darned unsatisfactory world!" 
 
 That Kate entertained any warmer feeling than that of 
 friendship never occurred to him, for Jack, with all his faults 
 was free from vanity, and a modest man to boot. 
 
 He kept a sharper lookout than usual when he went through 
 the woods, but he made a bee-line towards the house and saw 
 nothing of the tall, dark-faced man who was, as stealthily and 
 noiselessly as Jack himself could have done, making his way 
 to the Hawk's Pool. 
 
 Jack stood at the edge of the woods and looked across the 
 park and lawn at the house. The light was streaming from 
 the open windows of the drawing-room, and Jack could hear 
 faintly, the sound of Mr. Selby Layton's voice. 
 
 Sweet though it was, it filled Jack with bitterness. He did 
 not begrudge Selby Layton his presence there, did not be- 
 grudge Esther the possession of the house that was his, 
 Jack's; but the thought came to him: 
 
 " She will marry some day: she may even marry that- 
 fool! Well, it's no business of mine! I've given my prom- 
 ise, I've bartered my house and land, my very name, in ex- 
 change for my life, and I'll abide by my word. But, if she 
 had only been one of the labourers' daughters, if she'd only 
 been Kate Transom! I wonder whether I shall ever get over 
 it, whether I shall ever be able to think of her without wish- 
 ingthat I was dead!" 
 
 He certainly was not able to think of Esther with equanim- 
 ity that night, and he was pale and shaking with love's de- 
 spair as he turned and tramped back amongst the trees. 
 
 Automatically he strayed to the left of the direct line to 
 the cottage and so skirted the Hawk's Pool. He paused for a 
 moment to look, absently, at the water glimmering weirdly 
 in the fickle rays of the moon over which the clouds were 
 sailing, and as he did so he heard the peculiarly painful cry 
 a hare emits when it is caught in a gin. He had no difficulty 
 in tracking it, and he found the poor animal caught by its 
 hind leg in the snare. It squealed with fright as Jack ap- 
 proached, and he was about to kill it when he saw that it was 
 not much injured. 
 
 " Hares are scarce," he said, " I'll set your leg, my friend, 
 and turn you loose again. I'm afraid if I'd found the man 
 who laid the snare caught in it, I should have been tempted 
 to leave him there, the brute!" 
 
 trapping his handkerchief round the wound he walked 
 un, carrying the hare, and, in the pre-occupation of his mind
 
 184 IOVE, THE TYBA1TT. 
 
 forgetting his gun. If he had been empty-handed he would 
 have been conscious of his loss of the gun, but, carrying 
 something, he did not miss the weapon until he had got clear 
 of the woods. He remembered it then, and was half inclined 
 to go back for it; but hesitated. He would tell Martin where 
 the gun stood and Martin could send Georgie for it. 
 
 He carried the hare into the cottage and bound the leg in 
 a couple of splints and carrying it into the clearing, let L 
 loose. He was standing watching the animal as it ran limp- 
 ingly into the undergrowth, when he heard a light step behind 
 him, and, turning swiftly, saw Kate Transom standing look- 
 ing at the cottage. 
 
 Now, Jack had no desire to meet her again that night. He 
 yas terribly upset and down in the mouth, and the emotion 
 she had displayed earlier in the evening had made him vaguely 
 uncomfortable; so he slid behind one of the trees. But she 
 heard the movement, and uttered a low cry of alarm, and 
 Jack, stifling an exclamation of impatience, came out and 
 walked towards her. 
 
 " What is it? Anything the matter?" he enquired, rather 
 brusquely. 
 
 " N-o, nothing is the matter," she faltered. " I I 
 wanted to see if you had come back, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 " Oh, I've come back right enough," said Jack, with a 
 short laugh. "I'm afraid you've been anxious on my ac- 
 count. You think the fellows are in the woods to-nighk 
 don't you? Well, I didn't see any of them." 
 
 At that moment the moon emerged from behind a bank of 
 clouds, and its light fell full upon him. Kate uttered a low 
 cry of terror and shrank back. 
 
 " What's the matter now?" asked Jack, rather testily. 
 "You seem very nervous to-night." 
 
 " Look look at your hands!" she faltered, breathlessly. 
 
 Jack laughed and took out his handkerchief; but the sight 
 of it only increased her terror. 
 
 ** That is all over blood, too!" she said, huskily. " Oh, 
 what has happened? You are hurt! How how did you do 
 it?" 
 
 Jack wiped his hands leisurely. 
 
 " I'm not hurt in the least," he said. " The blood came 
 from a hare I found in a snare set by one of those scoun- 
 drels." 
 
 She looked at him doubtfully. 
 
 " Are are you sure you are not hurt?" 
 
 " iiv daar Miss Transom, I assure yon that nothing has
 
 LOVE, THE TYBANT. 1^ 
 
 happened and that I haven't a scratch upon me. If yon had 
 been here a minute or two earlier, you would have seen me 
 set the hare's leg and turn the poor thing loose." 
 
 She drew a breath of relief. 
 
 " Oh, thank God thank God!" she panted. " I thought 
 I was afraid " She stopped and put her hand it was 
 trembling to her lips as if to stop herself. " I thought 
 something had happened. I I beg your pardon, Mr. Gor- 
 don. I'm nervous and out of sorts, and and I fancy all 
 sorts of dreadful things." 
 
 " So I see," said Jack, gently enough now. " Women are 
 always scared by the sight of blood." He sighed as he 
 thought of the day when Esther had shrank back from her 
 blood-stained handkerchief, which he still carried in hia 
 bosom. " You'd better go home now; it's getting late. I'll 
 come with you." 
 
 " No no!" she responded quickly, almost fearfully. " I 
 do not want you to! I I wish you would go in now I beg 
 your pardon," for Jack had opened his eyes with surprise. 
 " I mean I can go home alone quite well. Good-night and- 
 and forgive me for troubling you." 
 
 " Good-night and good-bye," said Jack. 
 
 At the " good-bye " she started and paused, and her eyes 
 sought his with a troubled questioning; but she said nothing 
 and walked quickly away. 
 
 Jack went into the cottage, had a good wash, shouldered 
 his knapsack, and looking round the little room sadly, went 
 out and closed the door after him. 
 
 When he had reached the farm lodge he put the knapsack 
 down by the gate before going into the house. 
 
 Mrs. Martin was sitting by the table sewing, and she 
 looked up with a smile she knew his step but the smile 
 vanished as she saw his face, and she rose nervously. 
 
 " Is anything the matter?" she asked in a low voice. 
 
 "No. Why?" responded Jack. 
 
 " You you look so strange, so so pale. Are yea ill, Mr. 
 Gordon?" 
 
 " Not in the least," said Jack, quietly. " But I'm rather 
 sorry for myself, Mrs. Martin, for I've come to say good- 
 bye." 
 
 "To say good-bye!" she faltered, with amazement. 
 " Why, where are you going?" 
 
 " I'm going to London," said Jack. " To-night," ha 
 added. " I'm ashamed to rush it on you like this, Mrs. Mar* 
 tin*
 
 LOVE, TfiE TYEA3TT. 
 
 " You nave had news bad news?" she said, as he paused. 
 
 He snatched at the excuse. 
 
 " Yes, I have," he said. 
 
 " I'm sorry!" she murmured, with genuine regret in her 
 pale face and low voice. " I won't ask you to tell me what 
 it is. But I'm not surprised at your going. I always 
 thought you might leave us any moment. Of course, Mr. 
 Gordon, I've felt all along that you were different to us, that 
 you weren't what you seemed, that you were a gentleman, 
 and that there was something mysterious in your living with 
 us as you have done, and working on the farm. I can't tell 
 you how we shall all miss you Martin and me, and Nettie. 
 Nettie! Ah, I don't know what she'll do! She'll cry her 
 little heart out when she knows. Yes, I'm sorry," she wound 
 up with a deep sigh. 
 
 " You're not half as sorry as I am, Mrs. Martin," he said. 
 " You have been more than kind to me, all of you; and I'd 
 stay with you until I was grey-headed, if I could. But I can'*; 
 something has happened " He paused and stammered, 
 " I mean, I've heard news that compels me to go." 
 
 She nodded sadhr. 
 
 " I'll go and wake Martin," she said, with a sigh. 
 
 " No, no!" said Jack, quickly. " I half broke my going 
 to him this afternoon. Bid him good-bye for me to-morrow. 
 Everything is straight at the farm, and " 
 
 She looked at him quickly yet shyly. 
 
 " Do you want have you enough money, Mr. Gordon? I 
 have some put by for a rainy day. It's not much, but what 
 there is 3 ou are more than welcome to, and Martin would say 
 the same." 
 
 He shook his head in silence for a moment, then he said: 
 
 " No, I'm all right for money, Mrs. Martin, thank you. I 
 drew my wages yesterday. You'll let me kiss Nettie good- 
 bye? I won't wake her." 
 
 She led him into the next room, and Jack bent over the 
 cot and kissed the child. He kissed her gently, but she 
 stirred and woke, and looked up at him through half-open 
 eyes, murmuring his name sleepily. 
 
 " Have 'oo tome to say dood-night 'cos you forgot it, 
 Jack?" she said, with a yawn; and she wound her arm round 
 his neck and snuggled her face against him. 
 
 A lump rose in Jack's throat and something in his eyes 
 blotted out the child's face from his sight. 
 
 " That's it, Nettie," he said, huskily. " I'm such an ab- 
 sent-minded chap. But don't you forget when jou wake that
 
 ISBVE, THE TYBAOT. 187 
 
 I did come back to say, wish you good-night. Go to sleep 
 again, and " 
 
 His voice broke, and he unwound her arm and laid her 
 asleep again already on the pillow. His face was white and 
 stern as a man's face is when he is fighting against emotion 
 as he raised it. 
 
 " Tell her tell her that I'll come back some day!" he 
 Said, hoarsely, " and and don't let her forget me." 
 
 " There's no fear of that!" said the mother, with a sigh. 
 " We sha'n't any of us forget you, from Miss Vancourt down- 
 wards. I'm sure she'll be sorry you've gone." 
 
 " Will she? Why should she?" he asked, with a gruesome 
 attempt to laugh. 
 
 Mrs. Martin went to the cupboard and drew a glass of ale and 
 ffered it to him: a slight thing enough; but it nearly broke 
 Jack. He drank it with the lump in his throat inconven- 
 iently large, and she went with him to the gate, and held out 
 her hand. 
 
 Jack took it, then he bent down and kissed her on the 
 forehead, muttered " Good-bye," slung his knapsack on his 
 fcack and strode off, as unhappy a wretch as any of us deserve 
 to be, and that is saying a great deal. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IT was not a particularly bright evening at the Towers. 
 Esther was silent and thoughtful and sat in a corner of the 
 drawing-room with a book, which she looked at but did not 
 read. It is always painful to make a fool of yourself, but it 
 is doubly painful to feel conscious that you have done so. 
 And Esther had more than a suspicion that in giving Selby 
 Lay ton " a hope " she had committed that folly which is de- 
 scribed as cutting off your nose to spite your face. 
 
 But Selby Layton was behaving admirably. By neither 
 word nor look did he remind Esther of what had passed be- 
 tween them that morning; indeed, though he was as atten- 
 tive as usual, he managed to infuse an additional respect into 
 his manner which was intended to soothe Esther and set her 
 doubts and fears at rest; and he partially succeeded, though 
 Esther's words and manner when she spoke to him were full 
 of that reserve which, without being coldness, is sufficient to 
 keep a man at arm's length. 
 
 Mr. Selby Layton sang as sweetly as ever that evening, and 
 seemed quite at his ease; but every now and then he glanced 
 at the clock, and when, at a quarter to ten., I&ther row and
 
 188 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 said she was tired and was going to her room, he rose and 
 opened the door with an affectation of reluctance which onlj 
 just concealed his relief. 
 
 " I think I shall smoke my cigar on the terrace, the night 
 is so fine,*' he said, as he held her hand and bestowed a slight 
 pressure upon it, which she did not return. 
 
 " I think I should put an overcoat on, Mr. Layton," said 
 Miss Worcester. " The nights are rather chilly, and I fancy 
 you gentlemen often catch cold by going into the air out of 
 a hot room in your evening dress." 
 
 " Thank yon. Yes, it would be wise," he said. " Good- 
 night, and happy dreams," he murmured, looking up at them 
 with a tender smile. 
 
 When they had gone, the tender smile fled, and was re- 
 placed by a look of anxiety which made his face haggard and 
 worn. 
 
 " But for that devil in human form I could count myself 
 upon the brink of success to-night," he muttered. " Shall I 
 draw back while there's time?" 
 
 He had asked himself this question a hundred times since 
 his meeting with Denzil; but, though prudence whispered 
 *' Yes!" ambition and greed urged him on. Now, as once 
 more he asked himself the question, he looked round the mag- 
 nificent room, thought of all it represented, and cast pru- 
 dence aside. 
 
 " After all, it's only a question of price," he muttered. 
 " If I can make it worth his while to hold his tongue and 
 he'll do anything for money. Yes, I'll risk it. D n it! I 
 can't go back now, now that I'm within sight of the goal! 
 There's too much at stake, the prize is too large. Vancourt 
 Towers and the girl. By Heaven! she counts with me; 
 she's worth all the rest put together. Yes, I'll risk it I've 
 got to!" 
 
 He went into the hall humming a song, ~ud put on a light 
 overcoat and a bowler hat. 
 
 " I'm going to stroll on the terrace, Palmer," he said. 
 '' Pray don't sit up for me if I'm tempted to be late. I can 
 let myself , and will lock and bar the door properly." 
 
 " Very good sir," said Palmer. " I've taken the cpirit- 
 stand into the billiard-room, sir." 
 
 " Ah, thank you, Palmer," said Selby Layton. " Yes, J 
 think I will take a soda and whiskey. Please don't trouble; 
 I can get it myself." 
 
 He took a glass of cognac neat, instead of the harmless 
 soda and whiskey, and still humming, went through the ope:
 
 COVE, THE TYRA1ST. 189 
 
 window on to the terrace. He sauntered up and down for a 
 few minutes, then looking at the windows to see that he was 
 not observed, he went down the steps, and keeping within the 
 shadow of the shrubbery as far as possible, struck into the 
 woods, 
 
 Denzil was approaching the woods from the other side. Hfe 
 meeting with Transom and the knowledge of Jack Gordon's 
 presence in Vancourt had, for all his bravado, considerably 
 affected him, and as he made his way through the trees and 
 the thick undergrowth, he looked about him cautiously. He 
 had seen enough of Jack's cool intrepidity on the night of the 
 murder in the h ut to feel assured thnt if he met his former 
 victim and chum of the murdered man, that he, the mur- 
 derer, would receive little mercy at Jack's hands; and every 
 now and then his hand wandered to the revolver in the belt 
 he wore under his waistcoat, and at every sound he heard in 
 the covert his lips tightened and his scowl grew darker. 
 
 He reached the pool at last, and looked round with some- 
 thing like a shudder, for the weirdness of the scene, the al- 
 most stagnant water with its coating of green, upon which 
 the moonbeams fell with a ghastly light, impressed even his 
 callous nature. 
 
 " A nice place for a murder," he muttered. " Is that 
 hound going to keep me hanging about long, I wonder? He'd 
 better not." 
 
 " That hound " was approaching almost as stealthily as 
 Denzil had done, and he had almost reached the pool, when, 
 by a sudden gleam of moonlight, he saw a gun leaning up 
 against a tree. The sight startled him as much as the foot- 
 print on the sand had startled Robinson Crusoe; and with 
 the quick suspicion of the guilty who " fears an officer in 
 every bush," he stopped and looked round apprehensively, 
 and listened, holding his breath. The hoot of an owl that 
 flew from a tree across the pool sent his heart into his mouth, 
 but there were no sound of footsteps, no sign of the owner of 
 the gun. At last he took it up and examined it mechanically, 
 and as he was doing it, he heard a movement in front of him, 
 He had only time to drop the gun in the undergrowth before 
 Denzii'c tall figure came into the wan, rain-washed, moon- 
 light. 
 
 Selby Layton waited for him, with hate and loathing in his 
 heart, but a forced smile on his face. 
 
 " So here you are at last'" said Denzil, with barely sup- 
 Dressed savagery. " Why the devil didn't you keeo your
 
 190 I0VE, THE TYBA3T. 
 
 time? Do you think this is the kind of place to keep a mac 
 waiting in?" 
 
 " I beg one thousand pardons, my dear Denzil," said Selby 
 Layton, moving away from the gun, which was completely 
 concealed by the bracken. " As you say, it is not a cheerful 
 place " he looked round with a slight shudder " and I am 
 sorry I was detained and found it impossible to leave the 
 house earlier; but I trust I have not kept you long. I'm 
 afraid my stay must be measured by minutes " 
 
 " You can go the moment you have come to my terms; 
 for the matter of that, you can go now, if you like. I'm indif- 
 ferent. I hold all the cards, Selby, as you know, and I've 
 got you under my foot, like a toad under a harrow." 
 
 He smiled in his sardonic fashion and nodded at Selby Lay- 
 ton, threateningly. 
 
 " You put the position roughly, not to say coarsely, my 
 dear Denzil; but forgive me if I venture to say that you ex- 
 aggerate the condition of affairs between us. As a matter of 
 fact, I am not at all sure that I am, as you put it, under your 
 foot." 
 
 Denzil shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, very well, if that's your line. Well, stick to it. Ill 
 come with you to the house and tell Miss Vancourt what I 
 know." 
 
 " And after, as the French say?" said Selby, almost 
 sweetly. 
 
 Denzil glowered at him. 
 
 " After? Well, I imagine that your game will have been 
 pretty well squashed. Look here, Selby, we may as well save 
 time by coming to the point. I know your game. I've kept 
 my eyes and ears open since I've been in this cursed place, 
 and I know you're after this young girl, the mistress of the 
 Towers, and of old Vancourt's money. Don't take the 
 trouble to deny it." 
 
 " I deny, assert, nothing," said Selby Layton, still smooth- 
 ly. " Suppose you are right in your surmise " 
 
 Denzil cut in with an oath. 
 
 " I am right, and you know it. I saw you with her this 
 morning before you saw me, and your face Bah! I pity 
 the girl! But it s no business of mine. You may marry ner, 
 or any one else you've set your mind on, so long as you square 
 me." 
 
 " If my memory does not deceive me, I gave you a hundred 
 pounds only a short time ago." 
 
 Denzil laughed coolly.
 
 0VE, THE TYBA2JT. 191 
 
 "That's gone," he said, fiercely. 
 
 *' A large sum !" murmured Selby Layton. 
 
 " Large or smsill, it's gone, and I don't want to hear you 
 cackle about it!" retorted Denzil. " What I want is to come 
 to business with you as sharp as possible. What you want it 
 that I should hold my tongue. I'll do it for a considera- 
 tion." 
 
 " Name it!" said Selby Layton. 
 
 " A thousand pounds down and five hundred a year paid on 
 this day of the month." 
 
 Selby Layton laughed softly. 
 
 " My dear Denzil, that is really preposterous!" 
 
 " Is it?" retorted Denzil, coldly. ft All right! Am I to 
 take it that you refuse? Out with it! I want to know on 
 way or the other." 
 
 " And if I refuse?" asked Selby. 
 
 Denzil eyed him savagely. 
 
 " Then I go up to the house to-morrow morning and tell 
 the girl what a d d hound and scoundrel you are. I'll 
 tell her the whole story. And it will sound well, won't it? 
 I'll tell her that the Selby Layton who has been passing as a 
 high-minded gentleman, and who wants to marry her, is mar- 
 ried already. That he ran off with a simple country girl who 
 was idiot enough to believe in him, and married her under a 
 false name." 
 
 Selby Layton was very pale, but he smiled, with the ugly 
 twist of his lip. 
 
 " And if I deny it, which I assure you, my dear Denzil, I 
 should do, whom do you think she will believe; me, th 
 gentleman, the man of position and honor, or comparisons 
 are invidious, make that between you and me, your position 
 and character, and mine, for yourself, my dear Denzil." 
 
 " So that is your game, is it?" said Denzil, with smoulder- 
 ing fury. " It's a poor one, and wouldn't do you credit. 
 You forget I've the certificate." 
 
 Selby Layton shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " In which my real name doesn't appear. You would want 
 witnesses to identity; the bride is dead." 
 
 " Not she!" he said. " Madge, my sister and your wife, 
 is alive right enough." 
 
 " I was informed she was dead," said Selby Layton, ae 
 coolly as he could. " 1 prefer to believe " 
 
 '* Bluff! But it's no use. I can produce Madge in 
 atid-twenty hours, on my honor." 
 
 fcJelb sneered*
 
 192 LOVE, THE TYKASiT. 
 
 " Forgive me, but the guarantee is insufficient, my dear 
 Denzil. " Proof proof is what I want." 
 
 Denzil thrust his hand in his pocket and drew out a letter. 
 
 " You shall have it." 
 
 " A forgery, no doubt! It does infinite credit to your in- 
 genuity, Denzil, but is not flattering to my perspicacity," 
 
 Denzil thrust it out. 
 
 " Curse your smooth tongue!" he said, with an outburst of 
 passion. " Bead it, look at it! You know her handwriting 
 too well to be deceived by a forgery. And look at that!" 
 
 He took out a photograph and thrust it towards Selby. 
 
 It was a photograph of a still young but vulgar-looking 
 woman, dressed vilely, with the face and air of the demi- 
 monde. 
 
 Selby Layton looked and shuddered. 
 
 " Taken, as the letter says, only a month ago," said Den- 
 zil. " You recognise her? You can't help it; it's Madge all- 
 over," he chuckled. " Are you satisfied now, you you un- 
 believing Jew?" 
 
 Selby Layton moistened his lips. 
 
 " The proof seems adequate," he said. ' Yes; I admit it. 
 3ut you must acquit me of any intention to deceive Miss Van- 
 court. Of course now I know poor Madge is really alive " 
 
 Denzil had been watching him closely, and Selby Layton's 
 eyes fell under the scrutiny. Denzil laughed. 
 
 " Not good enough," he said. " I can read you like a 
 book. You don't mean to chuck up the thing. Why should 
 you? Madge thinks you're dead. She read of the death of 
 ' Adolphus Robinson ' in the papers some kind friend sent 
 her you worked that very well, Selby and there's no one to 
 tell her the truth and undeceive her but myself and you. 
 You, I take it, won't be in a hurry to rush into her arms, and 
 I oh, I'm mum as death if you make it worth my while." 
 
 Selby Layton gnawed at his lip with his eyes lixed on the 
 ground. 
 
 " Are you sure no one knows of my identity with with 
 the man whose name appears in this certificate?" he asked. 
 
 "Certain!" responded Denzil. "Who should? You 
 played your cards too well. Madge herself has no suspicion 
 that she married you under a false name. You're dead as 
 far as she is concerned; and if it hadn't been for my meeting 
 you accidentally a year after you bolted her, I shouldn't know 
 it. No, there's no one in this little business but our two 
 selves, Selby; and there will be no suspicion " 
 
 " SusDicion!" echoed Selby, with a gesture of imoatience
 
 LOVE, THE TYRABT. 193 
 
 and resenumsue. " The air must be full of bObj/idon. Was 
 there nothing suspicious in your stopping me and detaining 
 me this morning? Miss Vancourt noticed it and asked ques 
 tions. Your presence in the place is suspicious; no doubt you 
 have been seen coming here, may have been watched, fol- 
 lowed." He looked round as if he expected to see or hear 
 the watcher. 
 
 Denzil shook his head. 
 
 " No one saw me, no one followed me. I'll take my oath 
 
 t on that," he said. " I've stayed at the little inn on the roa<?_ 
 
 '.the Black Crow; I told the landlord that I was an artist, 
 
 I've spoken to no one else. And I've paid my bill, and am 
 
 supposed to be on my way to London by this time. No, there 
 
 is no need to talk of suspicion. We're alone here, and no one 
 
 has followed me; do you think I shouldn't know?" 
 
 He laughed scornfully, and eyed the downcast Selfoy, who 
 still gnawed softly at his nether lip. 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Selby," he resumed, after a pause. " I 
 know what you're thinking. That I shall be a kind of nuis- 
 ance to you, that I shall be for ever blackmailing you " 
 
 " You do indeed read my thoughts, my dear Denzil," said 
 Selby, with a sneer. 
 
 "You're- wrong," protested Denzil, coolly. "I'll take 
 my oath " Selby Layton's sneer grew more mocking " that 
 this is the last time I will badger you. I've reasons of my 
 own for wishing to get out of this cursed country. You know 
 some i.i 'em; but not all. I mean to go back to Australia 
 and buy a farm with this thousand pounds." 
 
 " And lose it," said Selby. 
 
 " Very likely; that's why I insist upon the five hundred a 
 year," retorted Denzil. " 1 shall have enough to live on 
 whatever happens. What stops you from coming to terms? 
 You ought to jump at it. I might have asked you for ten 
 times the amount, for half of what you're going to make, and 
 by God, I will, too, if you haggle much longer. And you 
 can't refuse me!" 
 
 His anger was rising. He was impatient to be gone. Jack 
 Gordon's face, his voice which he had heard through the 
 door only a few hours ago- haunted him, and filled him with 
 a vague dread which the weird and ghastly place in which 
 they stood aggravated. 
 
 " Can I not?" murmured Selby Layton. 
 
 " No!" snarled Denzil. " Do you think I sha'n't put the 
 screw on? Do you think I shall be satisfied with showing you 
 no to the sari at the house there? No!" He swore an awful
 
 194 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 oath. " I'll go straight to Madge and set her on your track. 
 And she'll jump for you! She'll claim you and insist on her 
 rights. And do you know what that means?" 
 
 He laughed sardonically and eyed Selby Layton meaningly, 
 and Selby Layton's face grew whiter, the twist of his lip more 
 marked. 
 
 " You know what she was when you gave her the slip. 
 She's worse now, ten times worse! She'd make a nice wire 
 for what was it? a gentleman of character and position!" 
 He laughed again. " 'Pon my soul, I'm half tempted to 
 chuck away what I may make out of you, to withdraw my 
 offer, and to go to Madge. The fun of the thing would be 
 worth something." 
 
 The sweat stood in big drops on Selby Layton's forehead. 
 
 " You forget the risk to yourself in this amiable threat, my 
 dear Denzil," he said in a low voice. 
 
 " Oh, not, I don't! But I've taken risks before now; anil 
 perhaps I'm desperate. I've had a rough time lately but 
 that won't interest you; much you'd care for that! Come, 
 I'm sick of this palaver! Make up your mind one way or the 
 other. Come to my terms and you're free to marry this girl 
 and collar the swag; refuse, and, by God! I'll ^how you up 
 and set Madge on you!" 
 
 The words sent a thrill, a shudder through Selby Layton. 
 He raised his eyes, they were bloodshot with the strain he ha 
 undergone, and looked steadily, with a curious expression at 
 his tormentor. 
 
 " Your argument is conclusive and irrefragible, my de#f 
 Denzil; and I agree with what grace I may. A thousand 
 pounds " 
 
 " Your cheque will do," broke in Denzil, with a smile. 
 " I can almost see it in your breast pocket. Yes, a cheque 
 will do. I'm not afraid of your stopping it " 
 
 Selby Layton shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ' 'I will admit that I came prepared for some demand from 
 you," he said, as he took out the cheque-book and a stylo- 
 graphic pen. He knelt and wrote with the book on his knee, 
 and handed up the cheque. 
 
 Denzil took it, and, folding it, slipped it into his trousers 
 pocket: it is always the safest pocket. 
 
 " And now a word or two on a sheet of paper, promising 
 that five hundred a year," he said. 
 
 " I've no paper is it necessary?" asked Selby Layton, 
 moodily. " My word is as good as my bond, my deai 
 Denzil."
 
 LOVE, fHB TYRANT. 195 
 
 "And neither is worth anything!" remarked Denzil. 
 " Here, I've a sheet of paper. Half of Madge's letter will 
 do. And I'll draw it out. Give me hold of the pen !" 
 
 Selby Layton gave him the pen, and Denzil knelt on one 
 knee and spread out the paper on the other. The moonlight 
 was now pouring on both men, with a light almost as clear as 
 day. A silence reigned for a moment, as Deiizil wrote: 
 
 " I, Selby Layton, promise to pay Denzil Mayhew the sum 
 of five hundred pounds per annum for consideration duly re- 
 ceived I should make a good lawyer's clerk, eh, Selby 9 " he 
 put in, with a laugh the laugh of the man who has won. 
 *' By God! I ought to have made it five thousand!" 
 
 He looked round with a smile the smile that the van- 
 quished find it so hard to bear: if the harrow could smile as 
 it passed over the toad, would not the toad turn? 
 
 This toad did. He stooped down and felt amongst tb? 
 bracken until his hand closed over the barrel of the gun. His 
 breath came fast, his teeth clenched. He opened them to 
 murmur: 
 
 " You have forgotten to say * for my life,' my dear 
 Denzil." 
 
 " So I have! Good or you to remember itl" responded 
 Denzil, with a sneer. " For my life " 
 
 As Denzil bent to write the words, Selby rose, swung the 
 
 un over his shoulder, and brought the stock with terrific force 
 own upon the head of the kneeling man. 
 Denzil fell forward with an inarticulate cry, then he stag- 
 gered to his feet, and with outstretched hands felt, in a blind] 
 kind of way, for his assailant. 
 
 Selby raised the gun again and struck with all hia force, 
 and Denzil went down like an ox in the shambles. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SELBY LAYTON' stood, with the gun in his hand, staring 
 vacantly at the long figure stretched, face upwards, on the 
 crushed bracken. He was simply stupefied by his act and its 
 effect; for the impulse to catch up the gun and strike down 
 the villain who held him in his power, had come so suddenly, 
 so irresistibly, that he had yielded to it as one of the lower 
 animals yields to the brute desire to bite or claw. He had 
 struck the first time in obedience to this impulse, and the sec- 
 ond time, as Denzil went for him, in self-defence. 
 
 He scarcely knew what he had intended, he had been in- 
 spired by a blind and burning rage, tod now How far had
 
 196 SOFB, THE TYRUIT. 
 
 lie hurt life foe and tyrant? Denzil was stunned, at* 
 but Selby Layton was filled with astonishment that he, who 
 was so much weaker than the other man, should have been 
 able to knock him senseless by a couple of blows. He did not 
 know that a gun, held by the barrel and well swung, makes 
 one of the most deadly of clubs. A feeling of disgust with 
 himself followed his impulse and broke his stupor. 
 
 " I must bring him to," he muttered. " I must do that, 
 though it's scarcely safe, for he'll turn on me like a wild 
 beast. What a fool I- was! Better have paid anything, en* 
 dured anything, to keep him quiet. And now I've roused 
 his resentment and he will want, and have, his revenge." 
 
 Swearing to himself, he went to the edge of the pool the 
 men had been standing quite close to it and soaking bis 
 handkerchief, knelt beside the motionless form and bathed 
 Denzil' s forehead. As he did so, he saw that the blow had 
 fallen on the right temple, and, with a shudder, noticed that 
 the skull bone was crushed in. 
 
 " Pull yourself together, Denzil!" he whispered. " I'm 
 sorry; but you drove me rather hard. Can you hear me, are 
 you conscious?" 
 
 The prostrate man made no sign, and Selby Layton, fight- 
 ing against an awful dread, raised his head. It rolled on his 
 arm like a wooden ball, and he dropped it, and with shaking 
 hand thrust his hand inside Denzirg waistcoat, and felt for 
 his heart. 
 
 It was still, as still as the slime-grown pool that lay hideous 
 in the moonlight. The man was dead! Selby Layton nearly 
 fell across the body, then he rose and staggered to a tree, and 
 leaning against it stared with distended eyes at the corpse. 
 
 The man was dead, and he had killed him: therefore, he 
 was a murderer I 
 
 It was too terrible to be true, too ridiculous, absurd! He 
 tried to smile, to thrust the thought away from him; and 
 after a moment or two he crept slowly, reluctantly to the 
 body and examined it again. Horrible as it was, it was troe- 
 The man was dead, and he, Selby Layton, had killed him. 
 
 He, Selby Layton, the cultured and refined gentleman, the 
 " drawing-room pet," as he had heard himself called, had 
 murdered a man with as vulgar and brutal a blow as was ever 
 delivered by a foot-pad or coal-heaver. 
 
 He shuddered, and uttering a cry, staggered back to the 
 tree and shut out the sight of the awful figure lying so still 
 the white face, with the kvid marks on the temple that stared 
 at him accusingly.
 
 IOVE, THE TYRANT. 1C7 
 
 What should he do? His first impulse was to rnsh from 
 the spot and give himself up to the police. It was the only 
 thing to do, the only course to pursue. Yes, he must give 
 himself up. Then, as he thought of the consequences of his 
 mad deed, he paused and considered. To give himself up 
 would be to take the first step to the gallows. There could 
 be no escape for him. This was not even manslaughter which 
 he committed, but murder, wilful murder. 
 
 Oh, God! What should he do? What was the best, tha 
 most prudent thing? Flight occurred to him; but he knew 
 that night would be impossible. He would be run down be- 
 fore he could get as far as London. No; flight was impossi* 
 ble; a shameful death, from which there seemed no escape, 
 stared him in the face, unless unless he could conceal nia 
 crime. He sank in a heap at the foot of the tree and gripped 
 his head with his hands. 
 
 " Let me think let me think," he muttered, hoarsely. 
 " Mr life depends upon the step I take now; there seems 
 nothing but the gallows before me, and yet " 
 
 He shut his teeth and strove for self-possession, for calm- 
 ness, as he reviewed the situation the awful situation. There, 
 within a few feet of him, lay the body of the man he had 
 killed. Would it be possible to conceal the body, to remove 
 any suspicious circumstances connected with himself? 
 
 Denzil was a stranger in the place, had been seen bv few, 
 according to his own account had spoken to few. No one 
 knew that he was going to that lonely spot, and he had been 
 sure that no one had followed him. The landlord of the Black 
 Crow was under the impression that Denzil was already on 
 his way to London. 
 
 Would the man be missed? Not in Vancourt, certainly; 
 but how about London? Here, again, there was a hope, a 
 chance of escape for Selby Lay ton. Denzil belonged to the 
 criminal class; his sudden disappearance would not seem 
 singular to his friends, who were, no doubt, themselves 
 
 fiven to sudden disappearances. It would be thought, when 
 e did not turn up in his usual haunts, wherever they were, 
 that he had gone back to Australia. 
 
 Selby Layton worked this out in his mind slowly, carefully. 
 
 So far, so good. But there was his own time to account 
 for. How long had he been away from the house? 
 
 He took out his watch; but as he did so, the stable chimed 
 the quarter to eleven. Only half an hour. His month 
 openec, and he fell into a kind of stupor at the thought of all 
 *bfli bajnnfinfid in that short time. Thirty mtanftefi: and be
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 fiad killed a man witmn that space! Half an hour i*g v lie 
 had beem free from crime, at peace with the law; now he was 
 a murderer and trying to scheme out some way of escape 
 from that same law. Gould it be true? Hadn't he taken 
 too many sodas and whiskeys, and was dreaming? He had 
 only to glance at that terrible, straight, long figure, with its 
 fcrhite face and livid mark, to realise the truth. 
 
 But let him think, think, think! not give way to morbid 
 reflections. If he was to save his life, he would need all the 
 acuteness on which he prided himself; all his courage, in 
 which he knew he was deficient: and yet he had killed a man 
 with only two blows! 
 
 If he decided not to give himself up the body must be con- 
 cealed. He looked round. Burial is the first thought of the 
 tourderer; but Selby Layton knew that he could not bury the 
 corpse. There were no tools, no time. His eye caught the 
 pool shimmering in the moonlight, and his mind seized the 
 idea it conveyed. If he could put the body in the pool: to 
 rise again, a ghastly accuser? At a little distance was a boat- 
 house. It was a ruined and tumble-down affair, as such 
 places soon become when they are neglected; and the Hawk's 
 J?ool had long been left to itself; for it was not large enough 
 for boating, and the only persons who visited it were sports- 
 men and poachers in search of game; the place abounded 
 ia water-fowl. 
 
 Cautiously, pausing to listen at every step, Selby Layton 
 made his way to the boat-house. The boat, half full of water, 
 was lying on the edge of the pool, moored to the boat-house 
 by a chain and anchor a heavy anchor, which had, no doubt, 
 come from a wreck in the bay. 
 
 He conceived his plan in a moment, and, unfastening the 
 boat, softly pushed it into the water and, with a broken oar, 
 sculled it opposite the body. Then he stepped ashore and 
 fastened a rope which he had found in the boat-house to the 
 body, and carried it to the edge of the water. 
 
 He was about to push it in, his eyes shut, his whole form 
 tingling with horror and loathing, when it occurred to him 
 that in all probability Denzil had the certificate upon him. 
 He remembered the old pocket-book in which he had seen 
 Denzil place it the night he had visited Claremont Street. 
 Shuddering and shaking, he searched in the pockets of the 
 coat But there was no pocket-book. A few shillings were 
 in one of the waistcoat pockets; there were a deadly looking 
 knife, tobacco, and a pipe; and in the belt was the revolver. 
 
 " If I had not struck him again and and killed him, hr
 
 LOVE, THE TTRAJJTV 299 
 
 weald nave killed me: it was manslaughter, after all," he 
 snused; " but no jury would believe it The pocket-book is 
 not here; where is that certificate where, where?" 
 
 A slight sound startled him, and be flung himself face 
 downwards beside the body. A pheasant rose from the under- 
 growth and whizzed by him, and nearly paralyzed him with 
 terror. 
 
 He rose and with feverish haste half dragged, half pushed 
 the body into the water, and getting into the boat, oaref ully 
 rowed it a little way into the pool keeping in the shadow of 
 the trees. The body floated and bobbed in ghastly fashion, 
 and the face, as the wan moonlight played on it, seemed to 
 grin at him threateningly and mockingly. 
 
 Across Selby Layton's mind there flashed the lines from 
 the immortal poem of " Eugene Aram." He had not read 
 or heard them for years, and yet every word seemed to born 
 in his brain: 
 
 " 1 took the dreary body up, 
 And cast it in a stream 
 A sluggish water, black as ink, 
 The depth was so extreme}-" 
 
 ***** 
 
 Heavily I rose up, as soon 
 
 As light was in the sky, 
 And sought the black, accursed pool 
 
 With a wild misgiving eye; 
 And I saw the dead in the liver bed, 
 
 For the faithless stream was dry!" 
 
 The fool who wrote the thing might have had this night's 
 work in his eye! What rot it was, what rot! Why should 
 the pool ever dry up? It had been in its present condition for 
 centuries no doubt, and would remain so for centuries more. 
 Why did the accursed lines run in his mind? 
 
 " And 1 saw the dead in the river bed, 
 For the faithless stream was dry]" 
 
 When he had got the boat into the position he fancied, he 
 wound the anchor-chain tightly round the body, cut the rope, 
 and slowly, gently, inch by inch, lowered the anchor over the 
 eide and let it slip into the water. The thing was heavy the 
 manipulating of it had brought the cold sweat to his face 
 and the moment it was released it went down, dragging the 
 body with it, as if a hand had been thrust up and snatched it 
 down, down, into the black depths. 
 
 There was a swirl on the green, slimy surface, then all was 
 8tOL
 
 200 LOVE, THE TTKAT. 
 
 Fascinated, Selby Layton stared at the spot with pallid feot. 
 and starting eyes, then he remembered his own safety, and 
 forced himself, for he was like a man under a spell, to row 
 the boat back to the boat-house. 
 
 He fastened it up, as nearly as possible in its original posi- 
 tion, then went back to the fatal spot. 
 
 There were two objects to be disposed of, Denzil's hat and 
 the gun. He pondered for a moment, then he carefully 
 brushed the bracken aside, dug a small hole with a pen- 
 knife, buried the cap, and arranged the bracken over thf 
 spot. 
 
 The gun troubled him. He examined the butt. There 
 was no indication of the foul use to which it had been pat, 
 death had beeu caused almost instantaneously by the force of 
 the blow falling directly on the temple. He decided to re- 
 place the guti where he had found it. The man whether 
 keeper or poacher to whom it belonged would be sure to 
 come back for it might be on his way even now at that mo- 
 ment, he thought, with a thrill of terror and would nat- 
 urally be suspicious if it were not where he had left it, and 
 would make enquiries. 
 
 He placed the gun against the tree, trying to remember the 
 exact angle at which it had stood, then straightened his back 
 and wiped the huge drops of sweat from his face. 
 
 His work was done, whether for good or ill. It was done, 
 and he was free to go. But, strange as it may seem, he stili 
 lingered. As the body had fascinated him, so did the spot on 
 which it had lain, and he stood and stared at it. Mechanic- 
 ally he raised the bracken which had been crushed by their 
 footsteps and the fallen man, then slowly, with many a back- 
 ward glance, which took in the horrible pool, he stole away. 
 
 To say that he felt the mark of Cain upon his brow is to 
 say a hackneyed and obvious thing; but, for very certain, 
 Selby Layton felfe that he was a different man to the man 
 who had stolen into that same wood an hour ago. He felt aa 
 if something had gone out of his life. Something that would 
 never come back, that sense of confidence and security which 
 belongs to the man who had kept within the pale of the law. 
 And in its place something had entered, something which 
 would never go; a dull and heavy, voiceless terror which hung 
 upon his soul like lead. 
 
 Its oppression was so awful that he thought of flight. He 
 would leave England Yes; and rouse suspicions if Denzil 
 were missed! He fought against the desire to fly, fought 
 fiercely, until a kind of passionate resentment of bis weak*
 
 1AJVE, THE TYRANT. 201 
 
 aess took possession of him. The sight of the Towers in^ 
 creased this feeling. 
 
 " No, I'll stay!'* he muttered, between his clenched teeth. 
 " I'll stay and win what I've fought and paid for. What a 
 price, my God, what a price! And I'm to give up the prize, 
 and let tho cost go for nothing! No! I've risked the gal- 
 lows to-uight to get you, and I'll have what I've paid for. 
 And enjoy it. There shall be none of the remorse that the 
 idiots of novelists and poets maunder about. The brute de- 
 served to die he had threatened me before, would have 
 killed me to-night if I hadn't been too quick for him he de- 
 coryed to die, and I did the public a service in ridding it of a 
 vretch who, for all I know, was stained with blood. He in- 
 sisted upon a thousand pounds, five hundred a year to hold 
 his tongue." 
 
 He stopped dead short as he muttered the words and his 
 face worked with sharp terror; for he remembered that he 
 had left the cheque signed with his name in the dead man's 
 trouser's pocket, and that the memorandum, the promise to 
 pav, and the stylographic pen were lying in the bracken. 
 
 He must go back and get the piece of paper and the pen. 
 He must! He turned, but his soul revolted. He could not 
 go back to-night. He should break down, go mad, if he saw 
 the spot again that night. He would wait until to-morrow 
 the day after: the paper and the pen must have fallen under 
 the bracken or he would have noticed it; and no one was 
 likely to discover it. 
 
 With a sickening sinking of the heart, he made his way out 
 of the woods to the park. Here he paused, and instead of 
 going straight to that part of the terrace from which he had 
 etarted, he made a detour and struck the main road. 
 
 He sauntered along the road, going away from the house 
 for half a mile, then he lit a cigar, smoothed his hair and 
 carefully examined his boots. They were wet, but the dew 
 was wet and would satisfactorily account for their condition; 
 and there was no no blood upon him; he made himself cer 
 tain of that fact. No one seeing him, as he walked along 
 leisurely, smoking one of Sir Richard's choice Havanas, would 
 suspect him of having committed 
 
 '* It was not murder!" he told himself. " It was in self- 
 defence; it was justifiable homicide, nothing worse." 
 
 He laid this flattering unction to his soul as he proceeded, 
 fighting against the remorse which brooded over him. Pres- 
 ently he reached the south lodge. 
 
 * ' was kect bv one of the gardeners, a nyyi namnd Hallett*
 
 202 10VE, THE TYBASTL 
 
 ad he was leaning against the open door smoking a pip& 
 Re hastened to the gate and opened it. 
 
 " A fine night, sir," he said, touching his forehead. 
 " Yes; beautiful," responded Selby Lay ton. He was pur> 
 prised by the evenness, the composure of his voice; but hs 
 had his voice always under control, thank Heaven! He 
 stopped and looked up at the sky appreciatingly. 
 
 " It is so fine that I was tempted to go for a stroll." 
 " Yes, sir; it's a glorious night for a walk," said the man- 
 " Yes, it is indeed. I have been quite a long way to the 
 cross-roads and was quite reluctant to turn. But it is get- 
 ting late." He laoked at his watch. " Past half-past ten, I 
 
 cr>A " 
 
 o\?c 
 
 " I thought ifc had struck eleven, sir," remarked the man. 
 
 " "No, it is only just past the half hour. My watch is an 
 excellent one it has been in my family for years and keeps 
 accurate time. How sweet your stocks smell I Take a cigar, 
 Hallett." 
 
 He offered his case, and the man took a cigar with profuse 
 thanks and much touching of the forehead. 
 
 " That's a pretty bit of road, by the cross-roads, Hallett," 
 remarked Selby Layton, lingering as if he were loath to go 
 and inclined for a chat. "I've often noticed it, but I re- 
 marked it particularly to-night. I mean by those big elms. 
 Do you want a light?" He offered his match-box. 
 
 " Thank you, sir. Yes, it is very pretty. Sir Bichard's 
 grandfather planted them trees, and they're very much ad 
 mired. " 
 
 " Well, I must be going in," said Selby Layton. " Good- 
 night, Hallett." 
 
 ** Good-night, and thank you, sir," responded Hallett. 
 
 Selby Layton sauntered on. His heart was throbbing heav- 
 ily; there was a pain at his temple as if as if some one had 
 struck him a blow there; but he walked on leisurely, and he 
 began to hum the air he had sung in the drawing-room that 
 night. But was it really he who had sung it, and was it only 
 that night? It seemed to him that it was quite a different 
 person, and that the song had been sung weeks and weeks 
 ago. Surely a month, a year of months had passed since he 
 had sat at the piano? 
 
 As he reached the terrace the hall door opened, and Palmer 
 st ood waiting for him. Selby Layton set his teeth sharply. 
 His meeting with the lodge-keeper had been an ordeal, and be 
 was scarcely prepared for another that nighty but he nerved 
 himself for it.
 
 LOVE, TEE TYBAOT. 203 
 
 " Ah, thank you, Palmer! I'm afraid I've kept you up. 
 
 " No, sir," said Palmer ." I'm not generally in bed be- 
 fore this, and I saw you coming up the drive. I did think I 
 heard you at the back just now, but I most have been mis- 
 taken," 
 
 " Heard me?" said Seelby Layton, with a quick, suspi- 
 cious glance. " No; I came up the drive, as you saw. I 
 strolled as far as the cross-roads. 
 
 " Just so, sir. I must have been mistaken. Can I bring 
 you anything soda and whiskey?" 
 
 " No, thank you, Palmer," he replied, pleasantly. " I 
 will go straight to bed What's that?" 
 
 A low and piercing howl had pierced the silence. 
 
 " It's Mr. Gordon's dog, Bob, sir," said Palmer. " He's 
 shut up in the stable, and he's fretting for his master." 
 
 Selby Layton nodded. 
 
 " Ah, yes; poor dog!" he said, sympathetically. " I hope 
 he will not keep Miss vancourt awake. Good-night,Palmer." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 SELBY LAYTON lay awake the whole night. Whenever he 
 closed his eyes, he saw the tall figure lying in the bracken with 
 the livid mark on its temple and its loose-grinning mouth, 
 heard the dull thud of the gun as he dealt the fatal blow; 
 and when he opened his eyes, it was to stare at the bed-cur- 
 tains and the wall-paper, which seemed alive with the same 
 hideous shapes. 
 
 All through the night he told himself that it wasn't murder, 
 that it was justifiable homicide, or, at the worst, manslaugh- 
 ter; but he could almost see the judge shaking his head at 
 the plea, and hear the sentence 01 death. 
 
 When he rose hi the morning, he was almost afraid to look 
 in the glass lest the horrors of the night should have left their 
 record on his face; but though he looked white, and there 
 were marks under his eyes, when he had finished his bath, 
 something of his pallor and the dark shadows had gone, and 
 he went down-stairs looking very much as usual. And yet 
 he felt the change in his inner self which had come over him 
 immediately after the murder. He felt years older, and as if 
 a weight were bearing down, a weight from which he should 
 never free himself. 
 
 He had risen early, and he took his straw hat from the 
 stand in the hall and sauntered out, intending to stroll up and 
 down the terrace until the breakfast-bell rang} bat be had 00
 
 204 LOVE, THE TYEA35T. 
 
 sooner got outside than he felt drawn to the accursed podk. 
 He fought against the occult influence for a moment or two, 
 then telling himself that it was imperative that he should re- 
 cover the stylographic pen and memorandum which he had 
 left behind him, he walked leisurely to the wood. 
 
 It was a warm and lovely morning, the sun was shining 
 brightly, and the thrushes and linnets were filling the air with 
 music; but the wretched man felt cold, and shivered, and the 
 singing of the birds irritated and jarred on him. As he ap- 
 proached the scene of last night's tragedy, he began to trem- 
 ble, and once he stopped as if he could not go farther; but he 
 fought against the weakness, and reached the spot where 
 Denzil had been struck down. 
 
 It seemed hideously familiar to him, as if he had spent 
 weeks of his life there, and knew the aspect of every tree and 
 bush, and he gazed at the pool with a fearful fascination. A 
 light wind had risen in the night and spread the green slime 
 over that portion of the water the boat nad disturbed, and the 
 even surface of green looked as if it had never been broken. 
 Weakened by his horrible night's vigil, he had half expected 
 to see the body floating on the top of the space of clear water, 
 and he drew a breath of relief. Really, when he came to con- 
 sider it calmly and dispassionately, there was no need for him 
 to be nervous and apprehensive. The pool had been probably 
 undisturbed for nearly a century, and would remain so for 
 another one. 
 
 Then he sought for the missing articles; but he could not 
 find them. Though he had rearranged the crushed bracken, 
 he knew the exact spot where the wretched man had fallen, 
 and he had expected to find the pen and piece of paper with- 
 out any difficulty; but though he searched with feverish eager- 
 ness and closeness, he could not put his hand upon them. 
 The sweat began to start out upon his brow, but he assure! 
 himself that there was no cause for fear. Denzil had sta : 
 to his feet at the first blow, the pen and paper might have been 
 ierked from his hand to some distance, aud he, Selby Lay ton 
 himself, in the course of his subsequent movements, have 
 trodden them into the ground. 
 
 At any rate, if they were so completely hidden from him no 
 one else was likely to find them; he could not stay there all 
 the morning searching for them; he would come another 
 tune. 
 
 As he was leaving the woods bv one of the small gates whic!- 
 opened on the road, a man was coming along the path. S< 
 Lavton looked at him sharply and sidewavs fib.-,'i.!i he *.i
 
 LOVB, THE TYRANT. 205 
 
 ways eye every passer-by with suspicion? was the question 
 which flashed through his mind and he saw that it was a 
 dark-faced young fellow with rather long curly hair. Selby 
 Lay ton had had the young man pointed out to him in the vil- 
 lage, and remembered his name. It was Dick Reeve, tibe 
 
 e touched his hat to Selby Layton as he came abreast of 
 him, and Selby gave him " good-morning " pleasantly. 
 
 " Good-morning, sir. Can you tell me the time?" re- 
 sponded Dick Reeve, respectfully enough, but with his bold 
 black eyes fixed on Selby Lay ton's face. 
 
 St-ibv Layton took out his watch. 
 
 " Half past nine," he said. " Dear me, I shall be late for 
 breakfast! Good-morning, Reeve." 
 
 44 Thank you, sir; good-morning," said Reeve. " It's fine 
 in the woods now, sir; just the time for 'em." 
 
 " Yes, indeed. Good-morning," assented Selby Layton, 
 suavely, and he walked on. 
 
 Dick Reeve looked after the retreating, well-dressed figure 
 ifith a cutious expression in his black eyes; then he stopped 
 anu lit a short clay pipe, and leaning over the gate gazed at 
 the woods ruminatingty. 
 
 " A nice, well-spoken gent," he muttered. " And as cool 
 as a cucumber; but they say all real gents are like that" 
 
 Esther had spent almost as bad a night as Selby Layton; 
 but she had been haunted not by the face and form of a mur- 
 dered man, but by the vision of Jack Gordon on his cheerless 
 and solitary tramp. Bob, howling softly in the stable, would 
 have prevented her forgetting his master, even if she had 
 tried, and she rose pale and languid with two facts predomi- 
 nant in her mind: Jack Gordon was leaving, or had left Van- 
 court for ever! and she had half promised to marry Selby 
 Layton. That gentleman had not returned from his morning 
 stroll when the two ladies sat down to breakfast, for that 
 meal at most country houses is a movable feast; but presently 
 he came in, looking all the better for his walk, 
 
 " I am so sorry," he said. " I am glad you have begun. 
 I was tempted by the freshness of the morning to take a 
 stroll. It is a typically English summer day." 
 
 He pressed Esther's hand and looked at her with a barely 
 concealed devotion; but she scarcely raised her e)es, which 
 were bent upon her letters. 
 
 ' You are looking rather pale this morning, Mr. Layton," 
 mid Miss Worcester as he took his seat and helned himself to
 
 206 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 toasted ham with ostentatious eagerness, though he felt as if 
 every mouthful would choke him. 
 
 " Am I?" he responded. " Are you sure it is not your 
 fancy, my dear Miss Worcester? I feel in the most perfect 
 health, and I am as ravenous as the proverbial hunter. And 
 no wonder! This air is so invigorating! I don't think there 
 is anything like a mixture of sea and moorland air." 
 
 " You were rather late last night, were you not?" she said, 
 as she poured out his coffee. " I was rather wakeful, and I 
 heard you come upstairs." 
 
 " Not very late, I think," he said, smoothly. " It was a 
 glorious night, and I wandered on to the road and got as far 
 as the sign-post at the cross-roads. Ah, yes; and I was de- 
 tained for a little time talking with Hallett! But it was only 
 half-past ten when I came in." 
 
 Miss Worcester looked up with some surprise. 
 
 " Past eleven, I think, Mr. Layton?" 
 
 " No," he insisted, gently, with his persuasive smile. " I 
 compared my watch, which keeps excellent time, with the hall 
 clock." 
 
 " I thought it was later. I must have been mistaken. 
 What a number of letters you have this morning, Esther! 
 Anything important or of interest?" 
 
 " No," she replied, indifferently. " Nothing. Oh, yes; there 
 is a letter from Messrs. Grange & Woodruff, the engineer, 
 about the Hawk's Pool." 
 
 Selby Layton was on the point of raising his coffee cup, but 
 he set it down, and the blood ebbed from his face. Coinci- 
 dence has a long arm, but who could have expected that it 
 would thrust it out so soon as this! 
 
 " The Hawk's Pool?" said Miss Worcester, interrogatively. 
 " I don't know where that is." 
 
 " It is the pool or lake in the woods," said Esther, languid- 
 ly. " You know it, surely?" 
 
 " Oh, you mean that stagnant piece of water with the boat- 
 house beside it?" said Miss Worcester. 
 
 Esther nodded. 
 
 " Yes; that is it. It is stagnant, and that is the trouble. 
 It is very unhealthy, and Mr. Gordon" she hesitated a 
 moment before she pronounced the name " said that it was 
 very unhealthy, and that it ought to be drained dry and the 
 space replanted, or, at any rate, a stream ought to run from 
 it to the sea. He said that it would irrigate and improve the 
 park meadows if it were properly treated. He suggested 
 Messrs. (irange & Woodruff, and I wrote to them,"
 
 LOVE, THE TYRJLNT. 
 
 - Quite right, my dear Esther," said Miss Worceetei. " I 
 remember the place a weird and ghastly spot. Have yon 
 seen it, Mr. Layton?" 
 
 He looked up from his plate. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I was not listening. No, I have not. 
 A sheet of water, isn't it? Bather a pity to disturb it, I 
 should think, especially as it would cost a great deal of 
 money." 
 
 " Would it?'* asked Miss Worcester. Esther was reading 
 her other letters. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, with a business-like air. " It is sure 
 to do so. I know these civil engineers. Once you give them 
 a footing in your place there is no getting rid of them. They 
 will not be content with draining what is it?" 
 
 " The Hawk's Pool," said Estner. 
 
 "Ah, yes! the Hawk's Pool; but they will want to trans- 
 form the rest of the estate." 
 
 " I shouldn't like that," said Esther, languidly. 
 
 " Then don't let them gain a footing," he said, with a 
 laugh. " It would be as bad as letting a sanitary company 
 survey the house; they always find innumerable * death- 
 traps,' as they call them, and they are never satisfied until they 
 have turned the place topsy-turvy." 
 
 " Oh, pray, let it alone, my dear Esther," said Miss 
 Worcester. 
 
 Esther shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon said that something ought to be done with 
 it," she said. " But there is no hurry, I suppose." 
 
 Selby Layton breathed more freely. 
 
 " I am afraid Mr. Gordon is a bit of an iconoclast and re- 
 former," he said, with a slight sneer. " The pool does not 
 appear to have done much harm up to the present, and it 
 certainly is picturesque." 
 
 " I thought you said you had not seen it," remarked 
 Esther, casually. 
 
 " I have not," he returned smoothly. " I am relying on 
 my imagination and Miss Worcester's description." 
 
 " Well, there is no hurry," said Esther, indifferently. " I 
 will go and look at it." 
 
 " What are we going to do to-day?" asked Miss Worcester, 
 who liked to have her plans cut and dried. 
 
 Esther rose with an expression of determination on her 
 face. She had resolved that nothing would induce her to go 
 through another tete-a-tete with Mr. Selby Layton.
 
 208 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " 1 am going to the village," she said. " You and Mr 
 Layton may make plans while I am gone." 
 
 There was something in her tone which forbade him U 
 offer to accompany her, and he was afraid to make the sug- 
 gestion. And indeed he wanted to be alone to face the situa- 
 tion, to consider his position. It was not an unpromising one 
 by any means: Denzil was was out of the way, silenced for- 
 ever, and he, Selby Layton, was almost the affianced of the 
 mistress of Vancourt Towers. 
 
 Esther put on her hat, and, almost mechanically, walked 
 tc the home farm. She assured herself that she wanted to 
 see Nettie, between whom and herself a very strong affection 
 had grown up; but she knew in her innermost heart that she 
 wanted to know whether Mr. Gordon was still at Vancourt. 
 
 She went up the garden-path of the lodge and knocked at 
 the door, and, Mrs. Martin's voice crying " Come in!" en- 
 tered. 
 
 Mrs. Martin was folding some snowy linen on the table, but 
 t Esther's entrance she drew a chair forward for the young 
 mistress, as she called Esther. 
 
 *' And how is Martin?" she asked, as she seated herself. 
 
 " He's getting oh, miss," replied Mis. Martin. " He's 
 about the farm somewhere. I don't know as he's strong 
 enough yet." 
 
 " Then it is very unwise of him," said Esther. " He will 
 probablv make himself bad again." 
 
 " Yes, miss; very likely," responded Mrs. Martin. " But, 
 you see, he's obliged to get about now, fur Mr. Gordon has 
 gone." 
 
 Esther's heart sank, and -the sunlight that poured in through 
 the window seemed suddenly to grow pale and lose its 
 warmth. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon gone?" she asked, in a still voice. 
 
 " Yes, miss. He went last night, guite sudden like, as yon 
 may say. I had no idea he was going to leave, and yet 1 
 wasn't surprised." 
 
 " Why?" asked Esther. 
 
 '* Well, you see, miss, I always suspicioned that Mr. Gor- 
 don wasn't like one of ourselves; that ne was what you might 
 Call a gentleman, and that he would get tired of working on 
 a farm; and when he came last night and said that he was 
 going, though was mortally grieved, I wasn't surprised." 
 
 Esther was silent for a moment. Her sense of Joss mada 
 her speechless. 
 
 ** jToo will Tpiaa him?" 5hft said*
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT 209 
 
 Mrs. Mat-cm nodded. 
 
 " Yes, miss, we shall, all of us. I don't know wfcat Martin 
 mil do without him. He " meaning Martin " seems as if 
 he had lost his right hand, which he has; and Nettie wells, 
 there, Nettie is main 'mazed." 
 
 " 'Mazed " is the word in Vancourt which means " dazed " 
 and " bewildered." 
 
 At this moment Nettie came in. She ran to Esther with a 
 aerious, woe-begone face, and uttered her plaint at once and 
 without preamble: 
 
 " I want Jack!" she wailed. " Mother says he's gone. 
 But I want him, I want him!" 
 
 Esther's heart echoed the child's cry. 
 
 " You mustn't fret, Nettie," she said, as she lifted the 
 child on her knee. " He may come back presently!" 
 
 "But I want him now!" said Nettie, with infantile in- 
 sistence. " Mother says that he tissed me * dood-bye;' but 
 what's the use of that when I want him!" 
 
 Esther tried to console the child, but Nettie's grief was not 
 to be assuaged, and Esther, as she left the house, found her- 
 self still echoing Nettie's cry: " I want nim, I want him!" 
 
 She lingered at the gate talking to Mrs. Martin. 
 
 " At what time did Mr. Gordon go?" she asked, witb 
 affected indifference. 
 
 " Quite late, miss. Martin had gone to bed. Oh, it might 
 be eleven or thereabouts. 1 was just thinking of shutting up, 
 and in he came; and he looked so pale and upset that I 
 thought something was the matter, and I up and asked him. 
 Then he said he was going and he went. It's terrible sud- 
 den, and I don't know what Martin will do, he's so lame 
 still; and as for Nettie well, you've seen her, miss." 
 
 Esther tried to look indifferent and at ease. 
 
 " Oh, Martin must get another foreman," she said. 
 
 She walked on aimlessly, Nettie's cry still in her ears and 
 in her mind. The brightness seemed to have gone out of the 
 sunshine, a sadness seemed to reign over everything. The 
 thought that perhaps she should never see him again brought 
 a dull agony to her heart. 
 
 Presently she found herself at the end of the village, op- 
 posite the dilapidated cottages, and she saw Kate Transom 
 shaking a table-cloth at the door. The sight of the girl was 
 not welcome to her for was not Kate Transom engaged to 
 Jack Gordon? but she hesitated, and quickly opened the 
 gate and walked up the path. 
 
 Kate stood, with the table-cloth in her hand, waiting tb<?
 
 210 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 approach of the young mistress of Vancourt Towers, and 
 Esther noticed not only the girl's undoubted beauty, with her 
 wealth of bronze hair and her large eyes, but the pallor and 
 weary expression of Kate's face. 
 
 " How do yon do, Miss Transom?" she said, as pleasantlj 
 and carelessly as she could. " What a lovely day! Why did 
 you not come up to see me on Saturday? I was afraid you 
 were not well." 
 
 Kate's pale face flushed, and she averted her eyes from 
 Esther's gaze. 
 
 " I was busy," she said, not sullenly, but in a still, expres- 
 sionless voice. 
 
 " I am sorry," said Esther. " Perhaps you will come next 
 Wednesday?"' 
 
 Kate made no response, but folded the table-clcth and 
 stood aside. 
 
 " Won't you come in, miss?" she said, not over pressingly. 
 
 But Esther went in. The girl was the fiancee of Jack Gor- 
 don, and Esther felt that morning fascinated by anything 
 connected with him. She disliked she would rather have 
 died than admitted that she was jealous of Kate Transom, 
 and yet she felt constrained to speak to her. 
 
 " I spoke to Mr. Fulford about the repairs to your cot- 
 tage," she said, " and they will be seen to. He has oeen very 
 busy, or they would have been done before. I am very sorry 
 they have been neglected. Is your father at home?" 
 
 " No, miss," said Kate, in a dull, lifeless voice. " He has 
 gone to market with some steers for Mr. Gordon." 
 
 " For Mr. Martin, you mean," said Esther, quietly. " Mr. 
 Gordon has gone, you know." 
 
 Kate was bending over the fire, but at these words she 
 straightened herself and turned her head. 
 
 " Gone! Mr. Gordon gone!" she echoed in a still voice, 
 her face growing paler. 
 
 " Yes," said Esther. " He left last night." 
 
 "Last night? Why?" 
 
 Esther coloured. 
 
 " To better himself, I suppose," she said, trying to speak 
 carelessly. " He was only engaged while Mr. Martin was ill, 
 you know." 
 
 " Gonel Last night!" echoed Kate. She stood erect, 
 her eyes fixed vacantly on the window, her face white and 
 strained. " Why last night? Why didn't he wait until the 
 morning?" 
 . Bather shrugged her shoulders with an assumption of IB
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 211 
 
 difference .vfiich might have deceived a more sophisticated 
 girl than Kate. 
 
 " I don't know. Fancy, I suppose. He left quite late, 
 and quite suddenly. Mrs. Martin did not know that he was 
 going. " 
 
 Kate turned her eyes upon Esther's face. 
 
 " Did you know?" she asked. 
 
 Esther felt herself colouring, and told a white lie. 
 
 " No," she said. " Did you?" 
 
 " No," said Kate, vacantly. " Left last night, last night." 
 
 Then suddenly she uttered a cry and covered her face with 
 her hands, as if to shut out some unwelcome sight. 
 
 Esther rose and approached her. 
 
 " What is the matter?" she asked. " Why do you say 
 that? I know vou must be sorry, but why are you ao 
 frightened?" 
 
 Kate tore her hands from her face and looked at Esther 
 almost defiantly. 
 
 " I'm not frightened!" she said, fiercely. " Why should 
 I be? What's Mr. Gordon to me, and why shouldn't he go 
 sudden-like and when he wanted to!" 
 
 Esther recoiled from the sudden outburst of passion. 
 
 " I'm very sorry if I've said anything to make jou angry,*' 
 she said, " anything to wound you. I thought you knew, 
 that you had seen Mr. Gordon lately." 
 
 " It's a lie! I've not!" Kate burst out. " I ve not seen 
 him since for days! Why do you say I have? I know noth- 
 ing about him! I don't know why he's gone, and and I 
 don't want to know! If you've come to ask me questions, 
 that's my answer. I've nothing to tell, nothing. Please go, 
 Miss Van court!" 
 
 Esther rose, pale and troubled, and with a strong sense of 
 resentment. 
 
 " I did not come to ask you any questions," she said, with 
 quiet dignity. " I merely mentioned that Mr. Gordon had 
 gone. I thought you would know it, seeing that he and you 
 were were such friends." 
 
 She could not bring herself to say " engaged." 
 
 Kate stared beyond her visitor with a vacant, half-terrified 
 gaze. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," she said, hoarsely. " Mr. 
 Gordon's coming and going is nothing to me. I wish you'd 
 go,you you fret me!" 
 
 Esther rose, flushed and troubled.
 
 212 LOVE, THE TTEAim 
 
 " Of conrse I will go," she said. " I am sorry * jiatfs 
 you, bat I thought you knew " 
 
 " I know nothing, nothing!" broke in Elate, vehemently; 
 and the words followed Esther as she left the cottage. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHEN Esther had gone, Kate sank into a chair as if 
 all her strength had left her. Her face was white, her breath 
 came in quick, laboured gasps, and her hands, clasped tightly, 
 worked and writhed as if she were in physical pain. 
 
 The bare fact that Jack had gone, that she might never see 
 him again, brought her misery enough; but the manner of 
 his going, its suddenness, and some of the incidents attending 
 it, of which she alone was cognisant, caused her an additional 
 agony an agony of terror and dread. 
 
 She knew that he had gone into the woods; she had seen 
 him afterwards: his hands were red with blood, his manner 
 had been that of a man upset and ill at ease; he had tried to 
 concen.1 himself from her, and when she had been shocked by 
 the blood upon his hands, he had given an explanation which, 
 in the light of his sudden departure, seemed insufficient and 
 far-fetched. 
 
 Every word of the conversation between her father and the 
 stranger, which she had heard as she crouched behind the 
 door, recurred to her indeed, it was burned into her brain 
 never to be forgotten. Had Mr. Gordon and the strange man 
 met? If such a meeting between these two foes had taken 
 place in the woods ! 
 
 She shuddered and covered her face with her hands. The 
 man had uttered threats against Mr. Gordon; it was almost 
 impossible for them to meet without coming to blows. Had 
 the man attacked Mr. Gordon whom he feared and hated? If 
 so, she knew Jack too well not to feel convinced that he would 
 defend himself, that he would return a blow, and with in- 
 terest. 
 
 Her heated brain pictured the scene which her fears coated. 
 Mr. Gordon would be attacked by the man, would strike 
 back, would fight with all his strength, which Kate knew 
 was very great and beyond that of most men. Had he in- 
 j ured the man, had he killed him? 
 
 A low cry burst from her lips as the question rose to her 
 imad. Why should Mr. Gordon take flight for his suddea 
 uuparture presented itself as nothing less than flight to her- 
 if the man was not dead?
 
 LOVE, TK3 TYRANT. 21. 
 
 And yet her pride in Jack rose in revolt zi the idea; eh 
 could scarcely imagine him seeking safecy in flight from th,: 
 consequence of any act he had committed: but murder they 
 would call it murder was so terrible a thing that even so 
 brave a man as Mr. Gordon might quail before iiz dread 
 penalty. 
 
 Then a fresh fear shook her: had any one beside herself 
 seen him that night after his return from the woods, and in 
 in that condition? If not, if no one had seen the encounter 
 which she felt certain had taken place, or Mr. Gordon after- 
 wards, then she was the only person whose evidence could tell 
 against him. Had she aroused Miss Vancourt's suspicions by 
 the agitation she had displayed on hearing of his sudden de- 
 parture? What had she said? Let her think! Oh, why 
 hadn't she held her tongue, mastered her emotion, and re* 
 ceived the news with seeming indifference? 
 
 She rose and paced up and down, her hands pressed to her 
 temples; then suddenly she drew a long breath and looked 
 up, as if a ray of light had flashed across the terrible dark- 
 ness. After all, was she not torturing herself without suffi- 
 cient cause? They might not have met, or the man might 
 have been hurt, but not seriously; might, indeed, still be at 
 the Black Ciow, alive, though perhaps badly boat.en. 
 
 Acting on the impulse of the moment, driven by her fear 
 and dread to action of some sort or other, she caught up her 
 sun-bonnet, left the cottage, and went quickly hi the direc- 
 tion of the Black Crow. She walked fast at first, but pres- 
 ently, as it occurred to her that her haste might attract notice, 
 she slackened her pace. 
 
 And all the way, though she tried to persuade herself that 
 her fears were groundless, she felt convinced that some terri- 
 ble catastrophe had happened. 
 
 As she neared the little tumble-down inn, she saw the land- 
 lord leaning against the porch smoking, with his hands in his 
 pockets. He took his pipe from his mouth to give her " good- 
 day," and Kate stopped as if casually. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Grice," she said, forcing a smile, 
 whil her heart beat so that she could scarcely keep her voice 
 steady. " Is my father inside?" 
 
 Grice shook his head. 
 
 " No; haven't seen him for quite a goodish time, Miss 
 Transom," he said. " And I don't get so many customers 
 as not to miss 'em." 
 
 "Sate nodded, controlling her quivering lips. 
 
 beard you'd been very busy lately, Mr. Grice; tiiat
 
 214 LOVE, THE TYRAN7 
 
 you'd bad people stopping here, quite like as if it was 
 hotel." 
 
 " Oh, you mean the gentleman as put up here," he said. 
 " Yes: 'tain't often as us has a visitor; but he's gone now; 
 left yesterday. Bum kind o' gentleman he was; one o' them 
 silent and keep-theirselves-to-theirsels kind. Not but what 
 he did'nt pay his shot all right. Some o' them Lunnon men 
 forget to do that." 
 
 " Oh, has he gone back to London?" asked Kate. 
 
 Griee nodded, and Kate's sense of relief was so great, so 
 Intense, that it almost broke down her self-command; but at 
 the man's next words all her misery came crashing down upoa. 
 her again. 
 
 " Leastways, I think so. He said he was going by the 
 seven-fifteen from Barminster." 
 
 " How do you mean? Didn't he go?" she asked, with a 
 catch in her breath. 
 
 Grice plugged his pipe and eyed it thoughtfully. 
 
 " Well, it were this way, Miss Transom. Happened that 
 the gent gave me a bad two-shilling bit when he paid his bill. 
 Two shillings is two shillings now-a-days, and as I was going 
 into Barminster, I drove my little pony that's a fine pony if 
 you like now " 
 
 " Yes," said poor Kate, " it is a very good one, I know. 
 I've heard my father speak of it." 
 
 " Yes, he can get into Barminster in fifty-five minutes any 
 day, and no whip neither!" 
 
 " And did you catch the train last night?" asked Kate, 
 quivering all over. 
 
 Grice nodded. 
 
 " Yes, and a quarter of an hour to spare." 
 
 " And you saw the gentleman, and got your two shillings 
 changed?" she said, catching at the hope; but Grice shook 
 his head. 
 
 " No, I didn't, for he wasn't there. There was no sign of 
 him." 
 
 Kate put out her hand and caught at the trellis-vrork of the 
 porch. 
 
 " Are you sure?" she asked, as steadily, as casually, as she 
 could. " He might have got into the train without your see- 
 ing him, Mr. Grice." 
 
 Gnce shook his head emphatically. 
 
 " Not he," he said. " I looked into every carriage, for I 
 wanted that two-shilling oit changed; but he warn't there," 
 
 " It was the last train to London?" said Kate*
 
 I0VB, THE TYRAKT. 215 
 
 " Yes, misa Bat it's likely enough that he walked on to 
 Critchett Cross, the next station. It's almost as near as Bar- 
 minster. Howsoever, I'm two shillings short, and in these 
 hard times " 
 
 "I'm sorry," said Kate. 
 
 She walked on and turned on the road just beyond the 
 hotel. Her fear and dread were in the ascendancy again. 
 There was no reason why the man should go to Crichett Cross 
 Station. He had not left Vancourt that night, though he 
 had left the inn. 
 
 She walked back slowly, feeling faint, sick, with the haunt- 
 ing, brooding terror of evil that her mind pictured. As she 
 gained the village street, a man came out of the lane opposite 
 the row of old cottages. It was one of the underkeepers 
 named Johnson. Kate, though she seemed to scarcely glance 
 at him, saw that he carried two guns one over his shoulder 
 and the other in his left hand. 
 
 She stopped, with a leap of the heart a passing child 
 would have caused her nervous tremors that morning and 
 Johnson nodded. 
 
 " Good-day to you, Miss Kate," he said. " Rare fine 
 weather, beant it?" 
 
 " Yes," said Kate. " Why are you carrying two guns? 
 You can't fire them off at once." 
 
 Johnson laughed. 
 
 " Well, I don't know as I couldn't if I was so minded," he 
 said. " I seed a man do it at Barminster Fair, and he hit the 
 target with both of 'em, too. But this 'ere one beant mine. 
 I found it in Vancourt woods." 
 
 " Oh!" said Kate. 
 
 She had recognised Jack's gun by a notch on the stock- 
 one of those small marks which would escape the notice of 
 most persons but there was scarcely a detail of Jack's dress 
 or belongings which had escaped the lynx-like eyes of Kate, 
 the woman who loved him. 
 
 " I'm told it's Mr. Gordon's, and I'm taking it to him," 
 said Johnson. " It's a good gun, and I can't think how he 
 came to leave it there forget it, as one may say." 
 
 Kate smiled: no one can guess what that smile cost her. 
 
 " Let me look at it," she said. 
 
 Johnson, with some surprise, handed her the gun, and she 
 took it and looked it up and down. 
 
 " It's not Mr. Gordon's," she said, confidently. 
 
 " Not Mr. Gordon's. Then whose is it?" he asked. 
 
 Kate was silent for a moment She knew how terribly im>
 
 216 fiOlTE, THE TTBANT. 
 
 portant her next words might prove. Her brain seemed pa 
 fire, her heart was beating fast and furiously, but her voice 
 was quite calm and steadV. 
 
 " It is Dick Reeve's," LIS said, on the impulse of the mo= 
 ment. 
 
 Johnson's round, rubicund face became suddenly grave. 
 
 " Oh, Dick Reeve's!" he said. " Then he was in the wood., 
 last night! Thai's bad for Muster Dick." 
 
 Kate drew nearer to him, her beautiful face full of entreaty 
 and coaxing. . 
 
 " Yes, I'm afraid it is. But you won't be hard upon him, 
 Mr. Johnson? Lot him off say nothing about it just this 
 once to please me!" 
 
 The >oung fellow hesitated. He admired Kate, as most of 
 the men did, and this unusual amiability for she was gen- 
 erally cold and reserved, keeping them at arms' length had 
 its effect upon him. 
 
 " I ought to take this gun to Mr. Fulford, the steward, 
 and report I really ought, you know," he said, gravely. 
 " You know that's mv duty." 
 
 She drew closer to him and laid her hand on the gun, which 
 he had taken from her. 
 
 " I know," she said. " But jou won't this tune. No one 
 has seen the gun but you?" 
 
 She put it interrogatively, and he shook his head. 
 
 " No; as it happened, you're the first person I've seen 
 since I left the woods." 
 
 " Very well,'' she exclaimed, in alow, persuasive voice, her 
 great eyes dwelling on him coaxingly. " Give the gun to me, 
 and forget that you found it." She drew it from his reluct- 
 antly yielding hand, and as he still continued to shake his 
 head, she added: " See, it hasn't been fired; it's loaded still. 
 Hehe might not have been poaching, might just have been 
 passing through the wood it's a short cut, you know, from 
 the cross-road " 
 
 Johnson laughed incredulously. 
 
 " Dick Reeve's a lucky man to have you to plead for him, 
 Miss Katel" he said, rather ruefully and wistfully. " But 
 there, you've got the gun and there's an end of it " 
 
 " You won't say anything, tell any one especially Dick 
 Reeve? You promise!" she said, with a smile, but with an 
 agony of anxiety. 
 
 The young fellow laughed rather grimly. 
 
 "It's not very likely, for my own sake," He said. *l 
 thought the arnn was Mr. Gordon's. "
 
 LOVE, THB TYRANT. 217 
 
 ** Oh, no," she said, quickly, " I know it well. It's not 
 his. Good-bye, and thank you! You won't forget you 
 promise." 
 
 She held out her hand with a smile which dazzled him r 
 then she drew her hand from his tightening grasp, and carry- 
 ing the gun in proper fashion went into the cottage. Closing 
 the door she sank on to a chair, eyeing the thing sideways as 
 if it were a kind of basilisk. Then she sprang to her feet, 
 shot the bolt in the door, and taking up the gun, with a 
 shudder, examined it closely. 
 
 It was loaded, as she had said; whatever had happened to 
 the man, he had not been shot. She searched for some traces 
 of blood, but there was not a spot on stock or barrel. She 
 stood for a moment pondering, then she went out by the back 
 way, and looking round cautiously, stole to an old disused 
 well which stood in a corner of the small garden, carefully 
 lifted a piece of the broken wooden cover, softly lowered the 
 gun into the well, and replaced the wood and grass in their 
 former positions. 
 
 As she stood there, with the sunlight streaming on her pale 
 face and bronze-gold hair, she was for the moment conscious 
 of the danger she was incurring, the risk to Dick Reeve and 
 to herself; but she felt no compunction, no remorse; he was in 
 peril, and to save him she would have sacrificed a hunared 
 l)ick Beeves, and laid down her own life without hesitation or 
 regret. 
 
 Was there anything else she could do? Should she go to 
 the cottage and see if, in the hurry of his flight, Mr. Gordon 
 had left any trace, any clue which might endanger him? 
 
 A voice, calling to her, made her start, but she managed 
 to turn slowly, leisurely, though the voice was Dick Reeve's. 
 
 He was leaning on the low wall, his pipe in his mouth, his 
 dark eyes fixed on her with an expression in them which she 
 ha bed; for when a woman loves as Kate did, she loathes the 
 admiration in the e\es of all men save those of the man who 
 holds her heart. 
 
 " Father in, Kate?" he asked. 
 
 " No," she said. " He's gone to market. How hot it is! 
 I must go in." 
 
 " Half a moment!" he said, and he vaulted the wall and 
 approached her. 
 
 " What is it?" she asked, impatiently. " I'm verv busy 
 this morning, and I can't stay gossiping." 
 
 " I won't keep you long," he said. " You're always busy, 
 cod want to run away when I come."
 
 218 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 She put up her nand to shield her eyes from the ran, 
 half turned away from him. 
 
 " Well, what is it?" she asked. " I've some cakes in the 
 oven " 
 
 " Let 'em bide for a moment,*' he said, with more of de- 
 termination in his voice than usual. " I don't often have a 
 chance of seeing you alone. Elate, I've got some good news 
 for you." 
 
 " Good news?" 
 
 In the concentration of her mind upon the one beloved 
 object she, of course, thought his good news must concern Mr, 
 Gordon. 
 
 " Yes," he said, with a nod. " I'm going to give up " 
 he looked around cautiously " the poachin ! I've been to 
 the woods for the last time leastways, after the game." 
 
 Her heart fell again. 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," she said, coldly enough. " Glad 
 for your own sake, Dick." 
 
 " And not for yours? That's hard, Kate; for it's for you 
 that I'm giving it up. I know how you hate it, and I'd give 
 up a great deal more than the poachin' for you. Don't go, 
 Kate; listen to me! You know I love you Lord, how many 
 times have I told you! but there! I'm never tired of tellin* 
 you." 
 
 She bit her lip. With her nerves strained to their utmost; 
 tension, it was almost unendurable that she should have to 
 listen to Dick Eeeve's oft-repeated avowal. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't," she said as calmly as she could. " I 
 wish you'd give up this this foolishness!" 
 
 His face darkened. 
 
 " It's no foolishness with me, Kate, and you know I can't 
 give it up!" he responded, with suppressed fierceness. " I've 
 always loved you, and I always shall to the end of my days. 
 Look here, Kate, I've sworn to marry you, and I mean to 
 sooner or later. Better give in at once There, there! I 
 don't mean to threaten you. Let that go. Listen to me: I've 
 given up the poachin' for good and all. I've got something 
 else something ever so much better, something that will 
 make a rich man of me and I offer to share :" with you. You 
 can live like a lady with your hands in your lap, and plenty 
 to eat and drink, and fine clothes to wear." 
 
 She regarded him with a dull surprise and distaste. 
 
 " What do you mean?" she asked. " Have you got some 
 Work, someplace"
 
 LOVE, THE TTRAST. 219 
 
 His dark, bold eyes fell before her gaze, and he mored his 
 feet uneasily as he replied : 
 
 " No. Who's likely to give me a place? I've come into 
 some money, Kate." 
 
 " Come into some money? Had it left to you?" she said. 
 " It is very sudden, isn't it?" 
 
 He nodded with his eyes still downcast. 
 
 " Yes, it is. I didn't know it till last night that is, this 
 morning. It's a tidy sum. Kate, and, if you've a mind, 
 we'll take a public. I've heard that they want to get out 
 of the Vancourt Arms, and we might take that; but it's just 
 as you please, my girl. You've only to say the word. I'm 
 your slave Kate, you know, and I'll do anything you want." 
 
 She turned her cold, white face away from him. 
 
 " I'm glad you have had this money left you, Dick," she 
 said; " but but it doesn't make any difference; I shouldn't 
 marry a man for his money, not if he had millions." 
 
 His face flushed. 
 
 " You're hard on me, Kate!" he said, huskily. " I've 
 done all I can to please you. I've given up the p^achin', and 
 now I offer to share this windfall with you, and >ou refuse 
 me! There's many a girl in the village as 'ud jump at such 
 a chance!" 
 
 " I daresay," said Kate, quietly. " And, oh! how I wish 
 you'd ask them! What do you see in me that you should be 
 so so set on me? There's others prettier than I am i here's 
 Polly Andrews, and Lottie Wren; they'd be only too glad to 
 listen to you, Dick. Oh! if you'd only give it up and leave 
 me alone!" 
 
 His face went white, and he swore under his breath. 
 
 " Don't you think that I don't try," he said. " I'm al- 
 ways trying; but I can't! I don't want PolJy or Lottie; it's 
 you I want, and, by the Lord, I mean to have you!" 
 
 She turned on him with sudden and tjqual fierceness. That 
 any one should dare to make love to her, .^hose heart was 
 aching with love for Mr. Gordon, maddened her. 
 
 "And, by the LorC' you will not!" broke from between 
 her set teeth. "I don't love you, and I never shall! Let me 
 pass, Dick Beeve;" for he had stepped between her and the 
 door. " I won't listen to you any longer. I've given you 
 my answer, and I will never speak to you again unless yon 
 promise not to say what you ve said just now." 
 
 He eyed her with that terrible passion, that mixture of de- 
 sire and despair which sometimes transforms men into fionis. 
 
 " Anil I say you shall 1" he responded, his ejeft fi mhin|fr
 
 220 tOVE, THE TTRA19T. 
 
 " I mean oo nave you for my wife, by fair means or 
 and that's my last word." 
 
 " Then let it be your last word!" she retorted; and she 
 walked by him, within reach of the hand which he dared not 
 stretch out to stay her for she looked like an offended queen 
 and entered the cottage. 
 
 She waited until he had vaulted the wall, and his footsteps 
 had died away, then she went out by the front door and made 
 her \7?j to Jack Gordon's cottage, pausing now and a^ain to 
 look round carefully. 
 
 The key was in the door, and she unlocked it and entered, 
 looking round, with her hand pressed to her throbbing heart 
 Love can make the most common place sacred, and the two 
 small rooms were ullowed ground to poor Kate. Jack had 
 tidied up as well as he could, but he liad left various traces 
 of his presence an agricultural paper on the table, a for- 
 gotten pipe lay on the narrow mantel-shelf. She touched the 
 paper reverently, and took up the pipe and gazed at it almost 
 enviously for had not his lips touched it? But there was 
 nothing indicative of the tragedy which she had imagined had 
 been enacted in the woods. 
 
 She passed into the tiny bedroom. If the rest of tlis cot- 
 tage was sacred, this was sacrosanct indeed! The sight of the 
 narrow bed moved her beyond any words to describe. She 
 fell on her knees beside it, and throwing out her arms, laid 
 her head on the pillow and kissed it. 
 
 " I love you! I love you!" broke from her white lips. *' I 
 love you and I shall never see you again! Oh, God help 
 me! How shall 1 go on living day by day without a sight di 
 him!" 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 JACK tramped through the moonlight with his knapsack on 
 his back it was much lighter than his heart, for, as every 
 ptep he took carried him farther from Esther, he realised how 
 passionately he loved her. 
 
 Of course, nineteen men out of twenty would have consid- 
 ered Jack an ass for turning his back not only on the girl he 
 loved, but on Vancourt Towers and the estate that belonged 
 to him; but, in simple truth, it never occurred to hiro that he 
 could act otherwise than he was doing. If he had not counted 
 the whole cost, of his sacrifice that night when he gave hie 
 promise to Esther's brother, it was because, not having at 
 tkat time met and fallen in love with Esther, he did not know
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAOT. 221 
 
 the extent of his sacrifice; but he had surrendered his estate, 
 and to go back and claim it because he loved the girl for 
 whom he had resigned it, was not possible to one of Jack': 
 nature. 
 
 If, by any chance, she had returned his love " If the 
 moon were made of green cheese and elephants could fly," he 
 muttered, " then the world would be a very different place. 
 No, I'm best out of it. I was an idiot to stay, and I've got 
 punished for my folly. I wonder whether I shall manage to 
 forget her. Afraid not, judging by my present feelings; 
 though they say if you don't see a girl for a year What rofe 
 they talk about love! If I never see her again and it isn't very 
 likely I shall I should go on loving her until I died. How 
 Jonely it is without Bob! Take it, by and large, as they say 
 at the docks, I seem to have been doomed to a wandering 
 and solitary life. Well, I must make the best of it. Poor 
 little Nettie! She'll miss me for a day or two. And I 
 heaven and earth! don't I miss her now! If I'd married 
 Esther, I I might have had a little girl like Nettie Nona 
 of that, now!" he admonished himself sternly. "What 
 you've got to try and do is to forget Van court and all that 
 therein dwells, and the sooner you set about it the better." 
 
 The weather was fine, and he walked a good part of the 
 way to London, and was not altogether unhappy; for he was 
 strong, in perfect health, and he loved the country with all 
 an Englishman's love. 
 
 On the third day he took the train, and reached London 
 on a close, warm evening, and looked about him with grim 
 distaste for the crowded streets and grimy houses that 
 squeezed round the terminus. 
 
 He had only spent a few shillings of his money, and he was 
 sorely tempted to put up at an hotel and take it easy for a 
 time; but he knew from experience how soon a few pounds 
 
 fo in the great city, and, with a shrug of resignation, he made 
 is way toward the huge docks which lie in that East of Lon- 
 don which is as strange a region to those who live in the Wost 
 as Constantinople. 
 
 It was ten o'clock before he reached the place he was mak- 
 ing for, and stopped before one of the small houses in a street 
 near the dock gates. It was unlike its neighbors, which were 
 mostly small chandlers, ironmongers, and oil shops a private 
 house; but the door was divided hatch fashion, and the upper 
 half was still open, and in a small room inside an old man 
 was mending boots by the light of an evil-smelling paraffla 
 I& was the only thing unclean in ^.he room* which was
 
 222 WVT, THE TYBAOT. 
 
 scrupulously neat, notwithstanding its occupant's employ- 
 ment. A teapot stood on the hob, and a cup of that beverage 
 which cheers rich and poor alike was at the shoemaker's 
 elbow. He was so engaged in his work that he did not see 
 Jack until he leant over the lower half of the door, and said, 
 cheerily: 
 
 " Halloo, Jacob!" 
 
 " Oh, it's you, mister," said the old man. ** So you've 
 come back!" 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " You don't seem very surprised, Jacob." 
 
 Jacob shook his head. 
 
 '* No," he said, composedly. " Most of you come back, I 
 notice." He looked through the door-way towards the docks 
 dreamily. ** I'^e seen scores and scares come here, and many 
 of 'em go away, but most of 'em come back. It's something 
 in the air of the place, I reckon; it's fine an* open here, you 
 
 coo " 
 
 BQVt 
 
 Jack smiled as he glanced up the narrow and by no means 
 over-clean street, and sniffed the heavy air redolent of an ex- 
 traordinary mixture of odours, in which that of tar and 
 bilge-water distinctly predominated, and smiled again. 
 
 " And where have you been hay-making?" asked the old 
 cobbler. 
 
 " Right the first time!" responded Jack, cheerfully. 
 
 " Ah! a good many of 'em tries that; but they seldom 
 stick to it. The country's a dull kind o' place at least, I 
 should think so; I've never seen it myself. There's nothing 
 like London." 
 
 " You're right, there isn't!" assented Jack, with emphasis. 
 
 Jacob nodded. 
 
 " No, mister. Them as has once lived in it can't keep 
 away from it for long. Walked far?" 
 
 " Pretty far, far enough to make me want to go to bed. 
 Can I have my old room, J^ob?" he asked, as he opened the 
 door and went in, his head almost touching the low ceiling, 
 his stalwart figure seeming to " crowd " the room. 
 
 Jacob shook his head. 
 
 " Sorry, mister," he said, " I've let it. You see, I didn't 
 think you'd be coming back so soon. Not that I could have 
 afforded to keep it." 
 
 " Of course not; but I'm sorry; I was very comfortable 
 here. So far as I've seen, it's the only house in the place 
 where they use soap and a scrubbing brush. Well* I must try 
 my lack elsewhere."
 
 BOVE, THE TYHAUT. 223 
 
 The oH cobbler scratched his head with his awl, and sur- 
 Jack ruminatingly. 
 
 " Your old room's gone," he said, " but there's the little 
 'un at the top; you could have that if you could get into 
 it.'' 
 
 Jack laughed. 
 
 " If it's smaller than the old one it will be a bit of a 
 squeeze," he said, " but I'll try it. Perhaps your new lodger 
 mayn't stay long.' 
 
 Jacob shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " Can't say, I'm sure. I ain't partickler sweet on her, and 
 I'll give her notice if you think of staying on; though she 
 pays her rent regular and is quiet enough most times." 
 
 " Oh, don't give her notice on my account," said Jack. 
 " Especially as my stay is uncertain. I'll manage. I 
 shouldn't like to turn a woman out. Who is she, a sail- 
 maker?" For nearly all the women near the docks are em- 
 ployed in the sail-lofts, rope-walks, or similar places. 
 
 Jacob shook his head. 
 
 " Dunno, mister. No, she ain't, cos she's out most all day 
 and don't come home till late. Oh, she's respectable enough, 
 or I shouldn't have her." 
 
 " That's all right," remarked Jack, cheerfully, as he un- 
 slung his knapsack and dropped it on a chair. 
 
 " Mordy Jane 'ull be in direckly," said Jacob. " She've 
 bin round to get a bit o' something for supper. You'll join 
 us, mister. She'll be glad to see you, you were a bit o' a fa- 
 vourite o' hers." 
 
 " Oh, was I?" said Jack, with a laugh. " I didn't know 
 that, for Mordy Jane was always pretty sharp with me." 
 
 * She jaws everybody; it's her way," Jacob remarked, 
 composedly. *' It's in her bone." 
 
 *' Yes, I've always suspected that Mordy Jane's bark was 
 worse than her bite," Jack said. 
 
 At this moment the door was swung back and a girl en- 
 tered. It was difficult to tell her age, because though her face 
 and figure were that of a child, say, fourteen, she wore a cast- 
 off woman's dress of the most mature type and a battered 
 crape-trimmed bonnet, which might have been built for a 
 widow of fifty; and the face, though childish in some respects, 
 was marked with lines which indicated the shrewdness with 
 which one credits only the adult. 
 
 She carried a beer jug in one hand, and a dish of cold 
 boiled beef in the other, which had necessitated the kick that 
 she hud administered to the door.
 
 224 W5VE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " Oh, so ifovfre back!" she exclaimed, in a shrifl voice and 
 she eyed Jack with a pair of eyes as sharp as a magpie's. 
 
 " Yes, I'm back; and how do you do, Mordy Jane?" said 
 Jack. " Let me put the jug down." 
 
 "Ah, that's right! Go for the beer first!" remarked 
 Mordy Jane, not at all mollified by his politeness. " Like a 
 man, that is! Always got one eye on the beer. Now, don't 
 put it so near the fire! Can't you see the table? Father, 
 put them shoes away! Didn't I tell you to knock off before 
 I went out!" 
 
 The old man obediently gathered the boots and tools to- 
 ,gether and laid them in a box. 
 
 " And there's the lamp smelling like billy-ho!" she went 
 on. " 'Nough to stifle one! And you two men a-sitting here 
 and taking no notice! But, there! you'd sit with your thumbs 
 in your niouth if the house was a-burning." 
 
 She turned down the too-aspiring lamp, and as she got oat 
 a cloth and spread it, addressed Jack. 
 
 "And where have you been? After no good, I'll be bound! 
 Trust you for that. Been hop picking, or what? But you 
 needn't trouble to answer; you wouldn't tell the truth, I 
 spect! Fa r !ier, what you done with the cheese?" 
 
 'The cheese the cheese? lemme see!" murmured the 
 old man, abstractedly. *' Oh, yes, I remember. Mrs. Jen- 
 kins's 'Vangeline came in an' borrowed it." 
 
 Mordy Jane turned upon him with her arms akimbo, her 
 childish face full of indignation. 
 
 " There now! And me only been gone ten minutes at the 
 most! Old Mother Jenkins must have watched me go. She 
 ought to be ashamed of herself; and as for 'Vangeline well, 
 let me catch her comin' borrowin' again, that's all. Well, 
 there'll be no cheese, Mr. Gordon, that's one thing." 
 
 "Don't worry on my account, Mordy Jane: never eat 
 cheese." 
 
 " But other people do!" she retorted. " Bring up your 
 chair . Father, take that apron off! If you think you're 
 going to work agen to-night, you're mistaken. Now, what 
 Is it?" 
 
 A mite of tender years, but precociously aged-faced, peered 
 over the door, and in a thin treble, said in a monotonous 
 voice, as if it were repeating a lesson: 
 
 " Please, Mister Jacob, mother says will you please let 'er 
 *ave her boots, as she want 'em pa-tickler." 
 
 "Eh?" murmured the old man, absently. "Yes yes,
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 225 
 
 Lemme see! Mrs. Murphy's boots. Where did I ah, yes; 
 here they are.'" 
 
 He rummaged them out from a collection in the corner, and 
 was handing them to the child ; but Mordy Jane was too quick 
 for him, and snatched them out of his hand. 
 
 " Where's the money, Sophie Maria?" she enquired. 
 '* How much is it, father?" 
 
 " Eighteen pence," replied Jacob. 
 
 Sophie Maria drew back her grimy little paw. 
 
 " Please, mother says she'll pay you on Saturday night, 
 rfter father" 
 
 " No, you don't!" broke in Mordy Jane, with a shake of 
 iter head, which sent the ridiculous bonnet all on one side. 
 " I've heard that fairy story before. You can have the boots 
 when you bring the money, and not before!" 
 
 " Mother'll be in a fine way," remarked Sophie Maria in a 
 kind of stolid resignation. " Most like she'll come 'erself. 
 She wants 'em to go to Hepping Forest to-morrow, and she 
 won't be able to go without them boots. But / don't care. 
 Don't you think as I do, Mordy Jane; for I don't. So there!" 
 
 " You tell your mother " Mordy Jane began to retort; 
 then she stopped and tossed the boots over the door. " Well, 
 take 'em, but, mind! If your mother wasn't goin' to 
 Hepping " 
 
 Sophie Maria snatched up the boots and fled, and, after 
 sundry snorts and ejaculations, Mordy Jane cooled down 
 sufficiently to superintend the supper. 
 
 Jack looked on and listened with a strange sense of un- 
 reality. Did such a place as Vancourt, such people as Esther, 
 Mrs. Martin, Nettie exist, or had he only dreamt of them? 
 He looked round the tiny room absently; neither its size nor 
 its poverty troubled him: had he not roughed it in the bush, 
 and partaken of worse fare than cold boiled beef, and been in 
 worse company than this honest old shoemaker and his weirdly 
 precocious child? but it seemed as if he had never left it, as 
 if the time he had spent at Vancourt were the freak of his 
 imagination. 
 
 " An' what are you goin* to do? Same old game; docks?" 
 asked Mordy Jane as she helped liim liberally, meeting his 
 remonstrance with: " Oh, there's plenty for all of us, and I 
 ain't hungry 'ad shrimps for tea and you look as if you's 
 come off a long tramp." 
 
 " So I have," said Jack. " Yes, same old game, Mordy 
 Jane; I hope there's plenty of work." 
 
 ' Oik Y86." she said. " We're busy lost now. and vou're
 
 226 LOVE, THE TYBAIT. 
 
 all right; though " she eyed him with her head on one 
 like a particularly sharp sparrow " I should a thought the 
 likes of you could have found something better than dock 
 work." 
 
 " Doesn't seem like it, Mordy Jane, seeing that I've come 
 back again," responded Jack, cheerfully. 
 
 " Yes, that's what's queer," she said, still surveying him 
 with the supernatural shrewdness of the cockney of her class. 
 " But there! it's no business of mine! I suppose you're going 
 to have the top room? Your old 'un's let. Well, I'll go up 
 and put it tidy for you. Have some more beer I'm off beer 
 to-night, and prefers tea and don't let father sneak back to 
 that old bench of his while I'm gone. You hear me, father!" 
 she added, threateningly. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Mordy Jane," he assented, meekly. 
 
 Jack and he lit their pipes and smoked in the silence which 
 tobacco makes possible, and presently Mordy Jane came down 
 with the information that Jack's room was ready. 
 
 " Half-past five and a cup of coffee, as usual, I suppose?" 
 she said. 
 
 " Thanks, yes," replied Jack. " I'll turn in now. Good- 
 night, Jacob; good-night, Mordy Jane, it's very kind of yon 
 to take me in." 
 
 Mordy Jane nodded. 
 
 " Oh, well, as to that," she said, sharply, " we've had 
 worse and we've had better. Don't disturb yourself if yoa 
 hear a noise about 'alf past eleven, it's only our other lodger 
 comin' in." 
 
 Jack laughed. 
 
 " An earthquake wouldn't disturb me to-night, Mordy 
 Jane," he said. " I shall sleep like a top." 
 
 Nevertheless, he was lying awake thinking of Esther when 
 the dock clock how different was its sound to that of the 
 Vancourt one! struck eleven; and some time after, as he 
 strove to thrust his thoughts aside and lose them in sleep, he 
 heard a light but dragging step coming up the stairs, and 
 the sound of some person moving about in the room beneath. 
 
 Mordy Jane hammered at the door at half-past five the 
 next morning, and thrust a cup of coffee round it, and Jack 
 cot nn from his restless, dream-haunted sleep, and prepared 
 lor the day's toil. As he dressed himself he felt that, after 
 all he had acted wisely in rushing at once at work. If labour 
 is prajer, it is also solace, and his life wouFd be unendurable 
 but for the hard physical toil which permits of no " moon- 
 ing," and compels the heavy slumber of bodily fatigue.
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 227 
 
 He went down to the docks, and was at once taken on by 
 tiie foreman, who recognised his stalwart figure; and for the 
 whole of the day, barring his short meal times, Sir John Van- 
 court, Baronet, of Vancourt Towers, hauled sacks, lifted 
 great weights, and earned his bread with the sweat of hia 
 brow. Whenever he found himself pausing absently and wan- 
 dering mentally towards Vancourt and the girl who reigned 
 there, he made a dash for a sack or a bale as if it were his 
 mortal foe, and hauled and lifted until he had deadened the 
 aching pain at his heart. 
 
 It answered fairly well while he was at it; but he knew 
 that when the day's work was over the reaction would set in, 
 and_the aching pain and longing would rise to torment him. 
 
 He went home to " clean " and have his tea which Mordy 
 Jane enlivened by an altercation with a neighbour who con- 
 ducted her side of the argument over the lower half of the 
 door then he lit his pipe and strolled out 
 
 Until he had met Esther he had found London amusing 
 and interesting enough; but to-night the great city weighed 
 upon him like an incubus, and he walked up one street and 
 down another in an absent, preoccupied manner, thinking of 
 Vancourt woods and all that had happened there. 
 
 At last, tired of aimless wandering, he made for home. It 
 was past eleven as he entered Chase Street, as the street in 
 which he lodged was called, and the streets were rather noisy, 
 for the public-houses were in full swing, doing a brisk trade 
 with the people who had just come out from the theatres and 
 music-halls. 
 
 Jack made his way through the various groups, and letting 
 himself in, groped his way upstaiiv; for it was a rule of Mordy 
 Jane's that no bedroom candles should be lit down-stairs, and 
 Mordy Jane's rules were as unalterable as those of the Medes 
 and Persians. 
 
 He was feeling for a match-box which he remembered see- 
 ing on the mantel-shelf as he went out, when he heard the 
 street door open and close again and footsteps ascending the 
 stairs. It was, no doubt, the other lodger, the lady who was 
 respectable, though " given to late hours." 
 
 Jack's door was open, and, naturally enough, he went to it 
 and looked down. 
 
 A woman young, he judged, but with a lined and faded 
 face, made all the more faded-looking by a mass of vellovr 
 hair which obviously owed its canary hue to art was coming 
 np the stairs with slow and tired gait, holding on by the bal- 
 ester and stopping now and again to get her breathl
 
 228 LOVE, THE TYSAWT. 
 
 Just as Jack looked down her foot slipped, she 
 and, losing her hold of the rail, fell against the wall i,nd sanis 
 on to the stairs. 
 
 Jack went down to her quickly and quietly. 
 
 " Have you hurt youi self?" he asked. 
 
 She looked up with a startled expression oa her fa>?9, whicfc 
 was pale beneath its painu 
 
 " No no! oh, no!" she said, and Jack was relieved to fin 
 that her voice had not the slightest indication of inebriety. 
 " I my foot slipped, and I fell. I am very tired " 
 
 She rose, but with difficulty, and Jack took her arm and 
 drew it within his. 
 
 " Let me help you," he said, gently. " There are only a 
 few steps farther." 
 
 " Thank you!" she faltered, with an attempt at a laagh 
 the vacant laugh of the lower class London girl; but the 
 laugh died away, and she winced. 
 
 " I've gone and sprained my foot," she said. " That's 
 what I've done!" 
 
 " I hcpe not!" said Jacfc. 
 
 " Well, perhaps not only strained it. Good-night, and 
 thank yon," she added, as she opened her door. 
 
 Jack returned the good-night, and was turning away, when 
 he saw something it looked like a small, square bundle- 
 slipping from under her arm. He stopped, and made to pre- 
 vent its falling; but, with a quick cry, so low as to be scarcely 
 more than a gasp, she caught the bundle to her as if it were 
 something secret and precious, and stepping into her room, 
 shut the door on him quickly but noiselessly. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 WHILE Jack had tramped off to go into action in the battle 
 of life, so to speak, the two women who loved him were left 
 behind to fret after him in that inaction which makes loss 
 and grief so hard to bear: it is always those who are left be- 
 hind who suffer most. 
 
 Kate gave way to her grief, but Esther fought against hers 
 with the pride of her class and station. She was greatly puz~ 
 aled by Kate Transom's strange words and sJ.rangsr manner 
 when she learned from Esther that Jack had gone; and 
 Esther, as she walked home, inwardly as much agitated ac 
 the girl she had just left, asked herself the meaning of Kate's 
 reception of the news. 
 
 Had the girl only pretended ignorance of Mr. Gcrdca's de*
 
 LOVE, THE TYBANT. 229 
 
 darture? Was there no engagement between them? Why 
 nad the girl declared that Mr. Gordon and his proceedings 
 were nothing to her? Surely Marie could not have been mis- 
 taken when she said that Mr. Gordon and Kate were en- 
 gaged? If they were not, if there was nothing between them, 
 why had Elate Transom been so agitated, so vehement? 
 
 She tried to put the whole thing away from her, calling her 
 pride to her aid. After all, it was nothing to her whether 
 Mr. Gordon was engaged to Kate Transom or not. What she 
 had to do was to forget him as quickly and as completely as 
 possible. He had passed out of her life, and she hoped, for 
 ner own peace of mind, that she should not see him again. 
 
 As she went along the edge of the wood, she saw Selby Lay- 
 ton coming out from the midst of the trees. He had been to 
 pay another visit to the scene of his crime, drawn thither not 
 only by the fascination of the fatal spot, but in search of the 
 articles which he had so perilously forgotten. In the terrible 
 confusion of his mind he had forgotten that with the stylo- 
 graphic pen and the memorandum, he had also left the photo- 
 graph which Denzil had shown him. He had returned the 
 photograph to Denzil he was pretty clear on that point 
 out he could not remember what Denzil had done with it. In 
 his hasty search he had not found it on the body of the mur- 
 dered man, and it was quite possible that at the moment of 
 the murder it might have fallen amongst the bracken with 
 the other missing things. 
 
 On his present visit he had made diligent search in the 
 undergrowth, but unsuccessfully, and, not daring to stay long 
 lest he should be seen, he was returning to the hc T ise when 
 Esther saw him. Oppressed by guilty forebodings, he was 
 pale and haggard, and he started slightly as, raising his head, 
 he saw Esther; but he forced a smile and greeted her in his 
 softest aud most tender voice. 
 
 " What a lovely day!" he said. " You have been down to 
 the village?" 
 
 Esther assented rather coldly, with the reserve which had 
 marked her manner since she had yielded to his persuasion 
 and became half engaged to him. 
 
 " Have you been into the wood?" she asked, absently. 
 
 " Yes," he replied. " I thought I would go and look at 
 tile Hawk's Pool. It is an extremely picturesque spot." 
 
 " Yes," said Esther; " but it always seems to me weird 
 and uncanny." 
 
 " Well, so it is," he admitted; " but it is very character- 
 
 ; c. I soDDose every old place like the Towers has a some*
 
 230 LOVE, THE TYRAlfT 
 
 what sinrilar spot. You wouldn't find it in ine newly 
 grounds of a modern estate; and I think it would be a great 
 pity to interfere with it in any way; it seems to me, as I said 
 at b^sakfast, that it would be a piece of vandalism. It may 
 not be altogether salubrious; but it's far away from the house, 
 and none of the cottages are near it. If I were an artist, I 
 should implore you to spare it." 
 
 He said all this with a pleasant smile, and as if his interest 
 were merely an artistic one, but his eyes watched Esther's 
 downcast face, as she walked beside him, with a terrible keen- 
 ness. 
 
 Esther shrugged her shoulders slightly. The matter seemed 
 of no importance whatever to her. 
 
 " Oh, very well," she said. " We will let it remain as it- 
 is, at any rate for the present." 
 
 He glided smoothly into another subject; and when they 
 had reached the house he left her at once and went to the 
 library on the pretence of writing a letter: for he was too 
 wise to make his presence a burden to her. They did not 
 meet again until dinner time, when he was as serene and 
 smiling as usual;. and during the meal he laid himself out to 
 amuse the two ladies; and though Esther only smiled in a 
 pre< ccupied manner and seemed rather pale and! distrait, Miss 
 Worcester was more than ever charmed with Mr. Selby Lay- 
 ton, and sang his praises when she and Esther had retired to 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 He joined them very soon, and presently going to the piano, 
 played and sang in his most charming manner. He appeared 
 to be in even better voice than usual, and neither of the two 
 women who listened to him guessed that every now and then 
 the page of music grew dim before him, and in its place rose 
 the horrible moonlit pool which hid his terrible secret; that 
 in his ears there shrieked the hoot of the night bird which 
 had flown across the slimy water as he did the deed. 
 
 Esther slept heavily through the night, but her sleep was 
 haunted by dreams, and she woke weary and listless. It was 
 early, and when she went down she wandered into the garden. 
 She looked round upon the magnificent grounds with a dis- 
 satisfied, uuadmiring eye. She was beginning to realise the 
 stern truth that wealth and luxury do not always bring hap- 
 piness. The brilliant flowers, the trim gravel walks, jarred 
 upon her; she felt as if she could not go into the breakfast- 
 room and play her part, talk and smiie, as if nothing were 
 the matter, with Selby Layton and Miss Worcester exchang- 
 ing commonplaces and Palmer hovering about with solemn
 
 IX>VE, THE TYRJLNT. 231 
 
 poncferonB dignity. She turned away from the house and 
 walked across the lawn in the direction of the home farm, 
 but without intending to go so far. 
 
 As she came in sight of the farm lodge she saw a group 
 standing at the gate. Martin, Transom, and Dick Keeve 
 were standing outside the gate talking loudly and gesticulat- 
 ing, and Mrs. Martin was leaning on the gate with her hand? 
 clasped hi an anxious and agitated attitude. 
 
 Esther saw that something was the matter, and could not 
 resist the impulse to go on and ascertain what it was; for in 
 the strained condition of her nerves she was at once assailed 
 by all sorts of apprehensions. When she came within hearing 
 she distinngished Transom's voice vehemently putting some 
 question to Martin. 
 
 They did not see her until she was close upon them; then 
 they all stopped talking and regarded her in an awkward and 
 embarrassed fashion. Martin and Transom touched their 
 caps, but Dick Reeve glared at her as if he did not see her. 
 His face was pale and working, and he stood with his sinewy 
 hands closing and unclosing spasmodically at his side. 
 
 " Good-morning, Martin. Is there anything the matter?" 
 Esther asked, as calmly as she could; and her forced com* 
 posure had a quieting effect upon the group. 
 
 " Well, miss," replied Martin, " something has happened: 
 but it ain't so dreadful as to make a fuss about; and, as I 
 tells 'em, it ain't no fault of ours, me and the missus. Us 
 have quite enough to do to look after ourselves without being 
 answerable for other people's daughters." 
 
 He looked at Transom reproachfully, and then angrily at 
 Dick Reeve. 
 
 " What is it?" asked Esther. " Will one of you please 
 tell me? If there is anything I can do " 
 
 Transom touched his cap and looked at her half-sullenly, 
 half-apoiogetically. 
 
 " I don't want to trouble you, miss." he said. " I came 
 up to ask Martin about my daughter, my Kate " 
 
 Esther turned to him quickly with a sudden foreboding 
 which she concealed behind her forced calmness. 
 
 * Your daughter Kate? What has happened to her?" 
 
 " She's gone, miss," said Transom, gloomily. 
 
 " Gone!" echoed Esther. 
 
 " Yes, she's gone," repeated Transom, drawing a long 
 breath. " She's left her home. She went last night." 
 
 Esther stood perfectly still, her face set, hex eye meet:~ i 
 Transom's steadily.
 
 232 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " Why has she gone?" she asked. 
 
 Transom shooknis head. 
 
 " I don't know. miss. She've been strange and 
 iately, and unhappy in her mind like; but I never thought 
 she'd go and leave me sudden leave her home where she was 
 born" 
 
 Esther was silent for a moment. 
 
 '* Do you not know where she has gone, has she lef '. yo:i 
 no message?" 
 
 Transom took a piece of paper from his Docket. 
 
 " Only this, miss," he said. " I found it on the kitchen 
 table when I came down this morning." 
 
 He held out the paper to Esther and she took it and read 
 it. There were only a few lines, written in the plain, stiff 
 hand which Kate had acquired at the board school, and they 
 rail thus: 
 
 " DEAR FATHER I cannot stay at home any longer, and 
 so I'm going. I'm going to London to look for a situation. 
 I v/iil write and let you know when I get one. Don't be anx- 
 ious about me. I must go, I can't help it; and don't try to 
 find me, for nothing would induce me to come back to van- 
 court. Your loving daughter, KATE." 
 
 Esther read the note over twice before she raised her eyc c ; 
 then as she gave it back to Transom, she said: 
 
 " I am very sorry! She seemed to have been very un- 
 happy, judging by what she has written. Do you know why?'* 
 
 Transom shook his head. 
 
 " No, I don't, miss," he replied. " Until lately Kate was 
 as gay and blithe as the best of 'em. It's only recent like 
 that she's been took with them queer ways. I didn't take 
 much notice, because girls takes fits on 'em sometimes. I 
 never thought my Kate 'ud leave me desert me, in thia 
 way." 
 
 " She may come back," said Esther, gently. 
 
 " She may when he's tired of her," said Dick Reeve. 
 
 All eyes were turned upon him. It was the first time he 
 had spoken, and he uttered the words fiercely and bitterly, as 
 if he were struggling to suppress his smouldering passion. 
 Esther looked from him to Transom enquiringly, and Tran- 
 som evaded her gaze and cast his ejes down. 
 
 " Why don't we tell Miss Vancourt the truth?" said Dick 
 Reeve, huskily. " Perhaps sue can help as perhaps she can 
 tell as arhftm fchA isaaa's gone."
 
 JVE, THE TYEABTL 233 
 
 ""What man?" asked Esther, as calmly as she coulc\ 
 though a vague fear was rising in her heart. 
 
 " Re means Mr. Gordon," said Transom, in a low voice. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon!" 
 
 The color rose in a burning flood to Esther's fare, then left 
 ft very pale. 
 
 " Yes, miss," said Transom. " He left the night before 
 -left quite sudden-like, saying nothing to nobody that he 
 lueant to go, and leaving no word behind him." 
 
 " But why should you think that your daughter's disap- 
 pearance is connected with Mr. Gordon's departure from 
 Vancourt?" asked Esther. 
 
 Transom bit his lip, and Dick Eeeve's curled sardonically. 
 
 " Well, it's this way, miss," said Transom. " When I 
 found the letter on the table this morning I was so mazed 
 like that I let out my trouble to my neighbours; and then 
 they told me that Kate and Mr. Gordon had been seen to- 
 gether times out of number, walking in the woods and else- 
 where, and that she'd been been to his cottage. She was 
 aeen near the cottage on the night he left" 
 
 " Yes; what was she doing there?" muttered Dick Reeve, 
 between his teeth. 
 
 " Mr. Giles, miss, has seen them together," said Transom, 
 reluctantly, but with an air of conviction. " He and Marie, 
 your ladyship's maid, met 'em coming out of the woods the 
 other night, and Giles said they was sweethearting; and I 
 remember that night Kate came in looking wild-like and 
 confused." 
 
 Esther stood, with outward calm, but with an aching mis- 
 ery at her heart. 
 
 " But granting all this," she said, " why should your 
 daughter ran away from you? She is a very pretty girl, and 
 has been well taught " 
 
 " She have, miss," murmured Transom, with an emphatic 
 shake of his head. " That makes it all the worse." 
 
 " I mean," said Esther, " that that Mr. Gordon had no 
 reason to be ashamed of an engagement with yonr daughter, 
 and that, though he was leaving Vancourt for a time, he 
 might have come back and married her." 
 
 Dick Reeve gave a short laugh. 
 
 " You don't understand, miss," he said, his black eyes 
 glowering at her. " He didn't think of marriage he never 
 trended to marry her. If he did, why didn't he court hex 
 of only as as others have done?" He looked down for a mo*
 
 234 IOVE, THE TYBAUT. 
 
 ment, struggling with his passion, which almost prerented hii 
 utterance. "No; it's like enough that he's married already." 
 
 Esther's face went whiter, and Mrs. Martin said, timidly 
 and anxiously: 
 
 " Won't you come in, miss? The sun's hot." 
 
 Esther shook her head. 
 
 " No, thank you, Mrs. Martin," she said. She was deter- 
 mined that she would crush down all personal feeling and 
 meet this case as if her own heart was not concerned in it. 
 " I do not think that is probable," she said. 
 
 " Who can tell!" said Dick Reeve. " Nobody knows any- 
 thing about him; he came from nobody knows where; and 
 got the farm without any character, so I'm told. I'm told, 
 too" he glanced sullenly and sideways at Esther "that 
 because he'd got a flash way with him that he was made much 
 of, as if he was above us common folk. Some people treated 
 him as if he was a gentleman. I say them folks are to blame, 
 whether they're high or low, and they ought to be sorry now 
 that he's shown himself up as a villain." 
 
 Esther's lip quivered, and she winced inwardly, for some- 
 thing of what Dick Reeve had said was true. They did know 
 nothing of Mr. Gordon's antecedents; he had to some extent 
 been treated as a gentleman; had been engaged without a 
 character; and had been made much of. But something 
 within her rose against the words Dick Reeve had used, rose 
 in defence of the absent man. Though the case seemed black 
 against him, she could not believe him capable of the baseness 
 with which these people were inclined to charge him. And 
 yet, had he not behaved badly to her, Esther herself? Her 
 face flamed for a moment. 
 
 " I think you are unjust to Mr. Gordon," she said; " yon 
 have no proof, only suspicion." 
 
 " Why did he got off like a thief in the night?" asked 
 Dick Reeve. " And where has he gone?" 
 
 " We came up here to ask Martin if Mr. Gordon had left 
 an address," said Transom. " But he says no. That seems 
 Btrange like." 
 
 " Strange!" sneered Dick Reeve. " He goes off, as I say, 
 like a thief, telling no one where he was going and leaving hia 
 dog behind. Why did he do that? He was supposed to be 
 fond of the animal. He leaves it behind because he knows if 
 he had the dog with him it would be easier to track him: he'a 
 cunning enough." 
 
 Esther's heart sank. Though she fought against the kteft
 
 THE TYBAOT. 235 
 
 f Jack Gordon's guilt, she felt these men had grounds foi 
 suspicion. 
 
 " Perhaps you know where he's gone, miss?' asked Tran- 
 som, respectfully enough. 
 
 Esther shook her head. 
 
 " I am sorry to say I do not," she said. " Mr. Gordon 
 left suddenly on his own business, and he he did not tell me 
 where he was going, though I understood it was to London." 
 
 " Yes, to London!" said Dick Reeve, sardonically. " And 
 that's where Kate's gone!" 
 
 " That is no reason why she should have gone to him," 
 said Martin. " Most folks, when they want to better them- 
 selves, go to London, and she says she's gone to find a situa- 
 tion." 
 
 " And that she will write to you when she obtains one," 
 said Esther, snatching at the hope suggested by Martin's 
 words. 
 
 Dick Reeve shook his head incredulously. 
 
 " Not: she, she won't write," he said. " We sha'n't hear 
 f her again until she comes back broken-hearted." 
 
 " There's nobody she knows in London, you see, miss," 
 said Transom, gravely; " and she'd never dare to face that 
 big place alone. I'm afraid " he paused significantly. 
 
 Esther raised her head, it had sunk despondently during 
 the last few minutes. 
 
 " I still think you are both wrong," she said. " But we 
 ahall soon find out." 
 
 " How?" asked Dick Reeve. 
 
 " I will cause immediate enquiries to be made," replied 
 Esther, coldly. 
 
 Transom looked up sharply. 
 
 " You won't put it in the hands of the police?" he asked 
 anxiously. " I shouldn't like my gal's shame to be made 
 public; and I shouldn't like her to be hunted down like a 
 criminal; it might make matters worse. Perhaps, if your 
 lach ship interested yourself and tried what you could do, you 
 might persuade him to make an honest woman of her? A 
 great lady like you would have a deal of influence with a man 
 Mke Mr. Gordon; a word from yon might make all the differ- 
 ence to my Rate." 
 
 He looked up at her rather shiftily as if there was some- 
 thing behind his words. 
 
 "I will cause enquiries to be made," said Esther, " and if 
 I can do anything to help you in your trouble I shall be very 
 glad. ft* 1 still think you are doing Mr. Gordon an injua*
 
 236 TOTE, THE TTHA1ST. 
 
 tice. From what I know of him, I do not think he is capabte 
 of of what you charge him with. Please let me know n 
 you hear anything of your daugther, let me know at once. 
 Good-morning." 
 
 She walked away, with outward composure but with her 
 heart aching and her mind in a turmoil. She could not blind 
 herself to the inferential evidence which had seemed so con- 
 clusive to Dick Reeve if not to Transom: but still something 
 within Iier rose instinctively to defend Jack Gordon. As she 
 had said, she could not believe him capable of such a cruel 
 and cowardly act. Besides, she knew why he had gone, 
 though her lips were sealed and she could tell no one; he had 
 had no intention of going until he had offended her by that 
 fatal kiss. It was unlikely that he should have gone straight 
 from her and planned an elopement with Kate Transom. 
 Then, again, there was no reason why he should not have 
 married her; and this seemed to Esther the strongest argu- 
 ment in favor of his innocence. 
 
 She had promised to make private enquiries; but as she 
 went towards the house she wondered how she could set about 
 it; she had not the least notion; unless she employed a pri- 
 vate detective, and Transom appeared to entertain a strong 
 aversion to anything that savoured of publicity. Take it 
 altogether, Esther was having a bad time of it that morning. 
 Jack Gordon's absence was bad enough to bear, but this 
 charge against him made things infinitely worse for her. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 SHE found Miss Worcester and Selby Layton seated at the 
 breakfast-table; but they had only made a pretence of begin- 
 ning and Miss Worcester chided her for being late. 
 
 " I had the greatest difficulty in persuading Mr. Layton to 
 commence," she said; " but I knew you would not like us to 
 wait. Where have you been, my dear Esther?" 
 
 Selby Layton said nothing but looked at her with lover-like 
 intentness, as he rose and drew a chair forward and hovered 
 about her for a moment, in a manner that irritated Esther. 
 She knew that they would both hear the news which she had 
 received this morning directly they went to the village, and 
 so she gave the real reason for her delay, rushing at the sub- 
 ject, as a horse takes a particularly high fence which has to 
 be negotiated somehow or other. 
 
 " I was walking towards the home farm when I saw Tran- 
 som and Dick Reeve talking to the Martins at the gate. They
 
 DOVE, THE TYRANT. 237 
 
 wire fn trouble. It seems that Kate Transom has suddenly 
 disappeared, ran away, in fact. She left a note to say that 
 she had gone to London to seek a situation " 
 
 " Foolish girl!" said Miss Worcester. 
 
 " Bat it is thought that that is not the reason of her 
 flight. Transom and Dick Reeve, who is a lover of hers, I 
 suppose strongly suspect that she has followed Mr. Gordon, 
 that she has gone to join him in London. " 
 
 Suffering is a tonic and a training, and Esther had by thii 
 time learnt to mask her feelings; so that, somewhat to her 
 own surprise, she made this announcement with apparent 
 calmness. 
 
 " What a wicked girl!" exclaimed Miss Worcester. 
 " Really, I am inclined to think that it would be far better 
 for them if girls of the lower classes were all born plain." 
 
 Even in her misery, Esther could not refuse the tribute of 
 a smile to this extraordinary pronouncement. 
 
 " You may smile, my dear Esther; but I do honestly think 
 so. As to Mr. Gordon, he must be an extremely bad man. I 
 must say I did not think he would have acted so wickedly." 
 
 " I only said that they suspected," said Esther, coldly. 
 " So far as I can glean, there is no evidence against him; it 
 is mere suspicion on their part based on the fact that the two 
 persons left Vancourt about the same time.'' 
 
 Selby Laytou had listened intently, looking from one to tho 
 other. He hal been so absorbed of late in his own terrible 
 affairs, that he had not given much attention to outside mat- 
 ters, and being ignorant of what had passed between Jack 
 Gordon and Esther, had regarded him as of no importance. 
 He did not like the man, had thought him presumptuous, 
 and above his place, and he would have joined Miss Worcester 
 in her prompt condemnation of Jack Gordon, from sheer dis- 
 like; but he was quick to take his cue from Esther's wcrds. 
 
 " Country people are always suspicious," he said, smoothly. 
 " I have no doubt Mr. Gordon has had nothing whatever to 
 do with the girl, aud is quite innocent." 
 
 Esther looked at him almost gratefully, and he smiled at 
 her and at once followed up his success. 
 
 " At any rate, there is no difficulty hi discovering the 
 truth. Mr. Gordon can be communicated with he has left 
 his address, I presume?" 
 
 Esther bit her lip softly, but she replied calmly enough: 
 
 "No, he has not." 
 
 Selby Lay ton raised his brows slightly, bat only slightly, 
 and Esther want on:
 
 238 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " I think he was going to London; but I imagine his move' 
 ments were rather uncertain, and that he was going in search 
 of work.'* 
 
 " He had a very good situation here, had he not? Why 
 did he throw it up?" asked Selby Layton, not suspiciously, 
 but pleasantly enough. 
 
 Esther fought against her rising color. 
 
 " He may have wanted a change," she said, bending over 
 her letters. 
 
 Miss Worcester came to her aid. 
 
 " I should think he was the sort of man that would never 
 rest contented anywhere," she said. " The first time we 
 saw him he looked like a common tramp, and, though Esther 
 was very favourably impressed, I thought at the time it was 
 rather unwise to engage a man of whom we knew nothing " 
 
 " Except that he probably saved Martin's life at the risk 
 of his own," said Esther, quickly, and with a flash of her 
 dark grey eyes. 
 
 " A man capable of such heroism is not likely to be guilty 
 of persuading a girl to leave her home," said Selby Layton. 
 " I met him once or twice, and I must say he struck me as 
 being a very decent sort of fellow." 
 
 "He was," said Esther, dryly. "I am sure he is not 
 guilty; but the difficulty is to prove it I have promised to 
 nave some enquiries made quite privately; but I am sure I do 
 not know how to set about it. If the suspicions are un- 
 founded, it would be doing both Mr. Gordon and the girl an 
 injustice to make them public." 
 
 " Quite so," assented Selby Layton. " But I should think 
 there would be no difficulty in tracing both him and the girl." 
 
 " I wish it could be done," said Esther, earnestly and with 
 a sigh. 
 
 Much as he desired to bring matters to a conclusion with 
 Esther and obtain her sanction to a definite engagement, Selby 
 Layton was rather anxious to leave Vanconrt for a few days, 
 at any rate. Here was an opportunity for getting away and 
 placing her under an obligation. 
 
 " Let me try," he said, with a pleasant smile. 
 
 Esther looked at him quickly, but Miss Worcester's sense 
 of propriety was shocked by his proposal. 
 
 Keally, Mr. Layton, I don't think it's the proper thing 
 for you to do! I don't think yo ought to mix yourself up iu 
 Buch a dreadful affair; and the idea of your playing the part 
 of private detective is ridiculous. There are especially quali- 
 fied persons whom Esther could employ, if she .is bent upoi
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 239 
 
 finding what has become of the girl; though I should strongly 
 advise her to have nothing to do with the matter. It is not 
 fitting that a lady of her position, to say nothing of a gentle- 
 man of % ours, should concern herself with so vulgar and er 
 improper an affair." 
 
 " But I have given my promise, aunt," said Esther; " and 
 the Transoms are my people. Mr Gordon was my my 
 servant, and the fact that I employed him without making 
 enquiries adds to my responsibility." 
 
 " Forgive me! But I cannot admit that," said Selby Lay- 
 ton, sweetly. " But the mere fact that you feel interested in 
 the matter is quite sufficient reason why I should try to find 
 them. I have some business in town, and I will go to Lon- 
 don to-day. I shall quite enjoy playing the part of amateur 
 detective with all deference to Miss Worcester, for whose 
 judgment I have the most profound respect; indeed, I find 
 that whenever I disagree with her, she invariably prores her- 
 self to have been right and myself wrong." 
 
 He bestowed one of his charming little bows upon that 
 lady, who was at once mollified. 
 
 " I shall have an advantage over the ordinary detective," 
 he said, " because I know both the persons, whereas he would 
 be guided only by descriptions. I believe I shall find them 
 or one of them quite easily. Have you any idea in what 
 direction, in what part of London, Mr. Gordon is likely to 
 have gone?" 
 
 Esther raised her eyes. 
 
 " I think he may have gone to the docks in search of work 
 that is in the East End, isn't it? or he may have gone 
 abroad." 
 
 " Just so!" assented Selby Layton, as he rose briskly. " I 
 will have my things packed and start on my quest at once." 
 
 " Is there any need for such hurry?" asked Miss Worcester. 
 
 " It is never wise to delay in such cases," he responded; 
 and he nodded and smiled as he left the room. 
 
 " I do think Mr. Layton is the best-natured man I ever 
 met!" remarked Miss Worcester. " Think of his offering to 
 rush up to London on such a wild goose chase for of course 
 he'll never find them: how could he! just because you feel 
 an interest in the matter. Fancy him trapesing about all 
 sorts of disagreeable places in such hot weather! Really, my 
 dear Esther, you ought to be very grateful to him for sacrific- 
 ing himself to what I really must call a mere whim of yours." 
 
 " Perhaps I am grateful," said Esther, quietly, as she 
 passed out. of the room ou to the terrace.
 
 240 tOfVH, THE TYRAOT. 
 
 And, indeed, she felt that she ought to be grateful. From 
 the beginning of their acquaintance he had been of service to 
 her; and arid he loved her. Half unconsciously she tried 
 to draw a comparison between him and Jack Gordon, tried to 
 tell herself that Selby Layton was the better and worthier 
 man, and she was still endeavouring to elevate him to the first 
 place in her regard when Selby Layton joined her. 
 
 " It occurs to me that I had better go down and interview 
 the girl's father," he said. " I must take some notes, in 
 proper detective fashion. How hot it is! May I get you a 
 hat or a sunshade?" 
 
 " won't trouble, please," she said. " I I want to thank 
 you, Mr. Layton, for your kindness in gratifying what my 
 aunt calls a whim. I know that this business will give you a 
 great deal of trouble; and I am very grateful to you." 
 
 Selby Lay ton's heart beat quickly and a flush rose to his 
 face, which had grown pale and somewhat haggard during the 
 last two days. 
 
 " There is no cause for your gratitude," he said in his low, 
 sweet voice. *' I am more than repaid by your expression of 
 approval; it is the object of my life to win it; ana a simple 
 * thank you ' from you is more precious to ine than any other 
 guerdon could be. Ah, forgive me! But you know that I 
 would go to the other end of the world, face death itself to 
 win even a smile from you." 
 
 " That is a very small reward," said Esther, trying to 
 speak lightly. 
 
 " Perhaps some day you will grant me a larger one," he 
 murmured. " Dare I hope ? but I will not taks advantage 
 of this trifling service. 1 promised that I would wait until 
 you could give me what I desired of your own accord, of your 
 own free will. You will not forget me while I am a way- 
 Esther!" 
 
 His admirably trained voice was like a flute when he pro- 
 nounced her name; but musical as it was, it jarred upon 
 Esther, and she shivered slightly. It was as if she felt a hand 
 gripping her softly but firmly, holding, imprisoning her; but 
 she felt that this repulsion was unjust to him and ungrateful, 
 and she forced herself to murmur: 
 
 " I will not forget you and all your kindness." 
 
 Selby Layton was sorely tempted to press his advantage; 
 but he knew instinctively that the risk was too great, that he 
 might lose all by pressing her too hard. 
 
 But as he walked towards the village he felt that he Wiic 
 nriza. It was strange how well things had cone
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 241 
 
 for him siutJe smce Denzil had been removed rrom his path! 
 
 Such men as Selby Layton, though they laugh at suspicion, 
 have a sneaking belief in luck; and he felt that his luck was 
 in the ascendant. He would have no difficulty in tracing the 
 man and the girl, one or either of them, and he would come. 
 back tf the Towers to receive Esther's gratitude. She would 
 have time to think of the service he was doing her, would no 
 doubt miss him; for Selby Layton was quite aware of his 
 manifold charms, and that the two women would find the 
 Towers dull without his presence, and the long evenings 
 rather dreary without his playing and singing. He avoided 
 the wood on his way to the village and thrust its tragic as- 
 sociations from his mind, concentrating it on the thought, as 
 he looked round upon the smiling landscape, that before long 
 he would share its possession with its beautiful mistress. 
 
 As he went past the Vancourt Arms, he saw Dick Reeve 
 standing at the door with a glass in his hand; the man's dark 
 face was flushed as if he had been drinking, and as Selby Lay- 
 ton gave him a pleasant, condescending nod, Dick Reeve took 
 his glass from his lips and returned the nod with an air half 
 insolent, half sullen. Selby Layton noticed the man's man- 
 ner and resented it. 
 
 " A loafing ruffian, that!" he said to himself, cynically. 
 " I'll give you a taste of quod, my friend, when I become 
 master here; I won't have any poachers and scamps hanging 
 about my property." 
 
 He went down the village bestowing a nod and a pleasant 
 greeting upon those he met, and walked up the garden path 
 to the Transoms' cottage. The door was open, and Transom 
 was seated by the hearth, with a pie in his mouth, and his 
 head resting on his hand. The food which Kate had put out 
 for him, with a pathetic thoughtful ness, lay untouched on 
 the table; the fire had gone out, and the solitary man sat 
 staring at its ashes. 
 
 He looked at the carefully dressed figure on the threshold, 
 but did not take his pipe from his mouth or rise. 
 
 Selby Layton removed his hat, and stepped in, with a grave 
 and sympathetic " Good-morning, Transom! Can I speak 
 With you?" 
 
 " Aye, sir," said Transom, gloomily. " What is it?" 
 
 " I have come to speak to you about your sad loss," said 
 Selby Layton in the voice he had selected as proper to the oc- 
 casion. " Miss Vancourt has just been telling me of it. She 
 is deeply grieved by your daughter's disappearance, and is ex- 
 tremely aasioua to learn what has become of her; and. at he/
 
 242 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 desire, I am going up to London to see if I can traee her. If 
 you can give me any information which would be likely to as* 
 sist me " 
 
 Transom looked up at him moodily. 
 
 " I have told Miss Vancourt all I know," he said, " and I 
 suppose she has told you. 1 don't know where my girl has 
 gone: but if you find Mr. Gordon you'll find her." 
 
 " You feel convinced of that?" said Selby Layton, sharply. 
 
 Transom nodded sullenly but emphatically. 
 
 " There's not much doubt, sir," he said. " There's none 
 in my mind, after what I've heard. He's been carrying om 
 with her ever since he came. Yes! She has gone after him." 
 
 " Don't lose heart," said Selby Layton, masking his com- 
 plete indifference with an affectation of sympathy, and speak- 
 ing in the tone of voice which a clergyman uses when he is 
 paying a visit of condolence. " I will do my best to find 
 them, and I've no doubt that I shall succeed; if I do so, rest 
 assured that I will do my best to restore your daughter to 
 you." 
 
 Transom looked at him sideways and with a curious expres- 
 sion, an expression in which, it struck Selby Layton, there 
 was a trace of cunning. It rather puzzled him. He had ex- 
 pected to find the man broken down by grief or furious with 
 rage and paternal resentment; but there was not much of the 
 ouinged father in Transom's manner; he had not broken 
 out into a string of upbraiding or cursed the man whom he 
 suspected of betraying his daughter. 
 
 " It's no use bringing her back, sir," he said. " If you're 
 going to be so kind as to go in search of her, and you find 
 them, persuade him, force him to marry her. Tell him that 
 it's more than his life's worth to deal unfairly by her. Make 
 him marry her." 
 
 Selby Layton eyed him curiously. 
 
 " I may have some difficulty in doing that, Transom," he 
 said. " You must not forget that, if they are together, your 
 daughter followed him of her own acccrd, that she has placed 
 herself in his hands, is entirely at his mercy." 
 
 Transom was silent for a moment, as if he were considering 
 deeply, then he said: 
 
 Kate was always a good gal, sir, until until he came. I 
 don't believe as she'd do wrong. If she's gone after him he 
 must have promised to marry her, and a word from \ou 
 might do it. Tell him " he paused as if weighing his 
 words; " tell him that he needn't be troubled about her be- 
 longings* I sha'a't trouble him.. I don't want to stand it
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANTS 243 
 
 her way. Ffl clear out of this so as not to be a stumbling- 
 block to 'em. I ain't of a grasping nature; a hundred a year 
 paid reglar will satisfy me, tell him." 
 
 Selby Lay ton's brows went up with surprise. 
 
 " Did you mean that I am to ask this man Gordon to mako 
 you an allowance of a hundred a year?" he said. " Why, he 
 IB quite a poor man, a sort of tramp. How could he mak? 
 you such an allowance?" 
 
 Transom gnawed at his lip and scratched his head, as if he 
 were confused. 
 
 " Well, you can't tell, sir," he said, hesitatingly. " He's 
 he's a clever sort of gentleman; he might get work, might 
 might have a bit of money left him. Anyways, if you'd be 
 so kind to give him my message in just them words I should 
 be grateful, and I think it might be of some use." 
 
 Selby Layton shrugged his shoulders, and speaking in his 
 natural voice now, slightly sarcastic and cynical, said: 
 
 " Oh, of course, I'll give him your message; though it 
 sounds to me rather ridiculous." 
 
 Transom looked up with a start. 
 
 " Hush!" he said, warningly. " Here's Dick Reevei 
 Don't tell him what I said." 
 
 Dick Reeve came up the path and leant in the door-way, 
 eyeing the other two sardonically. 
 
 " I've just been telling Transom here that, at Miss Van- 
 court's desire, I am going in search of his daughter," said 
 Selby Layton, suavely. 
 
 Dick Reeve nodded. His black eyes glowed fiercely, his 
 lips twitched. 
 
 " Oh, so you're going, are you!" he said, insolently. 
 " And what are you going to do when you find her?" 
 
 Selby Layton drew himself up and regarded the man with 
 a haughtiness which appeared to have no effect upon him. 
 
 " Bring her back, Dick; bring her back!" Transom said, 
 quickly and huskily. 
 
 " Oh, all right!" said Dick Reeve, with fierce sarcasm; 
 " but how do I know he's coming back himself. How do I 
 know he isn't going to off it too!" and he laughed with a 
 kind of drunken ferocity. 
 
 " I don't in the least know what you mean, my good man," 
 said Selby Layton, haughtily. 
 
 " I daresay not!" retorted Dick Reeve. " Of course you 
 don't! But you ain't going without leaving your address, at 
 any rate. I want to know where I can find you it I wan. 
 you, if jou don't turn up."
 
 244 KJVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 Selby Layton reddened resentfully; bat he told himself thte 
 it would be foolish to be angry with a drunken man. 
 
 " You want my address? Certainly!" he said, smoothly. 
 
 He took out his card case, but it was empty. 
 
 " I haven't a card, I see!" he said. " I will write it for 
 you. Can you give me a piece of paper, a pen or pencil? 
 Ah, this will do." 
 
 He took an envelope from his pocket, and Transom rose 
 and looked vaguely for a pen and ink. 
 
 " Here's a pen," said Dick Reeve, with a sardonic laugh; 
 and he thrust his hand in his pocket, his eyes fixed on Selby 
 Layton. 
 
 Then he paused and drew his hand out empty. 
 
 " Thank you," said Selby Layton, " 1 have a pencil." 
 
 He wrote the address on the envelope and laid it on the 
 table. 
 
 " There, my friend," he said; " that will find me. Good- 
 day, Transom. I trust I shall be successful in my search for 
 your daughter." 
 
 *' Good-day, sir," returned Transom. " You yon won't 
 forget my message?" he added, with a sidelong glance at 
 Dick Reeve, who stood, swaying slightly, his eyes fixed on the 
 address Selby Laylon had given him. 
 
 " Certainly not. I will not forget!" said Selby Layton. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 JACK GORDON" wondered what the parcel, which the young 
 woman seemed so anxious to conceal from him, contained; 
 but he was not particularly curious, and not very much in- 
 terested. Jn London one grows accustomed to the mystery 
 which surrounds one's nearest neighbour; it is quite possible 
 to live next door to a man for years without knowing hia 
 name, and one feels no great surprise on discovering one 
 morning thar, he is an eminent statesman or a notorious thief. 
 
 Jack was too absorbed in his own affairs, and in his hope- 
 less love, to bestow much attention on or to give much 
 thought to his fellow lodger; but he did mention to Mordy 
 Jane when he came home to dinner next day that the occu- 
 pant of his former room had slipped on coming up the stairs 
 the preceding night and that he hoped that she hadn't 
 sprained her ankle. 
 
 " Oh, slipped, did she?" said Mordy Jane, with her pre- 
 cocious sharpness; " that's the first time I knowed her like
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 245 
 
 " You're quite mistaken, Mordy Jane," said Jack. " Sh- 
 
 as perfectly sober." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," said Mordy Jane. " I haven't seed 
 her go out to-day; but sometimes she doesn't go out till quite 
 the evening." 
 
 " I would go up see how she was," suggested Jack. 
 
 " Well, p'r'aps I might," said Mordy Jane. " Not that I 
 like to interfere with the lodgers, especially when they keeps 
 theirselves to theirselves as Miss Woods does. It's never more 
 than ' good-evening, Miss Jacob,' or p'r'aps, ' Mordy Jane,' 
 and it's never more than * good-evening, Miss Woods, an' I 
 hope you're well,' from me. We're always what you might 
 call civil but distant" 
 
 " Well," said Jack, ** you run upstairs, Mordy Jane, and 
 ask how she is; that will be civil, and you can maintain the 
 distance by keeping outside the door. I've an idea, I don't 
 know why, that she'd rather you didn't go in; she looked so 
 scared when she dropped her bundle, and she closed the door 
 upon me pretty sharply." 
 
 " Her bundle?" said Mordy Jane, sharply, " you didn't 
 say anything about a bundle and I never saw her with one." 
 
 " Well, she may not carry it every night," said Jack. " It 
 was a small bundle and she must have carried it under her 
 cloak, for I didn't see it until it actually dropped." 
 
 " There's what you might call a 'idden myst'ry about Miss 
 Woods,'"' said Mordy Jane, musingly, as she helped Jack to 
 potatoes. " Father thinks she's in the profession because of 
 ner 'air; but I tells him you can dye yer 'air without being a 
 music-hall arteeste." 
 
 " She lives quite alone?" said Jack. 
 
 " Yes, and nobody ever comes to see her, not even on Sun- 
 days; and she don't work in any of the factories here or else 
 I should know of it. That's why I call her a 'idden myst'ry, 
 like what you read of in the novelettes Father, drink yer 
 beer before it gets flat. Father moons wus than ever, Mr. 
 Gordon. That's the worst of the boot-making trade; it seems 
 as if you can do it while you're half asleep, after you've been 
 dpin' it for so many years. Now, you've just got time for a 
 pipe, young man, before yon go back to your work. Here's 
 ;onr tobacco and here's the matches." 
 
 While Jack was obediently smoking his pipe for the 
 child, she was little more, dominated Jack almost as com- 
 pletely as she did her father she went upstairs to interview 
 Miss Woods. 
 
 She came down again presently with her ridiculous bonnet
 
 246 LOVE, THE TTRA1TP. 
 
 a little more on one side than usual, her childishly shrewd 
 face red, and her chin uptilted. 
 
 " Oh, she says she's all right," she informed Jack; " that 
 she didn't hurt herself last night, but that I'm to tell you 
 she' very much obliged to you for coming down the stairs to 
 help her at least, that's what I think she said; but she 
 didn't srjeak very loud, and she kept the door closed as if she 
 was afraid if she opened it I should rush in and steal some- 
 thing. I don't 'old with such suspicious ways meself. But 
 there! different people has different ways. It's about time 
 you was goin', isn't it? Father, you can get back to your 
 bench again, as you're pining to. I really do believe you're 
 never happy without a boot in your hand. There's that 
 Tommy Rogers knocking holes in the door with his top 
 again. Tommy!" in a shiill voice that rang through Jack's 
 and her father's ears and struck Tommy with sudden dismay 
 " you take that top of yours and play on your own door- 
 step. It'll fly into the room presently and 'it father on the 
 'ead, an' then you an' your top' 11 be tried for murder, and 
 serve you right, too. There's too many kids in Chase Street, 
 Mr. Gordon; they makes life a burden." 
 
 She darted passed Jack in pursuit of Tommy, who had re- 
 covered sufficiently to put out his tongue at her before taking 
 flight, and had bolted down the street. 
 
 Jack went back to his work, and thought no more of the 
 " 'idden myst'ry " of Miss Woods. He tried to think as little 
 of Esther Vancourt; but that was impossible. It was very 
 hot at the docks that day, and the work was particularly 
 hard; but he was not sorry for the last fact, for Jack did not 
 care how hard the work was, so long as it was physical and 
 not mental; but it certainly did occur to him that it would be 
 as well, perhaps, if he went back to Australia or one of the 
 other colonies. But, though he had resolved not to go back 
 to Vancourt, it was hard for him to make up his mind to put 
 the seas between himself and Esther. 
 
 Siill, the idea of Australia hung in his mind, so to speak, 
 and that evening after supper he went out for a stroll to con- 
 sider the pros and cons. He was passfeig through one of the 
 crowded thoroughfares when he saw a small crowd collected 
 round something or some one. He was passing by without 
 any cuiiosity to ascertain the cause, for crowds are common 
 in London streets, when he heard one of the bystanders ex- 
 claim: 
 
 " Poor thing! and she a widow, tool The police ought to 
 be more sharper!"
 
 I07E, THE TYRANTi 247 
 
 Jack palled np mechanically and asked what was the mat- 
 ter. A lady with a cabbage and a pound of candles undei 
 her arm made haste to inform him. 
 
 " A liciy has nad her pocket picked," she said, with indig- 
 nant sympathy. " They've beeu an' took 'er purse with all 
 'er money seven an' sixpence halfpenny and a return ticket 
 to Chelinsford, where she was goin' back to 'er son, who's 
 bin's dangerously ill with an incurable complaint. It's all 
 the money she 'ave; an' she a widow, too, poor woman!" 
 
 Jack looked over the heads of the crowd and saw in the 
 middle a woman decently dressed in deep mourning, with the 
 frill of muslin in her bonnet, which nowadays indicates the 
 widow. She had her handkerchief up and was crying quietly, 
 while two or three women round her were endeavouring to 
 console her in the fluent Cockney language, and begging her 
 to " keep up." 
 
 Jack, who possessed a heart that was as readily touched by 
 the sight of a woman in distress as that of an Adelphi hero, 
 took out half a crown and handed it to the woman who was 
 nearest to the plundered widow, and with a nod, and a " Give 
 her that," passed on his way. When he got home he related 
 the incident, omitting any mention of the half crown to 
 Mordy Jane, who was unsympathetic to remark, that the 
 woman must have been a Juggins to let anyone pick her 
 pocket, and that she, Mordy Jane, would like to see anyone 
 trying it on with her! 
 
 The following evening Jack, while walking in quite an op- 
 posite direction, saw a similar crowd, and on stopping to 
 ascertain the cause, was somewhat nettled, though grimly 
 amused, to find that a decently dressed widow had just had 
 her pocket picked, and that in addition to the loss of her 
 money, she had been deprived of a return ticket to Winches- 
 ter, where a husband with a broken leg anxiously awaited 
 her. Jack made a rapid calculation as to the quantity of 
 tobacco he could have bought for that half crown, and for a 
 moment was tempted to give the woman into custody and 
 charge her with the ingenious fraud; but, of course, he 
 thought better of it, and with a smile at his own simplicity 
 and credulity, he left the clever imposter to gather the re- 
 ward of her ingenuity from the sympathising spectators of her 
 fictitious distress. 
 
 He made rather a long round of it that night, and was en- 
 tering the upper end of Chase Street, when he saw a woman 
 dressed in black walking down the street just in front of him. 
 There seemed to be something familiar to him about hex
 
 248 Wm, THB TYRANT. 
 
 figure, and as she turned into a small court he caught a 
 glimpse of her face. That, too, seemed familiar to him; and, 
 as he saw that she wore a widow's bonnet, he recognised her 
 as the woman he had seen on the last two evenings playing 
 the " pickpocket dodge." 
 
 The court was a cul-de-sac, and, though Jack did not know 
 it, the resort of Ihieves and similar gentry. He paused at the 
 mouth of the court and looked in absently, and as he paused 
 the figure of a woman emerged from one of the deep door- 
 ways within, and passed him hiding her head down and walk- 
 ing quickly. As she passed from the darkness of the court 
 into the ligjht thrown by the grimy lamp, Jack caught the 
 glimpse of canary-colored hair, at once thought of Miss 
 Woods, his fellow-lodger, and was somewhat surprised to find 
 that she resembled her. He walked on behind her, and pres- 
 ently saw that it was indeed the lady whom Mordy Jane called 
 a " 'idden myst'ry." She stopped at the Jacobs' door, and 
 hurriedly inserting a key, looked round furtively and anx- 
 iously, and seeing Jack close behind her, she uttered a little 
 exclamation, a mixture of fear and recognition, and stood 
 with a nervous, deprecatory smile on her faded face. In her 
 hurry she had stuck the key in crookedly and could not open 
 the door. Of course Jack opened it for her, and with many 
 thanks she took the key from him and went upstairs, holding 
 the balustrade as she had done on the night he had first seen 
 her. He noticed that she kept her left arm under her cloak, 
 which was loose and grey in colour. She closed the bedroom 
 door quickly, so that if he had desired to get a glimpse of 
 the room which he certainly did notJack could not have 
 done so. 
 
 In the morning Jack told Mordy Jane of his second hap- 
 pening on the guileful widow. Mordy Jane nodded know- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I thought there was some take-in in it," she said; 
 ' ' widows, as a reg'lar thing, are too sharp to be 'ad even by 
 pickpockets. That court you saw her go down is calledfPiper'g 
 Sack; and they're a reg'lar bad lot down there." 
 
 " I wonder what Miss Woods was doing there last night," 
 said Jack, half to himself; but Mordy's sharp ears heard him- 
 
 " Did you see her there?" she asked. "I shouldn't have 
 thought it of her. That's rum! Well, that makes 'er more 
 of a idden myst'ry than ever." 
 
 Jack laughed as he- lit his pipe and went out; there seemed 
 to him so very Jittle of the mysterious in his fellow-lodger, 
 excepting that aha carried beneath her cloak a bundle which
 
 I0VE, THE TYEJJST. 249 
 
 she evidently desired to conceal, but which probably pn- 
 taintd nothing more mysterious than some dress materials 
 upon which she worked during the day. 
 
 For all his hard work, time dragged very slowly for Jack, 
 and he began to think more seriously of Australia. Though 
 now and again he held short conversations with his fellow- 
 labourers and smoked a pipe in a shady corner with some 
 man who happened to be engaged on the same job with him 
 he made no friends or acquaintances, and always returned 
 from the docks to the Jacobs' directly his work was over. 
 One evening, however, he went up to the Lambeth baths and 
 had a swim; and after his bath, feeling rather hungry, he 
 turned in at a coffee-house and had some supper; then he lit 
 his pipe, and prepared to walk home to Chase, Street. 
 
 He was crossing Lambeth bridge in the faint grey light 
 which comes from the pallid moon which shines above Lon- 
 don in the summer, when he saw a girl leaning agains^. the 
 side of the bridge. 
 
 Her attitude was one of utter weariness and dejection, her 
 head was leaning on her hand, her elbow on the bridge cop- 
 ing; the other hand hung limply by her side, and her head 
 was drooped, and her eyes fixed on" the pea-soup river which 
 flows beneath that most sordid of bridges. 
 
 There was something in the attitude, the drooping of the 
 figure, that appealed to Jack. She looked so lonely, so de- 
 jected, such an embodiment of the weariness of the great 
 city, that weariness which every Londoner has felt some time 
 or other. 
 
 Jack paused and, affecting to look over his side of the 
 bridge, glanced at her. A shawl concealed her head and her 
 face, as it was turned from him; but suddenly the shawl 
 dipped slightly, and even in that murky light Jack caught 
 the glimpse of gold-bronze hair a golden bronze which re- 
 called to him the marvellous colour of Kate Transom's; just 
 as the canary hue of the hair of the woman emerging from 
 the court had recalled Miss Woods. 
 
 " That turned out bo be my mysterious lodger," said Jack 
 to himself i " but, thank goodness! this girl, though she's got 
 the same coloured hair as Kate Transom, can't be Kate." 
 
 At that moment the girl drew a long breath it was almost 
 a sob and clasping her arms, let her head fall upon them 
 with a gesture of infinite despair; then she raised her head 
 and looked from the water to the railing of the bridge an<? 
 back a^ain. 
 . Instinctively. Jack knew what that ariance meant: she was
 
 250 IOVE, THE TYBAOT. 
 
 thinking about throwing herself over. He strode across th 
 roadway and laid his hand upon her arm without a word. 
 
 She uttered a low cry and recoiled from his touch, the 
 shawl fell from her face, and to his amazement he saw that it 
 Was Kate Transom. 
 
 Neither of them spoke for a moment, but gazed at each 
 other with mutual wonder and incredulity. Her face was 
 deathly white, her lips livid, and there was a pinched look 
 about her cheeks and nose which Jack knew well; for he had 
 once been one of a party that had lost its way in the bush had 
 been without food for three days. If he could believe his 
 eyes, if he were not dreaming, this was Kate Transom whom 
 he had left at Vancourt, Kate Transom alone in London, and 
 apparently starvirig. 
 
 She continued to gaze at him, as if she indeed were in a 
 dream, whatever he might be, as if she were looking on a 
 vision. Then Jack spoke her name. 
 
 " Kate!" he said, wonderingly. " Is it you?'* 
 
 At the sound of his voice, a look came upon her face as if 
 she were awakening, a long low cry broke from her parted 
 lips, her eyes closed for a moment, then opened upon him at 
 first with infinite tenderness and then with a look of fear and 
 apprehension which completely transformed her face. 
 
 " You! You at last, at last!" she breathed; and she 
 dropped back against the rail of the bridge and grasped it 
 with one hand while the other was pressed to her heart. 
 
 " Yes, it's I," said Jack. " This is a strange meeting! 
 How do you come here? Why are you here alone you are 
 alone, are vou not?" 
 
 " Yes," she said, almost in a whisper. 
 
 She was trembling now, and the hand with which she tried 
 to draw the shawl round her head shook like a leaf; but her 
 eyes were still fixed upon him steadily, eyes that seemed to 
 burn, in their agony of anxiety and apprehension, from the 
 haggard pallor of her face. 
 
 Jack saw that she was very ill, that she was scarcely able to 
 speak, either from weakness or agitation. 
 
 " Take my arm, Kate," he said; for the " Miss Transom " 
 seemed too formal and inappropriate at such a moment. 
 ''' Let me help you. You are ill, I am afraid.*' 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 ** I can walk," she said. 
 
 She moved forward, and mechanically he moved with her. 
 
 " When are you going? v he asked. " Iff it far from Jiete?
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 251 
 
 Are yon staying with friends? If it's far I don't think you 
 ought to walk, and we will take a cab." 
 
 She looked at him dreamily and shook her head slowly. 
 
 " I have no friends; I am not staying anywhere," she said. 
 *' I have nowhere to go.'* 
 
 The answer was given quite gravely and simply, and to say 
 that Jack was at first struck dumb by amazement and horror 
 only faintly describes the effect upon him. 
 
 " No friends! Nowhere to go." he exclaimed. " Surely 
 
 ;ou must be mistaken, Kate! Where are you staying in Lon- 
 on what lodging " 
 
 She shook her head again, and her eyes drew slowly from 
 his face, as if reluctant to leave it, and gazed straight before 
 her. 
 
 " I am not staying at any place; I have no frienAn," she 
 said; and she spoke the words in a low monotone not of des- 
 pair nor even of complaint, but a monotone which had some- 
 thing of restfulness and peace and contentness. 
 
 Jack took her arm and pressed it gently, for it seemed to 
 him as she were only half awake or in a kind of stupor. 
 
 " See here, Kate," he said, " try and explain. 1 find you 
 here, on a London bridge, late at night, and yon say that you 
 are alone and that you've no place to go to. I can scarcely 
 believe my eyes or my ears. I left you at Vancourt comfort- 
 able and happy " 
 
 She turned her white face upon him, and, with a strange 
 smile, echoed the last word. 
 
 " Happy not happy! ah, not happy!" 
 
 Jack drew her arm completely within his. 
 
 " Tell me all about it," ne said, geatly, soothingly. 
 " When did you come up?" 
 
 ** Nearly a week ago," she said. " I can scarcely remem- 
 ber I do not know. The days have passed " She shud- 
 dered. " But it doesn't matter now." 
 
 She did not look at him, but a faint smile crept over her 
 face, making it weirdly beautiful. 
 
 " And why did you come up?" asked Jack. " Why did 
 you leave Vancourt?" 
 
 " I came because " she began, dreamily; then she stopped 
 with a slight flush. 
 
 " And where have you been what have you been doing 
 since you came up?" 
 
 " I don't know," she answered in the same low voice. " I 
 could not tell you. I have been walking about all the time, 
 through the big streets and the quiet ones, resting at night IB
 
 252 IrfOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 a door-way 01 on the seats by the river I slept there law 
 night a woman gave me some food it was a piece of bread 
 she shared it between her child and me " 
 
 " Good God!" exclaimed Jack. " Do you mean to tell me 
 that you've been wandering about London for days and 
 nights, with nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat?" 
 
 She listened, with the same smile on her face, as if his 
 words, his voice, were bestowing upon her a consolation which 
 effaced all the memory of those awful days and nights, and 
 chilled her present pain and sense of weakness. 
 
 " I had a little money at first," she said, almost inaudibly; 
 " but I soun spent it; and I didn't know where to go, so I 
 just slept where I saw the other poor people sleeping." 
 
 " But I don't understand!" exclaimed Jack. " Hav*? you 
 quarrelled with your father, has anything happened to cause 
 you to come up to London like this, in this helpless, solitary 
 fashion? At any rate, whatever is the matter, you must go 
 back to your father, to Vancourt, at once!" 
 
 She stopped and her lips moved as if she were repeating his 
 words, as if she were trying to master their meaning. Then 
 snddenly she turned to him and grasped hfs arm, her large 
 eyes dilating with fear, her pale lips trembling. 
 
 " No, no!" she panted, I cannot, I will not! I dare not! 
 I left because they might ask me questions, might get ihe 
 truth out of me, might ask me why why you had left Van- 
 court!" 
 
 Jack stared at her, then he changed colour and bit his lip. 
 
 *> You you know why I left Vancourt?" he said, with a 
 frown. 
 
 She glanced round cautiously as if she were afraid they 
 should be overheard. 
 
 " Yes. Hush!" she replied, and her grasp tightened on 
 his arm, her eyes flooded his face with infinite tenderness \vith 
 the protective expression of the woman. " Yes, I know!" 
 Her eyes wandered, her lips parted, the dreamy expression 
 settled on her face. " I shall find him," she murmured. 
 " London is a large place, but I shall find him!" 
 
 She took her hand from Jack's arm, and, with a sigh, drew 
 her shawl about her head, and seemed about to move away as 
 if she had forgotten him; then snddenly she swayed to and 
 fro and would nave fallen if Jack had not been near enough tc 
 catch her. 
 
 They had turned down a side street, one of the quiet streets 
 of Lambeth, and they were alone. She lay in a dead faint in 
 Jack's arms, and as he held her he wondered wittt on eartfc
 
 t*VE, THE TYRANT. 253 
 
 ne should do: call a policeman, get her into a cab, take her 
 where? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 As Jack, holding Kate in his arms, was wondering what on 
 earth he should do, by the merest chance a ricketty four* 
 wheeler came trundling down the street. Jack hailed it as a 
 shipwrecked mariner might hail a passing veseel, and lifting 
 Kate into it, told the man to drive to Chase Street. 
 
 For*sometime Kate remained unconscious, but the current 
 of air through the open window at last revived her. She 
 opened her eyes and sighed heavily; then she looked at Jack 
 at first wonderingly, and then with an expression of relief and 
 peace and contentment which touched him not a little. 
 
 " Are you better?" he asked, raising his voice above the 
 rattle of the shaky cab. 
 
 She smiled upon him dreamily and her lips formed a " Yes." 
 
 " That's all right!" said Jack, cheerfully. " Better not 
 talk now." 
 
 She obeyed his injunction for some time, but presently she 
 managed to make herself heard with the question: 
 
 " Where are we going where are you taking me?" 
 
 Jack was posed and did not answer for a moment or two, 
 Were on earth was he to take her? He knew Mordy Jane too 
 well to imagine that he could take a young and beautiful fe- 
 male to the Jacobs' without a scene from Mordy Jane and a 
 demand for an explanation, which he was not prepared to give. 
 He might take her to a hospital or to a work-house, but the 
 idea was repulsive to him; and besides, she was scarcely ili 
 enough for a hospital, and she would feel degraded all her 
 life by an acquaintance with a work-house. 
 
 " I scarcely know," he said at last; " but I'll find some 
 place for you, and don't you be afraid. Of course, I must 
 let your father know in the morning that I have found you; 
 you must go back as soon as you are able to make the 
 journey." 
 
 She turned to him with a strange look, as if she wen pnz- 
 eled and surprised at the calmness with which he made the 
 statement. 
 
 " Oh, no! you know I can never go back,'* she said, her 
 lips necessarily close to his ear. " You must not let them 
 know. I would rather die than that they should know I was 
 with you. Promise me that you will not send word, or stop 
 the cabk and let me get out and go!"
 
 254 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 Jack was puzzled and mystified, but he could, not withhold 
 the required promise. 
 
 " All right; don't you worry!" he said. " I won't let 
 them know until you give me leave. " 
 
 She drew a breath of relief and lay back in her corner of 
 the cab with her eyes closed. The man pulled up at the top 
 of Chase Street, and Jack, though he had come to the con- 
 viction that he should have to appeal to Mordy Jane, after all, 
 felt that it would never to do to drive up to the house in a 
 cab. 
 
 " Can you walk a little way?" he asked. " It is not very 
 far, and of course I'll help you." 
 
 She made a gesture of assent, and Jack paid the man and 
 helped her out of the cab, and, supported by his arm, she 
 walked a few paces; but even these few paces taxed her 
 strength too greatly, and presently she looked at Jack pite- 
 ously and collapsed. As before, there happened to be no one 
 in the street at the moment, and Jack was about to pick her 
 up bodily and carry her to the house, when a woman came 
 round the corner, walking quickly. She was dressed in black 
 and wore a veil on her widow's bonnet. Jack, having a faint- 
 ing woman on his arm, man-like, was quick to appeal to one 
 of her sex for aid. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, as the woman came abreast 
 of him, " this lady is ill; would you mind ?" 
 
 Then he stopped dead short, struck dumb by the fact that 
 the woman was the widow whom he had twice seen working 
 the stolen-purse dodge. 
 
 She paused in her hurried walk and looked at him, anil 
 then at Kate, and seemed to hesitate; but at that moment a 
 policeman came to the comer, and she sped away quickly and 
 disappeared down Piper's Sack. 
 
 Jack swore under his breath and again gathered Kate in his 
 arms with the intention of carrying her bodily; but she re- 
 covered consciousness and stood, supported by his arm, strug- 
 gling for breath. 
 
 " It is not very far now," said Jack, encouragingly; " wait 
 until you are quite able to walk." 
 
 A minute or two passed, and then they moved slowly down 
 the street; they reached the door, and Jack was feeling for 
 the key when he heard a light step behind him, and Miss 
 Woods cams up. Jack turned upon her eagerly, struck by 
 jr. sudden idea. 
 
 " Good-evening, Miss Woods," he said, " I am awfollf
 
 , THE TTRA29T. 255 
 
 dad to meet yon to-night, and just at this moment, for my 
 
 friend and I are in a little trouble." 
 
 There was a flash on Miss Woods' faded face, and her eyes 
 looked anxiously and half suspiciously from one to the other. 
 
 " What is it?" she asked, with a little catch in her breath 
 and a glance over her shoulder. 
 
 Jack began, feeling that the woman would not believe a 
 word he said: 
 
 " This young lady is a friend of mine, and I met her by 
 chance to-night. She has come up to London from the coun- 
 try, and has lost her way. She is ill she fainted not very 
 long ago she has no friends in London, excepting myself, 
 and no place to go." 
 
 The woman with the faded face and the canary-coloured 
 hair looked with a kind of tired sharpness at Kate who leant 
 against the door frame, her face downcast, her hands hanging 
 teoselv and then nodded, as if she were satisfied. 
 
 " Miss Jacob hasn't a vacant room," she said. 
 
 '* Quite so," assented Jack, significantly, and locked at her 
 with an expression in his eyes which few women could resist. 
 " I thought perhaps " he hesitated " you might be so very 
 good as to let her share your room to-night." 
 
 Kate Transom shrank, but he put out his hand touched hers 
 encouragingly. 
 
 " We only ask shelter for to-night, and I shall feel im- 
 mensely relieved to place her in the charge of some good 
 woman like yourself." 
 
 Miss Woods flushed and her eyes were cast down for a mo- 
 ment; then she looked at Jack with a kind of timid steadiness. 
 
 " I know what you mean," she said. " You'd like me to 
 take her in to-night as my friend " 
 
 Jack nodded quickly; and she returned his nod by way of 
 acquiescence. 
 
 " I am more than grateful to you," said Jack, as he opened 
 the door, and still helping Kate, followed Miss Woods up the 
 stairs. 
 
 When she reached her bedroom door she said, with her 
 flickering and weak smile: 
 
 " Excuse me one moment;" and entering the room, closed 
 the door after her. 
 
 Jack heard the sound as of a drawer being unlocked and 
 opened, closed and relocked again, and in a moment or two 
 Miss Woods reappeared and drew Kate into the room. 
 
 " I'll get a little brandy." said Jack; " she needs it." 
 
 Ho got some brandy and some milk and biscuits from the
 
 256 W5TT, THT TYRASfc 
 
 public-house at the corner, and, returning to the home, 
 knocked gently at Miss Woods's door. She opened it a little 
 way and smiled at him reassuringly. 
 
 " She's faint with hunger, poor girl!" she said; " she'll be 
 better when she's had some food." 
 
 " Give her some milk with some brandy in it," said Jack. 
 " And then you might venture on a little biscuit soaked in 
 the milk." 
 
 " Yes, 1 know," responded Miss "Woods, in a low voice, and 
 with a glance over her shoulder. " It's not the first case I've 
 seen," she added, with a touch of bitterness, which seemed 
 strangely incongruous with her rouged face and canary hair. 
 
 "I'll sit on the staircase outside my bedroom door and see 
 how she gets on: I should like to know how she is before I go 
 to bed." 
 
 He smoked and pondered nearly half an hour, wondering 
 what had happened to cause Kate's flight from home, and 
 what he ought to do in the matter. He felt that he had been 
 very foolish to give her his promise not to communicate with 
 her father; but he consoled himself with the reflection that 
 no doubt she would tell him in the morning what was the 
 matter, and permit him to send word of her whereabouts to 
 Vancourt. Presently Miss Woods's door opened, and she came 
 on to the landing to meet him. 
 
 " She has taken the brandy and milk," she said, " but I 
 can't get her to touch the biscuit. I'm afraid she's ill and 
 going to be worse. Looks to me like brain fever. I had a 
 sister once " She stopped suddenly, and looked sideways 
 with Cockney sharpness and suspicion at Jack. 
 
 " I am afraid you are right," said Jack, gravely. " If so, 
 if she's going to be ill, I hope you'll stand her friend she 
 hasn't any other in London except myself." 
 
 The woman looked at him with covert scrutiny,, and then 
 lowered her eyes with the flicker of a smile. 
 
 " Only a friend?" she asked. 
 
 " Only a friend," repeated Jack, with grave emphasis, 
 " but one who is anxious to do all he can for her. Perhaps 
 I ought to tell you, Miss Woods, that her name is Kate Tran- 
 som, that her father that she are perfectly respectable 
 But there! yon are a woman of the world and need no such 
 assurance from me. She has run away from her homo in the 
 country, for some reason or other which I don't know, and 
 can't guess " 
 
 " Can't you?" said the woman, glancing at him sideways. 
 
 " Ko." said Jack,. " Perhaps she has quarrelled with her
 
 LJVE, THE TYRAKT. 257 
 
 rather sac deemed unhappy " He stopped; ae had HJ 
 right to speak of Kate Transom's affairs. *^If you will help 
 to take charge of her until she can return to her friends, Miss 
 Woods, I shall be extremely grateful." 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " I see," she said, with a sharp glance of comprehension. 
 " I'll tell the Jacobs that she belongs to me. I'll say that 
 she is my cousin, and that she's staying with me on a visit, 
 llordy Jane may believe it or she may not," 
 
 " I should say, from what I know of her, that die certainly 
 Will not," remarked Jack, with a grim smile. 
 
 He thought for a moment or two, then he added: 
 
 " I think we'd better follow the advice of the American 
 numorist, who said: * When in doubt, always tell tha truth.' 
 I'll try and break it gently to Mordy Jane." 
 
 Both he and the woman spoke of the child as if she were a 
 woman and one to be conciliated at all costs. 
 
 As he went down next morning, Miss Woods opened her 
 door slightly. 
 
 " She is very bad," she said, in a whisper; " quite uncon- 
 scious; you'd better get a doctor." 
 
 Jack nodded ani went down to the mixture of shop and 
 parlour where he found Mordy Jane sweeping and tidying up. 
 As she still wore the ridiculous bonnet, Jack felt assured 
 that she mast sleep in it. She pushed it aside to look at him 
 sharply as he stood, if the truth must be told, rather sheep- 
 ishly and nervously in the door-way. 
 
 'You'll be late, if yuu don't look out!" she said. 
 
 " Oh, it's all right!" said Jack. " Mordy Jane, I met a 
 friend of mine " 
 
 Her" eyes glittered and she nodded at him. 
 
 " I know! I saw you come in last night. I 'eard yer over 
 the bannisters. It's luckv for you and 'er that you didn't go 
 and try and deceive me, 'cos I wouldn't hae stood it. It's 
 like the 'idden myst'ry's cheek, offering to pass off a perfect 
 stranger as 'er cousing. The hidea! As if I shouldn't hae 
 seed through it! As for you, why you wouldn't take in an 
 hinfant in arms, leave alone a gal like me." 
 
 " Well, we meant it for the best, Mordy Jane," said Jack, 
 meekly. " The poor girl's very ill I knew her in the coun- 
 try in which I was staying and I am very anxious about her. 
 You'll do what you can for her, won't you, Mordy Jane?" 
 
 Mordy Jane sniffed but gave a little nod of asaent which 
 Jack knew meant more than words.
 
 258 tOVE, THE TYRAOTi 
 
 " Pll send in a doctor as I go down to the docks. 
 is the best man?" 
 
 " Well, there's Doctor Jones, though I don't fancy him. 
 E pokes 'is 'ead in at the door and says: ' Well, 'otv are we 
 .o-day?' as if he was ill hisself, which I call aggravating, and 
 makes me right down bad. Then there's Doctor Green; 
 Vs short and grumpy; and Vll abuse you like a coster, but 
 he cures you all the time. 'E tried it on me, but I give it 
 him back; and he says to me: * If I was to do my dooty by 
 m, r perfession I should give you something strong and put 
 you in a bottle of spirits, you freak!' I says to him: ' You 
 wouldn't 'ave no difficulty finding the spirits!' 'cos, yer see, 
 he does a bit of drinking but never when he's at work. 
 You'd better go to him." 
 
 Jack left word at Doctor Green's, and just got to the docks 
 before the gates closed. All that day, while he worked he 
 pondered over Kate Transom's presence in London. She had 
 left Vancourt after he had done so he did not know how 
 soon but he longed to ask her for some news of Esther; 
 though he told himself that the less he heard of the woman 
 he loved the better for his peace of mind. 
 
 When he got home in the evening, Mordy Jane with her 
 head on one side and her eye cocked like a magpie's gave a 
 Very serious report of Kate's condition. 
 
 " She's been dee-lirious and off her nut all day," she said, 
 " The 'idden myst'ry let me in when 1 went to enquire, and 
 I seed her. That carroty 'ead of 'ers looks queer 'gainst } ei 
 white face. I suppose you think it's beautiful?' 
 
 " Yes, she has beautiful hair," assented Jack, absently> 
 ^nd unconscious of the sarcasm in Mordy Jane's voice. 
 ' Delirious, is she? I am afraid she is very bad." 
 
 " Yes; she 'as been raving like a lunatic, Miss Woods 
 says," responded Mordy Jane, as she pushed her father into a 
 low chair in front of the table, and took his skull-cap off af 
 if he were a child or a Guy Fawkes. " She tosses from side 
 to side, and talks about you and other rubbish." 
 
 " About me?" said Jack, with surprise, too anxious to 
 smile. 
 
 " Yes, about you, and about a * Miss Vuncourt ' and 3 
 murder." 
 
 Here Mordy Jane nodded, and suspended a plate of boiled 
 mutton, which she considered an appropriate dish for a hot 
 summer's evening, on the way to Jack's place. 
 
 " Murder a *orrible murder 1 I suppose it's all he! 
 fancy."
 
 WV3, THE T7&AJT& 259 
 
 " Of oorafle," said Jack. " Poor girl! I am afraid she hat 
 
 quarreled with her father, and that she must have suffered 
 terribly while she was wandering here in London." 
 
 " P'r'aps it's remorse," said Mordy Jane. * PVaps she's 
 
 ?>ne and murdered 'er father, and 'id 'im in the copper, 
 ou do read of sich things, you know." 
 
 Jack smiled and shook his head gravely. 
 
 " I wish I could send for her father," he said, half to him* 
 self. " But I can't break my promise, and I might make 
 things worse. Poor Kate!" 
 
 " Miss Woods keeps up her character," remarked Mordy 
 Jane, at a later stage of the meal. 
 
 " As how?" asked Jack, absently. 
 
 " Well, I orfered to go an* nurse that rcd-'eaded gal while 
 Miss Woods went out as usual this evening; but she said as 
 *ow she wasn't goin'. So it's certain as 'ow she ain't a music- 
 hall arteeste. And the question is: wot is she? Father, 
 you've gone and let that mutton-fat get cold and turn to 
 candle. If you don't want any more, push yer plate away like 
 a proper-minded person, and 'ave yer puddin'. ' I shall re* 
 main at 'ome this evenin', Miss Jacob,' she says, quite cool 
 like. The myst'ry's more 'iddener than ever. You mark 
 my words, Mr. Gordon Sophie Maria!" she broke off with 
 a shrill scream " you're looking through that keyhole again 
 to see what we've got for supper! Don't give me the lie now, 
 for I can see the top of yer 'air over the door! You go 'ome 
 and tell yer mother that we've got b'iled mutton, 'taters and 
 turnips an 1 turnips, mind!" 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXII. 
 
 KATE TBANSOM was down with brain fever, and had got it 
 badly. For close upon a week she was not only unconscious, 
 but delirious; and whenever he went up and down-stairs and 
 paused at the bedroom door, Jack could hear her voice pour- 
 ing out an incohereL^string of words. 
 
 " It's wonderful 'ow she can keep on at it," Mordy Jane 
 remarked. " I've heard Sophie Maria's js^V*^ that's the 
 Woman what come up and jawed me last night, Mr. Gordon 
 I've 'card 'er talk for two hours at a stretch; but then 
 ehe'd had a drop, an' 'ad been practising it ever since she had 
 been a kid. Myl how she can sling it! But this young-girl- 
 from-the-country friend of yours, she could give Sophie 
 Maria's mother fifty yards in a hundred and romp in easy. 1 
 sat beside the bed last night, an' I tell you some ot 'er talk
 
 260 JOTS, THE 
 
 tnade my 'air curL It was all about woods an 9 gftmS; an' 
 'ands covered with blood oh, my!" Mordy Jane indulged 
 31 a shudder which nearly shook the bonnet off her head. " I 
 Bays to Miss Woods, I sez: ' If I was to sit 'ere long listening 
 to this, I should get the creeps or the highsterics.' They've 
 cut off nearly all her hair which I dessay you'll think a 
 dreffol shame an* she looks all wild and strange-like; an* 
 she keeps on mixing up your name, an' talks as if she was 
 trying to find you, as if you was in some danger. Oh, it's 
 horful to 'ear her! I suppose there ain't any truth in it? 
 There's nothing in all this talk of hers about a murder?" 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
 " Nothing at all," he answered. " She may be raving in 
 her delirium of something she has read or heard. She came 
 from a most quiet and peaceful place, in which no tragedies 
 or anything of the kind have happened. There is never any 
 accounting for the language and behaviour of persons who 
 are delirious, Mordy Jane; there is not the least foundation 
 for poor Kate Transom's visionary terror and dread. In all 
 probability, in fact, most certainly, when she gets well be- 
 comes conscious she will forget everything, know nothing, 
 indeed, of anything she has said while she was in this condi- 
 tion." 
 
 Somewhat to Jack's surprise, Miss Woods proved herself 
 not only an efficient, but a sympathetic nurse. Indeed, after 
 the first few days, he could not help noticing a change in her, 
 Kate's helplessness and curious illness had not only awakened 
 the sympathies of the " 'idden myst'ry," but had called forth 
 some latent strength with which Jack had not credited her. 
 The flickering smile, half vain and half suspicious, gradually 
 disappeared, and a look of anxiety that was perfectly unself- 
 ish took its place. 
 
 Eyery evening she came out of the room to tell him how 
 Kate was going on, and each evening Jack, half ^ucoii- 
 sciously, noticed the progress of the change in his fellow 
 lodger. She had scarcely left Kate, had nursed her with at 
 attention and devotion which had called forth the approval 
 and commendation of even the doctor, who, like most men of 
 his profeL?oon, are sparing of their praise. 
 
 Jack l:^u told her, as delicately as possible, that he would 
 be responsible for the expenses; but at first, colouring con- 
 fused I v. the woman had said that she didn't wish him to pay 
 for an -hing; but Jack had smilingly insisted; and as he 
 spent very little on himself tLo additional burden did not 
 crush him.
 
 THE TYRANT: 261 
 
 On xoe evening of the eighth day Mordy Jane informed 
 him that Kate had recovered consciousness, and taken a torn 
 for the better, somewhat to the doctor's surprise, and that 
 having slept for several hours, she was now awake and " in 
 her seven senses," as Mordy Jane put it, and likely to re- 
 cover. As Jack went upstairs the door of the sick-room 
 opened, and Miss Woods came out. 
 
 " She is much better," she said; " she is awake now, and 
 has been asking for you. If you'd like to see her, I don't 
 think it would do her any harm; perhaps she'd worry more 
 if she doesn't see you. But you'll have to keep very quiet," 
 she added, with a touch of nursely dignity and responsibility 
 which amused and impressed Jack. 
 
 He went in very softly and stood beside the bed, looking 
 down at the girl. She was thinner even than when he had 
 met her on the bridge a week ago, her cheeks still more hol- 
 low, but with the hectic flush which fever paints with so deli- 
 cate a colour and so fine a brush. Her eyes were closed, but 
 she was not asleep, and presently she opened them and saw 
 him. For a moment or two they dwelt upon his face with a 
 dreamy recognition, then a tender light stole into them, her 
 lips parted, and she spoke his name inaudibly. Jack knelt 
 down beside the bed, so that he might speak very quietly. 
 
 " You're getting on famously, Kate," he said. " That's 
 right! I'm afraid you've had a bad time but we won't think 
 of that now, and you must make up your mind to get well as 
 quickly as possible. When you are stronger we'll take you 
 out into the air but there's plenty of time to think about 
 that; you just lie hei^ and say to yourself, * I'm going to get 
 better every day!' ' 
 
 " Do you think I'm going to die?" she asked. 
 
 " Most certainly and emphatically I do not!" said Jack; 
 " why, just remember what a strong girl you were before 
 before you were taken ill." 
 
 " That is a long while ago, isn't it?" she said in a vague 
 and confused way. " I have been thinking it would be beotei 
 if I were to die, Mr. Gordon: there would be less danger," 
 she added, almost to herself. 
 
 Jack laughed quietly. 
 
 " Don't talk such nonsense," he said. " I not only believe 
 that you are out of danger, but that you are going to get well 
 verv quickly. Did you want to see me about anything? They 
 aid that you had asked for me." 
 
 Hf was booing that she would say that she wishad him fci
 
 262 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 communicate with her father; but she shoos her neafl, awl 
 the faint flush deepened slightly on her face. 
 
 " No,*' she said, almost inaudibly, with her eyes seeking 
 his face for a moment, and then covered by their lids. "I 
 asked for you, I asked if you were here because I was not 
 sure that I had really seen you not sure that it was not all a 
 dream." 
 
 Jack smiled. 
 
 " Well, you see, Kate, it's real enough; there's not much 
 of the dream about me; I'm too substantial. I am living here 
 m the same house, my room is just above. I am out at work 
 all day, from quite early in the morning, but I am at home 
 every evening, and I will always come to see you when you 
 want me, after I have come home." 
 
 She looked at him so gratefully, with so infinite a wistful- 
 mess in her eyes, larger than ever now, in that pale, wasted 
 face, that Jack with that dangerous tenderness of his towards 
 all women, dumb animals, and weak things generally, 
 stretched out his hand and laid it gently on her hot forehead. 
 It was indeed a dangerous thing to do even under the circum- 
 stances, though he meant nothing but pity and compassion 
 and the consolation with which every strong man's heart 
 overflows for a sick girl or a dog with a broken leg. 
 
 But his touch had a deep effect upon poor Kate, who was 
 weakened by her illness, following her terrible mental strain 
 and days of privation. Great tears welled up to her eyes, her 
 lips quivered, then moved as if in speech. Jack bent losver so 
 that he might hear what she said, and he caught the words: 
 
 " It would be better if I were to die." 
 
 " Not a bit of it," he said, cheerfully. " You wait a day 
 or two, until you've had your first mutton chop, and you'll 
 find you've ckanged your mind, Kate." 
 
 He went in to see her every evening, and sometimes found 
 Mordy Jane sitting beside the bed, and talking ia her cute 
 and precocious fashion. Kate, propped up by pillows, lay 
 back and listened, her great eyes fixed wonderingly on the 
 shrewd face of the child-woman; but Jack found that unlike 
 as they were the two seemed to like each other, and what wiih 
 an elfish cuteaess Mordy Jane appeared to understand the 
 country girl; for Kate would talk more freely if the word 
 may be used in speaking of one so reserved to Mordy Jane 
 than to Miss Woods. 
 
 " She ain't a bad sort, that girl-from-the-country of 
 yours," Mordy Jane admitted to Jack. " Now I've got used 
 to 'er red 'air, I'm ari inclined to think as she ain't bad look-
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 263 
 
 ing. But lor' ain't she a Juggins ! She don't know nothing, 
 exceptin' about cows and sheep and 'ay and corn, an' she 
 ain't been nowhere 'cept this fling up in Lendon, which she 
 says she 'ates. Fancy 'ating London! Which I tell 'er it 
 ain't proper to slang the place the Queen of England lives in. 
 We're going to get 'er out to-morrow !" 
 
 "The queen?" said Jack, who had got into the habit of 
 dreaming of Esther while he was supposed to be listening to 
 Mordy Jane. 
 
 "No, stoopid. Kate, of course. If I was you I should go 
 an' see a doctor and a good 'un. For you've got a fit of 
 absence of brain, which might end serious. Blest rf you ain't 
 nearly as bad as father, and he's wus than a hinfant in arms." 
 
 The next day, as Mordy Jane had announced, Kate was 
 taken out for the first time. It had been arranged that she 
 should go as far as Victoria Park in an open fly, and that 
 Jack should take a half holiday so that he could accompany 
 them. 
 
 "Won't it be too many for one horse?" he suggested to 
 Mordy Jane, who was also to be one of the party; but that 
 young lady replied in the negative with a sniff ef scorn. 
 
 "Too many! Why, I've known that fly hold ten yes, I 
 have, and Airs. Jenkins's 'Arry a-sitting on the step. Too 
 many ! Garn ! Besides, if you don't go, I'm thinking the 
 outin' won't do 'er much good," she added to herseK. 
 
 The fly drew up at the door at the appointed hour, and 
 Kate was helped down the stairs by the other two women, 
 and, Jack appearing a moment or two afterwards, already 
 "cleaned up," they started; Mordy Jane perched on the box 
 beside the driver, and surveying the crowdl from under a 
 new hat simply adorned with blue ostrich feathers and crim- 
 son poppies with so haughty and supercilious an air, that the 
 small crowd which had gathered for ironical cheers was awed 
 into silence. 
 
 Kate leant back, her folded hands lying limply in her lap, 
 scarcely glancing at the street and the people they passed; 
 but every now and then she raised her eyes to Jack's face 
 more often than not turned up to Mordy Jane and, when- 
 ever she did so, an expression of peace passed ever her white 
 face, to be followed almost instantly by one of trouble and 
 perplexity. 
 
 Victoria Park, though not exactly "quite the country," as 
 Mordy Jane declared it to be, is not the least important of 
 London's "lungs," and Jack, for one, was glad enough to 
 see some trees and green grass again. He Hfted Kate out of
 
 264 UOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 the fly, and wrapping her shawl carefully round her, helper 
 her to a seat under a couple of oaks, which would not have 
 disgraced Vancourt itself. Kate leant back and looked round 
 her with a sigh, a sigh which was not one of unhappiness or 
 discontent. 
 
 " Feeling pretty fit, Kate?" Jack asked. He had got into 
 the habit of calling her by her Christian name. Much 
 stronger and more like your old self?" 
 
 " Yes," she said, in her low voice, which was habitual 
 now, a voice which was always dreamy, and sometimes indi- 
 cated the condition of mind which is described as vacant. 
 ""Xes; I shall soon be quite strong now, and and well 
 enough to go." 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " That's it!" he said. " You want to get out of this and 
 back to Vancourt." 
 
 She started slightly and looked at him, as if she wera 
 alarmed, and at the same time was trying to remember the 
 cause of her alarm. 
 
 " No, I shall never go back to Vancourt!" she said, 
 breathing quickly. 
 
 " Why not? Look here, Kate, you asked me to promise 
 that I would not communicate with you father, friends " 
 
 " Yes. And you have not, you will not?" she broke ) 
 " It was a promise!" 
 
 " That's so, and I've still hung on to the habit of keeping 
 'em," said Jack, gravely, as there flashed ".cross his mind the 
 promise he had given to his dead chum, and all the keeping 
 of it had cost him and must still cost him. " I haven't written 
 to Vancourt, and I still can't, of course, if you insist." 
 
 " Yes, yes; you must not!" 
 
 " All right; but then I've got to ask what are you going to 
 do? I'm afraid this isn't the time, but well, I'm anxious 
 about you.*' 
 
 " And are you not anxious about about yourself?" she 
 said in a low voice and with a swift but timid glance at his 
 grave, handsome face. 
 
 Jack shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Well, not much," he replied. " I mean that it doesn't 
 matter much what becomes of me." 
 
 *' Ah, don't say so don't say so!" she said, with a faint 
 shudder. " It matter everything! Why why do you stay 
 kere in London England?" 
 
 She put the question in almost a whisper and looked ron<* 
 as if she were afraid of being overheard,
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAOT 265 
 
 Jack v^ionred. 
 
 " Well I scarcely know! It is rather foolish, I suppose." 
 
 " Foolish!'* she echoed. " Oh, how can you speak SOHBO 
 lightly of it, when you know so much depends." 
 
 Jack was just a little puzzled by her earnestness. 
 
 " Yes; I've thought of going abroad, to Australia. I was 
 out there, you know." 
 
 She nodded and unconsciously drew a little nearer to him. 
 
 '* Yes! Why do you not go, at once? Why do yon wait?" 
 
 Jac'l tfit his moustache. 
 
 " Well, as I said before, I don't quite know." But he did. 
 To put the seas between him and Esther the prosnect was a 
 hard and cruel one. " But I must make up my mind pretty 
 sharp." 
 
 " Decide to go at once!" she said. 
 
 He laughed. 
 
 '* You appear to be in a great hurry to get rid of me, 
 Kate," he said, innocently enough. 
 
 The colour flooded her face, and she turned her eyes upon 
 him almost reproachfully, but averted them before he could 
 look round and see their expression. 
 
 " But before I go if I go I must see you comfortably set- 
 tled. If I'm not to write to your father, you must still re- 
 main in my charge, so to speak." 
 
 " I can gel a situation; Miss Woods will help me; Mordy 
 Jane " she faltered. 
 
 " Well, perhaps they might; though I've not the least no- 
 tion how Miss Woods gets her living." 
 
 " She has a situation," said Kate; " she goes to it every 
 evening she went until I came. I don't know what it is. I 
 will ask her; perhaps she might get something of the same 
 kind for me to do. At any rate, I I must not be a burden 
 to you any longer, Mr. Gordon. I've not thanked you yet; 
 I've tried oh, so many times! but every time the words 
 aeem to rush together, and and I cannot speak." 
 
 " Don't try any more," said Jack. " I've only done what 
 yon would have done for me it yon found me in a tight place; 
 and, besides, we are old friends, Kate, quite old friends, from 
 the same place. Did you see and hear anything of Miss Van- 
 court, after I left?" be asked, with an affectation of merely 
 Casual interest. 
 
 Kate shook her head. 
 
 No. She she came and told me yon had gone." Sfcfc 
 as she recalled the interview. " That !!"
 
 266 MTB, THE TYBAIflR, 
 
 " A pleasant young lady!" said Jack, still in the saint 
 casual manner. 
 
 Kate made it slight gesture of assent. 
 
 " Yes,*' she said, with a sigh. " She has everything, 
 beauty and riches and Vanc^urt Towers, and everybody ad- 
 mires her and pays court to her. I suppose she will marry 
 Mr. Selby Layton they all say so." 
 
 " Oh, do they?" said Jack, grimly, his face suddenly grow- 
 ing dark and gloomy. " I think it's about time we got bac^ 
 He's a pleasant sort of fellow, I believe." 
 
 Kate's lips came together. 
 
 ".I don't know I don't like him." 
 
 "No? Why not?" 
 
 " I I don't know. Here is Miss Woods and Mordy Jane." 
 
 " You come and see the ducks, Kate," exclaimed Mordy 
 Jane she said " Kite." " There's a lot of little 'uns, jusk 
 the very same as in the country. Here! you go with Miss 
 Woods. I'm a bit tired and crocky on my pins." 
 
 When the other two had gone, Mordy Jane nodded her 
 heal at Jack and winked. 
 
 " Well, 'ave you gorn and done it?" she asked. 
 
 Jack stared at her. 
 
 " Gone and done it? what, Mordy Jane?" he asked. 
 
 She gave a snort of impatience and womanly contempt for 
 a man's obtuseness. 
 
 " Well, you beat everything!" she exclaimed, under her 
 breath. ** Talk about father, why, you could give him fifty 
 np! What do you think I'm talking about?" 
 
 " Hang me if I know!" said Jack, laughing good-hu- 
 mouredly. 
 
 " Why, you and Kite!" she retorted, impatiently. " Why 
 don't you up and speak to her like a man: you're big 
 enough." 
 
 " Big enough not to make quite a fool of myself," said 
 Jack, rather grimly. " Look nere, Mordy Jane, you're not 
 a bad sort and I rather like you, but you are talking of some- 
 thing you know nothing about, making guesses that have no 
 foundation." 
 
 " Oh, garn with you!" she broke in. " Why, if yon 
 Wasn't one of the biggest Juggins on earth you'd see that she's 
 simply dying Well, there! I'm not going to give one of 
 my own sect away but of all the blind, chuckle-headed 
 young men! Here, they're coming back. Oh, don't stare at 
 me as if I was a a side-show or a freak, yon stoopid! Gome 
 oo, here'a the fly, Kite! Are you tiled? Here, we can 'elp
 
 LOTS, THE TtBAim 267 
 
 her in; don't yon trouble. And you'd better sit on the box," 
 she added, contemptuously. " Sit there and try and get your 
 eyes open," she added, in a fiei^e undertone. 
 
 Jack meekly and obediently climbed on the box. It was 
 not a pleasant drive home for him. If Mordy Jane was 
 right Oh, but she couldn't be! Her Cockney cuteness 
 and readiness to discover a romance where none existed, had 
 misled her. But if it we?e true? A wave of bitterness was 
 passing over him. Esther, he had just been told, would 
 marry Selby Layton: if Kate really cared for him, Jack, 
 why shouldn't he marry her and The sweat stood out on 
 his brow. Marry another woman while he was in love with 
 Esther! It was just simply impossible. 
 
 The fly turned into Chase Street, and he aroused from his 
 gloomy reverie by a poke from Mordy Jane's sunshade: of the 
 fashion of the early Victorian era. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Gordon, if yo'ud make a heffort to wake your- 
 lelf." 
 
 He looked round with a nod and a rather grave smile, the 
 fly stopped at the door, and, as the small crowd of children 
 pelted up to see the return of the party, a hansom cab went 
 slowly past. 
 
 A hansom cab was so rare a vehicle in that quarter that 
 Jack, as he opened the fly door, looked after it. 
 
 At that moment it stopped, turned round, and rather 
 slowly came back. Jack was busy with Kate, and just 
 caught a glimpse of a gentleman leaning for ward over the 
 apron; but he was startled, as the cab passed the fly, by a 
 sharp and sudden cry from Miss Woods. She had sprung 
 from her seat and was standing upright, clutching the side of 
 the fly, and staring with white face and startled eyes after the 
 hansom. 
 
 " "Wotever is the matter?" demanded Mordy Jane. " Are 
 you taken queer, Miss Woods? You look as if you'd seen a 
 ghost." 
 
 She seemed for a moment quite unconscious of their pres- 
 ence as she stood, still staring after the cab, her bosom heav 
 ing, her face white and red by turns,, and then she sank into 
 her seat, and, biting her lip, forced a smile, and sighed. 
 
 " It it was a sudden shock," she said, with a vain attempt 
 to speak in a tone of indifference. " It was a kind of spasm. 
 I think my heart must be wrong; but I'm all right now." 
 
 5< Yer 'eart wrong!" Tetorted Mordy -Jane. *' Not yer! 
 It's yer nerves; and mine'll soon be as crocky as yours if yosi 
 'ave auyouory o' them fits while I'm near jpn"
 
 368 LOVE, THB TYRANT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 "I REALLY think, my dear Esther, that you need a change. 
 I have noticed for some days past indeed, for more than a 
 week that you have been pale, and seemed listless and out 
 of sorts. Do you feel ill ?" 
 
 The two ladies were seated on the terrace after breakfast 
 that, Miss Worcester was seated placidly knitting, but Esther 
 had risen from her seat and was moving up and down so 
 slowly that it could scarcely be called walking; her hands 
 hung by her side, her head drooped, and her eyes were down- 
 cast. She was pale, not with her usual healthy pallor, but 
 with the paleness that indicates weakness or worry. A fine 
 line had appeared between her eyes, and there was a delicate 
 droop to the beautifully formed lips which, while it meant 
 that happiness had fled, lent a peculiar charm to them. All 
 the old lightness had vanished, her girlish laugh, which had 
 echoed not loudly but sweetly through the old place, had not 
 been heard for some time, and she no longer found amuse- 
 ment in chaffing the old lady who loved her, and was always 
 so easy to shock, so ready to "rise to the fly." 
 
 "You seem quite changed, my dear Esther," continued 
 Miss Worcester, after she had counted her stitches. "I really 
 dom't think you are a bit better than you used to be in Isling- 
 ton." 
 
 She spoke the last words in a low voice, for Miss Worces- 
 ter in these days of their prosperity, was rather reluctant to 
 refer to their poorer days, and always mentioned them with 
 bated breath. 
 
 "And in this beautiful air, with everything the heart could 
 desire, you surely ought to be in the best of health and 
 spirits." 
 
 Esther laughed mirthlessly. The old life had been hard 
 enough in all conscience; but if she had not experienced 
 any keen joy in it, she had not, at any rate, suffered such pain 
 of infinite longing, infinite disappointment, as she had en- 
 dured during the last week. 
 
 "Yes, I really think you should take a change, my dear. 
 
 What would you say to to Cromer, now?" 
 
 "It all depends on what Cromer said to me," replied 
 
 Esther, with a poor attempt at her old spontaneous gaiety. 
 
 "I mean Oh, Cromer? I don't know it, aunt. I don't
 
 HOVE, THE TYSAUT, 269 
 
 cave where we go; but unless you want a change, I'd in- 
 initely rather stay here. I can't think why you should sup- 
 pose that I am unwell " 
 
 " My dear Esther, your appearance is sufficiently indica- 
 tive " 
 
 " Not of ill health, but of the dissatisfaction which cornea 
 from too much money, too many things to eat and drink " 
 
 " Eeally, Esther, to hear you talk one would think we were 
 ancient Romans living in a state of gluttony. I am sure you 
 do not eat enough; I have not seen you eat a sufficient and 
 proper meal for some days. Yesterday you sent your plate 
 away each time almost untouched; and Marie tells me that 
 ehe hears you walking up and down in your room at night." 
 
 " Marie should mind her own business," said Esther, col- 
 ouring slightly. 
 
 " It is her business, my dear Esther " 
 
 '* Pardon me, aunt; Marie's business at night is to go to 
 sleep, and to wait upon me in the intervals in which she is not 
 keeping company with Giles in the day time. Aunt, there is 
 nothing the matter with me but the laziness which is caused 
 by having nothing to do. I am like Hamlet, waxing fat and 
 abort of breath " 
 
 " Fat! My dear Esther, Marie told me that she had to 
 take in some of your skirts " 
 
 Esther bit her lip softly, and began to look a little annoyed 
 at the old lady's persistence, for she herself knew that she 
 wag thinner, that she had lost her appetite, and not only her 
 appetite for food, but for the hundred and one innocent pleas- 
 ures which had gone to make up her life before before Jack 
 Gordon went. 
 
 This was the trouble, and try as she would, she could not 
 blind herself to the fact that his absence, and the common be- 
 lief that he had been joined by Kate Transom, were the causes 
 of the change which had come over her. She fought hard, 
 but her heart was too weak or too strong for her, and only 
 now and again could she still the aching longing to see him - * 
 just to see him which filled all her days and nights. 
 
 " No, I don't think we'll go to Oromer, or anywhere else 
 just yet, aunt," she said, telling herself that she would not 
 run away like a love-sick girl, that she would go on in the 
 usual tenor of her life as if nothing had happened. " I don't 
 care about going just now, and, besides, I want to see the 
 corn harvest got in. I am now going down to Martin to 
 ppeak to him about it. Is there anything I can do lor you ia 
 the vi
 
 270 LOVE, TBE TYBAOT. 
 
 " Ho, cnank you, my dear oh, yes; if you would not mind 
 calling at the shop and getting me a piece of tape, this width." 
 
 " Certainly," said Esther suppressing a smile, which rose 
 at the force of habit, for in the old days of poverty and strug- 
 gle, it was generally a piece of tape which her aunt required, 
 and Esther used to wonder, as sne wondered this morning, 
 what on earth she wanted it for. 
 
 She went into the hall for her hat, and crossing the lawn 
 went to the stable-yard and opening one of the stable doors, 
 called " Bob!" 
 
 He was chained up in the empty stall, and was lying asleep, 
 but as he heard her voice he raised his head quickly, looked 
 at her with his great solemn eyes, then beyond her as if he 
 expected to see someone else. But as he saw that she was 
 alone he dropped his head and drew a long breath. Esther 
 knelt beside him and took his head in her hands and kissed 
 him on his long nose. 
 
 " Would you like to come for a walk with me, Bob?" she 
 whispered. " Will it cheer you up a little? Why can't yon 
 forget like some other dogs, and eat and stuff and sleep and 
 be merry like Rags and Fanny and the rest. Whv are you 
 and I cursed with such inconvenient memories, Bob? Neve* 
 mind! Come with me, and we'll both try and forget him for 
 a little while." 
 
 She loosed him, but Bob did not jump up and rave and 
 bark as the other dogs would have done, but stretched him- 
 self and walked beside her with a slow and stately trot, and a 
 grave and thoughtful expression in his eyes which he turned 
 up to her every now and then as if he were asking: " Are \ou 
 going to take me to him?" All the wav to the farm he 
 glanced from right to left as if he expected to see his beloved 
 master, and he ran up to Nettie who was standing at the door 
 of the lodge and who threw her arms round his neck and 
 hugged him, burying her face in the soft thick ruff of fur 
 round his neck. 
 
 " Oh, good-morning, Mrs. Martin," said Esther. " Nettie, 
 do you think you could spare one kiss from Bob for me? I'm 
 not usually moved to jealousy, but really " 
 
 " You see, 't's Jack's dog: poor Bob!" said "Nettie, sim- 
 ply, as she held up her face to meet the swee^ -ips which 
 Jack had so wickedly kissed. " How thin he has dot, hasn't 
 he, Miss Vancourt? And so have 'oo. Are you fretting after 
 Jack? You'd bettern't, or you'll be ill! Mother said that if 
 I went oo fcntting I should be, didn't you, mother?"
 
 , THE TYBANT. 271 
 
 Swcner managed to keep the colour from her iboe and the 
 
 even smile on her lips. 
 
 " Fretting is bad for anybody, Nettie," she said. " I came 
 to ask, Mrs. Martin, if the harvest was going to begin soon; 
 because Miss Worcester and I think of going away, and I do 
 not want to do so until it is over." 
 
 " Martin was speaking about it this morning," said Mrs. 
 Martin, f ' 6 and I think he means to cut next week. He's just 
 gone up to the cottage. The new foreman's wife was over to 
 look at it yesterday, and she wanted one or two things done, 
 BO Martin has gone to see about it. Of course, Mr. Gordon, 
 being a bachelor and taking his meals here, didn't need " 
 
 " Ah, yes; just so," said Esther, breaking in, gently. " I 
 think I'll go and find Mr. Martin, then. Will you come, 
 Nettie?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Nettie, " I often do there; it was poor 
 Jack's cottage, you know." 
 
 : ' Why do you say ' poor ' Jack, Nettie?" Esther asked, 
 half sorry, yet more than half glad, that the child should talk 
 f him. 
 
 " Why, 'cos he's dorn away, and father says the people are 
 all against him, 'cos he's done something I don't know 
 sackly what. Do you?" 
 
 " Not exactly; indeed, I'm not sure Mr. Gordon has done 
 anything to set the people against him not sure, mind, 
 Nettie." 
 
 " Well, I shouldn't tare if he did," said the child, calmly. 
 '" I shouldn't tare what he did, 'cos you see, I love him." 
 
 " I understand," said Esther; and, oh, did she not under* 
 stand fully! It seemed to her that she could have echoed the 
 child's humiliating confession. 
 
 The cottage door was open, and Esther looked in. 
 
 " Your father is not there," she said. " No one seems to 
 be there." 
 
 Nettie went in, and Esther followed her. Someone had 
 been making some repairs; there was the usual pail of 
 whitewash and brush, the usual splodge of mortar neatly 
 dabbed down on the floor. In the cracks between the hearth- 
 stone and the boards was the point of a crowbar as if the 
 workman had heard his luncheon-hour strike at the moment 
 of inserting the bar, and, true to the traditions of his class, 
 had instantly dr pped the tool as if it were red hot. 
 
 The place lookeu very desolate, and Esther, as she glanced 
 round dreamily and sadly, thought of the evening she had en- 
 tered it with Jack and waited to see if he would oifer her any
 
 272 urns,. THE TYRANT. 
 
 of the wild hyacinths. Nettie, meanwhile, amused herself by 
 sticking her toe in the mortar and handling the tools, bat 
 presently she came, in a course of whitewash, brush, and 
 trowel, to the crowbar. 
 
 " What's this. Miss Vancourt?" she asked. " IVs like a 
 iron stick, isn't it? What's its stuck in this crack for?" 
 
 " The man is going to lift the stone with it." replied 
 Esther. 
 
 Nettie looked at "her solemnly. 
 
 " When you don't know the answer to a question, yo 
 should say you don't, not tell a story," she remarksd, se- 
 verely. " That's what the teacher told me last Sunday. 
 You're very wicked, Miss Vancourt." 
 
 " No, I'm not not in this case," said Esther, laughingly 
 " The stone can be lifted quite easily if you press on this bar. 
 Why, I can do it, you seer' 
 
 She put some pressure on the crowbar, and presently the 
 sfcne began to rise. Nettie clapped her hands, too delighted 
 to be penitent. " Oh, let me let me!" she cried; but 
 Esther was afraid. 
 
 " No, no!" she said. " See, I'll lift the stone right up 
 here it comes!" 
 
 " So it does. How clever you are least it's the bar, isn't 
 it, not you? Oh, look, Miss Vancourt, here's something un* 
 derneath; it's a tin." 
 
 Esther bent down and saw the tin Jack had so carefully 
 placed there. 
 
 " Bring me that brick, quickly, Nettie!" she said. The 
 child got the brick, and Esther pushed it with her foot under 
 the edge of the stone so as to support it, then she took up the 
 tin. 
 
 !t What a funny place to keep it in," remarked Nettie. 
 " What's in it, does oo tink, Miss Vancourt?" 
 
 " I shouldn't be surprised if there was money." replied 
 Esther. 
 
 " What! real money pennies?" cried Nettie, with eyes 
 like saucers. 
 
 Esther nodded, held the tin in her hand for a moment or 
 two looking at it thoughtfully, then opened it. With the 
 child's eyes upon her, it was difficult for her to conceal her 
 agitation at the sight of the contents. 
 
 A marriage certificate, and a bundle of bank-notes! 
 
 She stood, flushing, girl-like, feeling half frightened by her 
 disco verv. and Nettie's esctanufctiou of:
 
 TOfB, THE TYEAKT. 273 
 
 *'Is there many pennies? is it full of them?" almost 
 startled her. 
 
 "No; there are no pennies, Nettie," she said. " BE 
 never mind, I think I can find some in my pocket." 
 
 As she walked homewards with the tin in her hand, she 
 asked hersel* what she should do with it, whether, indeed, she 
 had had any right to take it from the cottage; and though 
 she argued on the latter point that the cottage was her own 
 property, and, primp, facie, everything in it, the first ques- 
 tion worried her. To whom could it belong, and why had the 
 owner hidden it under the hearthstone? When she got to her 
 ro!3m she examined the tin and the notes. The tin was still 
 bright, and had recently been placed beneath the stone. 
 Could it belong to Mr. Gordon? The colour rushed to her 
 face, then left it pallid. If"it were his, the certificate 
 
 She rose, trembling in every limb, fearfully moved by the 
 suspicion which swooped down upon her. Was this the cer- 
 tificate of his marriage? If not, why should he desire t hide 
 it, why should he have considered it too valuable to carry 
 about with him? 
 
 Slio Sung her hands before her face and fought against the 
 idea. After all, there was no evidence that the tin and its 
 contents had been placed in their place of concealment by 
 him, or that thev belonged to him. Was she going to be as 
 hard as those others who had been so ready to believe him 
 guiltv of enticing Kate Transom to leave her home? 
 
 What shoul i she do with the tin? She looked at it with a 
 repugnance which increased at each moment, then she picked 
 it up with the tips of her fingers and locked it in the small 
 safe in which she kept her jewels. 
 
 " I'll give it to Mr. Floss and tell him where I found it," 
 she said to herself. She bathed her face, and went down- 
 stairs and into the library, and was writing a note to Mr. 
 Floss asking him to come to the Toweis, when the door 
 opened and in walked Selb\ T Layton. 
 
 Esther started; the finding of the tin box and the questions 
 {t had called up had rather unnerved her. 
 
 " Oh, are you backl' r Then feeling that this was scarcely a 
 sufficiently warm greeting to a friend, she added: " How do 
 you do?" 
 
 " May I come in?" he said. " I heard you were here, and 
 I know you are anxious to hear the result of mv mission." 
 
 She nodded slightly, arid the line between her eyes grefr 
 ieeper. It seemed that every hour, every minutej she waa 
 
 tA ha rminrlod of Jack Gordon
 
 274 HOVE, THE TTBABT. 
 
 " Have you have you been successful?" she said. " You 
 have been very quick I mean " as his face fell and he stol 
 a tender, reproachful glance at her " that I did not expect 
 that yon would have discovered anything so soon/' 
 
 " I have been very fortunate," he said. " Indeed, I owe 
 my success to a sheer piece of luck. I had been hunting for 
 days, in quite the amateur detective fashion, without any re- 
 sults; but one day I chanced to go down to the docks, and 
 while driving through one of the streets poor people! hovr 
 one pities them this weather! I saw them. 
 
 Esther sat, her head resting on her hand, mechanically 
 making formless figures on the paper. 
 
 " Them?" she said, in a low vooice. 
 
 " Yes," he said; then he chose the proper tone, one of 
 grave regret. " I am very sorry to say f .hat poor Transom's 
 fears were only too well grounded. His daughter had gone 
 to Mr. Gordon. I saw the fellow helping her out of a fly and 
 into one of the houses " 
 
 Esther rose and went to one of the windows, so that he 
 might not see the deathly pallor of her face, the quivering 
 lips. 
 
 " I saw them quite distinctly, and I am not sure that they 
 did not see me. They were of a party, just returned from 
 some outing, an outing of the usual loud and vulgar kind." 
 
 Esther tapped softly with her fingers on the coloured glass 
 which sent its patches of colour on her face. 
 
 " You saw them distinctly?" she said. " There there is 
 no mistake?" 
 
 " Oh, quite; I am quite certain! It is not possible for me 
 to have been mistaken. I made some enquiries afterwards 
 and I found that they were I trust they are man and wife," 
 he murmrued. 
 
 Esther started: the marriage certificate! 
 
 " Now, the question is/' he went on, approaching her 
 slowly, " shall I tell her father that hot-tempered young 
 man, Dick Reeve? It is for you to decide. " 
 
 Esther frowned. 
 
 " I I don't know," she said. " I will think of it. Poor 
 girl poor girl!" 
 
 " Ah, yes. They were leading a life of the lowest dissipa- 
 tion. But let us think the best. They may be married. I 
 can find that out, I daresay " 
 
 " No, no," she said, quickly, with a little shudder. " Yon 
 shall not take any further trouble, you you have done 
 enough."
 
 I/OVE, THE TYRAOT. 275 
 
 w Not enough! Can I ever do enough to win a word of 
 praise from you?" he murmured. " And yet do you remem- 
 oer your promise, your half-promise, that that when I re 
 turned ? Esther, I have come back." 
 
 " And I have not forgotten/' she said, with a sudden im- 
 pulse born of the agony of shame caused by the news he had 
 Drought, and she held out her hand. 
 
 A low cry of exultation escaped him, but he checked it as 
 he raised her hand to his lips and Murmured her name. 
 
 He had won! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THERE is no sweeter time in a girl's life than the hours 
 which immediately follow the plighting of her troth to the 
 man she loves; but to Esther, her engagement to Selby Lay- 
 ton brought neither sweetness nor happiness, to say nothing 
 of that rapture which only the woman who loves, and who is 
 betrothed to the object of her love, can know. A kind of 
 apathy, the apathy of the fatalist fell upon her, it almost 
 seemed as if the news of Jack Gordon's treachery and base- 
 ness which Selby Layton had brought, had deadened her sense 
 of feeling and had rendered her indifferent as to her future. 
 
 Though she had promised to be Selby Layton's wife, 'her 
 manner was little less reserved, scarcely less cold than it had 
 been before; indeed, so self-possessed, so free from the usual 
 embarrassment was she, that Selby Layton had not ventured 
 upon the caress which at such a time is offered and received 
 with such infinite joy. 
 
 Esther communicated the fact of her engagement to Miss 
 Worcester in such a business-like way in terms and a manner 
 BO devoid of sentiment as to cause that lady, who was of a 
 sentimental nature, to gaze at her with astonishment. 
 
 " Of course, my dear Esther, I am delighted," she said; 
 " and I cannot say that I am surprised, for Mr. Layton I 
 suppose one must get accustomed to calling him Selby; it 
 will seem strange at first, but no doubt I shall get used to it, 
 especially as it is rather a pretty name, don't you think? no, 
 I am not surprised; for ne is a most charming man, so 
 polished and accomplished, and with such a lovely voice; I 
 said, when first I saw him, that I thought him an admirable 
 and most taking man." 
 
 " Did you, aunt? I don't remember," said Esther, taking 
 up her book and looking at it rather listlessly.
 
 276 MJVE, 1"HE TYRANT. 
 
 " Yes,** continued Miss Worcester; " and it> i3 so nice, 
 
 knowing all about him, isn't it?" 
 
 Esther raised her eyes from the book which she was not 
 reading. 
 
 " Do we know all about him?" she said; for as her aunt 
 had made the remark it occurred to Esther how little they 
 really knew of her affianced's past. 
 
 " Well, I mean that he belongs to the family, that he is a 
 Vancourt, and it is nice to know that." 
 
 Esther could not help smiling. In Miss Worcester's opinion 
 the fact of belonging, however remotely, to the great Van- 
 court family, was a credential of all the virtues and respecta- 
 bilities. 
 
 "But my dear Esther, how calm er not to say cool, you 
 aeem! I snppose you have known your mind, have foreseen 
 the engagement, for some time past? I always thought that 
 young girls were always in a flutter at such an important, 
 finch a thrilling, moment in their lives; but you sit there as 
 calmly and coolly as if you had just told me you had engaged 
 a new coachman." 
 
 " It's an important step enough, no doubt," said Esther; 
 " but I have not experienced any thrills as yet; perhaps they 
 inay come later," she added, as if she were half ashamed of 
 her inappropriate self-possession and frigidity; but as she 
 spoke she knew that such thrills would not be evoked by any 
 love of hers for Selby Lay ton. 
 
 She remembered too well the electric current that had 
 rushed through every vein, every fibre of her being as Jack 
 Gordon t.id taken her in his arms and .pressed his hot lips to 
 hers, to hope that any other man could by word or caress ever 
 BO move her. 
 
 " I always said that yon were a strange girl, my dear 
 Esther," remarked Miss Worcester; " ana I am more than 
 ever convinced of the fact. Well, perhaps it is better in these 
 emotional days to seem insensible rather than to be too de- 
 monstrative; but of this I am perfectly certain, that Mr. L;y- 
 ton I really must try and call him Selby! is truly and pas- 
 sionately in love with you." 
 
 " I daresay," said Esther, with a coolness which staggered 
 the old lady; " or why should he want to marry me." 
 
 " Well, my dear," responded Miss Worcester, who was not 
 a little shocked; " you must remember that you are an heir- 
 ess, that you are the mistress of Vancourt Towers " 
 
 "And that Mr. Lav tun may be marrying me for my 
 mouev," said Esther, with a slight shriur. " T thought men
 
 LOVE, THE TYBA1TT. 277 
 
 toe wise, nowadays, in the light of our modern philoso- 
 phy, to perpetrate such a stupid act and so deprive them- 
 selves of all chance of happiness. But don't let us discuss my 
 engagement, aunt; let us accept it as an accomplished fact, 
 and with as little fuss as possible." 
 
 Miss Worcester gazed over her spectacles at the beautiful 
 face, with its white brows drawn in a slight frown, and mur- 
 mured: 
 
 "Yes, you are a strange girl my dear." Thsa, after a 
 pause, she added: " I suppose under the circumstances Mr. 
 Layton dear me, I'm afraid it will be weeks before I can 
 remember to call him Selbv! ought not to stay at the 
 Towers." 
 
 " Oh, would it be a breach of propriety?" said Esther, 
 quietly. " I suppose that is why he is going to stay at the 
 Fan worths', who have asked him to pay them a visit." 
 
 " Lady Fanworth was so delighted with his singing," said 
 Miss Worcester. " How delightful, my dear Esther, to have 
 a husband with such a lovely voice!" 
 
 ' Yes," assented Esther, absently, but with such a lack of 
 enthusiasm that Miss Worcester again stared at her, but this 
 time speechlessly. 
 
 At this moment a servant announced Mr. Floss, and Esther 
 rose and went to the library. 
 
 Once or twice, since her acceptation of Selby Layton, she 
 had felt she ought, that it was her duty, to tell him of her 
 discovery of the tin box and its strange contents; and cer- 
 tainly, if she had loved him in the very least, she would have 
 been compelled to tell him, and would gladly have obeyed*the 
 impulse; but as she certainly did not love Selby Layton, she 
 had no great difficulty in persuading herself that the secret, 
 not being entirely hers, might \rell be kept from her fiance ; 
 at any rate, that she might consult Mr. Floss, the lawyer, be- 
 fore telling Selby Layton of her curious find. 
 
 Mention has once or twice been made of Mr. Floss. He 
 was an old gentleman, who, notwithstanding his age, his 
 white hair and much lined and wrinkled face, was still ii pos- 
 session of all his faculties and legal acute ness. He was one 
 of the lawyers of the old school, devoted to the interests of 
 his clients, but a man of an independent mind, which revealed 
 itself in an abruptness of manner, and a candour which was 
 sometimes startling and disconcerting. His father and grand- 
 father before him had been the solicitors for the estate, and 
 this Mr. Floss was the only man, perhaps, who had enjoyed 
 th mnfidaiuyi of fcha late Sir Richard*
 
 278 WJVE, THE TYEAITT. 
 
 Mr, Floss nad been very kind to Esther, had,, when fnanct- 
 ing her to the wealthy lands and money which Sir Bichard had 
 so strangely and unexpected left her, saved her from much 
 trouble and vexation of spirit, and Esther, though she pre- 
 tended to be frightened at his sharp, brusque manner and 
 grimly gruff voice, was grateful to him and liked him. And 
 liked him none the less because he had once told her that he 
 should infinitely have preferred that the murdered nephew 
 should have lived and inherited the estate, instead of getting 
 himself killed in Australia and leaving it to pass to a young 
 and inexperienced girl. 
 
 '* Good-morning, Mr. Floss," said Esther, holding out her 
 hand, which he took and bent over with old-fashioned court- 
 esy. " It is a shame to trouble you, who, I know, are always 
 so busy; but I wanted to tell you something." 
 
 Now, the lawyer had already heard of the engagement of 
 his girl-client to Mr. Selby Layton such news spreads fast 
 and runs far in a place like Vancourt and as his shrewd, 
 sharp eyes rested on her face he was rather surprised but 
 surprised was not the- word, for nothing ever surprised Mr. 
 Floss not to see the maidenly blush which he expected on 
 Esther's face. 
 
 "Ah," he said, "perhaps I have heard the rumour al- 
 ready. And so, in this case, rumour does not lie? My dear 
 Miss Vancourt, I offer you my best and most sincere wishes 
 for your future happiness; and I trust that the man of your 
 choice may be, I will not say worthy, but sensible and appre- 
 ciative of the great good fortune which Heaven has sent him." 
 
 Esther blushed now, but the colour passed from her face at 
 once without the least confusion as she said : 
 
 " Oh, thank you; you are speaking of my engagement to 
 Mr. Selby Layton? Thank you very much! But I wrote to 
 ask you to be kind enough tc come to me about another busi- 
 ness." 
 
 Mr. Floss shot a keen glance at the beautiful face, and it 
 struck him that Miss Vancourt was taking' the " business " of 
 her engagement very coolly. 
 
 " Oh! Anything the matter? Have you been speculating 
 and losing your money? That's what most of you women do 
 when you have more than you know what to do with." 
 
 Esther smiled. 
 
 " On the contrary, I have been finding some," she said; 
 and she proceeded to tell him how she had found the treastue- 
 trove under the hearthstone. The old man listened, his chi n 
 in his baud* bis keen, worldly wise eyes fixed on her from
 
 I0VE, THE TYRANT. 279 
 
 under their beetling brows, but said nothing until she had 
 finished; then he remarked: 
 
 " You appear to me to be a very lucky young lady, Miss 
 Vancourt. Where is this tin? I should like to see it." 
 
 " I locked it up in my safe," she said; " I will go and 
 fetch it!" 
 
 While she was gone Mr. Floss sat and pondered, not over 
 her discovery, but the strange way in which she had accepted 
 his congratulation. 
 
 " Don't believe she Dares a brass farthing for the fellow," 
 he said. " Now, why the devil is she marrying him? That's 
 the worst of women; especially when they're young and 
 pretty: you can count upon anything else in nature; but not 
 on a girl. She'll always do the unexpected, and baffle the 
 greatest philosopher alive." 
 
 Esther returned with the tin and placed it on the table, and 
 Mr. Floss examined it and its contents closely and carefully. 
 
 " Humph!" he said at last. " A very nice little find, I 
 congratulate you, it will help to pay the expenses of the 
 honey-moon." 
 
 Esther blushed slightly and smiled; not a very mirthful 
 smile. 
 
 " But it doesn't belong to me, surely?" she said. 
 
 Mr. Floss shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ** To whom else does it belong, then?" he asked. 
 
 " To the person whom put it there." 
 
 " Exactly. But who was that person? By the way, who 
 has been living in that cottage lately? It has been empty for 
 some time, I know." 
 
 Esther tried to answer indifferently: 
 
 " Mr. Martin's foreman, Mr. Gordon." 
 
 " Ah, }es!" said Mr. Floss; " I remember him. A very 
 gentlemanly young fellow: good looking, handsome in fact; 
 very pleasant young fellow too." 
 
 Esther leant back in her easy-chair, her fingers toying with 
 a paper-knife; she examined it closely, while he was speak- 
 ing, and fought hard to keep the colour from her face, the 
 colour which had not risen to it at the mention of Selby 
 Layton. 
 
 " By the way," continued Mr. Moss, " I heard he had 
 gone. Is that so?" 
 
 ' Yes," replied Esther. 
 
 "Humph, yes! Not the sort of thing to talk about: heard 
 Bome gos-ip about a girl: old Transom's daughter. Left sud- 
 Well, I suppose, Misc V<ttiGOurt_ that thii
 
 280 WVE, THE TYEAKT. 
 
 find of yonrs belongs to this Mr. Gordon. The box 11*3 no* 
 been long under that hearthstone; and, what's more, till 
 notes have been only recently issued; here are the dates; 
 that's conclusive. I don't see his name in the pocket-book; 
 and the man's name in this certificate is not that which he 
 bore here. You had no character with him, I think, had you? 
 And knew nothing abont him?" 
 
 Esther shook her head. A feeling of humiliation attacked 
 her; and yet it did not conquer all along the line. Let sus 
 picions grow as quickly as they might, it seemed that her be- 
 tief in Jack Gordon could not be completely overthrown. 
 
 " Quite so," said Mr. Floss, '* for some reason or other this 
 young fellow who called himself Gordon, but whose name is 
 probably " he glanced at the certificate " Adolphus Robin- 
 son, had some reason for hiding these notes and this pocket- 
 book and its contents, which form evidence of his identity, I 
 suspect he did not come by these notes honestly." 
 
 Esther's brows came together, and the blood rushed to her 
 face. 
 
 "I do not know why you should say that," she said, 
 quickly. " He may not have cared to carry them about with 
 him may have put them there and forgotten them " 
 
 She bit her lip as Mr. Floss smiled grimly at the feebleness 
 of her last theory. 
 
 " Men don't stick a hundred pounds' worth of notes under 
 a hearthstone and forget them, my dear Miss Vancourt," he 
 said. " No, I am afraid that good-looking and gentlemanly 
 young fellow was a rogue. What is Mr. Selby Lay ton's 
 theory?" 
 
 Esther looked down. 
 
 " I have not told Mr. Laytpn anything about it," she said. 
 
 Mr. Floss showed his surprise at such reticence by raising 
 his shaggy brows. 
 
 " Oh!" he said, drily. "But, after all, I think your si- 
 lence was very wise. There is a little mystery here; and the 
 less one talks about a mystery until one has solved it and it 
 has ceased to become a mystery, the better. Unlike the 
 majority of your sex, my dear young lady, you appear to be 
 able to hold your tongue a precious quality in any woman, 
 an invaluable one in a wife. I will take these things and see 
 if I can trace the notes; meanwhile, perhaps you won't mind 
 continuing that extremely difficult operation?" 
 
 " What operation?" asked Esther. 
 
 " Holding your tongue, my dear Miss Vancourt," said 
 Mr. Floss. "4&oow* respecting this eruraaemeati I am
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT, 281 
 
 Wider the impression that Mr. Layton in not a wealthy man. 
 Am I right?'' 
 
 " He is not a rich man," said Esther. 
 
 " Quite so; then he will not be able to make, on his part, 
 the usual marriage settlement. You will, of coarse, have the 
 whole of your property settled in the usual way?" 
 
 " Is that necessary?" asked Esther. 
 
 The old man looked at her, not angrily, but with the pe- 
 culiarly grim smile which not only silenced, but struck awe 
 into many a client. 
 
 " I know nothing about its being necessary, my ds-ir Miss 
 Vancourt," he said. " But I do know that it will be done; 
 and I am sure that Mr. Selby Layton would be the first to 
 suggest such a settlement. Now, don't try and argue. 
 You've shown yourself up till now a most reasonable young 
 lady. You leave this matter entirely to Floss & Floss, Miss 
 Vancourt, and, if I may say so without egotism, you will have 
 no reason to regret having done so." 
 
 Esther laughed. 
 
 " I am quite sure you will do whatever you please without 
 any consent of mine, Mr. Floss," she said. 
 
 " I am quite sure I shall, my dear young lady," he as- 
 sented. " The fact of it is, I and those before me have been 
 so accustomed to advising the heads of your house and guid- 
 ing their fortunes that we have come to regard ourselves as 
 the guardian angel of Vancourt Towers. Sometimes you have 
 given us trouble the family, I mean but you generally 
 ccme round to our way of thinking; and in this instance it 
 behooves us to guard your interests " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, for the door had opened, and Selby 
 Layton stood just on the threshold. At sight of Mr. Floss he 
 started slightly, and there came to his lips the peculiar little 
 twist which he had never succeeded in mastering. The old 
 lawyer's keen, hawk-like eyes fixed themselves on Selby Lay- 
 ton's face, and at the same time, as he seemed to hold Selby 
 Lay ton's gaze, he dropped his large and old-fashioned silk 
 handkerchief over the tin box. 
 
 " I beg yocr pardon," said Selby Laytoc, in his soft voice 
 and with his most ingratiating smile, I thought you were 
 alone, Esther." 
 
 " This is Mr. Floss," said Esther, with toe repressed man- 
 ner in which she now addressed Selby Layton. 
 
 His smile grew sleeker, and he held out his hand with a 
 charming air of frankness. 
 
 " \ know Mr. Floss, by repute, at aaf te.
 
 282 LOYE, THE TYEANT. 
 
 Mr, Floss inclined his head rather shortly, said a fsw effB 
 things in his abrupt, laconic fashion, declined Esther's invita- 
 tion to lunch, and took his departure. As he was crossing 
 the hall he stopped, and said: 
 
 "Ah, by the way, I had almost forgotten! Fulford has 
 been worrying me about the Hav/k's Pool, Miss Van court. It 
 seems that this new-fangled Parish Council, pining for some- 
 thing to do, has conceived an idea that the pool is unhealthy. 
 They say that the medical officer has traced a case of scarlet 
 fever, or typhoid, or something of the kind, to the noxious 
 vapours rising from the stagnant water; and Mr. Fulford 
 tells me that the Council are going to serve us with a notice 
 to have it drained, or something of the kind What's that?" 
 
 " That " was the noise of falling china. A superb vase, 
 which, a moment before indeed, a century before had 
 sto d npon a pedestal near the stairs, lay shattered at the base 
 of the pillar, and Mr. Selby Layton stood, the picture of dis- 
 may and regret, regarding the destruction he had wrought. 
 
 " I am so very sorry!" he said. " I turned rather quickly, 
 and my sleeve caught the vase. It is dreadfully clumsy of 
 me, and I can't tell you how much I regret it." 
 
 He was evidently very much cut up by the accident, for hia 
 face was quite white as he knelt, with the usual futile object 
 of picking up the pieces; so evidently distressed that Esther 
 tried to laugn off his remorse. 
 
 " Pray don't worry about it," she said. " I wonder it has 
 not been broken years ago. I have nearly knocked it off its 
 perch half a dozen times." 
 
 " It is the Etruscan vase," said Mr. Floss, " and unique; 
 tmt I've no doubt it can be mended as to seem quite whole. 
 They tell me that there is a wonderful cement which will 
 piece even broken hearts together. My little pony carriage is 
 only at the end of the drive, Mr. Layton; pray don't trouble 
 to accompany me." 
 
 As the old man went down the avenue, leaning slightly on 
 bis stick, for he drank the lawyer's wine port, and, in conse- 
 quence, had the lawyer's complaint, gout his shaggy brows 
 worked up and down, and he muttered to himself: 
 
 " So that's to be the new master of Vancourt. Humphl 
 Don't like him: good-looking and pleasant-mannered, but 
 there's something about his face, about the lips, I think- 
 Now, why did he start when he saw me? There's nothing 
 very terrible in an old man sitting quietly in a chair. Don't 
 like nervous young men who start: got a barley-sugar yoice, 
 too: a voice iust Jake that young fellow who stole who office
 
 LOVE, THE TYBAJTI. 283 
 
 petty cash. And how did he come to knock over that Yase? 
 Sir Kichard gave fifteen hundred pounds for that piece of 
 crockery Mr. Layton wasn't standing near it a moment be- 
 fore: doesn't seem to be an awkward kind of man, rather the 
 reverse. Humph! Wonder why that sweet and pretty girl 
 is going to marry bun: didn't look and talk as if she cared 
 much for him. At any rate, we'll tie the property up pretty 
 securely. What was 1 saying when that vase tumbled down? 
 Something about the Hawk's Pool, wasn't I? Confound the 
 man! I can't get him out of my head." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 WHEN Mr. Floss had gone, Selby Layton turned to Esther 
 with renewed expressions of regret and self-reproach for his 
 " clumsiness;" he was still very white, and there was a drawn 
 look about his lips, as if he were quite upset by the accident. 
 
 " Pray don't say any more," said Esther, speaking less 
 coldly than usual; for his distress was evident and so great 
 that she pitied him. " It is really of no consequence oh, 
 yes, I believe that the vase was costly and rare, not to say 
 unique, bat there are many costly and rare, not to say unique, 
 things about the place that one gets rather weary of them and 
 is almost inclined to feel relieved when one of them gets 
 smashed. Palmer will collect the pieces carefully and I've 
 not the least doubt that they can be put together again, and 
 that, as Mr. Floss says, the vase will be all the more valuable 
 for having been broken." 
 
 He looked at her gratefully. 
 
 " How sweet you are!" he murmured, in his soft voice. 
 " You ought to have been angry with me for my carelessness. 
 By the way, what was it Mr. Floss was saying? I had just 
 knocked down a vase and only heard something about the 
 Parish Council." 
 
 "Oh, ifc-was something about the Hawk's Pool," re- plied 
 Esther; " it is curious that the subject should have cropped 
 up again if you remember we were talking about it the other 
 morning." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I remember," he said, lightly; " I do hope that 
 they will not interfere with it." 
 
 Esther shrugged her shoulders rather indifferently. 
 
 " I suppose we shall have to drain it, if they insist upon it,* 1 
 she said. 
 
 At this moment the dog-cart, that was to drive him to the 
 to the door.
 
 284 LOVE, TFE TYHAHT. 
 
 " Here i> ycror cart,*' said Esther. " 111 say 
 nov." she added, hastily, "as I want to see aunt. Please 
 give mv Kind regards to the Fan worths." 
 
 She held out her hand, feeling relieved at the thought that 
 he conld not offer to caress her in sight of the servants. 
 
 " And when shall I see you again?" he murmured, in a 
 low voice, and holding her hand. 
 
 Eelh^i- drew it away, and said, with a return of her old 
 coldness: 
 
 " Oh, you are all coming over to dine the day after to 
 morr^-v, you know." 
 
 He bit his lip. He would have liked to come over every 
 day: but, strangely enough, he felt that he could not exact 
 even this ordinary privilege of the accepted lover. 
 
 As he dro?e towards Fan worth he fought against the feeling 
 of dread, of welJ-gounded apprehension which weighed upon 
 his heart like lead; and though he could not actually see the 
 Hawk's Pool as they passed it where it lay hidden by the 
 trees, his mental eye saw it, and he shuddered. All his cun- 
 ning would be of no avail, ever? precaution he had taken 
 would be worse than useless, if that accursed pool were 
 drained and the horrible object hidden in its depths exposed 
 to view; for in the dead man's trouser pocket was the cheque 
 which Selby Layton had given him, and the existence of 
 which he, Selby, had forgotten in the intense moments after 
 the crime. He told himself that it would sever do to appear 
 at Fanworth Court with a gloomy, fear-stricken countenance, 
 which he knew he at that moment wore; so he buoyed him- 
 self up with the reflection that parish councils are slow to 
 move; that it was very probable that they would do nothing 
 in the matter of the Hawk's Pool until after his marriage 
 with Esther; and that then he could fight them in the law 
 courts and prevent them interfering with the ghastly piece of 
 water which hid his secret. 
 
 His countenance had resumed something of its usual se- 
 renity and air of self-satisfaction by the time he had reached 
 Fanworth Court, where he received the welcome which the 
 good-natured couple always extended so spontaneously to 
 their guests. Neither Lord nor Lady Fanworth, even if they 
 nad been on the rack, would have confessed that they did not 
 care very much for Mr. Selby Layton, or that they had not 
 asked him from the intense desire for hie company; it had 
 been sufficient for them that Esther, of whom they were very 
 foad, had accepted him, and that he could not very well stay 
 at the DowttEi. Lord Fan worth trotted him tomtA the nark
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 285 
 
 ana garden and over the home farm, of which he was some- 
 what proud. 
 
 "Of course, it's not nearly so large or so good a farm as 
 that of Vancourt," he remarked. "They've the best land 
 in the county, and have always been more successful in the 
 show-ring than we have. Speaking of that, I'm sorry to hear 
 that that young fellow, that young foreman of Martin's, has 
 gone. Some scandal about him, isn't there ?" 
 
 Selby Layton shook his head gravely. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "The neighborhood is well rid of him: 
 & good-looking, plausible scoundrel." 
 
 After they had trapesed round the farm and admired steers 
 and heifers, of which he knew nothing, and pigs, which he 
 loathed, it was time to dress. He was passing through the 
 hall when he heard Lady Farnworth say to her husband: 
 
 "Harry is coming down; I have just had a telegram." 
 
 And while Selby Layton was dressing, stopping every now 
 and then to thrust from him the brooding, haunting memory 
 which darkened his existence, he heard a loud and cheerful 
 voice in the hall. 
 
 On going into the drawing-room just before dinner, he saw 
 a tall, strongly built young fellow leaning against the mantel- 
 shelf. 
 
 "This is my nephew, Harry Coverdale," said Lady Fan- 
 worth. "I have just been telling him about you and Esther, 
 Mr. Layton." 
 
 Selby Layton smiled pleasantly, and the young fellow gave 
 the short nod with which men acknowledge an introduction. 
 They went in to dinner there were no other guests and the 
 nephew did most of the talking. He was very bright and 
 cheery, and a little abrupt and slightly rough in his manner 
 of speech, and Lord Fanworth, as if apologising or explain- 
 ing, said in an undertone to Selby : 
 
 "My nephew has been rather wild I don't mean in the 
 worst sense ; he is one of those restless young fellows who 
 don't seem able to stop in one place for three weeks together. 
 Fortunately for him, he has means of his own, and is able to 
 gratify his Wandering-Jew inclinations. I never know where 
 he is, and we rarely hear from him, unless it's in the shape of 
 a telegram saying that he has come from one of the far ends 
 of the earth, and will dine or stay with us. For instance, I 
 haven't the least notion where he has come from. Where have 
 you come from, Harry?" he asked, addressing the young fel- 
 low, who was making Lady Fanworth laugh with some trav* 
 ellers talc or other.
 
 286 LOVE, THE TYRA1ST. 
 
 " I hare iust come from Australia, sir," he said; *' from a 
 place I don*t suppose you ever heard of Wally Ford." 
 
 " What were you doing there?" asked Selby, with polite 
 interest 
 
 " Digging," replied Coverdale. " Did I make my fortune, 
 you are going to ask. No, I didn't!" He laughed content- 
 edly. " I don't think anyone made a fortune in Wally Ford: 
 it was never much better than * pay dirt;' and the claim I 
 was on had been pretty well worked by the two fellows of 
 whom I bought it. By the way," he went on, very gravely, 
 " I was just telling my aunt of a strange coincidence, Mr. 
 Layton. One of these men was no other than Sir Richard 
 Vancourt's nephew John Vancourt." 
 
 Selby Layton regarded the speaker with intense and genu- 
 ine interest. 
 
 " Of course that's not the name he went by; he was called 
 Arthur Burton; and I don't think in fact, I am sure that 
 no one in the camp, excepting myself, knew his right name. 
 Everybody goes by an alias in Australia, or nearly everybody, 
 for tne best or the worst of reasons, aud nobody is curious 
 about his neighbour; on the * glass houses and stone-throw- 
 ing ' principle." 
 
 " How did you learn that this Arthur Burton was Sir Rich- 
 ard Vancourt's nephew and heir?" asked Selby Layton. 
 
 " Very simply," replied Coverdale; " I borrowed a match- 
 box of him one night; he had, perhaps, years before, 
 scratched his name on it I mean his real name, Jack Van- 
 court. I up and asked him, in a moment of extreme friend- 
 liness, whether it was his name, and be admitted it. He gave 
 me the match-box as a kind of lucky gift when I bought the 
 claim of him and his partner." He sighed and looked down 
 at his plate. " I little thought that he would join the ma- 
 iority so soon afterwards. He was a splendid fellow and must 
 nave sold his life dearly. I don't think I ever saw a more 
 magnificent specimen of manhood. He was over six feet, per- 
 fectly proportioned, quick as a greyhound, and strong as a 
 lion, r ve seen that man do things that would make a profes- 
 sional ' strong man ' sit down. And to think that such a fine 
 fellow, such a good fellow, * one of the best/ should be mur- 
 dered by a blackguardly bnshrangerl" 
 
 And just after he had inherited the title and the estates," 
 Lord Farnsworth in a low voice. 
 
 " Yes, beastly bad luck," assented Coverdale; then he col- 
 urd and turned to Selby Layton apologetically. "I beg
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANTS 287 
 
 yonr pardon, Mr. Layton; I forgot for the moment that the 
 lady to whom you are engaged has come into the property. " 
 
 " No apology is needed," responded Selby, with his ingra- 
 tiatory little bow. " I assure you Miss Vancourt deeply regrets 
 ner cousin's death, and that, strange as it may seem, she 
 would have infinitely preferred that he should have lived and 
 enjoyed the title and estates." 
 
 " That is quite true," said Lord Fanworfch. " And does 
 not in the least exaggerate Miss Vancourt's feelings." 
 
 " I suppose you heard a full account of poor Arthur Bur- 
 ton's I mean Jack Vancourt's death, from the man who 
 was with him at the time, his chum . Dear me! I quite 
 forget his name; a very decent chap, quiet and reserved, and 
 rather delicate, I should think. Arthur Burton took care of 
 him, looked after him and nursed him through a fever, sev- 
 eral fevers: he was always getting them." 
 
 " No," said Selby Layton; " strange to say, this man dis- 
 appeared immediately after Vancourt's death. I don't think 
 I ever heard his name. All the details of Vancourt's death 
 came from the police." 
 
 Coverdale nodded. 
 
 "Most men in Australia have a sudden trick of disappear- 
 ing," he si*id. " I think it is not at all unlikely that this 
 churn and partner of Vancourt's met with -a somewhat simi- 
 lar death, or that he died of fever, very probably the latter, 
 for he was in a very weak condition when I last saw him, and 
 Arthur Burton was nursing him then." 
 
 Lord Fanworth, feeling that the subject was scarcely a 
 i/icii&uib one for Selby Layton, adroitly changed it; the men 
 sat for a little while over their port and then went into the 
 drawing-room where, of course, Selby Layton was asked to 
 sing and play : equally, of course, he did both remarkably 
 well; for the man was an artist, and jour artist can rise su- 
 perior to any circumstance, whin he is pushed. 
 
 Now, while he was singing, Harry Coverdale, who was font? 
 of music, was beating time with his foot; but he was watching 
 Selby Layton's face and on his own was an expression of curi- 
 osity and something like distrust which mingled rather comic- 
 ally with the expression of admiration for the singing. Selby 
 Layton had sung two songs, but good-naturedly was going 
 back to siug the third, when a footman entered the room and 
 approached him hesitatingly. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," he murmured, apologetically; 
 " but there's a man in the hall who wishes to see you. I've 
 told him, sir, to send up a message or to call in. the morning;
 
 288 EOVE, THE TYKANT. 
 
 but he refuses, and as he says that you'd be certain to 3B0 
 
 him and wouldn't like him to be sent away " 
 
 Selby smiled good-naturedly. 
 
 " What is his name?" he asked. 
 
 " He won't give any name, sir," said the footman, " He 
 says he comes from Van court." 
 
 Selby Layton turned to Lady Fanworth. 
 
 " Will you excuse me?" he asked. " Esther may have 
 sent a message, and the foolish fellow probably declines to 
 deliver it to any other hand." 
 
 He followed the footman into the hall, but could see no 
 one. 
 
 " He's waiting in the small hall, sir," explained the foot- 
 man, and he led Selby Layton down the passage into it. The 
 outer doc:* *vas open and a man was leaning against the side, 
 and in the dim light Selby Layton saw that it was Dick Reeve. 
 His nerves had been rather cruelly strained that day and he 
 felt angry. 
 
 " What do you want, my man?" he demanded. " This is 
 not the hour nor the place in which you should ask to see me. 
 Why did you not send up a message by the servant?" 
 
 Dick Eeeve waited, watching until the footman >iad disap- 
 peared and the baize door of the passage had closed behind 
 him; then he lowered his eyes to Selby Lay ton's face, and 
 said, hoarsely, as if Selby Layton's rebuke were of no im- 
 portance: 
 
 " Well, what news, what have you found out?" 
 
 Selby's anger increased. It was evident that the man had 
 been drinking; it was equally evident that he meant to be in- 
 solent. He had not changed his lounging attitude; his blood- 
 shot eyes scanned Selby Layton's smooth face with a half- 
 threatening, half -contemptuous stare. 
 
 " My good fellow, you forget yourself," said Selby. " Yon 
 should have waited until I " 
 
 Dick Reeve straightened himself and laid his hand upon 
 Selby Layton's shoulder. 
 
 " I want your answer," he said; " I've come here for it. 
 I heard that you'd come back, and I waited. You didn't 
 think it worth while to come and tell me, so I come here after 
 you. Now, out with it! Have you found her? Where is 
 she? Is she with him? Quick! I'm on fire, I'm burning, I 
 tell you! Quick!" 
 
 Selby Layton wrenched his shoulder away from the man's 
 3, and warm with anger and indignation, retorted: 
 " don't know bv what right you Question me. I do not
 
 LOVE, TEC TYBASi; 239 
 
 fetiow that I have any right to answer your question. You 
 y.re not the girl's brother or any relation. Her father is the 
 only man who has the right to ask me such questions, the 
 only person to \vhom I should give any information. I have 
 no more to say to you. ~ou had better go back to Vancourt; 
 aud if you take my advice, you will not drink any more to- 
 " 
 
 Dick Reeve's flushed face was contorted by an ugly smile. 
 He regarded Selby Layton in silence for a moment, as if paus- 
 ing from an inability to make up his mind; words seemed to 
 tremble on his lips, words which he kept back as if by an 
 effort. 
 
 " Come on :">w, sir," he said, with a kind of mockery of 
 persuasiveness, '* you know how fond I was of her; just tell 
 me the truth." 
 
 Selby Layton drew himself up and shook his head reso- 
 lutely. 
 
 " I will tell you nothing," he said. " You've no right to 
 ask; you are extremely insolent it's like your impudence to 
 follow me here, to annoy me and I see no reason, not a sin- 
 gle reason, why I should humour you. Her father is the 
 person " 
 
 Dick Reeve lurched slightly, and his hand fell upon Selby 
 Laytou's shoulder aud gripped it, this time too tightly to be 
 shaken off. 
 
 " You don't know no reason?" he said, thrusting his head 
 forward so that his hot spirituous breath burnt on Selby Lay 
 ton's smooth face. " You don't know no reason? S'pose 1 
 give you one. One good 'un, a wopper: eh? Well, I will* 
 But not here. Cume come outside. 
 
 He twisted Se.lby Layton's slight figure round and drew 
 him into the open air. It was pitch dark. Selby Layton, 
 being a coward, began to fear for his safety, and he opened 
 his mouth to call for assistance; but Dick Reeeve clapped his 
 hand over the mouth and whispered something in Selby Lay- 
 ton's ear; something that struck him motionless for an in- 
 stant, then sent him staggering against the wall, as if he had 
 been smitten with a sudden and deathly faintness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 SELBY LAYTON leant against the wall, his hands pressing 
 against it for support, his breath coming in laboured gasps, 
 and his eyes distended wi th the terror caused by Dick Reeve's 
 Whispered words. For a moment or two the dsathlv faintness
 
 290 LOVE, THE TYRANT, 
 
 overwhelmed him and rendered him incapable of speech, at 
 most of though^ and Dick Reeve watched him with a hall- 
 contemptuous, half-malicious smile. 
 
 " It's rather took you by surprise, ain't it?" he said, with 
 something between a hiccough and a laugh. " You've 
 changed your mind about telling me about Kate, eh? Out 
 with it where is she?" 
 
 Selby Lay ton straightened himself and passed his handker- 
 chief over his lips which were livid and quivering. He looked 
 round him, from side to side, very much as a rat looks when 
 it is driven into a corner. The door through they had come 
 was open, one of the servants might pass at any moment and 
 see and hear them. He made a sign to Dick Reeve to follow 
 him, and went into the shrubbery close at hand. 
 
 Dick Reeve lurched after him, and Selby Layton, sinking 
 into an old seat which had been removed from the garden, 
 looked up at him with a forced smile. 
 
 " I can understand your anxiety to obtain news of your 
 sweetheart, Reeve; and I should have relented and given you 
 the information; there was no occasion for the invention of 
 the absurd fairy tale which you have concocted " 
 
 Dick Reeve dropped on to the seat beside him with an inso^ 
 lent laugh. 
 
 *' That's how you take it, mister, is it?" he said. " Well, 
 you can take it as you like, it's all one to me. I was there, 
 and I saw you; and what's more I heard every word that 
 passed betwixt you." He nodded significantly and confiden- 
 tially. " Where's my Kate, and is he with her?" 
 
 But Selby Layton could give no thought to Kate Transom 
 in this moment of peril and dread. 
 
 " You say yon saw " he stammered out with an affect* 
 tion of banter and amusement. 
 
 Dick Reeve spat ostentatiously and nodded again. 
 
 " Yes, I was there, I tell you. I was in the woods when 
 the strange chap came into them, and it struck me that he 
 was after something, that he wasn't only walking through 
 'em; so I followed him to the pool, keepin' out of sight, and 
 1 knew that he was watchin* for some one. Then presently 
 I heard you. And I saw yon coming along, sly-like as you 
 tnought, and I knew it was you he was waiting for and that 
 you was going to meet him. It was only natural that I should 
 feel curious like as to what was up between you, and why 
 you, a gentleman from the Towers, should meet a stranger in 
 Vancourt Woods, wasn't it? and so I crept quite close you 
 very nearly heard me one time, and I was so near that I
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 291 
 
 could have almost touched you when you stooped for the 
 
 gun " 
 
 Selby Layton covertly wiped the sweat from his white face. 
 
 " It was a neat knock," said Dick Reeve. " I didn't know 
 as a weak kind of cove like you could have managed it; but I 
 suppose it caught him in the right place, and the second blo\r 
 settled him: hadn't a chance, had ne, you taking him from 
 behind?" 
 
 Selby Layton forced a laugh. 
 
 " And do you imagine that anyone would believe this cock- 
 and-bull story, Reeve? Don't you think they would be more 
 ready to suspect another person?" 
 
 Dick Reeve glanced at him contemptuously. 
 
 " What other person?" he asked. 
 
 " Yourself, for instance," said Selby Layton, with am as* 
 sumption of er'J.iess. 
 
 Dick Reeve lauded hoarsely. 
 
 " Me? Why ahouli I kill the chap?" 
 
 Selby shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Why should I?" he retorted. 
 
 Dick Reeve spat again. 
 
 " 'Cos he knew too much about you, mister," he replied, 
 " and could spoil your game, by splitting about your missus 
 I tell \ou I heard every word, and what's more look here!" 
 
 He fumbled in his pocket, and dragging out the photo- 
 graph, the pen, and the piece of paper, held them up and 
 shook them in Selby Lay ton's face. 
 
 Selby Layton could not go whiter than he already was, and 
 he suppressed the shudder which ran through him at sight of 
 the articles he had been mad enough to leave behind him. 
 
 " My good fellow, you are actually in possession of the dead 
 man's property, and you do not see why you should be sus- 
 pected! Grant that I met this man, this unknown stranger, 
 that a conversation took place, which you say you overheard, 
 that I bribed the man why should you not have murdered 
 him after I left him, killed him for the money which I had 
 given him?" 
 
 Dick Reeve started and looked at his companion's face, 
 Been only dimly in the darkness. Then he sprang to his feet, 
 his face flushed with passion. 
 
 " You're a cool hand, mister^" he srid, with a oath. " But 
 you don't scare me with that' Why, I've got the gun at 
 home you did it with!" 
 
 " There you are again!" said Selby Layton, almost good* 
 humourouly. " Your gun!"
 
 292 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 Not my gun; it's that hound Gtauaft*" 
 Dick Eeeve. 
 
 Set by Lay ton started and peered at him. 
 
 " Gordon's?" 
 
 " Yes! I found it found it down the wen. When 
 went off and we didn't know what had happened to &:.. J 
 thought of the well, thought she might have slipped h 
 got a rope and went down by myself without anyone kno^ r 
 but she wasn't there but the gun was cute of you to d 
 it in that old well! and if I hadn't been hunting for Ea<o 
 and thought of it, it might have stayed there till the enJ f 
 time." 
 
 Selby Layton still picked at his lips as if lost in speculation, 
 
 " I didn't put it there," he said, almost to himself. 
 
 Dick Reeve sneered. 
 
 " Tell chat to the judge and jury, when you go before 
 *em," he remarked. 
 
 " No, I didn't put it there," he repeated in a low voice. 
 " I placed it against the tree, as you saw me," he went on, 
 with a coolness which startled Dick Reeve, " and I have not 
 seen it since. The man to whom it belonged must have car- 
 ried it away. Why did he throw it down the well?" 
 
 Dick Reeve was silent a moment or two, then he jerked up 
 his head. 
 
 " I don't know, and I don't care; that's your business, Mr. 
 Layton. What I care about is Kate. Are you going to an- 
 swer my question, and tell me whether you've found her, or 
 am I to walk into the house behind us here and tell 'em what 
 I saw and heard in the Vancourt Woods. Out wi' it. I'm 
 in no mood for more palaver. Have you found her, or 
 haveu't you? If not, I'm going to London to search for Vc 
 myself " 
 
 " I have found her," said Selby Layton. 
 
 Dick Reeve leant forward, his breath coming fast and 
 thickly. 
 
 " And and is she wi' him?" 
 
 Stlby Layton nodded. 
 
 " She is with the man Gordon " 
 
 Dick Reeve uttered a fearful oath and stretched uui 'iis, 
 closed hand with a ferocious gesture. 
 
 " I thought it! I knew it!" he muttered, hoarsely. " I'll 
 follow them! I'll have his heart's blood " 
 
 His passion was so great that it choked his utterance for a 
 moment; then, with a string of oaths, he turned on Seiby 
 Layton fiercely.
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 293 
 
 " Curse you! why didn't yon come and tell me? What did 
 you keep me waiting for? I've lost time they'll be off he'll 
 escape me! Where is he? Where shall I find them? Lon- 
 don's a big place tell me quick! I'll kill him, if I have to 
 swing for it!" 
 
 Selby Layton leant his chin in his hand, and was silent fof 
 a moment; then he said, very quietly: 
 
 " They are living in a street called Chase Street. It is a 
 shoemaker's shop " 
 
 " Tell me slowly here, write it down- curse the darkness! 
 Come to the light!" 
 
 Sr-Iby Layton laid a hand on Reeve's arm. 
 
 " No, no; stay where you are. Chase Street." He re- 
 peated it several times. " I will tell you how to get there; I 
 will give you the money for your journey, and I will give you 
 some good advice also, Eeeve " 
 
 " Curse your advice! But I'll take your money. You and 
 me, mister, will have to talk over money matters when I've 
 finished with the man who's taken my Kate from me." 
 
 Selby Layton took some gold from his waistcoat pocket. 
 
 " Here is some money for your journey and expenses," he 
 said. " As to any further sums, we can arrange, as you say. 
 I'm willing to buy those things from you not because I'm 
 afraid of being charged with the murder, but because they are 
 of value to me. I shall give you a couple of hundred pounds 
 for them not one penny mere " 
 
 Dick Eeeve had risen and was buttoning up his rough 
 coat. 
 
 " Afterwards afterwards!" he said, hoarsely, impatiently. 
 " I can't think of anything now but Kate and the man that's 
 ruined her. The black-hearted scoundrel!" 
 
 Selby Layton regarded him musingly. 
 
 " You want your revenge, Reeve?" he said. 
 
 Dick Reeve uttered a icrocious oath. 
 
 " Aye: and I mean to have it, if I go to the gallows for it!" 
 
 "Ah," said Selby Layton, smoothly; " that's weak and 
 foi!ish. Instead of going to the gallows, Reeve, why net send 
 this fellow Gordon there?" 
 
 " Eh?" said Reeve, pausing as he was going c,r:l looking 
 over his shoulder at Selby Layton. 
 
 Selby nodded impressively. 
 
 " Don't you see?" he said, in a low voice. '* You made a 
 mistake that night, my good fellow. Strange! because we 
 are not very much alike; he is taller and broader than I am; 
 but still, at night it is easy to mistake"
 
 294 WJVE, THE TYBANT. 
 
 Dick Reeve came back to him. 
 
 " "What are you talking about?" he asked, impatienu,. 
 ' Who did I mistake you for?" 
 
 "This fellow Gordon!" said Selby Lay ton. Then he 
 stretched out his hand and laid it on Dick Reeve's arm and 
 gripj)ed it tightly with each word. " Don't you see? Gordon 
 was in the wood that night: he disappeared, left Vancourt 
 suddenly and with scarcely a word to anyone; you found his 
 gun in the well you overheard him talking to the stranger, 
 but have held your tongue because you yourself were poach- 
 ing at the time. You see? You want your revenge, you are 
 ready to risk getting hanged for it: take your revenge by 
 hanging him!" 
 
 Dick Reeve stood and glared, as if the idea were slowly 
 filtering to his brain; then he threw up his head and his black 
 eyes gleamed savagely. 
 
 "that's good!" he said, in a thick whisper. " That's 
 good! You're cuter that I thought even, mister! Yes; Gor- 
 don's the man! I swear I saw him do it! It was him, nofc 
 you! Now, then, where's my Kate? Tell me once more!" 
 
 Selby Layton told him how to get to Chase Street. 
 
 " But hold your tongue about the murder, for the pres- 
 ent," he said. " Wait till I give you the word follow my 
 directions and I will give you the sweetest revenge. Hush! 
 There is some one coming!" 
 
 He rose as he whispered the caution, and, in a louder voice, 
 said: 
 
 " I am sorry to hear of your distress, my man, and I will 
 eee what can be done for you. Good-night!" 
 
 After Dick had gone, Selby Layton remained for a minute 
 or two with his hands pressed to his head. He was in deadly 
 peril, but there was just the chance that with Dick Reeve's 
 aid he might shift the charge of murder on to Gordon. There 
 would be no necessity to charge him with it unless the pool 
 were drained and the body found; but if they were, if the 
 crime were brought to light, then Gordon must be sacrificed. 
 He went back to the drawing-room 
 
 " It was a man from Vancourt a man named Dick 
 Eeeve," he said to Lord Fanworth. " The poor fellow is in 
 great trouble at the loss of his sweetheart you remember tha 
 case the fellow, Gordon, you know? I gave him some 
 money to take him to London. He seemed to have some- 
 thing else on his mind I could scarcely make out what it 
 was, and he checked himself in the midst of an incoherent 
 account of something mysterious he had seen; it is evident
 
 B0VE, THE TYRAOT. 295 
 
 poor fellow is thrown off his balance by his sweet- 
 heart's desertion of him." 
 
 He said this with a grave air of sympathy which made a 
 very favourable impression upon the Fan worths; and Harry 
 Coverdale wondered if he had mentally done Mr. Selby Lay- 
 ton an injustice. The next day but one they went over to 
 the Towers to dine as had been arranged, and Lord Fanworth 
 presented his nephew, with an explanation of his sudden and 
 unexpected arrival and an apology for bringing him to the 
 Towers. Esther was ** taken " by the handsome and boyish 
 young fellow in some strange way he reminded her of Jack 
 Gordon and Harry Coverdale immediately conceived a liking 
 for the young girl who had so romantically come into the 
 Vancourt pn-perty. 
 
 Before dinner was announced they had become something 
 like friends; and he was wondering why she looked so pale 
 and what the touch of subdued silence meant in her beautiful 
 eyes; he also noticed that no light of love and pride dispelled 
 the melancholy when she looked at or spoke to Mr. Selby 
 Layton, the man to whom she was engaged, who hovered 
 about them as if he were inclined to be jealous of her suddea 
 friendship with the young man. 
 
 Harrv Coverdale was very amusing during dinner, partly 
 because he could not help it, and partly because he wanted to 
 make his beautiful young hostess smile; and he succeeded, 
 Esther felt brighter than she had done since since Jack 
 Gordon had gune. 
 
 After dinner, when the gentlemen entered the drawing- 
 room, Harry Coverdale went straight to Esther and began to 
 tell her some of his adventures and experiences; and pres- 
 ently he brought in Australia. She turned to him directly 
 with increased interest. 
 
 " Anything about Australia interests me," she said;." for 
 though I've not been there I am somewhat closely connected! 
 with it. You know the story of Sir Richard's nephew and 
 heir, the young man, who would have inherited all this if he 
 had lived? He was murdered," she added in a low voice, 
 " soon after his uncle's death, and so I came into the prop- 
 erty." 
 
 " I know: I have heard," he said. 
 
 " Then again," she went on in a still lower voice, " I had 
 a brother out there; he died some time ago; so that Australia 
 IB a fateful country for me." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Harry Coverdale, with his frank 
 young sympathy for this beautiful young girl, sole mistress of
 
 296 LOVE, THE TYEANTi' 
 
 the vast Vancourfc property. " I was talking to Mr. Selbf 
 Layton &nd my uncle of the strange coincidence by which I 
 became acquainted with Sir Richard's nephew. He was called 
 Arthur Burton then." 
 
 He told her the story of the claim he had bought of the 
 two men, and spoke of " Arthur Burton " with the same en 
 ihusiasm he had displayed when discussing the matter at the 
 Fan worths' table. 
 
 " It is a thousand pities he didn't live," said Esther, with 
 a sigh. " From what you say of him he would have made a 
 magnificent master of Vancourt, and would no doubt have 
 been so superbly happy; while I " 
 
 "Don't say that you are not happy!" he said, leaning 
 nearer to her. 
 
 She tried to smile, but her under-lip quivered and the long 
 lashes swept b^r cheek. 
 
 " I have some photographs of Australian scenery which my 
 brother sent over to me," she said. " Would you like to see 
 them?" 
 
 He said at once and eagerly that he should, and she went; 
 to her room and brought down a small card-board boz con 
 taining the usual photographs. 
 
 " Oh, I know most of these places," he said, as they 
 turned them over together. " That is Wally Ford; and that 
 is Three Streams; and that is Digger's Dump; and that " 
 He broke off and picked up the photograph of a man, a 
 young and delicate-looking man in the ordinary digger's suit. 
 Why, I know that man!" he exclaimed. " That's the man 
 who was with Sir Richard's nephew, Arthur Burton. I for- 
 get this man's name; he was Arthur Burton's that is of 
 course Vancourt's great chum; Vancourt nursed him 
 through ever so many illnesses. I can't recall his name!" 
 
 Esther regarded him in silence; her face had grown a little 
 paler. 
 
 " I wish I could remember," said Harry Coverdale. '* Let 
 me think! It was . No, I can't remember. Yes, I can! 
 It was Jack Gordon!" 
 
 Esther did not start, bat the colour rushed to her face and 
 her hands went in search of the chair, for she was startled, 
 greasy startled. 
 
 " Are you sure?" sh-3 asked. 
 
 " Quite sore," responded Coverdale. ** I knew them both 
 well; I am as sure as I am of my name, now that I have re- 
 membered it." 
 
 " And Qt TOO w mistaken,' ' she HiYT vorv ouiatlv; *' thai
 
 IOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 fe a portrait of my brother, and he died nearly two years 
 ago.' f 
 
 Harry Coverdale looked at her with surprise and a gravity 
 that grew intense. Then he carried the photograph to a light 
 and examined it closely, and came back and stood beside her 
 r.'ith bent head and pursed lips. After a moment he looked 
 at her. and said : 
 
 "Miss Vancourt, I am one of those men who never make 
 a mistake in a face. If this is the portrait of your brother, I 
 saw him alive just after Christmas and he was in the com- 
 pany, he was the chum, of Arthur Burton, that is young 
 vancourt. He was the man who was with him when he was 
 BLiuiJered." 
 
 Esther sank into a chair and looked up at him overwhelmed 
 by wonder and conjecture. 
 
 " But we heard that my brother died a year before that." 
 
 Coverdale shook his head. 
 
 " I am not mistaken," he said. " tiook at that arm; take 
 this magnifying glass. What is that on the arm? It is a 
 tattoo mark. I have seen that tattoo mark on the arm of 
 Jack Gordon any number of times. I might be misled by a 
 chance likeness, but it is too improbable that your brother 
 should be like the man I know and that he should have a 
 similar tattoo mark. I am afraid I startled you I ain always 
 so :ndden and abrupt! Pray, pray forgive me!" 
 
 " There is nothing to forgive," she said, faintly. Her 
 heart was beating so fast that she could scarcely breathe; for 
 it seemed to her that she was on the threshold of some mys- 
 tery. The name, Jack Gordon, might only be a coincidence: 
 there might be hundreds of Jack Gordons in the world and 
 many in Australia; and yet - The very sound of the name 
 had set every nerve in her body thrilling. 
 
 " Can you can you tell me what young Vancourt Arthur 
 Burton, as he called himself was like?" she asked, after a 
 pause, during which Harry Coverdale stood near her, watch- 
 mg her gravely and with manly sympathy. 
 
 " I'll try," he said. " He was tall, over six feet, broad- 
 sho?i"dered, but thin and lithe; rather dark than fair, with 
 dark eyes. He had rather an abrupt and short way of speak- 
 ing, and a deep voice; his manner was a little devil-may-care" 
 ish." 
 
 Esther's breath came faster. 
 
 " Was there no mark on the face, anything P* 
 
 Coverdale though for a moment. 
 
 f * T;iC> rnlv mark I can remember was a scar on bis chest
 
 198 LOVE, THE TYRAJTt 
 
 just beneafo bis neck What is the matter, Miss Van* 
 court?" for Esther had utteied a low cry, too low to attract 
 the attention of the others in the room, and had sunk back in 
 her chair as if she had received a shock. 
 
 " And you are sure that this Arthur Burton, whom you 
 describe, was Sir Richard's nephew?" 
 
 " I am," he replied, gravely;." as I told you, I discovered 
 him by chance, by borrowing his match-box. There was no 
 reason why he should have lied to me; in fact, Arthur Burton 
 was incapable of lying. Here is the match-box," he took it 
 out of his pocket and held it out to her. 
 
 Esther took it and looked at the name, John Vancourt, 
 ecratched on it; then she looked up at Harry Coverdale's face 
 with a doubt that was piteous in its intensity. 
 
 " Will you let me may I keep this for a little while?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " I was going to ask you to be so gracious as to accept it, 
 Miss Vancourt," he said; " though I value it as a memento 
 of a good fellow who was killed, it must naturally be of a 
 deeper interest to you. Please keep it." 
 
 She thanked him with her eyes; then she put her hands to 
 her forehead. 
 
 " Who was killed?" she murmured, in a strained voice, as 
 if she were bewildered. 
 
 " Yes," he said, gravely. " Poor fellow! I little thought 
 when I was buying the claim that I should never see him 
 again, that he would so soon meet such a tragic fate." 
 
 " Yes of course he was killed," murmured Esther, as if 
 she scarcely knew what she was saying. "And my brother 
 was with him? Oh, I cannot think, my brain is in a whirl!" 
 She rose, then dropped back again. 
 
 Coverdale was very much distressed by her emotion. 
 
 " I am so sorry," he murmured in a low voice. " Of 
 .course I can see what is agitating you the thought that your 
 brother may still be alive." 
 
 Esther looked at him with eyes that had almost a wild ex- 
 pression In them. 
 
 *' No I don't know! I cannot think -cannot see my 
 way. It is all dark and confusing and bewildering." She 
 looked up at him again suddenly. ** Yon are staying at Fan- 
 worth you are not going yet?" 
 
 " I was going to-morrow," he said; " but there is no par- 
 ticular reason why I should, and I will stay. If I can be of 
 any use to you, if I can answer any questions, if there is any- 
 thing that I can do for you, however slight, you will send for
 
 THE TYEAIfT. 299 
 
 me, Miss Vanconrt? No, I will not wait for that I will 
 oome over to-morrow; perhaps by that time you may have 
 thought of some question you would like to ask me; and 
 meanwhile I will try and remember everything I can about 
 your brother and Arthur Burton " 
 
 " You mean Jack Gordon?" said poor Esther, conf used!)-. 
 
 T le looked at her, himself confused for a moment. 
 ; No:' that was your brother's assumed name," he said. 
 
 At that moment Lord Fanworth came over to them to ask 
 her to beg a song of Mr. Selby Layton. She went to Selby 
 Layton, who was standing talking to Lady Fanworth, but 
 who had been watching Esther and Coverdale covertly. 
 
 " Will you sing?" she asked, and her voice was constrained 
 and almost toneless. 
 
 " Certainly, dearest," he responded; " but are you ill, 
 faint? You look quite white!" 
 
 !< No, no; it is nothing!" she said. " Please go and sing." 
 
 When he had gone to the piano she went to the window, 
 and opening it, drew a breath of the cool night air, and it 
 brought her strength with which to vanquish the faintness 
 which had assailed her. 
 
 After Selby Layton had sung his song, the Fan worths' car- 
 riage was announced, together with the dog-cart in which 
 Selby Layton and Harry Coverdale had driven over. Before 
 leaving, Selby Layton endeavoured to get a few minutes alone 
 with Esther; but she eluded him in the subtle way in which 
 women even the most guileless of them are so proficient. 
 But just as the party were going, she left Harrv Coverdale's 
 side and went up to Selby Layton as he was putting on his 
 overcoat. 
 
 " What is the address at which you say you saw Kate Tran- 
 som?" she asked. 
 
 Sf.lby Lay ton paused with one arm in his coat, and turned 
 nis face to her with a lock of surprise, and with the peculiar 
 twist in his lip. 
 
 " No. 16 Chase Street, East," he said. " But why do you 
 ask, dearest?" 
 
 " I thought that I should like to know," she said, gravely. 
 
 " Let me beg yon not to worry yourself about about the 
 girl," he murmured. " She is not worth a thought of yours. 
 &ood-night, my beloved." 
 
 She responded to his fervent adieu with a grave " Good- 
 night!" and when the carriages had driven away she went on 
 to the terrace and paced up and down, her brows knit, and 
 sometimes with her hand to her forehead. The night was not
 
 uOO HOVE, THE TYEAITfi 
 
 too warm, but she felt burning hot, for her brain was tort* 
 nred by the problem which Harry Coverdale's communication 
 had set her. 
 
 Had her brother been alive when Arthur Burton died? If 
 so, where was he? Why had he not come forward and given a 
 full account of Arthur Burton's death? How did it come to 
 pass that her brother and the man who had acted as Martin's 
 foreman bore the same name, Jack Gordon? How was it that 
 Harry Coverdale's description of John Vancourt tallied ex- 
 actly with that of the Jack Gordon whom she knew, the man 
 who had won her heart and kissed her, the man who had 
 gone off with Kate Transom? Such an involved problem 
 would have been too much for a cuter and keener brain than 
 Esther's; it kept her tossing to and fro in her bed, and was 
 with her when she went down to breakfast the next morning, 
 pale and harassed-looking. Suddenly she said to Miss Worces- 
 ter, who was cackling over last night's dinner-oarty, and sing- 
 ing everybody's praises in her enthusiastic fashion: 
 
 " Aunt, I shall have to go up to London to-day; can yon 
 be ready in time to catch the ten-thirty train?" 
 
 " My dear Esther!" exclaimed Miss Worcester, dropping 
 her toast and staring at Esther's pale face; but Esther broke 
 in upon any expressions of surprise and possible questions. 
 
 " I have to go up on business, aunt, unexpectedly. We 
 will put up at one of the hotels; I shall not need to be away 
 for longer than one night." 
 
 " Of course, my dear Esther, if you must go! But does 
 Selby know?" 
 
 Esther frowned slightly; she had almost forgotten the man 
 to whom she was engaged. 
 
 ** Scarcely," she replied, " seeing that I myself have only 
 known it within the last few minutes. I am sorry to hurry 
 you, auntie, dear; but we shall have to be quick. I must 
 catch that train." 
 
 As they were getting into the brougham, attended by 
 Palmer and quite a bevy of servants, Esther turned to Palmer, 
 and said: 
 
 " If Mr. Coverdale should come over to-day, please tell 
 him that I have had to go to London on business, and that I 
 hope I shall see him before he leaves Fan worth." 
 
 * And what message are yon going to leave for dear 
 Selby?" whispered Miss Worcester, with a simper; but 
 Esther affected not to hear the sentimental suggestion, and 
 
 the brougham drove off. 
 
 *****,**
 
 , TEE TTSAHT. 301 
 
 That, evening as Jack was driving home from his work, he 
 was asking himself seriously the question which had sprung 
 into his mind while he and Kate Transom had been sitting 
 under the tree in Victoria Park. Several times that day ifc 
 had recurred to him and haunted him, just as a neglected 
 duty haunts and bothers one: hadn't he better marry Kate 
 Transom, who who seemed to care a little for him, take her 
 but to Australia, forget Esther and Vanconrt Towers, and be 
 be happy? Every time he asked himself the question, com- 
 mon sense replied coldly, " Yes;" then, almost in the same 
 breath, something within his heart rose and whispered re- 
 proachf ully, ' ' No ! Of all the mean things a man can com- 
 mit, there is none meaner and more despicable than to marry 
 one woman while he is in love with another." And what be- 
 tween his heart and his common sense, Jack was pretty con- 
 siderably worried, and his step was not so light as usual, nor 
 his face so cheerful as was its wont, as he pushed open the 
 Jialf door and entered the sitting-room. 
 
 Mordy Jane was getting his tea, and as she bundled her 
 father into a corner, so that she might lay the cloth, she eyed 
 Jack's pensive face with magpie scrutiny. 
 
 " You look as if you'd fairly got the 'ump, Mr. Gordon!" 
 she said. " An' I dessay you 'ave. Serve yer right, too.; 
 why don't yer get married, like a sensible man?" 
 
 " Well, you see, I am waiting for you, Mordy Jane," said 
 Jack. " Of course, I've long known you've marked me for 
 your own, and I'm just waiting." 
 
 " That's what the empty pie-dish said to the rabbit!" said 
 Mordy Jane, with a sniff. " But you've got to ketch yer 
 rabbit before yer makes yer pie; an' I ain't gpin' to be caught 
 for ever so long. I've seen too much of marriages to be eager 
 for it myself; besides, I should want a man with some brains; 
 an' you don't appear to be troubled with too many." 
 
 " You're quite right, Mordy Jane!" assented Jack, with 
 the cheerful humility which always disarmed the young vixen. 
 " How is Kate this evening? I've not seen her for two days." 
 
 " That's your fault and your misfortune, too," retorted 
 Mordy Jane. " I dessay you would have seen her for the 
 asking. She has gone out for a little walk, jest to try her 
 pins, with Miss Woods; an* I tell yer she fetches the whole 
 Street" 
 
 ' Who, Miss Woods?" asked Jack, densely. 
 
 " No; stoopirl-'ead," said Mordy Jane, eyeing him scorn- 
 fully. " Kate, o' course. I tell >er she's a stunner; she's 
 AS puffectiv lovelv as the orals vou sea in th inat. vow of the
 
 302 LOVE, THE 
 
 bally at the theatre; an' mind yon, they puts all the fast- 
 class 'uns there. If I was a man an' that gal lived in the 
 same 'ouse with me, I'd up an' marry 'er if I 'ad to 'ire a 
 coach-an'-four an' a couple o' brigands to carry 'er off. But 
 there, some men I don't mention no names, 'cos I've been 
 properly brought up is as blind as they're silly, an' don't 
 know a pretty gal when she's right under their nose. There! 
 go and clean yerself, an* come down and get yer tea; though 
 it do seem a pity to me sometimes to waste good vittles upon 
 sich a six-footed idiot." 
 
 Jack went meekly upstairs, not feeling quite sure that he 
 didn't deserve Mordy Jane's trenchant abuse; and while he 
 was gone Miss Woods and Kate Transom returned. The 
 sight of them inspired Mordy Jane with what she called an 
 " hidea," and winking and motioning to Miss Woods to go on 
 upstairs, she drew Kate Transom into the little room, and 
 pushing her into a chair, remarked: 
 
 " You're going to have a cup o' tea before you climb them 
 stairs, Kate, so take off yr 'at an' undo that shawl." 
 
 " Thank you but I'm sitting in Mr. Gordon's chair," 
 murmured Kate. 
 
 " No, you ain't," retorted Mordy Jane. " These chairs 
 belongs to me; never you mind where you're sittin' 'Ere's 
 yer tea and there's a piece o' 'ot toast Oh, yet needn't 
 look at it in that shy way; it ain't Mr. Gordon's; leastvr.iys, 
 there's plenty more for Mm." 
 
 Kate blushed and leant back, and presently Jack came 
 flown. The light which always shone in her eyes at his ap- 
 pearance shone there now, and the delicate colour rose to her 
 face, heightening its beauty. 
 
 " Halloo, Kate!" said Jack, with just the slightest touch 
 of embarrassment, for the question was still hammering at 
 his mind. *' Glad to hear you've been out again, ana to see 
 you looking so much better. Thank you, Mordy Jane." 
 
 He took his tea and was going to seat himself upon the 
 bench, but Mordy Jane gave him a slight shove towards the 
 chair next Kate's. 
 
 " Do sit down and keep your long legs out of my way!" 
 she said; " not as they'll oe in my way long, for I'm goin* 
 out with father to see him pay Ms supscribshion to the 
 hautumn Goose Club; 'cos I'm goin' to tell Mr. Swobs, th 
 landlord as 'olds it, that I ain't a-going to 'ave one like what 
 we 'ad last Christmas, which I should say was fed on shavin'f 
 and cement. Jb'atber and me was so exhausted trying to cvt 
 it up that) we was too tired to eat our puddJB'-"
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. '303 
 
 She tied the preposterous bonnet under her chin, found a 
 dilapidated tall hat for her father, jammed it on his head 
 well over one eye, and calling to him to fullow her, bounced 
 out. 
 
 Jack sat drinking his tea and munching his bread and butter 
 and staring at the fire; and Kate leant back in her chair out- 
 wardly calm, though the faint flush was still upon her cheeks, 
 but inwardly thrilling with his nearness. He glanced at her 
 presently and was struck, as Chase Street apparently was, by 
 her beauty; but it awakened only cold admiration which is 
 the opposite pole to love. Presently she broke the silence, 
 and looking at him, said: 
 
 " I have been talking to Miss Woods; I have been asking 
 her if she could get me a situation like hers, or some work to 
 do such as she does; but she said ' No ' and seemed fright- 
 ened; yes, as if she were frightened by my asking her. 1 
 must get something to do, Mr. Gordon," her voice shook, her 
 hands twisted together, and she turned her head away. *' I 
 cannot go on living like this a burden on you living on 
 charity I cannot bear it any longer " 
 
 Her voice broke, and he knew the tears were in her eyes. 
 
 *' Don't talk about being a burden, Kate,"he said; " as 1 
 said the other day, you'd do the same for me, for any friend, 
 who needed your help. But I'm glad you spoke, for other 
 reasons. I'm thinking of going out to Australia " 
 
 She turned to him suddenly with an expression on her face 
 as if she'd forgotten about hrself and all her thoughts were 
 concentrated on him. 
 
 " Yes, I am glad, glad, glad! You will go at once ah, 
 you will go at once!" 
 
 Jack was rather puzzled by her intense earnestness, but he 
 nodded gravely. 
 
 " Yes, there is no reason why I should stay, or why I 
 should not. But, Kate, I have been thinking of you as well, 
 and what you are going to do." 
 
 She flushed. 
 
 " It doesn't matter about me," she said in a low, quick 
 voice. " I can hide here in London, and no one can find me; 
 and if they found me, they could not force me to speak, ti 
 utter a word. I would die first and you know it." 
 
 Jack felt still more puzzled and confused by her manner 
 and speech, but he went on, with his purpose held straight 
 before him. 
 
 " I was wondering, Kate, whether you-d like to come ojtt 
 to Australia," he said; " to go out with me."
 
 304 LOVE, THE TYBA1TT. 
 
 The colour slowly ebbed from her face and she 
 him with a strange look in her large eyes. 
 
 " With you!" she repeated in a low voice 
 
 " Yes," said Jack, leaning forward and half unconsciously 
 laying his hand on her arm. " See here, Kate; I've been 
 thinking about about you and me; about what is to become 
 of you if I make a bolt of it; and I've come to the conclusion 
 that I'm going to surprise you, Kate, perhaps make you 
 angry hut we're old friends, so to speak, you and I, and " 
 
 At this moment a boy's head wearing a peaked cap, with a 
 gold " Hotel Metropole " around the band, appeared above 
 the door-way, and a shrill voice belonging to the owner of the 
 head demanded ia Cockney accents: 
 
 " Does Mr. Gordin live here?" 
 
 Jack rose alas! not sorry for the interruption. 
 
 " That's my name," he said. 
 
 " 'Ere's a letter for yer," said the boy. " Await answer.** 
 
 The paraffin lamp had not been lit. Jack went outside and 
 looked at the address on the envelope, and his heart gave a 
 
 Seat leap, for he saw that it was in Esther's handwriting, 
 e tore open the envelope and found a short note inside; 
 simply this: 
 
 " I wish to see you. Will you come to me at once? En- 
 quire for Room 260. E. V." 
 
 For a moment Jack stood stock still in amazement; then 
 the blood rushed through his veins and his heart leapt with 
 joy. She was near him, in London, within a cab drive! 
 Would he go to her! He strode back to Kate and caugb.i; up 
 his cap. She roee and looked at him. 
 
 " Where are you going?" she asked in a low voicr. qvr mr- 
 ing with anxiety. 
 
 '* I'm I'm going somewhere on business," stammered 
 Jack. 
 
 " On business?" Her face went white, her hand clasped 
 his aim. " Oh, be careful, pray be careful, it may be a 
 trap!" she exclaimed in a terrified whisper. 
 
 Jack stared at her as if confused; then he laughed awk- 
 wardly. 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right. I must go I I'm sorry no, I mean 
 yes, I must go!" 
 
 The boy had a cab waiting, and Jack bundled him in and 
 followed, telling the cabman to drive like the devil. When 
 they reached the Metropole, he strode into the vestibule, en* 
 quired for No. 260. and was taken to a luxurious room on
 
 LOVE, THE TYBJLKT. 305 
 
 tt9 flrsj doer, jit was empty, a shaded lamp wi burning on 
 a side table; it was the only light in the room. Jack looked 
 round impatiently; and presently the door opened and Esther 
 entered. His heart leapt at sight of her, but he could only 
 look at her, could only wait for her to speak, noticing, as his 
 eyes rested on her, how pale she was, how fixedly, sadly, 
 searchingly those sweet, beautiful eyes gazed into his. 
 bsd ehe sent for him? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIL 
 
 ESTHER had paused outside to try and still the beating of 
 her heart; she meant to be quite calm; not only to seem but 
 to be reaily indifferent to that subtle influence of his presence 
 which had gained such power over her; but as she saw him, 
 noting witn a woman's quick eye the rough, well-worn serge 
 suit, the tauned hands which plainly bore the marks of heavy 
 labour, the nandsome face with its brows knit with uncer- 
 tainty, a touch of anxiety and yet a kind of eager gladness, 
 her heart began to throb again and she found it difficult to 
 maintain an appearance of calm. 
 
 She was in evening dress, a dress of black silk and lace, 
 without a single ornament to relieve it, and her white skin 
 looked dazzling against the soft, sombre shades. Her loveli- 
 neso filled Jack with a delight, with a longing that was an 
 ecstasy of pleasure and pain at one and the same moment. 
 Sho motioned to a chair, but Jack declined it with a gesture 
 and they both stood, looking at each other; with seeming 
 coldness in her eves and with a earnest, anxious appeal in his. 
 At last she spoke, and her voice was low and steady though 
 her heart was beating thickly, tumultuously. 
 
 " It i; good of you to come so quickly, Mr. Gordon," she 
 said. 
 
 JacK shrugged his shoulders slightly. 
 
 " Why, of course!" he said. " I came at once is any- 
 thing the matter?" 
 
 She paused a moment. 
 
 " No. I wanted to ask yon a few questions. I beg you to 
 answer them without without equivocation, however strange 
 they may seem to you." 
 
 " Of course I will!" responded Jack. " Is anything wrong 
 1own at Vancourt with the farm?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I want to ask you some Questions about Australia," she 
 said.
 
 306 WVK, THE TYEAUT. 
 
 Jack*s escrows went ap for a second, bnu He answertd 
 steadily enough. 
 
 " Certainly!" 
 
 " Were you at a place called Wally Ford?" she asked. 
 
 Jack hesitated for just a second, then he said simply: 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did you know a man named Arthur Burton?" she asked. 
 
 Jack looked at her, and his face set, so to speak, as if he 
 Were suddenly throwing himself on his guard. 
 
 " Yes," he said. 
 
 " Was he not a friend, what you call a chum, of yours?" 
 
 " Yes; 1 knew him," replied Jack. 
 
 " When did you see him last?" asked Esther. 
 
 " The day he died," replied Jack. " I was with him when 
 he was killed. He died " his voice grew husky " he died 
 in time to save my life." 
 
 She started. There was a chair near her and she felt for it 
 with her hand and sat down. 
 
 "Will you explain, will you tell me the whole story?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He looked at her with an expression of anxiety and pity. 
 
 " Certainly; it is soon told. He and I were chums, were 
 camping-out together." He stopped and regarded her with 
 a frown of perplexity. " Why do you ask me these questions 
 how did you know " 
 
 She looked down. 
 
 " I will tell you presently. You have promised to answer 
 my questions. Go un, please." 
 
 " We were camping together; one night we were attacked 
 by bushrangers; he was Si, dying. I was overpowered and 
 bound; one of the scoundrels was about to shoot me, my 
 friend flung himself from the bed and in front of me, and re- 
 ceived the bullet which I ought to have got. He saved my 
 life at the cost of his own." 
 
 She seemed to see the whole scene, her face went white, 
 and her eyes closed for a moment; then she opened them and 
 fixed them on him. 
 
 " What was Arthur Burton's real name, Mr. Gordon?" she 
 asked. 
 
 Jack was silent for a moment under the direct gaze of those 
 lovely eyes, appealing to him for the truth; he found it diffi- 
 cult to keep up the lie, and yet it must be kept up. 
 
 " His name was John Vancourt," he said, sternly. He ex- 
 pected her to start and utter an exclamation; but she re- 
 mained perfectly silent, the beautiful eyes regarding him
 
 LOVE, THE TYRAOTl 307 
 
 Steadily. -* A letter was found in his coat. " continued JacL. 
 " A letter addressed to him in his assumed name, Arthur Bur- 
 ton; the police found it and were thus able to identify him." 
 
 Her lips quivered. 
 
 " That is not true," she said. 
 
 Jack started. 
 I I beg your pardon!" he stammered. " What did you 
 
 " I say it is not true!" she said. ;< Why have you told this 
 falsehood, acted this falsehood?" 
 
 " I I don't know what you mean," he faltered. 
 
 She took something from her pocket and held it in her 
 closed hand while she looked him m the face; then her hand 
 unclosed and the silver match-box fell softly on the table, 
 and she pointed to it. 
 
 " To whom does that belong?" she asked. 
 
 Jack took up the match-box and looked at it. 
 
 " How did you come by it? It belonged to Jack Vancourt 
 that is, Arthur Burton " 
 
 " And you are Sir John Vancourt," said Esther, leaning 
 forward, her lips parted, her eyes shining. 
 
 Jack made a fight for it. 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," he said, his eyes raised 
 for a moment and then dropping. 
 
 " Look at the name scratched on the match-box, " she said. 
 " and now look at this." She took a paper from her pocket; 
 it was the account of his expenses in London, which he had 
 given her in the cottage. He had written her name on the 
 top, and she pointed to the word " Vancourt," and then to 
 the similar word on the match-box. " The same hand wrote 
 both these names," she said. " Why do you try any longer 
 to deceive me? I know the truth. Do you know a gentle- 
 man called Coverdale?" 
 
 Jack dropped into a chair and leant his head on his hand, 
 so partially covering his face, and Esther went on. 
 
 " I have met Mr. Coverdale. He knew you and and the 
 man who died. You gave Mr. Coverdale that match-box; 
 you admitted to him that you were John Vancourt; he de- 
 scribed you to me, described you so exactly that it was impos- 
 sible not to identify you. You are John Vancourt I beg 
 your pardon, Sir John Vancourt Sir Richard's nephew and 
 neir, the owner of Vancourt Towers." 
 
 Jack rose and looked at her, half penitently, half defiantly. 
 
 " Bowled out! Yes, I'm afraid the game's up, Miss Van- 
 court! You haven't left me a leg to stand upon. You've
 
 S DOVE. THE TYBATTT. 
 
 got the case is clear as if you were a lawyer Bn; I'm 
 sorry " 
 
 She, top, and risen and stood regarding him with heaving 
 bosom, with lips that quivered and eyes that were dim with 
 the tears that were welling up in them. 
 
 " All last night, ever since I knew, while I only guessed, I 
 have been asking myself why you have done this thing, why 
 you have plaved this trick upon me. Even now I can only 
 vaguely surmise I do not quite know. If you feel the least 
 remorse for what you've done, if you have any pity and 
 friendly regard for the girl you have so cruelly deceived, you 
 will explain, you will tell me the whole why you did it, what 
 was your motive " 
 
 Jack ihrust his hands in his pocket and paced up and down 
 with bear head, gnawing at his moustache. Then he stopped 
 in front of her and looked at her with the doggedness of a 
 man driven to bay. 
 
 " What else could I do?" he asked, almost fiercely. " Miss 
 Vancourt, the man who saved my life, who laid down his life 
 for me, was my friend and chum. A little while before he 
 died he told me a story of his life; he told me about his little 
 sister; how he had left her in poverty to work for her living, 
 to fight the world a young girl with no man-relative or 
 friend to help her. Almost while he was telling me, and 
 knowing that he was dying, asking me to find her and help 
 her for his sake, he read in a newspaper I had brought from 
 the settlement the news of Sir .Richard's death and the fact 
 that, if his nephew were not alive, this girl would come into 
 the property, would step from poverty to wealth. And at 
 that very moment I had a letter from Floss & Floss telling 
 me I hat' I was Sir Eichard's heir. Before I could recover 
 from my surprise, could pluck up courage to tell him who I 
 was and dash his hopes for his little sister, we were attacked. 
 He gave his life for me, and I what else could I do but keep 
 my promise and befriend the girl he had entrusted to my 
 care?" 
 
 Esther stood with her hands clasped tightly and pressed 
 against her bosom. 
 
 " The man was your brother, the girl was yourself. Wheff 
 the police broke in I was unconscious. They found the letter 
 on your brother I had put my jacket on him. It was easy 
 to say that he was Arthur Burton, easy for me to take the 
 name he bore Jack Gordon instead of my own. The thing 
 was done in a minute; but if I'd had a month to think it 
 over I'd ha-ve done the same."
 
 LOVB, THE TYBAHT. 
 
 '* Yon were wrong, wrong, wrong!*' she breathed. 
 
 " I was right, right, right!" he retorted, almost angrily, 
 and striking the table with his hand. ' Your brother had 
 entrusted you to my care, he had given his life for me: could 
 I go back on him? No! No man could be such a hound." 
 
 Esther shook her head. 
 
 " Do you think I do not know the extent of the sacrifice 
 you have made, Mr. Gordon I beg your pardon, Sir John 
 vancourt " 
 
 " Couldn't you go on calling me Mr. Gordon?" said poor 
 Jack " It sounds more natural, and I should answer up to 
 it better than to Vancourt." 
 
 " No, you are Sir John Vancourt. You had no right to 
 relinquish your name. I know the sacrifice you've made. 
 You came and worked on the estate which belonged to you; 
 you must have felt that the wretched girl whom your mis* 
 taken generosity had placed in possession of it, was a usurper 
 and a fraud; even you must have begrudged her " 
 
 Jack broke in quickly. 
 
 " You are quite wrong, I give you my word. I never be- 
 grudged you the estate for a single second. When I saw yon 
 queening it there, so young and graceful, so beautiful er I 
 beg your pardon! I mean, when I saw how well you filled 
 the place I was jolly glad I had done what I had." 
 
 " I cannot believe it, you must have been unhappy." 
 
 " Don't you make any mistake," said Jack, ruefully. " I 
 was never half so haopy in my life. And now I suppose 
 you're going to knock it all over?" 
 
 He almost groaned. 
 
 " If you mean, am I going to surrender the estate to you; 
 I certainly am, at once, as quickly as possible," said Esihsr, 
 as a matter of course. 
 
 " Well, I wish to Heaven you wouldn't!" he said. " Look 
 here!" he said, as if an idea had struck him, " couldn't wa 
 make a compromise, couldn't you keep where you are and 
 make me an allowance? I'll go over to Australia " 
 
 Esther's face flamed. 
 
 " You talk like as if I were an idiot," she said, indig- 
 nantly, "Why should I live on yonr charity, Sir John Van- 
 court? Why should you want me to do so? 
 
 Jack took two turns up and down the room, then he came 
 beside her. 
 
 " Do you want to know?" he asked. " Then, by George^ 
 I'll risk it and tell you! I am not going to tell you that I 
 didn't feel the sacrifice I'd made, especially when I first came
 
 310 LOVE, THE TYKAET. 
 
 back from England and caught sight of the Towers; tftft 
 when I'd met you, when I'd seeii more of you, I didn't feel it 
 a little bit! 1 was perfectly happy working there at the farm, 
 und I should have stayed there, until you sacked me, if I 
 hadn't behaved to you like a bounder that night you remem- 
 ber?" 
 
 His face grew red and hers flamed, and her eyes became 
 suddenly heavy. 
 
 " I suppose you've often wondered why I I played the 
 madman and kissed you that night? Well, I'll tell you. It 
 was for the same reason that I was so happy, so contented to 
 .go on living just as your servant; it was because I loved 
 you, Esther." 
 
 She did not start, she stood perfectly still, and she raised 
 her eyes slowly and looked at him. 
 
 " There, it's out now!" he said. " I loved you. I think 
 I must have loved you the first time I saw you well, per- 
 haps not the first time, but precious soon afterwards. I'd 
 never been in love before, and I didn't quite understand it at 
 first; but though I fought against it for of course I couldn't 
 speak to you, that would have been playing it too low down, 
 and getting the estate back in a kind of underhand way my 
 heart ached to do so. I often wondered you didn't see it. It 
 seemed to me every time I looked at you, you must have seen 
 ' I love you ' staring out of my eyes. Do you remember the 
 day when you went with me to notch the trees? I think that's 
 the first day, the first time I knew for dead certain that you 
 were the only woman I should ever want. You dropped your 
 handkerchief, I've had it ever since; I had it in the wood 
 that night I lied to you; it was not Nettie's but yours. I 
 wouldn't swop it for all Vancourt." 
 
 He took it out of his pocket now, and showed it to her. 
 
 Esther held out her hand: it trembled. But Jack shook 
 his head, and calmly returned the pocket-handkerchief to its 
 old hiding-place. 
 
 " I couldn't speak then; but I can now. Esther, I love 
 you! Forgive me for the trick I played on you, if trick you 
 can call it. Be my wife. Of course, I don't expect you to 
 care for me not yet, that is; but, if you'll let me, I'll try 
 and win your love. I love you very dearly; I'd never have 
 said a word if you hadn't found out the truth and given the 
 show away; but I can speak now, and and Won't you 
 come to me, Esther?" 
 
 He held out his arms, and Esther would have given several 
 worlds to have been able to creep into them; but she stood
 
 LOVE, THS TYRANT. 311 
 
 8nd looked at mm with a look of trouble and almost indigna- 
 tion in her lovely eyes. His arms dropped to his side, and ha 
 sighed. 
 
 " I was afraid that would be your answer. I suppose you 
 can't care for me, and never could." He paused a moment 
 and looked at her. " You're not saying * no ' because you've 
 got some foolish notion that I'm doing this so that you might 
 keep the estate?" 
 
 " No," she said in a low voice. " The man who could be 
 capable of such a sacrifice as you have made would not be so 
 mean as to again attempt to deceive a helpless girl. No, 
 Sir John Vancourt, that is not the reason; there is another 
 others." 
 
 " What are they?" he demanded. 
 
 " I am engaged to Mr. Selby Layton." 
 
 Jack's face went white. 
 
 " Oh ah yes!"' he gasped, trying to look as if he were 
 not badly hit. " I I beg your pardon. I didn't know. 
 He's he's a decent chap. Engaged to " He gnawed at 
 his moustache. " What was the other reason? not that it 
 matters; this one is good enough!" 
 
 Esther looked at him steadily, her brows drawn straight 
 across, her breath coming painfully. 
 
 " That, if you are not already married to Kate Transom, 
 it is right that you should be," she said, almost inaudibly. 
 
 Jack started, and his face grew crimson. 
 
 " Married to Kate ! What the ! I beg your pardon. 
 What on earth are you talking about? Only right I should 
 be married to Kate Transom!" 
 
 Esther turned away from him slightly, looking at him 
 under half-lowered lids the look that hurts when it falls 
 upon a man from the eyes of the woman he loves. It stung 
 Jack and made him begin to get wild. 
 
 11 The truth is known to me, Sir John," she said, " I 
 know it is well known that she left Vancourt the same 
 night you did; it is known I knew that she is with you 
 here in London. I beg, I implore you to be good and true 
 to her. She was a good, happy girl until you came. I am 
 Bore you could make her happy; I trust that you will marry 
 her. 
 
 By this time the Vancourt temper was raging delightfully 
 in Jack's breast. To hear that she was engaged to Selby 
 T yton was bad enough, but to be told by her own lips that 
 he had wronged Kate Transom and solemnly charged, by her 
 own Ujps, to marry Kate, was almost mow. than, te could
 
 312 I/JVE. THE TTEANT. 
 
 stand. The anger which was raging within him flamed 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Do you believe this?" he asked. 
 
 " How can I do otherwise? Do you deny it, Sir John?" 
 
 " No!" he thundered. " So you advise me to marry KaU 
 Transom. Thank you very much for your advice. I'll think 
 it over. Good-night, Miss Vancourt." 
 
 He snatched up his cap and burst out of the room; and 
 Esther Well, no woman needs to be told what she did; 
 and it is wonderful how she managed to remove the traces of 
 her tears before she went down to dinner. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 JACK didn't wait for the lift, but went down the broad 
 stairs and out into the street like a whirlwind. Practically, 
 he had never fully realised until that moment how much he 
 loved Esther. It seemed to him as if the world had come to 
 an etui, as if nothing mattered, as if indeed it was scarcely 
 Worth living any longer. He was about to call a cab, but he 
 felt as if he could not sit in it, however fast it was driven, 
 and he strode away down the Embankment, his head burning 
 hi.-t, uis heart throbbing with a kind of mad resentment 
 against Fate, and a dull despair. Every now and taeu, at 
 imetvals, he went over the scene, and every time he recalled 
 Efcthsr's speech about Kate Transom and the look that ac- 
 companied it, he drew a long breath and ground his teeth and 
 took off his hat to cool his head. 
 
 That anyone should suspect him of betraying an innocent 
 
 f'rl, and luring her from her home, was bad enough, bui that 
 sther should do so, Esther, for whose opinion he cared more 
 ;nan for that of all the rest of the world, was almost unen- 
 a in able. 
 
 He was just in that condition, goaded by despair, when 
 nisii do rash things; and he felt almost driven to gu straight 
 to Kate Transom and finish the proposal which he had com- 
 menced when Esther's note had interrupted him. After alL 
 why shouldn't he? Esther was lost to him forever; she 
 would insist upon handing the estate over to him, and he 
 would have to go and live at the Towers, where every object, 
 animate and inanimate, would remind him of her. 
 
 It was a long walk from the Metropole to Chase Street, but 
 Jack did not notice its length, would have been rather glad 
 perhaps il i HH haen twice as long; he had w*utrl ouicJsiv.
 
 OVE, THE TYRAHT. 313 
 
 and he was qmte surprised, so engrossed had he been by his 
 miserable reflections, when he turned into the street. 
 
 He was striding along, his hands in his pockets, his head 
 sunk dejectedly, when he heard someone running behind 
 him. He paid no attention, though he noticed that the step 
 was a light one like a woman's; but suddenly he heard an- 
 other noise coming from round the corner, and a cry of 
 " Stop thief!" The same moment a voice said close behind 
 lim: " Save me, for God's sake, save me!" 
 
 A woman, dressed as a widow, darted past him and up the 
 alley in which he had seen her disappear the other night. 
 Something in the woman's voice struck him as familiar, and 
 while he was asking himself where he had heard it, a police- 
 man, followed by the usual small crowd, came running down 
 the street. Jack walked on, and before he had reached the 
 alley, the policeman had caught him up. 
 
 " Seen a woman, a woman dressed in black like a widow?" 
 askeu the constable, who was rather too stout for sprinting. 
 
 " Yes," replied Jack, calmly but promptly. " She has 
 Just run down the street, straight ahead." 
 
 " Right!" exclaimed the policeman, and he ran on fol- 
 lowed by the crowd. Jack slackened off and presently waited; 
 and he saw Miss Woods come out of the court. 
 
 " Don't stop me," she whispered, huskily, as she passed 
 h::n. " Let me get inside!" 
 
 Jack was too ast onished to stop her or utter a word. He 
 caught a glimpse of her face and saw that it was stone white. 
 He followed her closely, opened the door, entered with her 
 Bnd closed it. She leant against the wall in the passage, her 
 bands pressed to her heart, her breath coming in lab. ured 
 2, asps; and Jack stood and stared at her in silence. 
 
 Suddenly they heard the crowd coming back up the street, 
 ;r,nd Miss Woods, with a subdued cry of terror, caught his 
 arm in. both hands. 
 
 * Hash! Don't speak! Don't move or they'll hear us!" 
 As she spoke, a bundle slipped from under her arm and fell 
 at his fsst. She was too terrified to attempt to conceal it or 
 recover it, but she looked at it despairingly and uttered a low 
 cry of fear; for the wrapper had come open, and Jack saw 
 something that looked like a black dress and cape all in one, 
 and a widow's bonnet. The truth flashed upon him in SOL 
 instant. 
 
 " You are the widow; it's you who play the * picked- 
 pocket ' dodge! Good heavens! There, don't faint; you're 
 quite safe: I'm not going to give you un."
 
 314 LOVF, THE TYEAUT. 
 
 She sank on tKe stairs and hid her face in her band, sod 
 her flaxen wig got all awry and made her look ghastly, like a 
 waxen doll that had lost the colouring in its cheeks. Jacfc 
 leant against the wall and looked down at her. 
 
 " I'm sorry," he said, gravely. " I didn't suspect you've 
 been so good to Kate Good God! what made you take to 
 auch a life?" 
 
 She looked at him, with her faded face all lined and hollow. 
 
 " Starvation, misery, despair, such misery and despair as 
 you can't imagine, for you're a man and can never, never 
 feel it. You can never understand how much a woman is 
 driven when she has suffered as I have done. Don't look at 
 me like that, turn your eyes away I can't bear it, for you've 
 been kind to me; you've thought well of me, well enough to 
 trust me and and believe in me. I meant to drop it, but I 
 couldn't bear the thought that you were working so hard, 
 that I was a burden on you as well as her; and I'd spent 
 what money I'd had, and I went out to-night for the last 
 time. I meant, if I couldn't get anything to do anything 
 anything honest, to throw myself into the dock and I will!*' 
 
 " Oh, no, you won't!" said Jack calmly. " Go up to your 
 room and we'll talk matters over in the morning." 
 
 She shook her head, as she listened intently, with terror in 
 every feature. 
 
 * ; I can't go yet I'm all of a tremble. Kate might be 
 awake; she'd see me in this state and ask questions I should 
 break down." 
 
 " Stay here and rest for a little while," said Jack. " I'll 
 step out and see if they've gone. Wait until I come back." 
 
 He let himself out quietly, and, pausing to light a pipe, 
 strolled in a leisurely way up the street. The pursuers had 
 evidently completely lost the scent, and no one was in sight; 
 and Jack walked on a little way pondering over the discov- 
 ery. Now that he had made it, he was not altogether sur 
 prised; and, if the truth must be told, not so shocked as h 
 ought to have been. You see, he had lived amongst some 
 very shady people; and the predominant feeling in his mind 
 at the moment was pity for the woman who had been driven 
 to such straits. She couldn't be altogether bad, or she would 
 not have nursed Kate with such unselfish devotion. He stood 
 at the top of the street smoking, in a causal kind of way look- 
 ing about him, then he turned and walked slowly back. As 
 he did so, a man turned into the street, caught sight of him, 
 stopped dead short, then slid into a door-way. He stoorl there 
 Jack until he entered the house, then in a stealthy
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 315 
 
 ho pztfeotfd down the street, stopping at the end to look 
 back at the house. Presently he walked back towards it and 
 raised his hand as if to knock at the door; but he hesitated, 
 his hand fell to his side, and muttering under his breath, he 
 walked away again; but when he had once more reached the 
 end of the street, he stopped as if reluctant to leave it. How- 
 eve a policeman came tramping up, glanced at him with 
 +he calm, scrutinising eye of his calling, and the man slunk 
 away. 
 
 Jack found Miss Woods still seated on the stairs. She was 
 still very white, but had regained something of her self-pos- 
 eession. 
 
 " They've gone!" said Jack. " You're all right now; 
 you'd better go upstairs." 
 
 She rose, assisting herself by the bannister; then she hesi- 
 tated and looked at Jack. 
 
 " I want to tell you," she said in a low voice, and with her 
 head averted. " I know nothing I can say would make me 
 seem any better to you, Mr. Gordon; but ^but it's true what 
 I said that I've been near starvation, that I only took to 
 this when everything else failed. I was a respectable woman 
 and not so long ago though it seems a life-time, looking 
 back. I'm respectable in a way now," she said, with a feeble 
 and pathetic touch of pride. " I'm a married woman, Mr. 
 Gordon, and I've kept straight. I was deserted by my hus- 
 band. He got tired of me soon after we were married, and 
 he left me. He said he was obliged to go on important busi- 
 mess; he was away some months, then I heard that he was 
 dead. I saw it in a paper." 
 
 A faint flush of resentment passed across her faded face 
 and she breathed quickly as if sne found it difficult to go on. 
 
 " He left me without a penny, left me to face the world, 
 me who had always been taken care of, for I was the young- 
 est in the family, Mr. Gordon, and the pet. I'd a brother 
 who would have helped me for he was fond of me in a way, 
 though he was wild and reckless went to Australia; but he 
 he got into trouble there; and though he's back in Eng- 
 land, he can't do anything for me, for he's poor, and I'm 
 afraid he's don .something out there, for he's hi hiding." 
 ' You have Had a bad time of it," said Jack, gravely. 
 
 " That aint the worst," she said. " My husband really 
 deserted me; he didn't really die, and the notice in the paper 
 Was a sham and a fraud; he is alive now." 
 
 Jack looked his surprise. 
 
 "* How do joa know that?" he
 
 IOVT!, THE TYRANT. 
 
 " I've seen him," she said. " I saw him the other day,,' 
 it was when we came back from the drive; he went by in 
 hansom cab; it stopped at the top of the street and he leau 
 forward and looked at as; at me, as I thought at the time 
 but I don't think he saw me; he seemed to be staring at yr ? 
 and Kate." 
 
 " Why should he do that?" asked Jack. " You must be 
 mistaken. But this is a very extraordinary story. Yes yes; 
 I believe you. But what do you mean to do? Are you going 
 to try and find him? He must be a bad lot and ought to be 
 punished; for he seems to me to have been the cause of all 
 your tiouble." 
 
 " Yes," she said; " he was the cause. He persuaded me 
 to marry him secretly, and I found out before he left me that 
 he was right down bad, for all his pleasant ways and soft 
 voice. I'd try to find him, but how can I? He is a jentle- 
 man and looks as if he had money, and I haven't any. I 
 might go to the police if if but I don't dare. I must just 
 put up with it and bear it." 
 
 " I must see if I can't help you," said Jack. " I am sorry 
 for you; you have been very kind to Kate Transom, and I'm 
 sure you're more sinned against than sinning. I will see 
 what can be done. Anyway, you must promise to drop ihia 
 sort of thing once and for ail." 
 
 He glanced at the bundle which she had under her arm. 
 
 She reddened with shame. 
 
 " There's no need to promise," she said, simply. " I shall 
 never do it again. I was driven to it " 
 
 She broke off with something like a sob and went upstairs 
 dowly. 
 
 Jack went up to his room; but he could not sleep. His 
 strange discovery of Miss Woods's mode of living and her ex- 
 traordinary story had for a time driven his own affairs from 
 his mind; but they came back with a rush when he was alone, 
 and he spent the night in pacing up and down trying to form 
 some definite course of action. It seemed to him that the 
 best thing he could do would be to let the Towers, to marry 
 Kate Transom and take her to Australia: perhaps taking 
 Miss Woods with them. He could buy a cattle ranch and go 
 in for farming on a large scale. But he sighed as he thought 
 of it; for he knew that, do what he would, his life waa 
 wrecked and that he was doomed to unhappiness. 
 
 When he went down the next morning he was surprised to 
 find Kate Transom in the little sitting-room; surprised and 
 somewhat embarrassed; he was also very mucn startled when
 
 LOVE, THE TYEJLNT. 317 
 
 sne came up to him quickly and, seizing his arm, stoppec! 
 him on his way to the door. He saw that she was pale and 
 agitated; but before he could speak she made a gesture of 
 warning and with her lips close to his ear whispered: 
 
 " Hush! There is some one in the street some one has 
 been following you I saw him from the window when you 
 cjime in last night; but I could not see in the dim light who 
 it was. A man with his coat-collar turned up has just passed 
 on the other side of the road, and he looked at the house; he 
 is waiting at the end of the street!" 
 
 Jack was dumfounded; and for a moment he really 
 thought that she had gone out of her mind. 
 
 " Why should a man be following me?" he asked. ft H 
 anyone wants to see me, why doesn't he come straight on 
 here? I've no objection." 
 
 She looked at him almost reproachfully, as if she were 
 grieved at his want of trust in her. 
 
 " Don't go out; wait for a little while!" she whispered. 
 
 " But why not?" he insisted. " I've no objection to meet- 
 ing this man, whoever he is." 
 
 " Oh, don't be so reckless!" she gasped. " If you'd only 
 left England; if you'd only gone at once!" 
 
 Jack got bewildered by her strange words, and to him 
 stranger manner. 
 
 " I don't in the least know what you mean, Kate," he said; 
 *"' and I think you'rs quite mistaken ia your idea that some 
 one is watching me; but if he is, he is quite welcome to do 
 so. As to leaving England, I've almost made up my mind 
 to go, and I'll tell you more when I come home to dinner." 
 
 " Tell me where you are going," she said. 
 
 ** To the docks," said Jack. He had promised the fore- 
 man to finish some work which he had entrusted to him and, 
 notwithstanding that he had been bowled out, and his identity 
 discovered by Esther, he intended keeping his promise and 
 going down to the docks. " I'm in Number 2, F, dock, and 
 I shall be home earlier than usual because I'm on a job. 
 Don't look so frightened; I can't imagine what you should be 
 frightened about." 
 
 She turned away from him with a womanly gesture of 
 resignation to his stronger will, and he heard her sigh hearily 
 as he left the house, 
 
 There certainly did not appear to be any watcher in the 
 street; but that was because Dick Reeve had stepped into a 
 shop, where he waited until Jack had got out of sight: then 
 be went no tbo gtreet, and, looking over the half door-way,
 
 318 WVE, THE TYBAOT. 
 
 saw Kate Transom sitting in a low chair with her head in ha* 
 hand. 
 
 " Kate!" he said, huskily. 
 
 She started and sprang to her feet with a low cry of fear; 
 and he opened the door and entered the room. 
 
 " Dick Dick Reeve!" she exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes; it's me," he said, his face working, his hands 
 clenched at his side, his eyes glowing like coals. " You 
 didn't expect to see me. Did you expect I'd let you go with- 
 out a word, without following you, without coming to a reck- 
 oning with Mm? You ought to have known me better. 
 When I heard you'd gone, I swore I'd follow you and him if 
 it was to the end of the world and I'm here." 
 
 She had recovered from the shock of his sudden presence, 
 and was looking at him with a mixture of fear and watchful- 
 ness in her eyes. 
 
 " What do you want?" she demanded, trying to speak 
 coldly and indifferently. 
 
 The veins swelled in his forehead. 
 
 " I don't know what I want, except my revenge on him," 
 he said. " And I'll have that " 
 
 She was silent for a moment, then she asked: 
 
 " How did you find me? Does father ?" 
 
 " No, he doesn't," he said. " Never mind how I found 
 you. I'm going to take you back to your father." 
 
 She shrank away from him. 
 
 " I will not go." 
 
 He laughed bitterly. 
 
 " Aye, you may well be ashamed!" he said, " but I meam 
 to take you. He's not married you, Kate?" he asked, sud- 
 denly, hoarsely; and he held his breath waiting for her 
 answer. 
 
 Kate's face flamed, then grew deathly pale. 
 
 " I don't know who you mean," she said. 
 
 " It's a lie!" he said. " I mean that hound, Gordon. 
 Spare your breath, I saw him enter this house last night. 
 He has just left it." 
 
 Kate's heart beat painfully, the room seemed to spin round 
 her. 
 
 " It's no use lying," he said. " I've found you both, here 
 together, and I'm going to take you back." 
 
 " You cannot you cannot 1" she breathed. 
 
 He laughed fiercely. 
 
 " I can and I vr'llf" he said. He drew a little nearer to 
 her, lowering his voice till it became a hoarse whisper.
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT. S19 
 
 ** Listen to me, Kate. I've got him in my power, and I've 
 only got to speak a word one word! and he's as good as a 
 dead man. Eefuse to come with me, and I'll follow him" 
 
 She stretched oat her hand as if to ward off the threatened 
 danger. 
 
 " No more! Don't don't speak another word!" She 
 looked round as if she were terrified lest they had been over- 
 /leard. " I will come with you, Dick. I will come at once." 
 
 He was a little startled by her ready acquiescence; but he 
 nodded significantly. 
 
 " Go and get your things on," he said; " if you're not 
 down in five minutes, I'll come for you. But you'd better 
 como, or, I warn you, it will be bad for him." 
 
 She held up her hand as if to silence him, and turning, 
 went quickly, but with trembling steps, up the stairs. 
 
 He followed her to the door and watched her enter the 
 room above; then he returned and paced up and down the 
 sitting-room. 
 
 Kate staggered into Miss Woods's bedroom and caught at 
 the bed to support herself; and Miss Woods, who had just 
 finished dressing, turned to her with a cry of alarm. 
 
 " Help me!" cried Kate. " Oh, what shall I do! What 
 can I do to save him!" 
 
 She had no thought for herself. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Miss Woods. "Him? 
 Who?" 
 
 Kate broke in upon the question in a voice almost inaudible. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon! There is a man in the room below who 
 who will do him an injury. He is in danger! Oh, don't ask 
 me I can't tell you! he is in great, terrible danger, and 
 this man knows where he is, and there is no one to warn him, 
 no one to tell him to escape! And this man is waiting for 
 me, waiting now. If I'm not down in five minutes he will 
 come up here after me, will force me to go with him. Oh, 
 what shall I do, what shall I do? If I could only get to him, 
 speak one word to him to warn him, put him on his guard! 
 I tried this morning, but he would not listen; he is too brave, 
 too reckless, to care!" 
 
 She sank on the bed, and, covering her face with her hands, 
 rocked to and fro. 
 
 Miss Woods, almost as pale as Kate, stood looking at her, 
 as if trying to understand; then suddenly she sprang to Kate's 
 side, and caught her arm. 
 
 " Hush!" she whispered. " Try and be calm! I've 
 thought of something I've thought of something that wiJi
 
 320 WVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 help you to get away to go to Mr. Gordon. Bat you'll want 
 all your nerve, and you're shaking like a leaf. I'm afraid 
 you'll never do it!" 
 
 Kate dropped her hands from her face and rose. 
 
 " Yes, yes! I will! What is it? Tell me. Wait! Give 
 me give me some water!" 
 
 Miss Woods ran to the wash-hand stand and pom-ad oat a 
 glass of water and brought it to her, and while Kate was- 
 drinking it, took a bundle from a drawer and untied it. 
 
 " Quick!" she whispered. " Put these on!" 
 
 Kate stared at her, and at the black dress and widow's bon- 
 net; then she saw what the other woman meant, and tore off 
 her dress. While she was getting on the black one, they 
 heard Dick Reeve moving in the passage below, and presently 
 he called up to her by name. 
 
 " Tell him to wait five minutes longer," whispered Miss 
 Woods; and Kate, moistening her parched lips, called out: 
 
 " I am not ready. I shall be five minutes longer." 
 
 With trembling hands she put on the bonnet and drew 
 down the veil. She was shaking from head to foot; but Miss 
 Woods brought her some more water, and whispered: 
 
 " You must do it, for Mr. Gordon's sake." 
 
 Kate pressed her hand and opened the door. At the 
 threshold she paused and drew a long breath; then she went 
 down the stairs slowly. She heard Dick Reeve spring up 
 from a chair as he heard her footstep, and he came out of the 
 room to meet her; but at sight of tne figure in deep mourn- 
 ing he drew back and let her pass. 
 
 Kate's heart almost ceased beating as she passed him, and 
 for a moment it seemed to her that she must break down; 
 but the thought that Jack Gordon's safety, his very life, de- 
 pended upon her nerve and self-possession, gave her sudden 
 strength and courage, and she walked slowly trough the 
 room and into the street, and even restrained her burning 
 desire to quicken her pace until she had reached the corner. 
 
 Dick Reeve paced between the passage and the sitting-room 
 impatiently for some minutes; then he flung himself into a 
 chair, beating a tattoo with his feet. Suddenly the street- 
 door onened and Mordy Jane entered with half a pound of 
 batter in one hand and some bacon in the other. She stared 
 at the intruder for a moment in silence, then she said, drily: 
 
 " That's right; make yourself at 'ome." 
 
 Dick Reeve, who had stared back at her, as if fascinated 
 by the grotesque figure in its ridiculous bonnet, rose, and 
 said* half sullen! v. half fiercely:
 
 LOVE, TH3 TYBA2S*. 321 
 
 ie I'm a fnoud of Kate Transom; I'm waiting for her." 
 
 " Oh, you are, are you?" said Mordy Jaae, sharply. 
 
 * Sure you're a friend? If yer wasn't so countrified I'd 
 
 take yer for a writter." She meant an officer from the county 
 
 court. " You've got the same pleasin' kind o' countenance. 
 
 I'll tell 'er yer waitin'." 
 
 " She knows it," said Dick Reeve. " She's getting ready 
 to come with me." 
 
 " Oh, you're goin' to take 'er away, are you?" said Mordy 
 Jane. 
 
 " Yes," said Dick Reeve, savagely, " this is no place for 
 her a respectable girl " 
 
 Mordy Jane put down the butter and bacon on the ta >le 
 with an emphatic slap, and, with her arms akimbo, fair; ed 
 and confronted him. 
 
 " Judgin' by your langwidge, young man, I should say 
 you'd broke out from a lunatick asylum. If this ain't a re- 
 spectable house, what are you doin' in it, I should like t 
 know? You get outside!" 
 
 Dick Reeve glowered at her, then went to the foot of tho 
 stairs and called " Kate!" No answer came. He waited & 
 moment, then he sprang up the stairs and knocked at tho 
 door violently. It was opened by Miss "Woods, who regarded 
 him with an affectation of surprise which did credit to her 
 stage training. 
 
 " I want Kate Kate Transom!" said Dick Reeve. 
 
 " Miss Transom is not here," she replied, blandly. 
 
 :< Where is she where's she gone?" he demanded. 
 
 " I don't know," said Miss Woods, with dignity. " She 
 may be upstairs " 
 
 Dick Reeve pushed past her and looked round the room; 
 he saw in a moment that there was no place and nothing in 
 it which could conceal her, and with a bound he was outside 
 and up the remaining flight of stairs; Mordy Jane's voice 
 shrilling up to him: 
 
 "Hi! luny, where are you goin'? Thieves, murder!" 
 
 Dick Reeve looked round Jack's room and the other c id on 
 the same floor, arid came tearing down the stairs, livid with 
 fury. At the door he turned to shake his clenched hand at 
 Mordy Jane and Miss Woods. 
 
 His fury was too great for him to speak. He saw how he 
 had been tricked. At last his rage found vent in a fearful 
 oath, and he ran into the street.
 
 322 '10VE. THE TYRANX. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 JACK'S work that morning was the superintending of ft 
 gang of men who were unloading one of the huge ocean-car- 
 riers. The cargo was a heavy one, and the largest crane in 
 the docks was raising the great crates from the hold and 
 swinging them on the quay. Down in the hold men, stripped 
 to their waists, were lugging aud putting the crates into posi- 
 tion, and up above on the quay another gang of men were re- 
 leasing them from the crane chains with which the labourers 
 in the hold had encircled them, and pushing and hauling 
 them into stacks. The work was done so quickly, so neatly- 
 considering the weight of the crates that an onlooker would 
 not have gained an idea of the amount of care and time 
 involved. 
 
 Jack was the ganger for the day, and it was his duty to see 
 that the cargo was landed without injury to it or to the men 
 engaged; and certainly no better man could have been chosen; 
 for he was not only calm and cool, but possessed of that 
 strong personality which commands prompt obedience from 
 those who come under its influence. 
 
 The man at the lever which worked the huge crane, which 
 reared its head and moved to and fro as if it were a sentient 
 creature instead of a thing of iron and steel, kept his eyes 
 fixed watchfully upon Jack's face and his ears open for the 
 short word of command that rang out above the surrounding 
 din, the " Heave hoy!" of the men, the puffing of steam, 
 and the clank and rattle of the black and heavy chains; for 
 prompt obedience was not only necessary to the proper mani- 
 
 Sulation of the great crane, but for the safety of the men. A 
 elay of a few seconds in the carrying out of Jack's order, 
 and the long arm of the machine might swing round too soon, 
 causing the crate it was hoisting or lowering to strike some 
 man or fall on him, knocking nun silly or crushing the life 
 out of him. 
 
 Jack stood with one foot on a hawser-post, his arms folded 
 across his knee. He had taken off his coat, for the day wag 
 warm, and new and again he found it necessary to direct with 
 his hand the last few swings of the descending crates, which 
 he did with a touch of his hand or the pressure of his strong 
 shoulder. 
 
 Calm and cool as ne looked, his eyes were sharp and every
 
 LOVE, THE TYBAUT. 322 
 
 muscle braced up for any movement that might be called for 
 suddenly : and those who were under him toiled on with the 
 unquestioning confidence of men who have implicit trust in 
 their superior. 
 
 A hoarse cry would rise from the depths of the hold an- 
 nouncing that the crate was ready for lifting, Jack's " Go> 
 now!" would sound clear and deep as a full-toned bell, the 
 engineer would respond " Aye, aye, sir!" there would come 
 a puff of steam, the sudden tightening of the black chain, 
 and the heavy load would rise from the place where it had 
 been hidden during the voyage, would hover in the air for * 
 moment or two until Jack's voice sounded again, sharp avul 
 stern, and then gracefully swing round over the spot to whicu 
 it was to be lowered. 
 
 " The Forging of the Anchor " has been sung in magnifi- 
 cent strains; " The Swinging of the Crane " has yet to be 
 sung; it waits for the man who can see the poetry which lies 
 in the vast strength, the child -like docility of the huge iron 
 arm which, like an elephant, obeys the will of the man who 
 has it under control. 
 
 Now, Jack was so absorbed in this critical and responsible 
 work that he could scarcely think even of Esther; his eye 
 mo red only from the swinging crane to its ascending and de- 
 scending loads, and he did not see the tall, black-dressed 
 figure of a woman, who with nervous haste was making her 
 way amongst the cargo piled up on the quay; and it was not 
 until he heard his name spoken close behind him that he 
 turned and saw her. 
 
 He started and stared at her, thinking for a moment that 
 t was Miss Woods in her widow's dress; then he saw that 
 <;he white face framed by the black bonnet was Kate's. 
 
 " Kate!" he exclaimed and even as he spoke, he had to 
 turn his eyes from her to the crane. " You here? doa'S 
 come nearer! Stand back! What has happene I?" 
 
 She shrank back, but drew closer to him the next instant 
 and, snatching a glance at her, as he shouted " Lower awy!" 
 he saw that she was not only white, but that she was trem- 
 bling violently. 
 
 " What is it?" he asked, quickly, putting in his ^aestion 
 between his last and the next word of command. 
 
 " The man!" she gasped. " It was Dick Reevehe has 
 been to the house he wanted to take me back with him!" 
 
 Jack nodded and raised his brows. 
 
 " Ok! Heady below? Lower! Let her gol Dicu 
 fieeie! How did he find"
 
 324 LOVE, THE 
 
 " I tioa't know. He would not tell me. Oh, Mr. Gordon, 
 fie knows where you are he will follow yon I gave him the 
 slip this dress of Miss Woods " 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " Hold hard a moment! Ready? Let her go!" 
 
 " He will follow yon here and find you. You must fly* 
 Oh, for God's sake, go at once! You know the danger the 
 dreadful danger!" 
 
 Jack looked at her he could only spare a seaond. 
 
 " What are you talking about, Kate?" he asked, swiftly, 
 in parenthesis as before. " Why should I fly?'* 
 
 He knows !" she said, in as low a voice as she could* 
 " He knows he threatened that if I did not go with him ha 
 would Ah! why do you still pretend not to understand?" 
 She wrung her hands. Jack's face flushed, but he had not 
 time to speak for a moment or two. 
 
 " See here, Kate," he said, hurriedly, in between his orders, 
 " this is not the first time you have hinted at my being in 
 some kind of danger, and hang me if I know what you mean! 
 What is it Dick Reeve threatens me with?" 
 
 She drew quite close to him, so close that her lips almost 
 touched his face. 
 
 " He he knows what what took place that night in Van- 
 court Woods! Oh, why do you hesitate? Why don't you go 
 while there is time? Ah, too late, too late!" She broke off 
 with an agonised cry that rose above the shrill of the escaping 
 steam and the clank of the chains. " He is here look!" 
 
 Jack looked in the direction in which she was gazing and 
 saw Dick Reeve springing over some bales and coming in 
 their direction. Jack saw that the man's face was flushed 
 and his eyes bloodshot, and he thought that Dick Reeve was 
 drunk; but as he came nearer, Jack saw that the man was in 
 a towering passion, and catching Dick Reeve's eye as they 
 rested for an instant on Kate, Jack also saw, as it were in a 
 flash, the cause of the trouble: Dick Reeve was jealous of 
 him. Little things he had heard at Vancourt, but which had 
 not struck him at the moment of hearing them, recurred to 
 him now. Dick Reeve was in love with Kate, and, naturally 
 enough, thought that she had gone off with him, Jack. 
 
 It would be difficult, at any time, to remove Dick's sus- 
 picions and to allay his passionate temper; but it was impos- 
 sible to do so under such circumstances as the present; with 
 the big crane swinging to Mid fro, with the din of the docks 
 in the air, in the prince of the mm ciowcling about like 
 bees ia a hive. Jack t'ortsaw trouble: for Dick UAP.VA had
 
 LOVE, THE TYEAKTi 325 
 
 murder written plainly in his swarthy face, and Kate well, 
 he could hear her panting with terror at his side. But Jack 
 was always cool when danger threatened, especially when it 
 was threatened by a fellow-man; so as Dick Reeve blundered 
 like a mad bull over crate and bale, Jack nodded with a 
 friendly smile, and, when Dick had come near enough t hear 
 through the din, said: 
 
 " How are you, Reeve? Don't come too near; this thing's 
 got an awkward knack of. dropping round on yon unex- 
 pectedly." 
 
 Dick Reeve pulled up just out of reach of the crate which 
 was swinging in the air, and with heaving chest and flashing 
 eyes glared at Jack's cool countenance. 
 
 " Curse you!" he gasped, at last. " I've found you yon 
 can't escape me. I've got you here, I've got you both to- 
 gether. Come out here, in the open, and fight me like a 
 man! But you ain't a man; you're a lying, sneaking hound 
 as enticed a girl from her home. Look at her, what you've 
 made of her!" 
 
 He pointed a shaking finger at Kate, who, in a half-faint- 
 ing condition, was leaning against a hawser-post, her eyei 
 wandering fearfully from one to the other. 
 
 Jack's face flushed, but his voice was cool and steady, as he 
 said: 
 
 " You're making a mistake, Reeve are you ready down 
 below? making a hideous mistake. It's true you find Kate 
 and me together let her go! but it's only by accident. I 
 met her in London, here -lower away! and we've been to- 
 gether, friends just friends steady, there! if you wait 
 until I'm off duty I'll explain the whole matter to you " 
 
 " You mean you'll give me the slip," said Dick Reeve. 
 " You lie, and you know it! Look at her, there! If she 
 doesn't care for you, why did she play this trick on me? why 
 didn't she come with i^e instead of coming to you? I know 
 why she came to warn you. But it's too late. I've got 
 you. Come out here, in the open, and fight me like a man, 
 or I'll open my mouth wide and charge you, here, with every- 
 body to hear." 
 
 'I really 
 Keeve," said 
 way of knocking 
 here and I can't leave. If you'd only be obliging enough to 
 wait for a quarter of an hour, I will take a turn with you and 
 as long a one as you like." 
 
 Notwithstanding the cheerf ulr : r? of his tone there was aa
 
 326 LOVE, THE TYRAUt 
 
 ominous look in his eyes which filled Kate *nth dread. She 
 sprang to him and clasped his arm. 
 
 " No, no!" she implored. " You shall not!" 
 
 The sight of her distress on Jack's account was too much 
 for Dick Reeve in his present condition. He sprang on a 
 bale, and, shaking his fist towards Jack, cried out: 
 
 " This man's a murderer! I charge him with murder! I 
 saw him do it!" 
 
 Jack's voice rang out: 
 
 "Ready below there!" then he glanced at Kate quickly. 
 " Is he mad or drunk?" he asked. 
 
 In the din no one but Jack and Kate had heard Dick Reeve's 
 accusation; Jack's indifference maddened the man, and, with 
 a kind of snarl, he sprang at Jack. As he did so, the order 
 to swing the crate issued from Jack's lips; round it came 
 with a kind of grim precision ; the huge mass struck Dick 
 Reeve, half blind with rage and fury, and knocked him over 
 the quay. It was done so quickly, he disappeared so in- 
 stantly, that not a soul, save Jack and Kate, saw the accident; 
 and the passing of a tug which was just leaving the dock 
 drowned the noise of his fall. It was impossible for Jack to 
 leave his post at the moment, for his doing so would endanger 
 a number of lives; so he had to stand and give the word of 
 command, restraining Kate, who seemed about to rush to the 
 quay's side. Directly the crate was safely lowered, and the 
 crane at a standstill, he shouted: 
 
 " Hold hard, all hands!" and sprang to the edge of the quay. 
 
 Dick Reeve was nowhere in sight; but Jack guessed what 
 had happened and that the unfortunate man had been sucked 
 under by the wash of the tug. Presently he saw him rise to 
 the surface, and Jack dived in and swam for him. Like most 
 countrymen, Dick Reeve could not swim a stroke, and as 
 Jack approached him he tried to make a grab at his rescuer; 
 but Jack put aside his arm and seized him by the back of his 
 coat. As he did so, he saw the blood oozing from a wound on 
 Dick Reeve's forehead, and an instant or two afterwards felt 
 the man turn, as it were to a dead weight. He knew that 
 Dick Reeve had fainted. Nothing would have been easier, if 
 they had been in the open sea, than to tow the man ashore; 
 but they were in the swirl of the tug, which, all unconscious 
 of what was going on under its grimy hull, was puffing and 
 enor'uiug on its way. 
 
 Jack fought hard, but every stroke he took seemed to send 
 him e'ill further into the miniature whirlpool; and he began 
 to think that all his troubles would be ended and that it
 
 I0VE, THE TYBAHT. 327 
 
 trcnld not be & all necessary for him to go out to AnstraTh to 
 solve the problem of his life, when a man on board fhe tug 
 chanced to catch sight of the two figures in the water, and 
 shouting an order, brought the vessel to a standstill. A boat 
 was lowered, and Jack and Dick Reeve were hauled on bciird, 
 
 Jack was neatly gone, and had to lie down to get his wind, 
 and Dick Kseve lay as lifeless as a log. When Jack caine 
 fully round, his first question was: 
 
 " Is he dead?" 
 
 He was informed that Dick Reeve was alive, but apparently 
 badly injured. A crowd of men had collected on the quay, 
 but Jack had only eves for Kate Transom, who was kneeling 
 on the edge wailing for the boat. He landed rather stiffly 
 and shook the water from him as a stretcher was brought for 
 Dick Reeve and was accompanied by one of the dock police- 
 men. There was not much excitement, because accidents at 
 the docks are by no means infrequent. Dick Reeve was re- 
 stored to consciousness, and Jack and Elate accompanied him 
 in a cab to the hospital. On the way he opened his eyes now 
 and again and looked from one to the other with a strange 
 expression on his face; an expression of doubt and something 
 like sullen remorse; but he said nothing; and when inter 
 Jack and Kate were admitted to the ward and st .oi b'.side 
 his bed, he, after looking at them fixedly for a monisnt, 
 closed his eves and turned his head away as if he did not in- 
 tend to speak. 
 
 Jack qui:e understood the man's feelings: it is not pleasant 
 to be saved by the person you distrust and dislike. 
 
 " Good-bye, Reeve," he said, taking the hot hand. " I'm 
 afraid I must leave you now; but I'm leaving yon in good 
 hands; and they'll let me know how you get on. Don't you 
 worry about Kate," he added, significantly, ." I'm going to 
 take her back to her father. All you've got to do is to get 
 well as soon as possible." 
 
 When he and Kate had got outside she walked beside him 
 almost as a dog follows his master Jack said: 
 
 *' We'll wait until we get home, Kate, and then you shall 
 tell me what all this means, if it mean anything at all! We'll 
 take a cab, for we shall only lost have time to catch the 
 tain." 
 
 * You you are going to Vancourt?" she breathed, with a 
 look of fear and amazement on her white face. 
 
 " I am going to Vancourt, Kate," he said, grimly. 
 
 Nothing more was said until they reached home and 
 having changed, joined her in the sitting-rooiP-
 
 328 LOVE, THE TYBATST. 
 
 " Now, Kate,* he said, gently enough, but firmly, " was 
 Dick Reeve raving mad on the quay, or was there any mean- 
 ing in his words?" 
 
 She seemed scarcely capable of speech, and sat with her: 
 face hidden in her hands for a moment; then she looked up 
 at him piteously. 
 
 " Don't you know?" she whispered. " Did nothing hap- 
 pen the night you left the night you were in the woods 
 when I saw you with your hands all over blood the night 
 you left your gun " 
 
 Jack stared at her in dumb bewilderment. 
 
 41 Why, what should happen?" he asked after a time. " I 
 haven't the least notion wnat you're driving at. Poor Dink 
 Reeve said something about murder. What murder? If any 
 had been committed, I should have heard of it." 
 
 She rose with her hands clasped against her heart, her 
 breath coming painfully. 
 
 " You don't know! 'Nothing happened that night? Oh, 
 thank God, thank God! No, I won*t say another word! Yes, 
 I will go wherever you like to take me. I will go back to 
 Vancourt now.*' 
 
 Jack was still puzzled, but he nodded cheerfully and looked 
 at his watch. 
 
 " We've just time to catch the train. I'm going to taks 
 Miss Woods with us," he said; and he reddened a little, for 
 he saw by Kate's face that she understood that he was taking 
 Miss Woods because the presence of another woman would 
 dispel any suspicion respecting Kate and himself. Presently 
 Miss Woods came down with the canary-coloured wig brushed 
 very smoothly and quietly, and without her rouge; and the 
 three started for Vancourt. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 BSTHEB had her : * good cry," then faced the situation as 
 calmly and composedly as she could. All night long she lay 
 awake realising that she had lost the Vancourt property, that 
 Jack Gordon was Sir John Vancourt, the rightful owner, and 
 that she was going back to music-teaching in Islington. 
 
 That was bad enough, of course; but the remembrance of 
 her parting with Jack added to her unhappiness. If he had 
 offerer! excuses and professed penitence she thought that she 
 could have borne the thought of the parting better; but Jack, 
 all unwillingly had behaved in the wav. which wnmaru willj-
 
 LOVE, THE TYSJLBTE. 329 
 
 , always admire; that is, he had flown into a passion an 
 roared at her; and though she felt that it was absurd, she had 
 a kind of idea that she had been unjust to him. It was ab- 
 surd, because he had not ventured to deny that hs had taken 
 Kate from b>r home, and that he ought to marry her. 
 
 Poor Miss Worcester felt rather flurried when she was told 
 that they were to return to Vancourt by the ten o'clock train, 
 and begged hard for a few hours of shopping; bat Esther, 
 with a strange smile on her pale face, shook her head; and 
 Miss Worcester, still murmuring pathetically at being " hus- 
 tled " for no " earthly reason," found herself at Waterloo in 
 good time for the express. 
 
 Esther had wired to Mr. Floss to be at the Towers the nest 
 morning, and had also telegraphed to Selby Lay ton and Mr. 
 Coverdale to come at the same hour. All the way down in 
 the train she tried to plan out her future for she had a 
 shrewd suspicion that Selby Layton would, after he heard of 
 the loss of her fortune, want to withdraw from his engage- 
 ment; a suspicion which caused her no pain; but in spite of 
 all her efforts she could not drive Jack Gordon from her 
 mind. 
 
 " You seem very quiet and depressed, my dear Esther," 
 remarked Miss Worcester, " But, there. I'm not surprised! 
 Such a helter-skelter journey as we have made is enough to 
 tire the most robust, and, as no one in their senses could call 
 me that, I am free to confess that I am physically and men- 
 tally exhuasted. Why on earth you wanted to tear to London 
 and back in this absurd fashion as if as if you were travel- 
 ling with a single day's excursion ticket, I can't imagine!" 
 
 Esther smiled rather sadly. 
 
 " Perhaps some day we shall be glad of a single day's ex- 
 cursion ticket, auntie," she said, wondering how she should 
 ever succted in ** breaking " the bad news to the old lady. 
 "Who knows? Riches take to themselves wings, we're told" 
 
 ** How absurd jou are, Esther! Fancy Vancourt Towers 
 flying away. They are a little too solid, I think!" she re- 
 torted, with a dignified perk of her hsad. 
 
 " I don't know, auntie, nettling ought to surprise one in 
 this most changeable and transitory of worlds, you know. 
 And if if eay, for instance, it turned out that Sir Richard's 
 nephew was alive and and claimed the property ' 
 
 \f- __ Ttr _____ A ___ _______ a . .a i_ _. _--,* ? 
 
 she 
 
 have net been at all the thing lately., and now voa are
 
 330 MTE, THE TYRAKT. 
 
 so wildly that yon make me quite uncomfortable and aaxfoos 
 about you.*' 
 
 Esther, with a sigh, relinquished her well-meant attempt 
 to break the bad news, and talked of the small things that 
 made up Miss Worcester's life for the rest of the journey. 
 
 As they drove up the avenue she looked up at the great 
 building with, it must be confessed, a sense of loss. It had 
 feeen very good to be the mistress of the vast place, of all the 
 land and the people, to have the control and spending of so 
 many thousands, and she knew that when she was giving 
 music-lessons in grim and dreary Islington she would look 
 back with keem regret for all her vanished greatness. She was 
 no longer mistress of Vancourt Towers, and and Would 
 Kate Transom reign in her stead? 
 
 She was received in due state by Palmer and his attendant 
 satellites, and Palmer handed her a note from Mr. Floss. It 
 was only a line or two, saying that the Parish Council had 
 asked permission to drain the Hawk's Pool, and he had 
 granted it. The note had arrived an hour after she had 
 started for London. Esther put it aside with the reflection 
 that it was now no concern of hers what they did with the 
 Hawk's Pool or any other portion of the estate. 
 
 After dinner she went up to her room and, with her own 
 hands, packed a small box with the plainest of her dresses, 
 including those in wliich she had come to the Towers, which 
 she had kept, from an easily understood sentiment, little 
 dreaming that she would need them again; then she went 
 down-stairs again, and slowly and rather sadly made a tour of 
 the principal rooms. It was in reality a farewell, for amongst, 
 other things she had resolved on during her sleepless night 
 was her prompt surrender of and departure from the Towers: 
 the sooner she got back to Islington and the old life of toil 
 and self-denial the better. She was very gentle and loving 
 in a remorseful kind of way to Miss Worcester all the 
 evening, and drew the old lady to her bosom with an unusual 
 confession of affection when they said good-night. 
 
 Strange to say, she slept well, but she dreamt, and her 
 dreams were of Jack Ooropc, One was an unpleasant one 
 enough; no less than a vision of him and Kate Transom 
 standing before the altar: and Rate wore a bridal dress! She 
 slept until Marie called her in the morning, and it was later 
 than usual when she went down *o breakfast. They were 
 scarcely seated when Mr. Floss's dog-oart drove up. 
 
 " I will tell him you are at breakfast, miss," said Palmer, 
 who did not like his beloved mistress to be distorted at he?
 
 I07E, THE TYRAHTi 331 
 
 meals; brrt leather said she would see him at once, and, only 
 waiting to drink a tittle tea, went to the library. 
 
 Mr. Moss was pacing up and down, and when he turned 
 to her Esther saw that his face looked grimly disturbed, and 
 that his thick brows were moving up and down as if he were 
 agitated or upset about something. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Vancourt," he said. " I've come 
 earlier than you said, but are you ill?" he broke off to en- 
 quire. 
 
 " Not in the very least," she said; " but I am, naturally, 
 as you will understand presently, rather upset. I may as well 
 tell you at once, Mr. Floss, that that I have discovered that 
 Sir Richard's nephew is alive, that the story of his death was 
 incorrect, and that I am no longer the mistress of Vancourk" 
 
 He stared at her, but did not seem so much impressed, *. 
 much startled as Esther felt he ought to have been. 
 
 "You don't appear very greatly surprised," she said., 
 little nettled, woman-like, by his seeming indifference. 
 
 " I I beg your pardon!" he said. " What did you say? 
 Excuse me, I am rather flurried this morning for the first 
 time in my life, I think I might say! The fact is, there has 
 been a very dreadful discovery What did you say? Sir 
 John Vancourt not dead!" 
 
 He broke off and stared at her, his brows working up and 
 down as if two things were fighting for predominance in his 
 mind. 
 
 " Yes; but tell me what is the matter, what has been dis- 
 covered?" said Esther, with a sudden presentiment of eviL 
 
 Mr. Floss advanced to a chair. 
 
 " Better sit down, Miss Vancourt," he said. " I'm sorry 
 to have to tell you, but you must hear it, and it is better that 
 it should come from me. You got my note about the Parish 
 Council?" 
 
 Esther nodded gravely and impatiently. 
 
 " Well, they acted pretty promptly on my permission, and 
 sent some men to sound the Pool early this morning, and 
 and while they were doing so they came upon I wish you'd 
 sit down! they made a very dreadful discovery; in short, 
 they they found a body.*' 
 
 Esther felt for the chair and sank into it, and Mr. Floes 
 paused and regarded her anxiously. 
 
 " Tut, tut! I meant to break it gently, and Pve blurted ft 
 out like like an elephant!'* 
 
 " No, nol" said Esther. " A body? please toll use 
 quickly*"
 
 332 LOVZ, THE TYRAIFT. 
 
 " The body of a man. It was found chained to an anchor 
 an anchor fhat used to be attached to the old boat Shall 
 I get you a little brandy? shall I call Miss Worcester?' 7 
 
 " No, no!" said Esther. " I am not faint; but but it ia 
 so sudden." 
 
 " The poor fellow has been murdered there can bs no 
 doubt of it. There is the mark of a blow on the temple, jnst 
 in the place where a blow is often fatal. The murderer must 
 have towed the body of his victim out to the centre of the 
 lake" 
 
 " Wait a moment! There is some water in that carafe I 
 Thank you!" breathed Esther, as she took the glass in I*** 
 shaking hand. 
 
 " And sank it with the anchor." 
 
 As he was speaking, the murmur of voices rose from tli* 
 garden, and Esther saw a small crowd of servants and village 
 
 Sople collected outside. As she looked, Selby Layton and 
 r. Coverdale drove up in the Fanworth dog-cart. 
 
 " W;hom?" she faltered. " Whom do they suspect? The 
 poachers? Who is the man, the murdered man?" 
 
 She shuddered as she asked the question. 
 
 " A stranger; that is, to all Vancourt but one person," re- 
 plied Mr. Floss. " He came here on a visit and stayed at the 
 Black Crow the landlord has identified him and he has 
 been identified by one other person by Transom." 
 
 " Transom!" 
 
 " Yes; Transom, as you know, has been out in Australia* 
 and he knew this man there as a leader of a gang of bush- 
 rangers. Transom met him and talked with him here, in 
 Vancourt, on a certain Tuesday; but, stiangely snough, he 
 declares that the man did not come to see him, but said tlmfc 
 he camo here on some business, of what nature he did not teli 
 Transom. Transom is not too frank and open in the matter, 
 and I suspect him of being one of the gang of bushrangers. 
 But here are the facts: the man came here on some mysteri- 
 ous business, leaves, as it was supposed, for Loncion, but is 
 found lying at the bottom of Hawk's Pool What a noise 
 they are making outside! I'll tell them " 
 
 Esther stayed him with a movement of her hand, 
 
 " But who killed him?" she asked, faintly. 
 
 Mr. Floss was silent for a moment. 
 
 " I really don't like to answer the question," he said< 
 " But suspicion is directed to " 
 
 He paused, and before he could finish the sentence Palmar 
 uoened the door.
 
 MJVE, THE TYBAlfTa 333 
 
 "Mr. Gordon, miss/' he said. 
 
 Esther started, and Mr. Floss mattered something meter 
 Ids breath. She was silent for a moment, then she said: 
 
 " Please show Mr. Gordon in." 
 
 Now, Jack had taken Kate and Miss Woods to the Tran 
 Boms' cottage, but, finding that Transom was not in, had 
 come straight on to the Towers, promising to return to Kate 
 as soon as possible. He had, as he came along, been seen 
 and recognised, and he noticed that by those he had met in 
 the road and by the crowd collected in front of the house he 
 had been regarded with a curious expression which was more 
 turious than fpleasant. But Jack was too absorbed in think- 
 ing of Esther to pay much attention to the demeanour of the 
 people, and he entered the room with a grave and rather 
 stem face. 
 
 Esther's heart began to beat fiercely, as it always did in his 
 presence, but she bowed with apparent calmness she did not 
 offer her hand and Jack returned the bow. 
 
 ** I'm afraid I have come at an inconvenient time, Miss 
 Vancourt," he said. 
 
 " No," said Esther, almost interrupting him. " I am very 
 glad you have come. I had sent for Mr. Floss to tell him of 
 the discovery I had made, and he is here and will help me to 
 restore to the rightful owner " 
 
 She stopped, for Mr. Floss had moved between Jack and 
 the door, and had closed it and turned the key. 
 
 " One moment, Miss Vancourt," he said. " You were ask- 
 ing me a question just now, a very terrible question, and I 
 was on the point of answering it, when Mr. Gordon came in. 
 I do not know whether Mr. Gordon is aware of the charge 
 against him a charge which will be made presently in due 
 form, if it is not already " 
 
 Jack looked from one to the other. Was there anything in 
 Kate's wild words and hinted fears? 
 
 " What charge?" he said, gravely, and with so absolute 
 a calm and self-possession that Mr. Floss was staggered. 
 
 He bit his lip and regarded the young man with keen 
 scrutiny. 
 
 " Mr. Gordon," he said, slowly. " It is usual on such pc 
 casions as this to utter a warning. I do so now. Anything 
 you may say will be used against yon; it rests with yon to 
 keep silence or speak. A murder has been committed, the 
 body has been found in the Hawk's Pool." 
 
 Jack started, but it was not like the start of guilt. 
 
 a asro another discovery was ioaci& bv Miss
 
 334 MJVE, THE TYRAUT. 
 
 court. It may or may not be connected with this later 
 more awful one. Do you know this?" 
 
 As he spoke he drew from the pocket of his voluminous 
 coat the tin which Esther had found under the hearthstone, 
 and held it out. 
 
 Jack glanced at it 
 
 " Certainly," he answered, quite coolly. " It is my prop- 
 erty at least " He hesitated, and Mr. Floss held up his 
 hand warningly; but Jack went on. "I buried that tin in 
 the fire-place at the cottage; it contains some bank-notes and. 
 a pocket-book they belong, I've every reason to believe, to 
 . scoundrel who " he glanced at Esther and hesitated aga: n 
 "who nearly murdered me in Australia, and did n; 
 der " 
 
 Esther drew back with a low cry, and Mr. Floss said, 
 sternly: 
 
 " Stop! Say no more! It is my duty to tell you that I 
 have reason to believe that the man you speak of has been 
 murdered, that his body was thrown into the Hawk's Pool." 
 
 Jack uttered a cry of astonishment. 
 
 * He here here in Vancourt! How why " 
 
 " How did you come by these notes, this pocket-book?" 
 enquired Mr. Floss. " But no, I will not ask you I have no 
 right." 
 
 " Every right in the world," said Jack, quietly. " I found 
 them while I was pursuing the man whom I chanced to meet 
 in London. I had met him by chance, by Hyde Park whea 
 I was up in town for you, getting the machines," he explained 
 to Esther, " and I had a struggle with him, and nearly 
 caught him; but he got away, and it was only by chance that 
 I saw him again What's the matterl" for Mr. Floss had 
 held up both hands to stop him. 
 
 " Not another word!" he said, sternly. " Every word you 
 afcter would form evidence against you " 
 
 Esther uttered a cry, a piteous cry, and Jack, with flushed 
 face and eyes wide with amazement, looked from one ; i the 
 other. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that I am snspcted of murder?" 
 he began, but there came a knock at the aoor, and Mr. Floss, 
 signing to the other two to remain silent, went and opened it. 
 
 Selby Layton followed by Harry Ooverdale, entered. The 
 former was very pale, and there w as a furtive look in his 
 eyes; he looked from one to the other, then he came forward 
 %nd took Esther's hand. 
 
 " My dear Esther, what what is the matter? _Wb art *J
 
 TYEATHi. 335 
 
 these peopis outside, and- Good-morning, Mr. Floss, has 
 anything happened? What is it, dearest?" 
 
 His voice had its flute-stop on, and he regarded her with 
 tenderly anxious eyes. 
 
 " Yes, something has happened, Mr. Layton," said Mr. 
 Floss, rather grimly and coldly he had not got over his as 
 he himself deemed unreasonable dislike for that gentleman. 
 *' Nothing less than murder " 
 
 Selby Cay ton started, and his face grew paler. 
 
 " Murder! Who? My dear Esther, this is no place for 
 you come go into the drawing-room to Miss Worcester, 
 while Mr. Floss tells me " 
 
 He stopped suddenly, for Harry Coverdale had come into 
 the rocm, and, after looking at Jack for a moment, advanced 
 and held out his hand, saying, with a smile: 
 
 " How do you do, Vancourt? I see you have been discov- 
 ered! Well, I suppose I've got to congratulate you; anyway, 
 I'm -Awfully glad to see you again!" 
 
 Jack, looking rather confused than pleased, shook hands; 
 and Selby Lay ton stared at them, his breath coming painfully. 
 
 " Vancourt? Vancourt?" he said. " Why do you call 
 this man This is the man Gordon who went off with poor 
 Kate Transom " 
 
 " That's a lie, Mr. Lay ton," said Jack, quietly, but with a 
 flash in his eyes. To be charged with the murder of his old 
 foe was bad enough, but to be accused, and by Selby Layton, 
 the man who was engaged to Esther, of a still baser crime 
 was miserable. " That's strong language, I'm afraid, but 
 I'm obliged to use it." 
 
 Selby Layton sneered. 
 
 *' I am sorry you should think it worth while to deny it," 
 he said. " I saw you both together, Mr. Gordon " 
 
 " Quite true, I've no doubt. We were living in the same 
 house," said Jack; " but Kate Transom is as innocent as 
 well, as I am of any wrong-doing, notwithstanding. I am 
 HOW going round to her father's. I don't know whether you 
 would like to accompany me " he looked at Mr. Floss. 
 
 " But Vancourt! Why do yon call him Vancourt?" asked 
 Selby Layton of Coverdale. 
 
 " ^Because that is his name," he said, gravely. " This gen- 
 tleman is Sir John Vancourt, the nephew and heir of Sir 
 Bichard Vancourt." 
 
 Selby Layton stared aghast, then he looked at Esther. 
 
 ' Bat this lady Miss Vancourt is the owner of the Tow- 
 ere tbe jjropertyl"
 
 33C f/JVE, THP TYRANT. 
 
 Mr. Floss had been watching Jack closely. For the first 
 tame in his life the old lawyer was completely thrown off his 
 balance. 
 
 " What is this?" he broke in. " Are you By George! 
 now I've heard it, now I look at you, I can see the" likeness! 
 John Vancourt! Then then " 
 
 Esther, pale and wan, did not smile, did not appear moved 
 by the question or the subject. The word " murder " rang 
 in her ears, filled her mind to the exclusion of everything 
 else. Her eyes scarcely left Jack's face, she seemed fasci- 
 nated by his presence, and by the horror of the charge which 
 hung over him. 
 
 Jack made a little gesture which was habitual with him 
 when he was flustered and bewildered; it was something like 
 the shake of the Newfoundland when he comes out of the 
 water. 
 
 " Time enough to talk about that, sir," he said. '* For 
 the moment I have to go and clear a girPs character from a 
 cruel and wicked aspersion." 
 
 He inclined his head to Esther and strode out. At the door 
 he turned and looked at Mr. Floss steadily. 
 
 " I shall be in the village if I'm wanted," he said, sig- 
 nificantly. 
 
 And no one offered to stop him, but all watched him as he 
 crossed the hall and passed through the excited and mutter- 
 ing crowd to Transom's cottage. 
 
 CHAITEK XLI. 
 
 JACK strode across the lawn and park and through the vil- 
 lage towards the Transoms'. To say that he was not upset 
 and concerned by the charge of murder of which Mr. Floss 
 had informed him, would be an exaggeration; but he was not 
 overwhelmed by it, or even very much alarmed. 
 
 The first thought of every man, when he is accused of a 
 crime of which he is innocent, is that he will very soon and 
 easily be able to prove his m.-ocence; and Jack was not very 
 easily frightened. 
 
 To tell the truth, his mind, as he strode along, was much 
 more occupied with Esther and her position than with him- 
 self and the charge which hung over him. What would she 
 do: would she insist upon leaving the Towers, would she re 
 fuse, formally and haughtily, to receive a nroper Jack 
 thon&kt that a half. or. say, two-thirds of hh inmm* iromt
 
 ttWE, THE TYBAJST. 837 
 
 the estates would be '* proper " sum as allowance or com- 
 pensation from him? And would she marry Selby Laytoa? 
 
 Jack had never been very fond of that gentleman, but this 
 morning he felt very much like hating him. 
 
 As he neared the cottage he heard Transom's voice raised 
 in an angry and bullying tone, and as he went up the garden 
 path he heard him exclaim. 
 
 " And where is he? If it's true, and I ain't been deceived, 
 why don't he show himself?" 
 
 " Meaning me? Good-morning! How are you?" said 
 Jack, enterinsr and looking round cheerfully. 
 
 Kate was sitting in a chair with her bands clasped and her 
 head downcast. Miss Woods was standing by the window iu 
 an apologetic attitude, and Transom was in the Englishman's 
 favourite position in front of the fire-place, one hand thrust 
 in his pocket, the other swinging in the air in an accusing 
 fashion. At sight of Jack he stopped and looked at him with 
 a curious mixture of reproach and respect. At Jack's en- 
 trance Kate had looked up for a moment, then her head had 
 drooped still lower. 
 
 " What's the meaning o' this?" enquired Transom in a 
 deeply injured voice. " 'Ere's my gal come back my gal 
 as you took away, Mr. Gordon " 
 
 " Hold on, Transom," said Jack, calmly and gravely; 
 " don't let us have any mistakes. Miss Transom did not go 
 awav with me. I happened to meet her in London, where 
 she ha^ lost herself and was without friends, and I took her 
 to some friends of mine; one of them stands there " 
 
 "That's all very well!" sai'd Transom, complainingly. 
 "But my gal's character has gone " 
 
 " Father!" broke from Kate's lips in an anguish of 
 wounded pride and humiliation. 
 
 " You keep jour mouth shut as becomes you contradictin* 
 your own father!" admonished Transom. " Her character's 
 gone everyone in the place says as you took her away " 
 
 " Everybody lies, then," said Jack, grimly. 
 
 " An v how, that's what they say; and as a father I asks 
 you if you're willing to marry her " 
 
 Jack looked at her downcast face with a curious intentness. 
 
 " Yes," he said. 
 
 Kate started, the blood mounted to her face and she ut- 
 tered a little cry, then the colour fled again and she hung her 
 head. 
 
 *' That's all nVM!" exclaimed Transom, with something 
 Xke triumnh and exultation in his tones. " That.'a what I
 
 338 LOVE, 'THE TYRANT. 
 
 call behavin' like a gentleman; and a gentleman I always 
 said you was!*' 
 
 " Thank you!" said Jack, drily; " but you did not wait 
 for the end of my reply. I am more than ready to marry 
 Kate, if she'll do me the honour of accepting me, but " 
 
 " But? There ain't no buts!" broke*in Transom, loudly. 
 " You've made your offer, here before witnesses don't you 
 forget that, Mr. Gordon! Here's this lady heard you dis- 
 tinctly but you're not the one to go back from a promise, 
 you'll stand by your word." 
 
 " That's all right/' said Jack, taking Kate's hand; but she 
 drew hers away, after a piteous little look at him; " but I'm 
 afraid neither she nor you will and for the matter of that 
 ought not to give your consent when you hear that I'm not 
 at all a desirable husband." 
 
 At this point, as if she felt herself too much de trop, Miss 
 Woods stole softly out of the room and up the stairs. 
 
 " Why ain't you desirable?" demanded Transom, suspi- 
 ciously. " You take his hand, Kate. Don't you be a fool, 
 my gel! Your father knows what's best for you, and Mr. 
 Gordon has offered himself before witnesses. What do you 
 mean by not bein' desirable?" he broke off, sharply. 
 
 While he had been speaking Jack had seen some persons 
 coming up the path. He caught sight of Mr. Floss and 
 Coverdale and Selby Layton, with a small crowd at the back, 
 amongst whom was the village constable; but he had also 
 seen the girlish figure of Esiher walking beside Mr. Floss, 
 andhe had instantly no eyes for anyone but her. She was 
 very white, and there was a look in her eyes which smote him 
 to the heart, the expression of dread and terror which always 
 seems so poignant in a woman's face. Was the dread, the 
 terror' on his account, because he was in danger? 
 
 Jack nodded towards them as they came up to the door. 
 
 " They'll tell you, Transom!" he said. 
 
 Transom stared at the group open-mouthed, but Kate 
 sprang to her feet with a low cry, and extended her hand to- 
 wards Jack as if she would protect him. 
 
 " What's to do?" stammered Transom. 
 
 Mr. Floss gave him a nod. 
 
 " We want to speak with this gentleman. Mr. Gordon, I 
 am afraid I shall nave to to proceed against you." 
 
 Coverdale stepped forward with an apologetic gesture. 
 
 " Vancourt, can't you clear up this mystery?" he said. 
 " We've been talking it over as we came along, and we, none 
 of ws, believe that you are guilty. Come! I know yon can
 
 LOVE, THE TTRAOT. 339 
 
 be obstinate wnen yon like Ask Vancourt to give yon an 
 explanation, to tell you where he was that night, Mr. Floss," 
 he broke off, appealing to the old lawyer. 
 
 Mr. Floss frowned. 
 
 " I have no right to ask this gentleman for an explanation, 
 an account of his actions, Mr. Coverdale. And I must take 
 exception, I most strongly object, to your addressing him as 
 Sir John Vancourt. There is no proof of his claim " 
 
 " I've made no claim," said Jack, coolly; " but let that 
 
 Mr. Floss waved his hand impatiently. 
 
 " No proof of his identity with Sir Richard's nephew 
 heir beyond your recognition of him." 
 
 Transom's mouth had opened wide, as he listened and 
 looked from one to the other; then he came a step forward 
 and held up his hand to attract attention; and he got it 
 speedily enough, for everybody stared at him wonderingly. 
 
 " Hold on, Mr. Floss! Mr. Gordon, I understand as you 
 offer yourself to my daughter Kate?" 
 
 Jack, with eyes carefully averted from the beautiful face 
 near him, went up to Kate's side. 
 
 " Yes," he said. 
 
 " Very well, then. You all heard that!" cried Transom. 
 " Then hear me! There's somebody else as knows this gen- 
 tleman, Mr. Floss, and that's me! I declare him to be the 
 missing Sir John Vancourt, Baronite, as was supposed to be 
 killed at the bush near Wally Ford! Oh, yes, you may start 
 and frown, Mr. Floss, sir; but it can't stop me; and the 
 knowin' that I may be doin' myself an injury slia'n't stop me 
 neither. How do I know as he is Sir John? Because I was 
 one of the gang that attacked the hut mind you, I wasn't in 
 the robbery itself, nor concerned in the the murder. I was 
 outside the hut scouting 'ad been outside for hours; and it 
 was me that run in and give notice of the police. Mr. Gor- 
 don beg his pardon! Sir John here will remember!" 
 
 Jack regarded him in astonished silence, and Transom, 
 with evident enjoyment of the situation, notwithstanding hia 
 complicity with the rangers, went on: 
 
 " Scoutin' outside the hut, I heard every word as passed 
 between the two gentlemen; I heard the newsnaper read, and 
 Mr. Gordon that's not this gentleman tellin* Mr. Burton 
 about his sister. This gentleman's name was Arthur Burton; 
 that I can swear " 
 
 Harry Coverdale nodded. 
 
 " And for some reason or other he changed names when
 
 340 DOVE, THE TYRA1ST. 
 
 his chum was killed, and deceived the police. 1 dCGg3issd 
 him when I saw him in the Vancourt woods: yon remember 
 the night, Mr. Gordon I beg pardon, Sir John? The nignt 
 Kate come up " 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 *' And I says to myself, ' This 'ere's the ngntiul heir, 
 this is the proper Sir John ' ' 
 
 " Why did you not say so publicly?" demanded Mr. Floss, 
 sternly. 
 
 Transom shook his head. 
 
 " 'Twasn't for me to speak when my betters was holdin* 
 their tongues," he replied, shrewdly. " And I was afeared 
 you see, I was mixed up with the gang; but Sir Jolin'li see I 
 don't come to no harm; besides, it wasu t no business of 
 mine then; it is now, seein's Sir John's goin' to marry my 
 gel!" 
 
 He looked round with an air of pride and satisfaction; bat 
 a low cry from Kate startled them all. She had risen and. 
 stood upright, almost proudly indeed. 
 
 " It is not true!" she said. " He he is not going to 
 mar**/ nie. l I refuse!" 
 
 Transom uttered an oath, and seized her arm. 
 ' What! Hold your tongue, you you huzzy! Eefuse!" 
 
 " Let me go, father!" she panted. " Yes, I refuse! He 
 has never said a word Oh, I can't go on! But I refuse, 
 refuse! 1 would rather die than let him sacrifice I know 
 why he a^ked me. Because you have all believed that that 
 he took me away. It's not true!" 
 
 " Why did you go, then?" thundered her father. " An- 
 swer me, you you unnatural gel, why did you go?" 
 
 " That will do, Transom!" said Jack, grimly; and he went 
 up to Kate and took her hand. 
 
 " The saciifice would be on your part, Kate, not mine, for, 
 as Mr. Floss will tell you, I am accused of murder." 
 
 Sne uttered a cry and sprang to her father, but he thrust 
 her from him. 
 
 " What's that?" he growled, savagely. " Murder? Who's 
 murdered?" 
 
 Mr. Floss was watching him. 
 
 " The man you met here, on a certain Tuesday, Transom; 
 his body has been found in the Hawk's PooL" 
 
 Transom started and glared at Jack. 
 
 " I know him! And I can tell you who did it! Yes, it 
 was him!" He pointed to Jack, who leant against the man- 
 tel-shelf with folded anus his eyes fixed on Esther. u Tiie
 
 HOVE, THE TYRANt 
 
 man was the leader o* the gang. I met him, as Mr. Fioss 
 Bays, gentlemen; and what's more, I warned him agen Mr. 
 Gordon that is, Sir John Vancourt; for it was him, Denzil, 
 as killed Sir John's chum in the hut, and would V shot Sir 
 John. There was an old grudge at ween them, the bitterest o' 
 bad blood, and Denzil hisself said that if they met " 
 
 Mr. Floss held up his hand he had not been able to stop 
 him before. 
 
 " Be careful, Transom; you will be required to repeat this 
 before the magistrate. " 
 
 " So I will!" retorted Transom, looking round. His furi- 
 ous glance rested on Kate, and he seized her by the arm and 
 dragged her forwards. " And here's one as can give evi- 
 dence, too. By God! I see it all now; I understand! She 
 went off because she knows some'ut about it! She met Mr. 
 Gordon she was in the wood that night and went off be- 
 cause she know'd some'ut. Speak out, you !" 
 
 He raised his hand as if to strike her, but Jack seized his 
 arm and swung him round, and Kate fell into a chair and bid 
 her face in her arms, flung out on the table. 
 
 There was an awful silence. It was broken by Selby 
 Lay ton. 
 
 " I am afraid the case looks very bad," he said, as if in- 
 voluntarily. " I have just heard that she obtained this man'a 
 gun, which one of the game-keepers found up against a tree 
 near the Hawk's Pool obtained it under the pretence that it 
 belonged to Dick Reeve. That is so, Johnson?" he asked, 
 turning to the under-keeper, who was hovering at the edge of 
 the crowd. Johnson nodded reluctantly, and drew still far- 
 ther back. " Then we have the fact that he went off that 
 night, disappeared without any reason," continued Selby Lay- 
 ton, smoothly. Then he stopped as if he felt he had gone 
 too far, for Esther had shrunk from him. " But perhaps 
 Mr. Gordon Sir John can explain?" 
 
 Jack leant against the mantel-shelf with l;.? d,rms folded. 
 He was pale, but his eyes flashed round upon the crowd that 
 now clustered about the door and over the threshold. 
 
 " I've no explanation to offer," he said, quietly, " and if I 
 iad. there is no one here who would believe me. 
 
 Kate raised her head; bat it was Esther who stepped out 
 and stood beside him with head erect, and eyes that flashed 
 even more indignantly than his own. 
 
 " Yes, there is one!" she said in a low voice, but with 
 thrilling distinctness. " 7 believe you. I would answer for 
 y0or innocence with Day life!"
 
 342 LOYE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 Instinctively she held out her hand, and as Instruct- 
 ively he grasped it. 
 
 " Thank you!" 
 
 A commonplace response enough, but the tone in which it 
 was spoken, the look that accompanied it, brought the blood 
 to her face and set her heart leaping with the passionate love 
 with which it o'er-welled. 
 
 Selby Layton moved towards them, his face pale, his under- 
 lip twisted. 
 
 " Esther!" he exclaimed, reproachfully. 
 
 She turned upon him, as if his presence, his word of re- 
 proach, were the last straw. 
 
 " It is true! I do believe him innocent! I say so now, I 
 will say it even if to the end!" 
 
 At this moment there was a stir in the crowd which, mur- 
 muring excitedly, made way for two men who had approached 
 unobserved. One of them was Dick Reeve pale and wan, 
 the other a gentlemanly looking individual with a singularly 
 cool and self-possessed air. 
 
 Ab sight of Dick Reeve, Selby Layton flushed and seemed 
 uncertain what to say or do for a moment; and he drew back 
 as the gentleman who accompanied Reeve entered the cot- 
 tage, and looking round, said: 
 
 " Mr. Floss?" 
 
 " I am Mr. Floss," said the old lawyer. 
 
 " Thank you, sir; my name's Bowler Scotland Yard" 
 
 Mr. Floss nodded. 
 
 " Come about this murder, sir." 
 
 " How did you hear of it?" asked Mr. Floss, with fierce 
 suspicion. 
 
 The detective jerked his head toward Dick Reeve, who 
 stood looking before him moodily. 
 
 " This man made a statement at the hospital. They sent for 
 me, and as soon as he was able to travel, I brought him down." 
 
 Selby Layton drew a breath of relief and watched from the 
 corners of his eyes Dick Reeve's moody face. The hour of 
 his triumph was at hand. Already the evidence against this 
 man Gordon this Sir John, who had turned up to rob Esther 
 .>f Vancourt was black enough; Dick Reeve's evidence 
 would make it damning. 
 
 " What is the statement?" asked Mr. Floss. 
 
 " You are a magistrate, and can grant me a warrant?" 
 asked the detective; and Mr. Floss nodded. " Well, sir, this 
 man, Richard Reeve, was witness of a murder on Tuesday the 
 seventh of last month, at a place called Hawk's Pool."
 
 10VE, THE TYEA1ST. 843 
 
 There was a murmur of excitement. Jack stood upright 
 and looked steadily at Reeve, whose face was still downcast, 
 but bore an expression of sullen determination, which reas- 
 sured Selby Lay ton. 
 
 Mr. Floss drew a long breath. 
 
 " The accused is here, Mr. Bowler,*' he said. " You can 
 arrest him." 
 
 A cry rose from Kate, but Esther, the other woman who 
 loved him, uttered no sound. Mr. Floss indicated Jack with 
 a motion of his hand; and the detective went up to him. 
 
 " I arrest you on a charge of wilful murder, Se.by Lay- 
 ton," he said, gravely. 
 
 A hoarse murmur went up; the crowd, though it had not 
 caught the name, understood that an arrest was taking place 
 and pressed forward. Only one or two of those nearest tha 
 principal actors in the dramatic scene had caught the con- 
 cluding words; and they were transfixed by astonishment. 
 Selby La) ton was for the moment too amazed, too over- 
 whelmed, to move; for a moment only, then the instinct of 
 self-preservation which lends wits to the dullest and he was 
 by no means the dullest arose in him. With a quick but 
 noiseless movement he drew back as if to keep the crowd from 
 entering, then slipped in amongst them and through them. 
 
 Mr. Floss was the first to speak. 
 
 " What do you say?" he demanded, crimson with astonish- 
 ment. " What did you call him?" 
 
 " One of his numerous aliases, I daresay," said the detect- 
 ive, coolly. " Selby Layton. But you'll answer to that 
 name, I suppose?" 
 
 " Certainly not!" retorted Jack, grimly. " I should pre- 
 fer any other. My name happens to be John Vancourt or 
 Jack Gordon whichever you prefer." 
 
 " I told you he'd have an alias or two!" said the detective 
 to Mr. Floss, with a dry smile. 
 
 Voices from the crowd pressing etill nearer: 
 
 " That's not Mr. Layton!" " That's Mr. Gordonl" Mr. 
 Layton was here a minute ago where's he gone?" 
 
 The detective looked slightly confused. 
 
 " What's that?" he said, reddening and turning sharply. 
 
 " Is it not Mr. Gordon you want to arrest?" asked Mr. 
 Floes, in amazement. 
 
 " Certainly not! Unlass he is also Selby Layton!" re- 
 torted the detective, rather brusquelv. " I wann tin; Selby 
 Layton who was staying at the Towers." 
 
 To the surprise of everyone Selby Layton'a Taice cam?
 
 344 1MVK, THE TYBANT. 
 
 from the back of the crowd. He had seen two policemen 3D 
 
 the lane and had quietly turned back. 
 
 " That is my name/' he said, with <u assumption of COUP 
 temptuous indifference. 
 
 The detective swung round upon him. 
 
 " I arrest you, Mr, Layton!" he said. 
 
 "Your warrant!" demanded Selby Layton, with a sang* 
 froid which impressed everyone but Dick Reeve, who stood 
 watching the scene in moody silence. 
 
 Mr. Bowler slipped between Selby and the door. 
 
 " Mr. Floss will make that out/' he said, nodding to the 
 old lawyer. As he spoke he took some papers from his 
 pocket. " Here is my prima-facie evidence, sir. These- 
 this agreement and photograph, and the styo) graphic pen, 
 Which has Mr. Selby Layton's initials, were found near the 
 spot. A cheque drawn by Mr. Selby Layton was in the pocket 
 oi the murdered man." 
 
 A thrill of horror ran through the crowd, and Esther 
 shrank back and covered her face with her hands. 
 
 But Selby Layton seemed unmoved. The terror which 
 clutched at his iieart nerved him to a desperate defiance. 
 
 " I do not deny the statement. The pen is mine, the 
 agreement was drawn up by the deceased. I met him at the 
 Hawk's Pool'' 
 
 " Silence!" said Mr. Floss, sternly, as the murmuring of 
 the excited crowd almost drowned the admission. 
 
 " The man was named Denzil May hew, and he was my 
 brother-in-law. He applied to me for assistance not for the 
 first time; and, as you see, I was willing to help him. He 
 confessed that my wife, his sister, was dead, that the letter 
 was a forgery. Naturally, I did not wish my connection with 
 him to be known." He had got thus far, delivering the ex- 
 planation slowly and with absolute self-possession, when the 
 spectators were startled by a cry coming from the end of the 
 room, and every eye turned to the trembling figure of Miss 
 Woods, where she stood at the bottom of the stairs, gazing at 
 Selby Layton. He saw her, his face went white, and hia 
 fluent tongue stopped suddenly. 
 
 She raised her nand and pointed to him, gasping % 
 
 " My husband!" 
 
 At this fresh development of the mystery the spectators 
 vere struck silent. The detective was the first to recover. 
 He swung round to Dick Eeeve. 
 
 " You stand by your statement, Eeeve?" he asked, sharply 
 
 Reave
 
 JXJVE, THE TYRAUT. 345 
 
 " Yes. I saw him do it. He "knows it. Is was Hm aa 
 
 put me np to shifting it on Mr. Gordon. I thought he'd 
 taken Kate away: I know better now. And and he saved 
 my life. I saw Mr. Selby Lay ton strike the blow with my 
 own eyes, I saw him tow the body into the lake." 
 
 Moved by some instinct, Jack strode to Esther, took her by 
 the arm and drew one might almost write " dragged " . 
 her outside. 
 
 " Come away!" he said; and, as if powerless to resist, she 
 let him lead her through the crowd and into the lane. He 
 drew her arm through his and supported her. 
 
 " Don't speak!" he said, hoarsely. " I will take you to 
 the Towers don't be afraid you shall do what you like, go 
 where you like anywhere away from here. My poor girl!" 
 
 The last words, breathed rather than spoken, with an in* 
 finity of tenderness and pity, broke her down, and with a cry 
 she sank fainting into his arms. Palmer, with a forethought 
 which spoke plainly of his care of his young mistress, had sent 
 a carriage, and Jack carried her to where it stood waiting and 
 put her in. 
 
 As he did so, he heard a pistol-shot ring out sharply. He 
 hesitated a moment and looked back; then he entered the 
 carriage, and, still supporting her, cried " Home!" to the 
 coachman. The horses started, but before they had gone far, 
 Harry Ooverdale came tearing down the road, and, laying 
 hold of the handle of the carriage door, panted: 
 
 " Lay ton has shot himself! He's dead! Can I do any- 
 thing, Vaucourt?" 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 ' Yes; help me to keep it from her!" he repiled, huskily, 
 " Stand by me, Coverdale for God's sake!" 
 
 Coverdale pressed his hand, and nodded and dropped back. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLH. 
 
 FIFTEEN months later Sir John Vanconrt, Lord Fanworth, 
 and Harry Coverdale were seated at an early breakfast at the 
 Towers; early because the hounds, of which Jack was now 
 the master, were to meet at half-past eight sharp, at Crichett 
 Cross. 
 
 The tragedy that had happened fifteen months ago nad left 
 its mark on Jack. He was thinner, the hair on his temples 
 Was silvered, and there was a certain abstracted and moody 
 ^X>k in his eves which had not been there before the discovery
 
 346 IOVE, THE TYRAKT.^ 
 
 of the murder at Hawk's Pool and his installatioa as ownec 
 of Vancourt Towers. 
 
 The least observant of men would have seen that Sir John 
 Vancourt was anything but a happy man, but everyone ad- 
 mitted that he did not wear his heart upon his sleeve, or go 
 About the world complaining of his infelicity. 
 
 " The Mystery of Vancourt Towers," as it was called by 
 the newspapers, had long ago been completely cleared up, 
 and everyone knew the story of Jack's self-sacrifice and Selby 
 Layton's villainy; and Jack had, without opposition, stepped 
 into his own amidst a concensus of approval and admiration; 
 but though he was now the most popular man in the county, 
 and took his full share of the pleasures and responsibilities be- 
 longing to his position, everyone knew that there was a blank 
 in his life which no position, however exalted, no wealth, 
 however vast, could fill. For there had not only been a mys- 
 tery and a tragedy, but a romance. 
 
 A man like Jack loves but once in his life, and he had given 
 this one love of his life to Esther. And every hour of the day, 
 the fact that, while he was reigning at the Towers, sur- 
 rounded by every luxury, the girl he loved and longed for was 
 earning her living in grimy Islington as a music-mistress, 
 haunted him. For Jack had kept his word, the word he had 
 pledged to her the day Selby Layton had cut the Gordian 
 knot by shooting himself, and let her go almost without a 
 murmur of remonstrance. He was wise enough though by 
 no means a Solomon to know that it was his only course; 
 that her wounded pride would resent, with a fierce and bitter 
 resentment, any offer of help from him, any offer of friend- 
 ship. 
 
 It was hard to bear, and it must be said to his credit that 
 he bore it very well. Once or twice he had written to Misa 
 Worcester begging her to intercede for him, but a wailing let- 
 ter came back telling him that any attempts at mediation 
 were futile. Esther, in her pride, remained impregnable. 
 Not only would she accept no assistance from Sir John Van- 
 court, but she declined to hold any communication with him. 
 It was hard, but there was no help for it. Jack sighed for 
 the grand, old days when one could carry off the obstinate 
 woman one loved; but those days have gone, and he had to 
 make the best of it. He worked hard: there is plenty of 
 work for the owner of such an estate as Vancourt; and Jack 
 fell upon it as he used to fall upon the crates and bales in the 
 docks. 
 
 He built lows of model cottages, pat the newest machinery
 
 LOVE, THE TYSAKT. 347 
 
 into the farms, drained the marshes and that accursed pool 
 which is now a rich meadow unshadowed by a " single 
 tree." He started men's institutes, erected palatial schools, 
 restored the church, hunted the hounds in short, did every- 
 thing and. anything which he could find to do; and tried to 
 cheat his heart with the belief that he was amusing himself. 
 
 But Heaven! how the days and weeks and months dragged'. 
 How many were the times when he was on the point of re- 
 solving that he would chuck the whole thing, turn the Tow- 
 ers into a hospital for incurables, and go back to the old life 
 m the bush. 
 
 But, as has been said, he did not wear his heart on his 
 sleeve, and only such intimate friends as Fanworth and 
 Coverdale guessed how " bitter bad " was the savour of Sir 
 John Vancourt's life. On this morning, for instance, he was 
 cheerful enough and talked brightly of the chances of a run. 
 ' It will be rather heavy going," remarked Lord Fanworth, 
 as he helped himself liberally to ham and eggs. " There must 
 have been a deuce of a rain in the night.*' 
 
 " Morning," corrected Jack, absently. " Half-past three." 
 
 Coverdale glanced at him quickly: insomnia was one of the 
 pleasing results of Jack's " trouble," though he said nothing 
 about it, and only let it out unwittingly, as now. 
 
 " What are you going to ride, Vancourt?" asked Fan- 
 worth, when they had exhausted the weather prospects. 
 
 " The chestnut," answered Jack, without looking up from 
 his letters which he was hastily reading. 
 
 Lord Fanworth's eyebrows went up. 
 
 " Rather tiresome in the slush, isn't he?" he remarked. 
 
 Jack shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, he's all right," he said, carelessly; then, as Cover- 
 dale rose to follow Fanworth to the stable, Jack signed to 
 him to stop. 
 
 " Here's a letter from Australia," he said, very quietly. 
 " I thought you'd like to know. They've had a good shear- 
 ing, and things are looking well with them. 
 
 " Who writes it?" asked Coverdale, with interest. 
 
 " Miss Woods," replied Jack, for the wife Selby Layton 
 had deserted, and widowed by his own hand, still bore the 
 name she had been known by in Chase Street. '* She says 
 that they are all well, Kate especially; and they have had * 
 Tisitor lately." 
 
 " Oh, who's that?" 
 
 " Dick Bwvel"
 
 848 LO\TE, THE TYBALT. 
 
 Coverdale nodded significantly, and Jack read, in the eame 
 L?W voice, from the letter in his hand: 
 
 " * Don't be surprised, Sir John, if in my next letter I tell 
 yon of a wedding. Dick Reave has changed so much that 
 you would scarcely know him. He works very hard on his 
 ranch, and he has quite lost that wild and reckless look. He 
 has been with us ten days, and he and Mr. Transom ride out 
 together all day and talk sheep all the evening. Kate sits and 
 works and listens and does not say much; but jesterday I 
 found her and Reeve sitting by the stable; he was talking 
 earnestly, and though her head was turned from him, her 
 face was flushed and there was a look in her eyes which we 
 women understand. If Dick Reeve keeps steady and comes 
 up to us again soon, I shouldn't wonder if I have to write 
 some news to you.' ' 
 
 Coverdale nodded. 
 
 " That's all right, Jack. Your scheme will pan out aa 
 you wanted it, you see. 'Pon my word you ought to be very 
 much gratified at being permitted to play at Providence in 
 this fashion!" 
 
 Jack sighed. 
 
 " Yes; money can do some things," he said. " Here's an- 
 other letter," he smiled as he glanced at it. " It is from my 
 friend, Mordy Jane. They've got into their new premises, 
 and she says everything would be all right ' stunning ' she 
 calls it if her father wouldn't insist upon doing the repairs 
 in- the back shop and in his shirt sleeves, instead of waiting on 
 the customers. But they seem to be flourishing trust Mordy 
 Jane for that!" 
 
 " You appear to have the happy knack of making your 
 friends happy, Jack," said Coverdale, as he filled his sherry 
 flask at the sideboard; " it's a pity they can't return tho 
 compliment and bring you some happiness." 
 
 Jack frowned and laughed shortly. 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right," he said, evasively. 
 
 " There's nothing from from Miss Esther?" Coverdate 
 Tentnred to ask as Jack shovelled his letters together. 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
 " Nothing!" he said, laconically. " Are yon ready?" 
 
 They started soon afterwards. Coverdale and Fanworth 
 chatting, Jack riding a little in front in the silence wmch was 
 now so habitual with him. 
 
 Lord Fanworth looked wistfully ah the stalwart figure with 
 its bent head and moodv eyes.
 
 LOVE, THE TYBAHT. 349 
 
 " What a d -n shame it is that such a man should have his 
 life spoilt by the vagary, the mulishness, of a woman a mere 
 girl!'* he said to Coverdale. " She can have no heart^ 
 Harry." 
 
 Coverdale shook his head. 
 
 " Too much, sir," he responded. " That's the trouble* 
 It's my belief that she cares for him as much as he cares for 
 her, that she's just eating her heart out, there in that beastly 
 hole, as he is eating his here. If she didn't care for him, 
 she'd forgive him and let him help them. It's love and 
 pride" 
 
 " Confounded nonsense, I call it," muttered Lord Fan- 
 worth, who had got beyond the age of romance. " How is it 
 going to end? Why doesn't he try and forget her, and turn 
 to one of the girls I know three of 'em, at any rate! who 
 are ready to jump at him." 
 
 " Jack is one of those men who can't forget, yon see,'* 
 said Coverdale. " And mind you, sir, it wouldn't be easy for 
 any man who once loved Esther to forget her! Here's the 
 home farm: he'll stop here he always does: never passes it 
 without a word with the child." 
 
 Jack had pulled up at the gate, and Nettie ran out. Jack 
 leant down, and helped her on to the saddle in front of him 
 the chestnut being used to the performance, offering no ob- 
 jection and she put up her small, childish lips for her ac- 
 customed kiss. 
 
 " How soon are you going to take me hunting with you, 
 Jack?" she asked, eagerly. " I can ride quite well now, 
 you know." 
 
 ** Next year, if you're good, Nettie," he said, smilingly: 
 his voice was always brighter when he spoke to her. " I'll 
 look out for a nice, quiet little pony well up to your weight, 
 and we'll have some trial jumps first, and then " 
 
 " Next year's a long time, she said, with a pout; then, 
 with sudden eagerness: " Oh, Jack, mother's had a letter 
 from Miss Vanconrt!" 
 
 Jack's face changed in a subtle fashion. 
 
 " Oh, and what did she say?" he asked, with assumed 
 calmness. 
 
 " She says that she's very happy, but that it's cold, and 
 she's bud sometimes " Jack moved in the saddle as if ha 
 had winced " and that if I'm a good girl I'm to go and stay 
 with her; but nearly all the letter was full of questions- 
 questions about the Towers and you, Jack," she added, cool*
 
 850 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 A flash passed over his face. 
 
 " Do you think your mother wouid let me have that letter 
 just to to read, Nettie?" 
 
 She slid down, protected by his hand, and ran in for the 
 letter. 
 
 " Here it is, and mother says you can keep it, Jack. Kiss 
 me again, and take care how you jump, won't you, Jack? 
 Father says you ride so careless always." 
 
 Jack slipped the letter in the breast of his coat, kissed her, 
 and with a nod and a smile rode on. 
 
 The meet was not a large one, for the rain had been hard, 
 and people funked the heavy going at this the close of the 
 season. Jack scarcely spoke to anyone, but, thinking of the 
 letter, took the hounds to a favourite cover. They found 
 almost at once, and " the stiff est run of the season " it is 
 always the stiffest run of the season commenced. The 
 chestnut was fast, and, as usual, Jack rode somewhat care- 
 lessly, though always with an eye to his business. 
 
 The fox was a good 'un, and after a straight spin doubled 
 at a place called Moorcroft, and headed for Trumpington 
 Cleave. There was a nasty timber fence, with a ditch beyond 
 right in the line, and some of the field having a regard for the 
 heavy land, funked it and went round; but Coverdale and 
 Jack kept a bee-line. Coverdale, on a light and springy 
 young horse, cleared the jump by the skin of his teeth, and, 
 congratulating himself, was settling in his saddle and riding 
 on when he heard a crash behind him, and turning, saw that 
 Jack was down. 
 
 " Halloo, Jack, hurt?" he called out. There was no an- 
 swer, and he rode back. Jack was lying near the broken rail 
 with his shoulder under the struggling chestnut; and the 
 eyes that were uplifted to the sullen, rainy sky were sightless. 
 
 Coverdale knelt beside him and shouted for help, and some 
 of the field came galloping up. With them was a pony-car- 
 riage which had been passing in the lane, and they placed 
 Jack in it and drove him to the Towers slowly and carefully. 
 
 On the way Coverdale went for a doctor. They two 
 watched beside the unconscious Jack through the night, and 
 when the dawn came Coverdale saw by the doctor's face that 
 tilings looked serious. 
 
 " Is there do you mean to say that there's any danger?" 
 he asked, with a lump in his throat. 
 
 The doctor shook his head, but answered evasively. 
 
 " With internal injury and concussion there is always more 
 fir less danger."
 
 LOVE, THE TYRANT, 351 
 
 ^ uood God!" exclaimed Coverdale, staring at the white 
 face which looked strangely wan and careworn on the pillow. 
 " You don't mean to say that- Why, he's no age, and as 
 strong as as a horse!" 
 
 * " ' Whom the gods love ' " said the doctor, sententiously 
 but sadly. 
 
 Coverdale went down-stairs and communicated the sad 
 news to the group of waiting men; they rode off mournfully, 
 and Coverdale stood at the window biting his lips for a few 
 moments, then he strode off to the telegraph office. When he 
 came back he was told that Jack was conscious and wished to 
 see him, and he went up with the hushed step, the slow gait, 
 frhich we all know so painfully well. 
 
 Jack looked round and nodded as he entered. 
 
 " Glad you've stayed, Coverdale," he said, with the smile 
 which had won so many hearts for him, the memory of which 
 made a joy and a torture for poor Esther, away there in 
 Islington. " Doctor seems rather down on his luck; says I've 
 injured myself in some part with a long Latin name. Funny, 
 isn't it, to be knocked over by a bit of English timber and a 
 ditch, after riding through the bush for so many years? But 
 I suppose he knows; and I'd better prepare to hand in my 
 checks. Coverdale, I'm afraid I'm going to give you some 
 trouble: I've made you my executor, trustee." 
 
 Coverdale nodded. 
 
 " Let's hope I sha'n't be needed for many a year, old 
 man! Look here, Jack " with a sudden gulp. " Don't 
 talk of chucking up the sponge!" 
 
 " Not me!" returned Jack, with a smile; then he sighed. 
 " Not that I care to keep up the fight any longer. I've been 
 knocked out for some time past, though I've kept inside the 
 ropes for well, just to play the game out." There was si- 
 lence for a moment, then he went on: " Of course, I've left 
 everything to her, Coverdale. If anything happens she'll be 
 mistress of Vancourt again. That's a pleasant thought for 
 me and consoles me for everything. You'll find my will at 
 Floss's, and everything's straight and square. Is the chest- 
 nut much hurt?" 
 
 " D n the chestnut!" growled Coverdale as he turned 
 away. " No; it's all right?' 
 
 Jack nodded. 
 
 " I feel like sleep," he said, feebly. " If you wouldn't 
 mind staying " 
 
 Coverdale sat down by the bed, and Jack snoozed for a 
 time, with his hand on Bob's head: the dog scarcely left him.
 
 352 LOVE, THE TTRAJTT. 
 
 After some hours, he woke suddenly with a name on nis 
 Esther's; and he looked round expectantly, and said apolo- 
 getically and shamefacedly: 
 
 " Coverdale, I dreamt she had come: do you think she 
 would if if you asked her you, you know? I should like 
 to say good-bye if I'm going!" 
 
 Palmer came to the door before Coverdale could make up 
 his mind to tell him of the telegram. 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir; but Miss Nettie's down-stairs, and she 
 do carry on so, that, to pacify her, I said I'd come upstairs 
 and ask " 
 
 Jack's ears were sharp. 
 
 " Let her come up, JPalmer," he said in the strangely low 
 and hollow voice with which he had spoken since the accident. 
 
 In a minute or two Nettie came in. Her face was swollen 
 with tears and pale with grief, but she ran on tiptoe to the 
 bed and gently put her arms round him. 
 
 " Oh, Jack!" was all she could say in a kind of whisper. 
 Jack motioned to her, and she got upon the bed and nestled 
 up beside him, crying noiselessly. 
 
 " Don't cry, Nettie!" he said, smoothing her hair and 
 looking at her with a half-regretful smile. 
 
 " But I can't help it, though I did promise! Oh, you said 
 you'd be careful!" 
 
 " So I did; but I forgot. Never mind; I shall be all 
 right presently." 
 
 " Is it as painful as the measles, Jack?" she whispered. 
 
 " Not half as much," he replied, promptly. " And it 
 won't last nearly so long. Do you remember how I used to 
 carry you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes yes. But 1 can't carry you, when you're get- 
 ing well, Jack; you're ever so much too big. That's what 
 makes me feel so bad I can't do anything for you." 
 
 Jack pretended to think deeply for a moment. 
 
 " I think 1 should like to have ' Jack and the Beanstalk,* 
 if you remember it, Nettie," he said. 
 
 " Should you really, Jack?" she responded, eagerly. 
 
 Coverdale drew near as if to take her away, but Jack shook 
 ..as head at him, and Nettie nestled closer. 
 
 44 Right from the beginning, mind," he said, feebly. " I 
 tihink the beginning's just as good as the other part, don't 
 yon?" 
 
 " Yes, oh, yes," she assented. " Well, listen then!" and 
 fihe started in a hushed voice. 
 _. JPreientlv he fell asleep. She stocDed and held m> her
 
 MJVE, TKS TTRA27T. 
 
 finger at Ooverdale and the doctor, and with a sigh laid her 
 Vead beside his and slept also. No one had the heart to move 
 ier, and the two slept through the day. 
 
 " Surely a man that can sleep like that isn't in any dan- 
 ger!" said Coverdale, with terrible earnestness and eagerness; 
 but the doctor pursed his lips. 
 
 " Not altogether a good sign/* he said, reluctantly. " The 
 jiact is, he's not fighting!" and he shook his head. 
 
 It was dark when Jack woke and looked round. A shaded 
 lamp dimly lit the room, but by the faint light he saw a girl- 
 ish figure kneeling beside the bed, saw a beautiful face pale 
 and lined with anxiety and the nameless terror of death, close 
 to his own. For a moment he thought it was only fancy, 
 that he was still only dreaming of her, then he saw her lips 
 move, saw the lovely eyes close and open again, as if burning 
 with unshed tears, and he spoke her name: 
 
 " Esther!" 
 
 *' Yes," she breathed, in so low a voice that he alone could 
 hear it, and it did not wake the sleeping child. " It is 1!" 
 
 Her breath came in a deep heart-breaking sigh, and she 
 hid her face for a second a second only in the bed-clotliss; 
 then she looked at him again; the look a woman's face wears 
 when she knows that Heaven itself will not help her to reveal 
 the love with which her heart is breaking. 
 
 " It's it's good of you to come!" he said. " I suppose 
 Coverdale sent for you? He's he's a good chap; one oi the 
 best, Esther you won't spoil it all by refusing to come back? 
 There's no reason except your pride. Forgive me! I've got 
 to speak plainly! If I'd really died when they thought I did, 
 you'd have been mistress here and it's only a little later, 
 you know. And there's no one else Esther, I want you to 
 promise me that you'll come back. I should clear for the 
 outward journey " that was the dock's phrase " so much 
 quicker and easier and the cargo's heavy, dearest!" 
 
 She put out her hands and drew the nearest of his to her 
 bosom, still looking at him with that ineifable light in her 
 eyes. 
 
 '* I'll I'll promise to come back on one condition," she 
 eaid, with a breath between every word. 
 
 " Condition?" He frowned slightly. " What is it?" 
 
 The doctor's words: " If we could only get him to make a 
 fight for it," were ringing in her ears. 
 ' That that you stay, too, Jack!" 
 
 He looked at her in a puzzled way for a moment, then a 
 
 ir-hl: f.ashWi into his CJCS.
 
 354 LOVE, THE TYRANT. 
 
 "Lift lift me up," he said, almost commanded. 
 
 She rose from her knees and put her arm round him, 
 and, helping her, he rose on his elbow, and with his eyes 
 fixed on hers, said brokenly : 
 
 "You mean it?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then it's a bargain ! Seal it, Esther !" 
 
 She understood, and bending that small, proud head of 
 hers, she kissed him on the lips ; not with the cold kiss of 
 pity, but with the clinging kiss of passionate love long 
 pent up, but overflowing all barriers at last. 
 
 Nettie woke, and rubbing her eyes, saw Esther, looked 
 from her to Jack, read the hope, the joy in his face, and 
 with a cry of joy, exclaimed : 
 
 "Oh, Jack, you're better ! You're not going to die ! I 
 can see it in your face. Oh, you good, dear Jack ! I was 
 so fitened, so dreffully fitened! And so was Miss Van- 
 court, for look, she's crying!" 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "Oh, you see she's just made a bad bargain, Nettie, 
 and she's jolly sorry for herself," he said ; and there was 
 now the promise of life in his voice as well as in his 
 eyes. "Give her a kiss, Nettie, to cheer her up, and tell 
 her it's too late now to back out. I'm going to keep her 
 to it!" 
 
 ******* 
 
 It is to be hoped that Esther did not repent of her bar- 
 gain; for Jack got well and held her to it; and she is 
 back at Vancourt Towers with him. If Love is a Ty- 
 rant, his tyranny is sometimes very sweet, his chains of 
 roses and his scourge a kiss.
 
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