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LIBRARY
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II.
VERITAS
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
OF THE
PARA QUAMI
TAKENLEURALES
PRESENTED BY
THE HEIRS OF
NATHAN B. HYDE

828
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WHY NOT?
BY
7

FLORENCE MARRYAT. Lan
}
17 TO 27 VANDEWATER STREET.
1887
Кто
NEW YORK.
GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER,
*
amet...
#1
FLORENCE MARRYAT'S WORKS
CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION):
NO.
159 Captain Norton's Diary, and A Moment of Madness
183 Old Contrairy, and Other Stories
208 The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, and Other Stories
276 Under the Lilies and Roses
}
444 The Heart of Jane Warner
449 Peeress and Player
689 The Heir Presumptive
825 The Master Passion
860 Her Lord and Master
861 My Sister the Actress
863 "My Own Child "
864 "No Intentions "
865 Written in Fire
I
1
866 Miss Harrington's Husband
867 The Girls of Feversham
868 Petronel
869 The Poison of Asps
870 Out of His Reckoning
872 With Cupid's Eyes
873 A Harvest of Wild Oats
877 Facing the Footlights
893 Love's Conflict.
893 Love's Conflict.
895 A Star and a Heart
897 Ange
899 A Little Stepson
¦
First half
Second half
•
901 A Lucky Disappointment
903 Phyllida
905 The Fair-Haired Alda
939 Why Not?
1
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•
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1
WHY NOT?
CHAPTER I.
65 WHO IS MRS. ARLINGTON?""
COLONEL ESCOTT walked along Oxford Street as if he
trod on air. It was the month of May. The trees in Hyde
Park and Kensington Gardens had just assumed their
mantles of tender green. The lilacs and laburnums were
in bloom. The rain and the east wind had gone to play
their pranks in some less favored country for the time
being, and London was at its best.
To Colonel Escott, after a twenty years' exile in the
East, it appeared a paradise. The handsome shop-fronts,
rich in wares from every nation; the busy crowds that
thronged the pavement; the rattling omuibuses and cabs
-all spoke to him of a life that he had missed too long,
and which seemed to infuse his veins with new vitality.
How delightful, how ecstatic, it is to return home to Eng-
land after a long and enforced residence abroad, is only
known to those who love, and have been compelled to leave
her.
Nothing seems common-nothing seems unclean. The
very faces which custom makes us vote homely and vulgar
appear to beam with smiles of welcome. The discordant
sounds which later on, perhaps, will distract our ears, are
full of music. We can not be incommoded, nor put out of
temper. We forget the rain-the fogs--the mud-the
smoke, which are integral parts of the dear old country and
her metropolis, and think only that her skies are brighter,
her air purer, and her children's greetings more hearty
than those of any other land.
At least so thought Colonel Escott. He had performed
prodigies of folly since he had landed at Gravesend. He
had given away sovereigns for shillings in the gladness of
225521
}
:
WHY NOT?
6
his heart, and unbosomed himself to people whom he had
never seen before. He could have kissed every woman he
met in the street, especially the pretty ones, if he had only
thought they would have taken the expression of his delight
in good part.
Whilst living in India with his regiment, groaning over
the interval that must elapse before he could return to his
native country, he had fancied he had almost forgotten
what London was like. He thought he had been away so
long that he should feel a perfect alien when he trod her
streets again. But it seemed as though he recognized every
stone. He had been a young fellow of five-and-twenty
when he saw Oxford Street last, and he had foolishly imag-
ined all the old landmarks would be removed-forgetting
that he stood there still-but he was finding his way to the
Marble Arch as familiarly as if he had sought it the week
before. Surely that was the florist's where he had bought
many an extravagant "button-hole" in the days gone by,
and here was the book-seller's, famous for erudite volumes,
to be procured nowhere else.
Colonel Escott's time was his own. He stopped at the
book-seller's window to examine, with curious pleasure, some
prints displayed there. As he did so, two flippant, over-
dressed girls passed by, and one of them, looking full in his
face and nudging her companion, said, audibly:
"There's a good-looking fellow!"
The colonel started and blushed-yes, actually blushed.
He was fresh from a land where such compliments are not
shouted in one's ears every day, and he had some remnant
of modesty left. He remembered that he had been a good-
looking fellow when he was young, at least the girls had
insinuated as much to him; but it was long since he had
thought of it. The climate of India had made him thin
and sallow, and played havoc with his fair curling hair.
Years before he left the country he had considered him-
self quite an old man, and past all attention from the fair
sex. But the remark of the young woman, vulgar as it
was, set his pulses beating rapidly. Was it possible, he
asked himself, that he still possessed attractions in the eyes
of strangers? London seemed twice as big, and as bright
and as beautiful, for the idea.
-
When the girls had passed out of sight, Colonel Escott
resumed his walk with a jauntier air, and stopped again,
I
{
WHY NOT?
with almost a sensation of guilt, at the first upholsterer's
he came across, to see if he could catch a glimpse of him-
self in one of the mirrors. Who shall say that men are
less personally vain than women? the best of them are more
easily reached through flattery than by any other means.
The mirror into which Colonel Escott looked revealed
the figure of a very personable man. Tall and slight-too
slight indeed for middle age, but that was the fault of India
with fair hair thinned upon the crown, good features,
drooping mustaches, and eyes of a cerulean blue. The
voyage home by long sea, which he had been advised to take
for the sake of his health, had restored much of his nat-
ural complexion, and smoothed more than one wrinkle out
of his brow. In fact Colonel Escott was still a good-look-
ing man of his age; and as the conviction struck him he
colored anew, as the possibilities the future might hold for
him dawned on his comprehension.
He was a bachelor, and had never dreamed of being any-
thing else. He had expatriated himself for twenty years in
order to amass sufficient means to retire on. And he had
returned to England with only one idea-to end his days in
single blessedness at home. What if fate should hold an-
other life in store for him?
and
Colonel Escott laughed to himself as he thought of it,
but he laughed not at the idea, but because of it. And as
he laughed he wondered what Kerrison would say to such a
thing. For Colonel Escott was not sauntering up Oxford
Street without a purpose. He was on his way to see his old
friend John Kerrison, with whom he had corresponded in-
timately during the whole term of his absence, and who
was the one person he had looked forward to meeting on his
return.
James Escott and John Kerrison had been boys at school
together and students at college. They had both been in-
tended for the military profession; but Kerrison being too
much of a genius to conform to set rules, had left the
Academy without leave, and gone upon the stage, greatly
to the displeasure of his family, who disowned the boy from
that time forward. It was then that the friendship that
bound them together had developed itself between the
young men. Escott had helped Kerrison with his own
pocket-money during those times of distress which are
known to most young actors; and Kerrison, who had made
*
WHY NOT?«
his way in the world, had repaid the debt threefold
later on.
After a few years spent upon the stage he had accident-
ally discovered he had a talent for construction and compo-
sition; and after having written two or three modest
farces, had suddenly blossomed into a three-act comedy
that took the town by storm, and made his name as a
dramatic author.
L
▸
,'
Escott had heard and read of Kerrison's successes for
years past, but he never realized the extent of them until
he returned home, to hear all the men at the clubs talking
of nothing but the merits of his friend's latest venture,
Apollon. To hear the world's verdict, one would have
thought that John Kerrison was the greatest dramatist that
had ever lived-so lavish is society of her praises, while they
last.
46
""
"How strangely things turn out!" mused Escott, as he
pursued his walk to Hyde Park Gardens. "Who would
have thought twenty years ago that Kerrison and I should
meet again like this! I who had every prospect at that
time of inheriting my uncle's wealth-a retired officer on
nothing but my half pay, and he, who was penniless and
disowned by his family, at the top of the tree and rolling
in riches! I, who was surrounded by friends, with not a
créature left to care for but himself; and he, who was cut
by his nearest relations, sought after by the whole world!
Kismet! it is fate. He has genius and I have none;
that makes all the difference. And we are both single too.
I wonder at that as far as John is concerned. He must
have had so many opportunities, whilst I was spoiled for
that sort of thing from the beginning.'
And here Colonel Escott stopped his speculations with a
little sigh. His thoughts had flown back to a forbidden
subject for the only time during his long absence that he
had met with a woman he would have cared to marry he
had met her too late, and it would have been better for the
happiness of both if they had never met at all. That had
been an episode of some years past now, and the sting of
disappointment was almost dead within him. Still, he
could not recall it without offering up a sigh on the shrine
of "what might have been."
But he soon shook off the feeling as his steps brought
him nearer to the house where his friend Kerrison resided,
1
I
{
{

WHY NOT
and his imagination pictured the warm welcome in store
for him.
But Colonel Escott was behaving rather like a boy in the
matter. He had not apprised his friend of his arrival in
England, which had only taken place the day before. He
wanted to take him by surprise. Consequently, he had
rushed off, on landing, to his chambers in the Albany, only
to find he had vacated them some months before for a house
in Hyde Park Gardens.
CC
A splendid place, my dear Escott," an old acquaintance
at the club had told him. "A perfect palace, where he
!
lives like a prince, by Jove!"'
TE
And so the morning sun found Colonel Escott on his way
to the new address. As he came in sight of it, he was ready
to indorse the opinion he had heard.
A noble-looking mansion of many stories facing the park,
and blooming with flowers from basement to attic, con-
fronted him.
}
Colonel Escott halted on the opposite pavement, and
gazed up at it in sheer amazement.
"Can this possibly be the place, or have I made a mis-
take?" he thought. "It seems too sumptuous a residence
altogether for a single man! What can John do, all by
himself, in such a palace? He can not occupy one half the
rooms. I hope I hope he is not thinking of getting mar-
A
ried!"?
And with a slight sinking at the heart, which betrayed
how much he had depended on finding he was still first
with his boyhood's friend, Colonel Escott walked across the
road, and knocked at the front door.
The first words he heard were a disappointment. Mr.
Kerrison was not at home, and the servant was unable to
say when he would be.
"But it is only eleven o'clock. I had no idea he would
be out so early. Does no one in the house know when he
will be back again? I am one of his oldest friends, just
home from India, and I shall be terribly disappointed if I
have to return without seeing Mr. Kerrison.
""
The poor colonel spoke so ruefully, and his chagrin was
so visibly depicted on his face, that the footman asked if he
would like to walk in and speak to Mrs. Arlington.
“Mrs. Arlington!" exclaimed Escott, in a tone of sur-
prise. Who is Mrs. Arlington ?-the housekeeper!"
66
10
WHY NOT?
The footman smiled.
"Well, yes, sir, she do keep the house; but she's bound
to know more of master's movements than anybody else,
sir; and I'm sure she'll be most happy to give you any in-
formation about him if you'll please to walk in. any in-
Thus adjured, and being anxious to ascertain the where-
abouts of his old friend, Colonel Escott followed the serv-
ant into a breakfast-room on the ground-floor, which opened
on to a glass house of ferns, and gave him a-card to carry
to Mrs. Arlington.
"Will you give that to the housekeeper," he said, in his
stately, old-fashioned way, "and say I shall be obliged if
she can see me for a few minutes. I will not detain her
long."
The man took away the card, and Escott walked about
the room, too restless even to admire the beautiful paint-
ings in water-color that adorned the walls; whilst he mo-
mentarily expected the door to open and admit some re-
spectable old lady. He waited longer than he had antici-
pated, however, and had begun to think the housekeeper
did not intend to see him at all, when the footman re-
appeared, to say that Mrs. Arlington would receive him in
the library.
Somewhat astonished at the coolness of the message,
Colonel Escott caught up his hat and stick, and suffered
himself to be conducted to another apartment on the same
floor-à long, low room at the back of the house, darkened
by velvet hangings and stained glass, and spread with car-
pets on which the foot fell noiselessly. A room, lined with
books, and hung with pictures, with a wood-fire still burn-
ing on the tiled hearth, and a heavy perfume as of incense
pervading every part of it. A room, in fact, to dream in
to cherish the dreams which are true, and shut out the
treacherous world which is false-to live, to think, and to
become famous in.
Colonel Escott embraced the influence of the chamber
at a glance, but he had no time to analyze its charm, for
the unexpected sight that met his eyes prevented his think-
ing of anything else. Seated at a writing-table, with her
back toward the fire, and her feet stretched out upon a
white bearskin rug, was one of the most striking-looking
women he had ever seen.
Although the spring was warm, and there was a fire in
:
1
1,
WHY NOT?
She was
the room, she was clad in a gray velvet dress.
neither dark nor fair. Her dull blue-black hair aud full
brown eyes were Spanish in coloring and expression, but her
delicately-tinted complexion, piquante nose, and rather
wide and full-lipped mouth, betokened a mixture of En-
glish blood. Her speech, also, had not the slightest accent
to betray a foreign origin.
As Colonel Escott appeared she rose from her seat and
stood to receive him, evidently waiting for him to speak
first; but he halted in the door-way, too confounded to say
a word.
"C
(6
I believe you are Colonel James Escott,'' she said, at
last, consulting the card in her hand. Pray be seated.
Is there anything that I can do for you?”
CHAPTER II.
come.
66
11
TWO OLD BACHELORS.
"I-I BEG your pardon," stammered the colonel, in re-
ply,
"but are you Mrs. Arlington?"
I am," she answered, with a little bow, but no smile,
nor yet the least embarrassment,
"I was not quite prepared to meet a lady. I only
landed in England yesterday from India, and Mr. Kerrison
is my very oldest friend,
>>
"Indeed!"
"He has not mentioned me to you, then?"
"Mr. Kerrison is not likely to confide his private affairs
to me, sir; but if you are his friend, you are sure to be wel-
"9
"C
Thank you.
We have known each other for more than
five-and-twenty years. He is not at home they tell me?"
Not at present; but he may return at any moment.
He went down to Richmond yesterday to dine with a friend,
and passed the night there. I am sure he will be very
sorry to miss you.
"I have been looking forward to meeting him again for
years," replied the colonel, in a tone of disappointment.
(C
Pray wait then, if your time is your own, and see if he
does not come in," said Mrs. Arlington. "I fancy he will
be home to luncheon, as he gave no orders to the contrary.
ii
перуда Мото в свет давать
་ཝཱ
E
12
WHY NOT?
Will you look at the paper?"" handing him the "Times,"
"and if you'il excuse me I will go on with my duties."
Upon which Mrs. Arlington bent her head again over
the table and recommenced to write.
Colonel Escott, from behind the shelter of the
C6 Times,"
kept on glancing at her furtively. What a handsome
creature she was! What rich outlines! what brilliant col-
oring! Her lips were scarlet, and there was a glow on her
face like the heart of a damask rose. And what an exuber-
ance of vitality seemed to pervade every glance and feature!
The worn-out man from India looked at her as he might
have looked at a goddess of Health and Beauty. The mere
sight seemed to infuse new life into his veins! He was a
poor judge of women's ages. Men who have only seen the
miserable specimens of European beauty on view in the
East generally are; but he did not think she looked a day
over twenty-five or thirty. But what was she doing in
John Kerrison's household? That was the question that
puzzled him. She could not be a servant, with those man-
ners and in that dress! Escott's obsolete idea of a bach-
elor's housekeeper was of some elderly female in a black
gown and a mob-cap, armed with a bunch of keys, and as
uninviting as she was absolute.
It had never come within his province to see the smart
young ladies who offer themselves nowadays to superintend
the régime of a bachelor's or widower's establishment, with
the unexpressed though rooted hope of eventually superin-
tending the bachelor or widower himself.
މ
Had the colonel been a little more au fait with our mod-
ern innovations, he might have decided Mrs. Arlington to
be John Kerrison's amanuensis or lady-secretary; but in
India at that period they had never heard of such appoint-
ments. So he only stared at her whenever he had an op-
portunity of doing so unobserved-and wondered why she
was there, and if Kerrison thought her half as beautiful as
he did when he was suddenly roused from his reverie by
the sound of a footstep in the hall, and by hearing Mrs.
Arlington say, as she rose from her seat:
CC
Here is Mr. Kerrison, Colonel Escott. I am so glad I
persuaded you to be patient!"
As she passed him to announce his arrival to the master
of the house, he thought her bloom was considerably
heightened; but he had hardly time to think of anytning
SP
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"}
3:
13
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WHY NOT?
1
[
3
before John Kerrison was in the room, holding both his
hands in a grasp of brotherly welcome.
"My dear, dear Escott!" he exclaimed, with a sus-
piciously humid look about the eyes, "I had no idea you
were already in England! I was wondering only just now
how soon you could possibly arrive. And you are really
here! Why, your last letter said we should see you about
the beginning of June.
""
"C
'So I thought, Kerrison; but we made an unusually
quick passage. The first thing I did on landing yesterday
was to rush off to your old chambers in the Albany. But
you were gone. So I came on here this morning. You
won't think I have lost any time, old boy!"
"I would kill you if you had," returned Kerrison,
heartily. And now you are here, you don't go away in a
hurry again, Jem. Just send for your traps, and settle
yourself down with me at once and forever."
2
•
"But, John," remonstrated the colonel, returning to the
dear old boyish mode of address, "you know I never
""
meant-'
66
Are we friends, or are we not!" cried Kerrison, with
mock fierceness.
""
"The very best of friends I hope.
66
Well, say no more about it then, but take up your
abode with me. Why, I was thinking of it the whole time
the house was getting ready, and your suite of rooms is
waiting for you. No one else has used them, Jem. And
there I hope you'll remain. Forever if it so pleases you,
or at all events till some fair English piece of red and white
entangles you in her toils."
"That will never be!" replied Escott, gayly.
"(
All the better for you, my boy. But, joking apart,
Jem, I am alone and I want you. I have never made a
friend since we parted who fulfilled my requirements. I
have looked forward to your return as to a holiday. Don't
try and rob me of my pleasure now it has come.
"You are too good, John," replied the colonel, with a
break in his voice. "I have lost all my own belongings
by death; and I confess that, had I found you changed, I
should have wished I had never come home. But I did not
expect this. I have done nothing to deserve it."
"Stuff and nonsense!" said Kerrison. "Had it not
been for your assistance in my struggling days, I should
در
* 14
WHY NOT?
never have stood where I do now. Do you think I have
forgotten who stinted himself of the actual necessaries of
life in order to help me in my need? If you do, you can
not care for me as I care for you! And now that I have
more than I want-actually more than I can spend―am I
to deny myself the pleasure of trying to return your good-
ness? For this is no privation to me, Jem, as your kindness
to me in days past was to yourself. I am a solitary man.
For all my success my heart is empty, and you will confer
another obligation on me by helping to fill my house. Have
you the heart to refuse me after that?"
66
sp
66
Say no more, John," replied Escott, in a husky voice.
"".
'I will stay here, for awhile at least, with pleasure.
Heaven bless you, for all you have said to me! It is worth
coming home to England to hear!"
"That's spoken like yourself!" cried Kerrison, heartily.
And now, that matter being settled, what do you think
of my house?"
66
It is simply perfect. I little thought to find you in
such a mansion.
"Ah! my boy, the dramatist's profession is the most
lucrative of all nowadays. I am sometimes astonished at
my own success. But it is all luck. Any man might have
it who got the chance. But tell me
But tell me-am I much changed?"
He stood before him, as he spoke, in the full light of the
May morning.
Escott regarded him narrowly.
Yes, there was no doubt he was much changed, but it
was for the better. Twenty years before John Kerrison
had been a dark and rather heavy-featured young man, with
a prominent forehead and bushy eyebrows, that gave him
almost a forbidding aspect. Now, the keen eyes and large
nose were tempered by the gray hair that hung over them,
and the perplexed look of thought had given place to a
settled content. He looked older than his friend Escott,
but less care-worn. Prosperity had softened his features,
and improved his expression. He was, in point of fact, a
better-looking man than he had been at five-and-twenty.
"You are altered, John-naturally!" said the colonel,
after a critical survey, "but it is an alteration for the bet-
ter. You even look younger to me, in some ways, than
you did when we parted. I am afraid you can not say as
much for me.
""
·
--
WHY NOT?
15
"You were always a good-looking fellow, Jem, and
you're a good-looking fellow still," replied Kerrison, "and
I shouldn't wonder, when English air has set you up a bit,
if we don't have the girls setting their caps at you as they
used to do in auld lang syne. But let us leave off admiring
each other like a couple of women, and think of luncheon
instead. I am sure it must be time for it. I'm awfully
hungry."
"You have passed the night at Richmond?" observed
the colonel, interrogatively.
"C
Yes; with my friends the Marshalls-charming people;
father and mother both well-known artists, and daughter
preparing for the stage.
67
The daughter is the attraction perhaps?" said Escott,
with a meaning smile.
Kerrison answered it by a shake of the head.
CC
CC
މ
""
"C
""
No, my boy, you don't catch me that way. It would
take all the beauties of London to entangle me, and then
I bet I'd find a hole in the net somewhere. Don't waste
your time in speculation, Jem. I'm an old bachelor, pur
et simple, and I shall remain so to the end of the chapter."
I'm glad to hear it," said Escott, "It's just what I
mean to do myself. I've seen too much of the evils and
too little of the benefits of matrimony, especially for men
of our age, to be tempted to put a halter round my neck.
We will serve each other for company for the rest of
our pilgrimage!" cried Kerrison, gayly. "But here's
luncheon," he continued, as a footman appeared to an-
nounce the meal. Come and have a snack, Jem, and
we'll call for your traps afterward. Order the brougham
for three," he said to the servant, as they entered the
luncheon-room, where a delicate repast was ready for them.
Colonel Escott stood for a moment by his chair, looking
expectantly toward the door.
66
CC
What are you waiting for, Jem?" demanded Kerrison,
as he sat down.
"I thought I imagined" stammered the colonel,
"that-that Mrs. Arlington-the lady I saw on my arrival
-would join us!"
Kerrison stared at him in surprise.
"Mrs. Arlington! Oh, dear no! She takes her meals
in her own room. Sit down, old fellow, and make yourself
Best
Anita suding the demandantmart mother
S
WHY NOT?
16
at home.
Remember, you are at home now, and this is the
first and last time I shall play host to you.
>>
Colonel Escott seated himself with a faint laugh. He
was vexed at having been betrayed into such an error as
mentioning Mrs. Arlington. He fancied the servant, even,
was inwardly chuckling at the mistake.
The idea made him bashful, and he eat his luncheon in
silence, until the footman had left the room. Then he
asked, but rather timidly:
"John-if you don't mind telling me-who is Mrs.
Arlington ?"
1.
Kerrison elevated his eyebrows, laughing.
"C
- Mind telling you, my dear boy? Why should I mind
telling you? I thought you would have guessed she is my
housekeeper. And a capital housekeeper too, as you will
acknowledge after a little experience.
""
Oh, yes! I feel sure of that! But-but she seemed
such a very superior sort of person to me, John."
"A lady? Certainly! She is a lady. I would not em-
ploy any one else! You see, Jem, when I found that my
position required a more important establishment I was
obliged to find some one to look after it. A man can not
be expected to order dinners, and regulate the maids' holi-
days; and Mrs. Arlington was only too willing to accept
the responsibility!""
"But who is Mrs. Arlington?'
66
""
}
How curious you are, Jem! That's the second time
you've asked me the question; and I wonder if you'll be
any the wiser if I tell you. Well, she is the widow of old
Arlington-a broker with whom I had some dealings in
days gone by. He was supposed to have a lot of money
but died worth nothing, and so she was obliged to look
about for some means by which to earn her living. What
can a woman, left in such a position, do? I don't suppose
she could teach if she tried, and she's too good to wait be-
hind a counter. So, when she found I wanted a house-
keeper, she applied for the situation, and she got it. Violà
tout.'
މ
}
"She is very beautiful," observed the colonel.
"Handsome? Yes," said the other, carelessly, "I sup-
pose most people would call her handsome, but not beauti-
ful."
66
How do you distinguish the two attributes, Kerrison?”
VI
WHY NOT?
..
She has good features, Jem; but there is no other
beauty in her face that I can see. However, tastes differ!'"
<<
""
(6
"Has she foreign blood in her veins?""
She may have.
have. I believe some one told me she came
originally from the West Indies, but I have not been suffi-
ciently interested in her to inquire further. But she is a
very
clever woman-there is no doubt of that."
She was writing when I arrived," said Escott.
Copying some of my hieroglyphics most likely,"
laughed Kerrison. "She is of immense use to me in that
way; in fact, I don't quite know what I should do without
her. And I have had assistance from her brain too. She
is quick and imaginative, sees a situation sometimes before
I do, and has on several occasions helped me to a climax.
She is a talented woman also. Speaks French like a native,
and plays and sings well; but she never struck me as beau-
tiful. She has too coarse a mouth.'
17.
"What!" cried his friend, starting. Her lovely coral
lips had struck him as her greatest charm.
"She has not a good mouth," repeated Kerrison, "and
her figure is too heavy. I like refinement and elegance in
a woman. Your redundant Hebes are not in my line.
But I see you don't go with me, Jem; you are captured
already. I might have guessed what would happen with
such a susceptible nature as yours.
""
The colonel blushed to the roots of his hair.
<<
Twenty years' battering in the East don't leave a man
with much susceptibility, John. By the way, do you re-
member the little milliner we crossed swords for when we
were eighteen? I believe it was that quarrel made us
friends for life. If I remember rightly, she jilted us both,
and we were fain to console each other. May it never be
otherwise, John! May we ever find for every wound a con-
solation in our mutual friendship!"
And, raising his glass to his lips, James Escott drank
the toast, in which his friend joined him with moistened
eyes and an outstretched hand.
:
18.
{
}
WHY NOT?
CHAPTER III.
WILL HE MARRY HER?
As soon as the meal was concluded, Kerrison rang the
bell.
CC
"Tell Mrs. Arlington to come here," he said briefly to
the servant who answered it. "We will inspect your quar-
ters first, Escott," he continued to his friend,
and see
how you like them, and then go in search of your belong-
ings.
>>
ވ
Mrs. Arlington did not keep them waiting. She appeared
without delay, and stood on the threshold with the knob of
the door in her hand, looking like a picture framed in the
door-way. Colonel Escott, after the little conversation he
had held with Kerrison regarded her with fresh interest.
She was certainly a beautiful woman. He could not un-
derstand any one thinking otherwise. But on nearer in-
spection he perceived that there was a slight wave, care-
fully smoothed down, in her blue-black hair, and that her
cheek-bones were rather high, and there was a certain
squareness of formation about the upper and lower por-
tions of her face. Still, if not faultless, she was a magnifi-
cent creature, and he watched with admiration the graceful
curves of her figure. But Mrs. Arlington looked at John
Kerrison, and not at Colonel Escott.
"Mrs. Arlington," commenced the former, "
my friend
is going to stay with us, and will occupy the bronze suite."
The lady slightly elevated her brows.
CC
You mean the Japanese room, do you not, Mr. Kerri-
son?"
66 Not at all. It has a northern aspect. It is only pleas-
ant in summer. I mean that suite in front of the house
looking out on the park, over the drawing-rooms."
Up to this point Mrs. Arlington's red lips had been
curved into a smile, but at John Kerrison's answer the
smile palpably faded away.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, I am sure.
mistake. I thought you wanted one of the
ments for the colonel."
"I want the one I say-the bronze suite.
It was my
bachelor apart-
You must not
:
WHY NOT?
19
forget that Colonel Escott is fresh from the East, and has
been used to any amount of air and space.
""
66
smaller and
Escott recalling his whitewashed and barely furnished
chamber at Saddlepoor, smiled furtively, and eagerly dis-
claimed so much trouble being taken on his account.
'My dear John, any room will do for me. I am sure
the bronze suite will be far too good. I can not consent to
monopolize your best apartments. Pray allot me some-
thing shall do no such thing. You will sleep where I
choose to put you. Besides, I furnished the bronze suite
expressly with an eye to your complexion. It consists of a
bedroom, dressing-room, and sitting-room. Just the very
nest for a bachelor, where you can live as secluded a life as
you choose, and smoke your hookah like a jolly old ancho-
rite all day long."
1
.
"I expect you won't let me be much of an anchorite,
John," cried the colonel. However, do with me as you
will.
""
""
66
Colonel Escott's visit, then, is likely to extend over
the season?" interposed Mrs. Arlington, inquisitively.
66
"It will extend to the end of time, I hope," replied
Kerrison. My friend has consented to take up his abode
with me, Mrs. Arlington; and it will not be my fault if he
ever seeks another home."
(C
I don't mean to—until you marry and turn me out,"
said Escott, laughing.
We are chums for life then, Jem. I would rather die
than marry any day."
Mrs. Arlington had stood silent during this little passage
of arms, with something very like a frown darkening her
handsome features, and at Kerrison's last words she turned
away as if to hide them.
66
"Shall I lead the way upstairs, sir?" she asked, deferen-
tially.
Do, Mrs. Arlington, and we will follow you,
" said
Kerrison, slipping his arm through that of his friend. The
woman went silently before them, sweeping the staircase
with her velvet train, and Escott could not help wondering,
as he walked in her wake, why she seemed inimical to the
new-formed plan. He could almost have fancied she had
taken a sudden dislike to him. She certainly was very in-
different to his presence; but the idea did not repulse him.
*
20
WHY NOT?
On the contrary, it rather put him on his mettle to attempt
the conciliation of so handsome a woman. The bronze
suite proved to be all it had been represented and more. It
was beautifully furnished, had a bath-room attached, and
was replete with every comfort. The colonel reiterated it
was too good for him..
G
"If you say another word I shall quarrel with you!" ex-
claimed Kerrison, "and so will Mrs. Arlington. The
obligation is on our side, not on yours. The house has
looked like a barrack hitherto, though she has done her
best to make it comfortable for me. Now it will feel for
the first time like home.
""
"I have, as you justly observe, done my best, Mr. Kerri-
son," said Mrs. Arlington, in a tone of pique.
"And everything has been most beautifully ordered.
Don't think for a moment that I wish to disparage your
kind attentions, Mrs. Arlington; my guests have been as-
tonished at the perfect arrangement of my suppers and
dinners. But it is the people, not the place, that constitute
a home; and I feel now as if I had not been half myself
whilst Escott was at the other side of the world.
1
"Are there any other orders?" demanded Mrs. Arling-
ton, as though she were a little weary of these rhapsodies.
<6 Yes. Let me see; tell Henry to have the little ebon-
ized piano brought up here from the breakfast-room. You
used to be fond of warbling to your own accompaniment,
Jem. Have you quite forgotten all the love-songs of our
youth?"
"Not quite, I think, John," replied the colonel, blush-
ing.
Then we'll have them over again, old fellow, in the
jolly evenings we will spend together here. I shall make
this my sanctum, Jem, and haven of repose.
I shall run
up to you at all sorts of odd times, when I want to escape
from other people, or myself. You won't mind, will you?
"Mind" cried Escott, heartily; "I couldn't enjoy the
room if I had it all to myself.
""
66
Well, there's the piano to come up here, Mrs. Arling-
ton, and the two recesses in the windows to be filled with
plants-and I think that's all. We'll make the other im-
provements ourselves, eh, Jem?"
66
My dear John, you overwhelm me! I don't know
what to say in return. I felt so lonely when I landed at
ލ
galle
-
WHY NOT?
21
Š
F
Gravesend yesterday. I little thought I was coming to a
home."
CC
And a brother," continued Kerrison, affectionately, as
he threw his arm about the shoulders of his friend, and
passed down into the hall, leaving Mrs. Arlington alone,
and biting her lips, in the bronze suite.
"Where did you sleep last night?" he asked, a few min-
utes later, as they entered the carriage that was waiting for
them.
<<
At the Tavistock.'
CC
'I will drop you there then, and you will bring back
your traps in time for our seven-o'clock dinner; after
which, if you are not tired, we will drop into the Meridian
and see my 'Apollon,' or have a pipe at home and a talk
over old times, eh?"
"I am at your service," replied Escott. "I will settle
my bill, leave my address at the club, and be back in a
couple of hours.”
But at the club he encountered Riley, the man who had
described the glories of Kerrison's new house to him, to
whom he communicated his intention of taking up a per-
manent abode with his old friend.
"By Jove! you're in luck!" cried Riley. "You'll live
like a prince, my boy. And what does the fair Lola say to
the arrangement?"
6
The fair-who?" demanded Escott.
The fair Lola-Lola Arlington!-old Arlington's widow'
-who keeps house for Kerrison. Weren't you introduced
to her?"
CC
His housekeeper! Oh! yes; I saw her; a very stylish,
handsome-looking person."
"I guess you did see her. I don't know how you could
miss it; she's generally all over the place. I hope you
made up to her; it won't do to get on her bad books, I can
tell you.
X
CC
در
"Is she so very important a personage in the establish-
ment, then?"
C
My dear fellow, she's everybody! She rules Kerrison
with a rod of iron; he daren't say his soul is his own, with-
out asking her permission first.'
"It didn't strike me in that light at all," said Escott,
feeling a little uncomfortable. "I thought Kerrison was
rather curt and authoritative with her than otherwise."
:
22
WHY NOT?
(C
Oh, he put that on to mislead you; it's not his usual
way. She'll pay him out for it by and by. She rules the
roast there with a vengeance, and she'll rule altogether,
some day-see if she doesn't. "
(C Do you mean to say he'll marry her?" cried the
colonel, in dismay.
CC
Bound to! Everybody can see that with half an eye;
why, he can't move without her. She not only orders his
household affairs for him; she regulates his expenditure,
and writes half his plays; she has but to say she'll leave,
and Kerrison would be at his wits' end. He could never
replace her. Oh, the fair Lola is a very clever woman,
you may take my word for it. Matrimony is the stake she
plays for, and I'll back her to win. Kerrison's a doomed
man; the halter is already round his neck.
These insinuations of Riley's had the effect of a cold-water
douche on Colonel Escott's pleasant anticipations.
66
What if they should prove true! He felt half inclined to
take all his belongings back to the hotel. And yet how
earnestly had Kerrison disclaimed all thought of marriage!
"I think you will find you are altogether mistaken," he
said, rather loftily, to his informant. My friend and I
have no secrets from each other, and we have discussed this
matter already. He told me most distinctly this afternoon
that he had not the slightest intention of changing his con-
dition."
•
Riley went off in a fit of laughter.
"Very likely; I've no doubt he did. But Mrs. Arling-
ton intends to change hers, which is much more to the pur-
pose. 'L'homme propose,' you know,
pose!'
That's the proper reading of
really she's a magnificent creature.
mensely myself! She is quite out of
keeper. She would look much more appropriate at the
head of the table.'
et la femme dis-
the proverb. And
I admire her im-
place as a house-
“What made her accept such a situation?" mused
Escott.
"When a rich bachelor sets up house, my dear colonel,
there are always plenty of young and fascinating widows
(real or pretended) ready to keep it for him with a view to
future promotion. But Mrs. Arlington is the genuine article.
Her husband, old Arlington (whose real name was Agar)
was a money-lender, and as great a rogue as can be found
We

- 1
Į
*
WHY NOT?
in the length and breadth of London. He had dealings
with the West Indies, and on one of his return voyages he
brought back this woman with him. She was a handsome
girl then of perhaps twenty, but-well, her beauty has
always been the best part of her!"
>
Kerrison told me she came from the West Indies," said
the colonel, thoughtfully. "That accounts for her color-
ing. I suppose she has dark blood in her.”
66
23
That's it!" exclaimed Riley, "slave blood. She's a
creole. I heard old Arlington throw it in her teeth one
day when he was in a temper. And she stabbed him for it
too. Right through the arm!"
Good heavens! does Kerrison know it? Would he
permit her to retain her position in his household if it were
true?"
CC
ލ
ލ
My dear fellow, where do you come from? Did you
ever know a man give up his penchant for a woman be-
cause she has a little of the tigress in her disposition? Oh,
she's made it all right with him. He thinks there's no
one like her. She has made herself so necessary to him
that she can dictate her own terms."
Escott sighed audibly.
His spirits had gone suddenly down to zero.
"Used she to help him before he went into that house?”
he asked.
،،
Oh, yes! for some time! Many people think he only
took it as a pretext to have her always at hand. However,
that's as it may be! There's no doubt his plays have been
twice as successful since she associated herself with his
work.
""
"How I wish I were clever," said Escott," that I might
take her place in helping him!"
"That you could never do, my dear colonel, had you the
wisdom of Solomon and the humor of Swift.
It is a
woman's wit he needs-a woman's touch to round off his
ragged edges-a woman's fancy to give his love passages
reality. Kerrison couldn't afford to part with Lola Arling-
ton now, even if he wished it!"

This conversation quenched all the brightness with which
Colonel Escott had contemplated taking up a residence
with his old friend, and sent him back to Hyde Park-Gar-
dens dispirited and uneasy.
21
WHY NOT?
Kerrison soon perceived the change, and attributed it to
fatigue.
CC
You are knocked up with the excitement of landing,
Jem; and no wonder," he observed. We will not go out
this evening; we will have coffee carried up into the sanc-
tum, and enjoy a pipe and a game of whist together before
we go to bed.
"2
Still the colonel could not shake off the depression that
had attacked him, and the friends smoked for some time
in silence.
!
>
t
With the coffee came Mrs. Arlington-not carrying it in-
deed, but simply accompanying the footman, to hear if
there were any further orders for the night.
Kerrison waited till the servant had disappeared before
he answered her.
:
((
}
I have no more commands," he said; "but I have a
request to make. My friend here is overtired and out of
sorts; stay for half an hour, Lola, and sing us some of
your little songs. I am sure they will charm him out of
his melancholy."
Escott started as he heard Kerrison address her by her
Christian name, but Mrs. Arlington did not seem to think
it anything unusual. Evidently she was used to it; also to
being asked to exhibit her talents as a vocalist.
<<
Of course I shall be happy to sing if you wish it,” she
said, as she promptly took her seat at the piano.
Her voice was melodious, low, rich, and sweet; and her
songs were the wildest, most bewitching carols Escott had
ever heard. Yet his spirits sunk lower and lower as he list-
ened to their tones falling and swelling through the apart-
ment, until there was a little crowd outside the house-rail-
ings, eager to catch each note of the unexpected concert.
But John Kerrison seemed to accept Mrs. Arlington's serv-
ices rather cavalierly.
He did not relinquish his pipe, nor go near her whilst she
sung; and, when after nearly an hour had elapsed, she rose
from the piano, saying:
66
There, I think I must have tired you both out.”
All he replied was:
[C
Thank you; you're in excellent voice. We have en-
joyed it very much. Good night.
""
And let her leave the room with no more cordial saluta-
tion than a bow.
I
WHY NOT?
25
Still, Colonel Escott could not exorcise the demons of
jealousy and suspicion that were making him miserable,
and taking deeper hold with each talent this woman showed
that she possessed.
"Jem, my dear fellow, you are making me wretched,"
said Kerrison, at last. Do, for Heaven's sake tell me
what is the matter. Are you repenting of your promise to
live with me?''
66
¿
Not at all, John. It is I who shall be wretched if the
plan has to be given up.
>>
Then why are you in the blues?"
66
Will you let me tell you? Will you treat me as a
friend and a brother, and not be angry with me for putting
a question to you that is very near my heart?"
26
""
My dearest Jem, ask me. what you choose. Nothing
could make me angry with you.
"Then," exclaimed the colonel, with an effort, "forgive
me, John, if I am wrong-but have you any idea-even the
remotest-of marrying Mrs. Arlington ?””
("
[
CHAPTER IV.
""
SHE HAS BLACK BLOOD IN HER.
JOHN KERRISON wheeled slowly round in his chair, and
regarded the colonel steadily in the face.
66
Jem," he said, after a long pause,
"what did you have
to drink at the club this afternoon?"
Escott tried to turn it off with an uneasy laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous, John! You know it isn't that!
Only-"
CC
Only some fellow has been slandering me to you. You
may as well make a clean breast of it. Tell me who he is,
and what he said, and then you shall have my answer
straight from the shoulder.
46
Well, he spoke of it openly enough; it is no betrayal
of confidence, so I see no reason why you should not hear
his name. It was Riley, John-Captain Lawrence Riley,
of the Hussars. He was talking of you, and-and the
person I mentioned just now-this afternoon, and seemed
to consider it quite a settled thing that, sooner or later--
you would-would-do what I said. Don't think me im-
pertinent in having alluded to it, old friend. It hurt me
26
WHY NOT?
just a little, to think it might come to pass, and break up
our newly formed plans. But I can appreciate the suit-
ability of it, and the temptation it must present all the
same, and-",
"Can you?" returned Kerrison, shortly.
(C I can't!"
He wheeled his chair round again to its old position, and
smoked for a few minutes in silence.
"They give me credit for infinite good taste, don't
they?" he ejaculated, at last, "to imagine I should stoop
to marry my housekeeper! I suppose they judge of a man
by themselves.
Something in his tone jarred a string in Escott's breast.
He was relieved to hear there was no foundation for his
idle fears, but he did not like the ground on which his
friend dispersed them.
66
"I think you are a little hard upon them, John," he an-
swered. Their gossip may be utterly untrue, but, after
all, Mrs. Arlington appears to me to be a lady whom no
one need be ashamed to take a fancy to!"
ލ
މ
"She is not my fancy," returned Kerrison," and never
will be! There is a great deal about her of which I com-
pletely disapprove, but which it is not worth my while to
risk her displeasure for, by requesting her to change. She
is far too showy-too dressy-for her position, and she does
not always know how to keep to it gracefully. But I sup-
pose it is natural for a woman to wish to make the best of
herself, and I could not interfere without stirring up the
vials of her wrath. And--as I have told you before-she
is useful to me in a variety of ways, and it is my interest to
keep her in good-humor.
1
""
66
Surely! And why should she not indulge in any inno-
cent fancy? She is young and handsome. No one but a
misanthrope could wish her to make the least of her
charms! And it must be more agreeable to have a brilliant
creature like that about you than some worn-out, toothless,
wrinkled old woman!"
"It is really a matter of the most complete indifference
to me," replied Kerrison, carelessly.
"It is Mrs. Arling-
ton's brain that excites my interest. There she is invalu-
able! But to imagine for a moment I should marry her!
Old Arlington's widow-known to every needy scapegrace
in the metropolis! Why, Lawrence Riley must be mad to
¿
WHY NOT?
27
think of such a thing! Besides-she has black blood in
her veins!"'
“Is that such an insuperable objection to matrimony?”
laughed the colonel. "I have been used to see so many
wives with that flow in their composition!"
C
,
(6
"
"To me it would be, Jem! I have such a horror of it
that I would rather marry a woman with a history!' It is
never purged from the system! The taint remains forever!"
Mrs. Arlington does not show much signs of it.
66 Don't you think so? Wait till you see her in a passion,
and then it will come out. She turns green under emo-
tion. But the blood is well diluted. I believe she's an oc-
toroon-seven parts white. Still, it's there, and I should
""
never forget it.
66
I do not share your prejudice to such an alarming ex-
tent," said the colonel. Perhaps, in my case, familiarity
has bred contempt.
""
"It is a curious thing," remarked Kerrison, reverting to
the original topic, that a man can never associate himself
familiarly with a woman, however commonplace the rela-
tions between them may be, without being accused of want-
ing to marry her! As if the end and aim of every life were
matrimony! And so steadily as I have kept aloof from all
idea of it!"
66
"Have you never seen a woman you would have cared
to marry, John? Never been in love?" demanded Es-
cott.
66
Never, my boy; not since the calf-days, you will
understand, when a fellow doesn't know what real love
means! It's not for lack of seeing women either. My
profession throws me constantly in their society. But the
sort I see are not always the nicest sort. Perhaps that is
one reason. Any way, I have remained unsinged, and can
honestly say I do not know what the heart-ache means.
"You are fortunate!" said the colonel, sighing.
"Ah! Jem, you were always very soft about the fair
sex, and I expect that old breast of yours has been riddled
through and through. You have accused me of sinister
designs on the only female I come in daily contact with.
Let me have your confessions in return! You are far the
more likely of the two to split our new-born contract on the
rock of matrimony!""
"Indeed! you are mistaken! I am fire-proof as your-
28.
WHY NOT?
self. I was hard hit some years ago, John, but it came to
nothing, and I have had no inclination that way since. I
should never be so foolish as to dream of altering my con-
dition now! A man's mind and manners get set by five-
and-forty. A young wife wants too much looking after.
You may depend on my keeping you company to the end,
John!"
"We will turn the place into a regular monastery," said
Kerrison, gleefully, "and give bachelor parties that shall
astonish the world. Not that I never admit the fair sex to
my table, Jem. I am not quite such a misogynist as that."
"Your life appears to be a very pleasant one," observed
the colonel, smiling.
Kerrison stopped suddenly with a deep sigh.
"What rubbish am I talking? What good is it all? I
take more pleasure in watching the rehearsals of my pieces
than in all the folly and frippery the world can afford me.
29
"I can well understand that," said his companion,
“and I fancy I shall learn to take almost as much interest
in them as yourself. It must be delightful to see the chil-
dren of your brain walking and talking on the stage, as
though they had sprung from their father's head, like Mi-
nerva, ready armed.”
ވ
The dramatist was charmed by his friend's enthusiasm.
66
My dear Jem, it gives me such heartfelt pleasure to
hear you talk like that! I feel I shall gain a double amount
of energy and power from the very fact of your presence to
encourage me in my work. Yes, it is delightful. I am
just about to put a new piece into rehearsal at the Meridian,
and you must come and watch it ripen, from a disconnect-
ed, straggling scene of confusion, to an orderly parade.
That is to say, if you are not too much bored the first time
to repeat your visit."
"Don't talk of boredom to me yet!" exclaimed Escott.
"I am like a boy just home for the holidays, and only
afraid they may end before I have done with them.
Το
breathe the air of England, to listen to her language, to be
associated with her children, above all, to sit here, my dear
old chum, and hear you say my presence adds a charm to
your existence, is too much happiness for me to realize all
at once. It turns me into a woman, and I dare not try to
express my feelings for fear I should break down under the
effort.
""
f
29
WHY NOT?
4
Let us go to bed," said John Kerrison, practically.
"We understand each other now, I hope, and need fear no
further complication. Good-night, Jem. I shall sleep
sounder to-night than I have done for years, in the pleas-
ant assurance that the days will never again find me soli-
tary and alone."
M
With a warm grasp of the hand, the friends separated
for the night, Colonel Escott feeling more relieved than
there seemed occasion for at the explanation that had fol-
lowed his question to John Kerrison. He had never really
imagined Captain Riley's statement to be true; but he
argued that where there is smoke there must be fire, and
thought it probable that Kerrison might greatly admire his
housekeeper without any present intention of marrying
her. But he did not even admire her. He mentioned her
with a species of contempt.
The colonel could not sympathize with the contempt, and
he thought John was very blind not to be able to see her
beauty. And yet he resented neither-felt pleased, indeed,
when he remembered what his friend had said of Mrs. Ar-
lington, though he could not have accounted for the feeling
even to himself.
The morning broke bright and beautiful, and the two
men met at the breakfast-table in the best of spirits.
Mrs. Arlington was present-not eating with them, but
presiding at the tea and coffee tray, and waiting on the
gentlemen with a pretty little assumption of extreme def-
erence.
She was dressed in a white wrapper, with a knot of rose-
colored ribbon at her throat, and Colonel Escott thought
she looked even more charming than she had done the day
before. He would have drawn her to take part in the con-
vesation, had not Kerrison interfered every now and then
to prevent it with some curt demand for a newspaper that
was not in the house, or a letter that had never been re-
ceived.
As the last cup of tea was poured out Mrs. Arlington
rose from her seat.
"You will require me in the library this morning, Mr.
Kerrison?" she said, interrogatively.
"6
Yes, at eleven. And, Lola, look out the parts of
The Young Misanthrope' for me. They should be in
Safe B, right-hand corner. I want to alter the school-
K
30
WHY NOT?
master's speeches. Did you copy the last scene of 'Miss
Credo' yesterday?"
梦
​"Yes, sir. It is finished, all but the red lining."
Put it in, and send it off as soon as possible to Miss
Hartlebury. You will find her address in the book. Look
sharp. I promised she should have it this morning. You
must dispatch it by hand. "
"And what about dinner, Mr. Kerrison? Any guests.
this evening?"
66
Major Murgatroyd and Mr. Dorinless; and I may
bring in another. Prepare for six, please, at the usual
time.",
66
L
'Very good, sir," she replied, as she quietly withdrew.
The colonel watched the soft folds of her muslin wrapper
until she had disappeared from sight.
"How invaluable she must be to you!" he observed,
when they were once more alone.
"Eh! what?" exclaimed Kerrison, looking up from
the account of last night's debate. "Valuable! Do you
mean Mrs. Arlington? Of course she is! What would a
man in my position do without a housekeeper? and Lola
has no nonsense about her either. She'll take a cab and go
off to the market, if necessary, and choose her fish and
meat, and bring them home with her. I believe she is
economical, too, though I am not a good judge of that my-
self. And she's a famous sick-nurse. Wait till you get an
attack of the gout--confound it, I've had more than a
symptom of that in the last two years!-and see what a
light hand she has, and what a retentive memory! And
yet, on dit, she led old Arlington the life of a dog. Some
people say she killed him. I don't quite believe that,
though he did go off rather mysteriously at the end. But
women are funny creatures. They so eminently believe in
the saying, that one man may steal a horse whilst an-
other may not look over the gate.' Ah, Mrs. Arlington-
back again! Anything more to say?" he continued, as the
housekeeper put her head in at the door.
C
"Only this, sir. If you do not require my services after
luncheon-time to-day, will it be convenient for me to occu-
py the afternoon in visiting my friends?"
"Why, certainly! You have not been in the habit of
appealing to me for leave to enjoy yourself, Lola!"'
7¢
Perhaps not," she answered, gravely. "When there
މ
4
WHY NOT?
31
was only yourself to consider, Mr. Kerrison (and you have
always been so very considerate to me); but now that there
your friend-"
is
46
ވ
Pray don't let the thought of me ever interfere with
your arrangements!" cried the colonel. "Why, how could
you think of such a thing, madame? I am no one in the
house, even if I required your kind attention."
66
Stop, Jem," said Kerrison, authoritatively; "I can't
let you speak like that. Let us settle this matter at once
and forever. Mrs. Arlington is perfectly right. She has
had only one person to consider hitherto; now she will have
two. But as one must always take the lead in an establish-
ment, and I have given the orders until now, I will con-
tinue to do so. Only, both you and Mrs. Arlington must
understand that we are equally the master here, and that a
command from one is the same as from the other. They
are the only conditions on which we can live together, and
retain our individual dignity. I understand, from her mode
of expression, that Mrs. Arlington does not need this ex-
planation from me. It is to you, Jem, I address myself,
and I hope I shall never hear you say again that you are
no one in this house; for if that were true I should be no
one myself."
ލ
(C
"I shall not be the one to forget your wishes, Mr. Ker-
rison,” replied Mrs. Arlington, respectfully.
(C
Nor I to make you remember them!" exclaimed the
colonel, trying to look in her dark eyes.
But she only let her lashes fall, as, with a half courtesy,
she turned away from him.
CHAPTER V. ·
( MAMAN IS VERY WISE.”
MRS. ARLINGTON was not attired as fashionably as usual
when she went to visit her friends that afternoon.
She was dressed so quietly, indeed, that John Kerrison,
coming suddenly upon her in the hall, imagined for the
moment that she was a stranger. She wore a black dress
and mantle, and a plain black bonnet, with a single damask
rose beneath the brim. She started slightly as she met her
employer, whom she had fancied to be at the other end of
London.
ad
32
WHY NOT?
"Gone into mourning for your sins, Lola?" he re-
marked, pleasantly, as he recognized her.
CC
"I have some shopping to do, Mr. Kerrison," she an-
swered, with a little embarrassment;
and I think a wom-
an can never be dressed too quietly when she has to go
about the City alone.
46
Right-quite right," he said, indifferently, as he passed
into his library.
Mrs. Arlington bit her lips with inward vexation, as he
left her standing in the hall; then, desiring the footman
to call a cab, she gave him the address of a well-known
drapery establishment in Holborn, with some ostentation,
before she got into it and drove away.
But she was a woman made up of finesse and intrigue,
and Holborn happpened to be the last place she intended to
visit.
Before her cab-driver reached the Oxford Circus she had
desired him to stop at the Soho Bazaar instead, where, hav-
ing paid and dismissed him, she got into an omnibus for
Aldgate, and took a train, which landed her in the Mi-
nories, near the East India Docks.
Here was a very different scene from that which she had
left behind her.
It seemed, indeed, each time she saw it, as though she
had stepped from one world into another.
Slop-shops, with fustian and oil-skin, and corduroy gar-
ments hung on lines across the pavement, and flapping in
the faces of the passers-by, had taken the place of the
newest fashions.
Ham-and-beef shops, with fried fish and pale slabs of
unwholesome-looking pudding, were all the temptations
offered to the appetite; whilst her fellow-passengers con-
sisted of seamen, navvies, Chinamen, and West Indian
negroes.
Mrs. Arlington had taken the precaution to tie a thick
veil over her face whilst she was in the train, but she
shaded it closely with her parasol as well, lest she should
possibly be recognized in so unsavory a place.
Yet even in the docks, low as are their surroundings, are
to be found some dwellings of an orderly and respectable
appearance; and it was to a small row of unpretentious but
cleanly looking little houses that Mrs. Arlington finally
took her way.
WHY NOT?
33
She was evidently expected, fór, before she had time to
raise the knocker, the front-door was opened by an elderly
woman in a greasy dress, who greeted her affectionately.
66
"I knew it was my handsome girl!" she exclaimed, as
she embraced her. I have been watching you ever since
you turned into the street. There is not one here who can
step out so proudly, and with her head so well held up as
my daughter. And you have reason, too-you have
""
reason.
The woman spoke in creole French, unintelligible to
any but the natives of the Island of Hayti, where she came
from, and Mrs. Arlington answered her in the same patois.
"Hush, mother; don't let all the dock-yard hear you.
Is the maman well?”
66
As usual, Lolita. Sometimes I think the old lady will
not last much longer. She was ninety-eight on her last
birthday; yet her memory is clear still-wonderfully clear.
But come in, my child, and have some coffee; it is ready
waiting for you.
>>
As she spoke, the woman led the way into a tiny parlor,
furnished with the barest necessaries of life, but which was
filled with the fragrant aroma of a pot of steaming coffee.
"It is the only luxury we get," she whispered, as she
poured it out, "and that is through my cleverness, my
dear-all my cleverness-and knowing some of the seamen
employed in the docks."
It was difficult to believe, seeing these two together, that
they could possibly be mother and daughter, yet it was the
case.
Mme. Claircine de Pelló (as the older was called) was a
woman of perhaps five-and-forty, and looking ten years
older. Her yellow skin was seamed and wrinkled-her
coarse, black hair had turned iron-gray-and the whites of
her eyes were almost brown.
She was only one stage nearer the possession of negro
blood than her daughter; but all her characteristics inclined
to those of the less favored race. She was of a lean tem-
perament also, and, in her baggy cotton dress, and colored
handkerchief tied about her crinkly hair, did not look un-
like an old Frenchwoman of the lower orders.
"You are always complaining of your poverty, mother,
yet you seem comfortable enough," said Mrs. Arlington,
carelessly, as she sipped her coffee.
2
34
WHY NOT?
"Ah! my child, you do not know--you can not tell!
The times are very hard-very hard, indeed-and work
seems to grow scarcer every day. I have lost the washing
of five or six regular customers lately. I do not know the
reason. I suppose they are too poor, and so they go with-
out washing. Have you brought any money with you to-
day, Lola? A little would help us a very little out of
your abundance!”
* C
މ
Cop
ly.
My abundance !" repeated Mrs. Arlington, scornful-
"You forget I am only a servant, and work for my
living like yourself. But I am always ready to add my
mite for the maintenance of maman!”
Saying which, she drew two sovereigns from her purse,
and laid them on the table.
Mme. de Pellé seized the money eagerly.
"Ah! Maman's wisdom is useful to you, Lolita, is it
not? And if you will only follow her directions, you will
soon be out of your troubles. She sees further than you
do, my dear. The future is opened to her, and she knows
what lies before you."
މ
"C
"It is a long time coming!" muttered Mrs. Arlington.
Because you do not help yourself, my child.
You are
too diffident. You might have been the mistress of that
house before now, had you so chosen. But you hang back.
You let others fill your place. Faugh! I have no patience
with you!""
r
It is, at any rate, no affair of yours!" replied her
daughter. "You would not benefit, mother, by the
change. For 1 am quite sure I should never be allowed to
associate. with you!"
Duo you would come and see us under the rose, as you
do now," said the elder woman, coaxingly. "You would
send a letter and a remembrance sometimes to show you
had not quite forgotten us. You would not desert your
poor old mother and old maman-eh, Lolita?"
"No, I shall never desert you!" replied Mrs. Arlington,
wearily.
Yet she was thinking at that very moment how glad she
would be to know herself rid forever of such associations.
She hated and despised them! She hated herself some-
times for having sprung from so unworthy a beginning,
and almost wished she had been born a veritable negress,
than endued with blood that had a taint upon it.
ኑ
•
WHY NOT?
35
But she was bound to these women by other ties than
those of blood, and she dared not break them.
<<
"Of course you wouldn't!" returned Mme. de Pellé,
for who could advise you like maman? You owe the
success of your life to her.”
There is another obstacle in my way now," said Mrs.
Arlington, as though she wished to change the subject..
"An Indian colonel, who has just retired from the service,
and taken up a permanent abode with us. He will keep
Mr. Kerrison company during all his leisure hours, and
make him more than ever independent of my society.
And can't you get rid of this colonel, my dear?"
"How can I get rid of him?" she cried, petulantly.
"Let us go and consult maman," said Mme. de Pellé,
soothingly. Maman always knows what is best to be
done! You know how she helped you with Agar-—
66
66
"
"
"Hush!" exclaimed Mrs. Arlington, suddenly, as she
glanced toward the open window. "I am sure I heard a
footstep!"
"It is nothing! No one is likely to come here to-day!"
replied her mother, closing the casement.
"Has maman many visitors now?"
"So! so! It is just as it happens. One sends another,
but it is hard to make such a gift known when one dares
not advertise. Last week, though, she had several, and all
from the West End-grand folks one could see, though they
came in old cloaks and mufflers. Maman is so wonderful,
and so true, that she has but to be heard to get custom."
"One dupe makes many!" laughed Mrs. Arlington,
softly.
CC
No! no! my child, it is not that! You know (if no
one else does) what a wise woman she is! And her charms
are miraculous! Eh! her charms make me shudder to
think of! But they are not for the public benefit!"
"I wish she would give me a love-filter," said Mrs. Ar-
lington, as they climbed the narrow stairs together; "not
that I believe in them all the same. >>
"Then you are wrong, my child. The maman's love-
filters have driven men mad-mad as hares in March. But
she could not distill them here. They must have human
blood in them, and in this extraordinary country one is not
permitted to shed blood, however great the purpose. Still,
36
WHY NOT?
her wisdom is invaluable, and her blind eyes see further
than those of the rest of the world put together."
(C
Hark! she is crooning to herself," said Lola, halting
on the stairs.
(C
>>.
She is singing one of her Vaudoux songs, replied
Mme. de Pellé. The old lady's heart is in Hayti, and
half her time she thinks that she is there. Do not speak
as we enter. She will know at once that I am not alone."
She opened the door of an upper room, which looked
out upon the front, as she spoke, and they entered it to-
gether. It contained no furniture but a small table and
chair, and a stuffed seat, in which sat an aged negress,
great-grandmother to Lola, doubled with the weight of
years, and totally blind.
Her face was scored and wrinkled like that of a monkey;
her sightless eyes were suuk in her head; her parchment-
like hands were shrunk and paralyzed. In effect, she
looked more like a mummy than a human being, and she.
mumbled so painfully from the loss of teeth that it was
very difficult to understand what she said. She spoke a
broken English before strangers; but as she recognized her
granddaughter's step, she addressed her in their native
patois.
CC
Hey, Claircine!" she ejaculated, in a cracked voice,
some one is with you. It is our little Lolita!'
>
66
"That is true, maman," said Mrs. Arlington, coming
forward, and taking the old woman's hand, and Lolita
sadly wants your advice again.
"
ލ
""
66
"Ah! always in trouble, Lolita-always in trouble!" re-
plied maman, taking a huge piece of crystal from her
pocket, and pressing it against her sightless eyes. Why,
who is this I see? A stranger! He stands in your path,
Lolita!"
މ
I know he does," said Mrs. Arlington, with a frown.
"You must get rid of him!”
"How? Not by-"
บ
"No-no! soft means-soft means. He is quite ready
for them. He is very susceptible, and he admires you!
Let him; draw him on! You don't like him, but you must
pretend you do. Then you will be able to twist him at
your will, even to further your plans with the other.'
"But the other, maman-will he never yield? Ah! it
WHY NOT?
37
"
pains me! I want to conquer him so. I would give worlds
>>
to see him at my feet.'
"Patience-patience, little one.
You are not bold
enough. Let him see your wishes more plainly. He has
no idea of them.”
"He will not see! He is so cold; he thinks of nothing
but his plays and their success. I am no more to him than
the hand that helps to write them. I have tried, maman,
sometimes to make him understand my feelings, but he is
obdurate. When I sigh, he thinks that I am tired. If I
weep, he says I am hysterical. What am I to do with such
a man? I don't think he has ever cared for any woman.
I am sure he does not care for me!"
+
The old negress chuckled in a feeble manner:
66
Hark to our little Lolita, Claircine! She has found a
man who foils her. Oh, this is very strange! But press
them both, Lolita-press them both! That will bring the
cold one forward. And hark ye, child! Don't waste your
time! I see a vision coming.
She extended her withered arm as she mumbled:
<<
ར་
J
Two moons, and a white woman, with mournful eyes,
and a dark cloud wrapped around her!-and lightning-yes,
lightning, and revenge-and- Ah, Lolita, you must be
quick-quick-or it will be too late!"
She grasped Mrs. Arlington's wrist as she concluded,
and opened her lusterless eyes wide, as though she could
see out of them.
ލ
66
"You frighten me, maman," replied Lola, drawing
backward; but, any way, I understand one thing-that
whatever I do must be done at once.
"
"Yes; be quick!-quick!" reiterated the old woman.
"But I am sure I don't know what I can do!" said
Lola, disconsolately, as she rose and stood at the window.
But in another moment she had turned excitedly toward
Mme. de Pellé:
Mother, a gentleman has turned into the gate-a gen-
tleman I know-Mr. Esmé Fielding. What can he want
here?"
"Tiens! my child. He comes, perhaps, to see maman.
So many of the people from the West End come here now. "
"But I can not see him. It is impossible! If he were
to recognize me it might ruin me with Mr. Kerrison.
38
IP
WHY NOT?
Hark! he has knocked. What shall I do-where can I go?
If we meet, I shall never hear the end of it!''
(C
He does come for me!" interposed the old woman,
oracularly. He comes to consult me, and I must receive
him; for he comes with gold in his hand. "
go
"If I down-stairs, I shall meet him in the passage,
or he may turn into the parlor," said Mrs. Arlington.
Mother, where can you hide me?"
С،
"In the bed-chamber, my dear-the door to your left.
The young man will not be long, and
as soon as he goes again.'
I will let
will let you know
""
"I shall hear every word he says," replied Lola, with a
laugh.
And that will hurt neither you nor him," said Mme.
de Pellé, significantly.
Mrs. Arlington availed herself of the opportunity, and
walked at once into the bedroom. As she did so, her
mother went down-stairs, and let in the-new-comer.
He was an exceedingly handsome young man-dark and
aristocratic-looking-with an unmistakable flavor of the
West End about him. He had dressed himself in his sober-
est suit, but there was no mistaking where he had come
from.
As Mme. de Pellé opened the door to him, he seemed
overpowered by an access of timidity or bashfulness.
I-I-beg your pardon!" he said, reddening; "but
does a person live here who calls herself-
66
66
The wise woman, Madame Rosita?" interrupted Mme.
de Pellé. Yes, sir, she does. Have you come to see her?”
"I was told-I was recommended," stammered the
stranger- that is-yes, I have! But is she at home?"
66
Yes, sir, she is always at home. Please to walk in and
take a chair, whilst I announce your arrival to her."
66
SA
""
Mr. Fielding entered the little parlor as if he were carry-
ing a lighted candle over a powder-magazine. He looked
around him as if everything were liable to explode at any
moment; but seeing nothing more dangerous in appear-
ance than a deal table covered with American cloth, and a
few cane-bottomed chairs, he gathered heart of grace to sit
down.
Mme. de Pellé took no notice of his perturbed demeanor;
she was used to that in maman's visitors. Only, as she re-
turned to conduct him upstairs, she informed him that the
WHY NOT?
39
1
seeress was very old and very deaf, and he must put his
questions to her as distinctly as possible.
Mr. Fielding halted on the staircase with a dread sus-
picion.
CC
"There will
be no one within hearing, I hope?""
"Certainly not!" returned Mme. de Pellé, in a tone
that completely reassured him. "There is no one here
but Madame Rosita and myself, and I shall be on the
ground-floor!"
...
CHAPTER VI.
SHALL I FIND HER AGAIN?”’
WHEN Esmé Fielding stood on the threshold of maman's
chamber, he felt very much inclined to run down-stairs
again. But he called his manliness to his aid, as well as
the strong desire for certain knowledge that had drawn his
footsteps thither, and determined, now he had come, to go
through with whatever might be before him.
So, though he turned rather pale at the sight of the old
black woman huddled up in her arm-chair, he did not
flinch, but went steadily forward.
"Is this Madame Rosita?" he inquired, of his guide.
It is a small house," he said, dubiously.
1
L.
،؟
*
Yes, sir! She is very aged, as you see, and perfectly
blind; but she has the gift of double sight, and can tell
you all you may wish to knów. Take this chair, sir-so-
and place your hand on hers-and please not to address her
until she speaks to you!"
J
CC.
You are sure there is no one within hearing?" in-
quired Mr. Fielding, again.
"Quite sure!" replied Mme. de Pellé, mendaciously, as
she withdrew.
As soon as she was out of sight, Mr. Fielding took the
precaution of trying the handle of the door that led into
the bedroom.
*-
But Mrs. Arlington had already taken the precaution of
locking it on the inside, so that he had no means of detect-
ing the trick that had been played upon him.
He resumed his seat, therefore, and again laid his hand
on that of the negress.
"Cold-very cold!" she commenced to mutter, after a
(C
?
་
40
WHY NOT?
short pause, " cold in the heart, and calculating in the
head! You wish to ask me about a woman, sir!"'
66
I do! But how do you know that?''
66
What else is there to interest you sufficiently to bring
you all this way? Love and hate! love and hate! They
make up the sum of human life! Let me consult the magic
crystal!",
She fumbled for her piece of crystal as before, and plac
ing it to her forehead, began to moan.
"Oh! the misery and trouble! How she suffers! There
are two women here, standing opposite each other. Both
proud. But one young, and the other old. And one with
a warm heart, and the other with a cold heart-cold as
marble-something like your own!"
CC
My heart is not cold!'' commented the young man.
But she took no heed of him.
CC
"You stand alone," she continued, wrinkling up her
withered brows, and there is gold around you-a great
deal of gold. And you bartered your honor for it! A
manly thing to do!”
>
She
"You are rather hard on me, Madame Rosita!"
"Do you think so? The truth is generally hard.
found it so.
It nearly broke her heart. But she patched
it up with pride, and she left you. And you'll never find
her equal-never!"
"I know it! I feel it!" exclaimed Mr. Fielding. "And
that is why I have come to you, madame. A friend of
mine came here last week, and you told him some wonder-
ful truths. I have laughed at such things hitherto, but I
so much want to see her again-the young woman, you
understand that I determined to come and see if you
could help me. Where is she? Where can I find her? I
have tried every means I could think of in vain.”
"Where is she? Wait till the crystal speaks to me!
Ha! I see her! In a large hall, or room, with many lights,
and much talking and music. She is alone. She talks and
walks like the others, but she is quite alone-always-al-
ways alone!"
66
"
Does she think of me?" asked the young man, eagerly.
"Does she not love me still?”
"The love is there still, but it is maimed, and bruised,
and bleeding. It is dying slowly, weighed down by her
pride, which lies on it like a heavy stone. It does not look
WHY *
NOT?
41
7
But it was strong
to me as if it would ever breathe again.
once-very strong-and much too yielding.
"It shall be strong again!" exclaimed Mr. Fielding. "I
felt that she had not forgotten me, although it is two years
since we met. I knew that she was suffering for my loss!"
And what have you suffered?" asked the old crone, in
a cracked voice.
CC
Esmé Fielding colored.
"Do you doubt my suffering?" he said. "I gave her
up at my mother's command. There was no other alter-
native, but it nearly broke my heart. And I feel now that
the penalty is more than I deserved-that the misery has
lasted long enough, and that I will break down every barrier
that exists between us! Only tell me if I shall find her
again!"
"Yes, you will find her; but I don't think you will keep
her.
""
[C
I will! Let us but meet once more, and I am afraid
of nothing. She never could resist me in the olden days.
Why should she now? But can you give me no nearer
clew to her address?"
"You need not trouble yourself to find it out; your fate
will bring you together before long. The invisible thread
that unites you is being drawn closer and closer; but there
is a wrong between you-a cruel wrong--like a great knot
in the way.
If it can not be untied, it can not be cut.'
“I will untie it; I will do everything in my power
make her happy. But are you sure you see her? Tell me
what she's like, that I may be certain you are right!"
to
"She is fair as the day; tall and slender as a lily, and she
holds a lily in her hand. There is only one speck upon it
-the shadow of her love; but it is almost hidden by the
glory of her hair. She has wondrous hair-like threads of
gold with sunshine playing on them, and it hangs below
her waist. Do you recognize her?”
(C
Every feature-you describe her exactly. And we shall
meet again? How soon?"
CC
ور
When another moon has run its course. By night-in
a public place-with the lights shining upon her hair.
That is all-the vision is broken."
"C Thank you a thousand times!" exclaimed Mr. Field-
ing, as he pressed a piece of gold into her withered palm;
1
م
ܬܵܐ
ތ
42
WHY NOT?
"you have told me all I want to know. Let me but find
her, and I will do the rest for myself."
#
He passed from the chamber as he spoke, and down the
stairs into the open air; and Mrs. Arlington, gazing after
him furtively from the window, saw him stop when a few
paces from the house, and taking out his handkerchief,
wipe the dew from his excited brow. His face, turned up-
ward, was flushed and smiling. She had never seen the
quiet, nonchalant, and somewhat affected Esmé Fielding
look so radiant before. So he had a secret in his life like
other people.
"Here's a pretty disclosure," she remarked, as she re-
joined her family." Esmé Fielding with a breaking heart!
I wonder what his mother would say if she heard of it. He
is her only child, and heir to an enormous property, and
they say Mrs. Fielding wouldn't give her consent to his
marriage on any account; and he is bound to obey her if he
wants the money, as she can leave it as she chooses. Ma-
man, can't you give me a clew to the girl?"?
"I never give any clews. You shouldn't have listened
to us," replied the old woman, pettishly.
66
>>
Maman is weary, Lolita; come away and let her rest,'
said Mme. de Pellé. "She may have to read the crystal
again before to-night.
CC
And you have nothing more to say to me then?”” ob-
served Mrs. Arlington, carelessly, as she paused before ma-
man and touched her hand.
""
"Blood!" exclaimd the crone, shrinking back a little,
"blood. You should have been a Vaudoux. Remember,
those who rule should be prompt. The time is passing-
don't waste it," and then let her head sink upon her breast.
"She is tired; we must not try her any more,
" said
Claircine de Pellé, drawing her daughter from the room.
"And it is time that I should return too,” observed Mrs.
Arlington, "or I shall not be back at the dinner-hour.
Adieu, mother. My quarter's salary will be due in a
month, and then I will send you some more money. Mean-
while maman appears to be reaping a golden harvest.
What did Mr. Fielding give her?”
"Only a sovereign! Ah! my child, they come in very
slowly, and they last a very short time. And when shall I
see you again?'”
*
That I can not say. You see it is the season, and Mr.
ވ
J
WHY NOT?
43
""
Kerrison is giving dinners almost every day. He has friends
this evening. You must not expect me too soon.
66 And you will follow maman's advice?"
"I will try to do so," replied Mrs. Arlington, with a
grimace, as she submitted to be embraced by her mother;
and then, tying the thick veil over her face again, made
her way rapidly to the station. As she was standing about
Aldgate, waiting for the omnibus which should convey her
to the West End, she beheld, to her consternation, Colonel
Escott. He was on the opposite side of the way, and at
first she hoped he would not recognize her; but he evident-
ly had good sight, for, after peering at her figure for a few
moments, he crossed the road and approached her side.
(C
"I thought I could not be mistaken in you," he said, as
he lifted his hat from his head; but who would have ex-
pected to meet you in Aldgate? It is a horrible place for
a lady, so dusty and crowded. Are you going toward home?"
"Yes," she replied, smiling, as she remembered ma-
man's injunction regarding him. My duties often lead
me into unpleasant places, Colonel Escott; but I am bound
to fulfill them all the same." ""
66
"I am sure you would feel so. But now that they
are concluded, may I escort you home? I was just going to
hail a hansom for myself, and shall be honored by your
sharing it. I have been to my City agents, to learn the
fate of some cases I dispatched to England before I started
myself, but they have not yet arrived. Allow me," he
continued, as he handed her into the cab as carefully as
though she had been a duchess, and took a seat by her side.
"This is very comfortable!" she remarked, presently,
as she lay back on the cushions.
"(
"You should never go about in anything less comforta-
ble," said the colonel, earnestly. 'I can not bear to think
of a delicately bred woman being jolted about in those
clumsy omnibuses, and mixed up with all sorts of com-
pany. I remember once remarking to my old friend Field-
ing-
""
1
"To whom, sir?"
(C
Mr. Fielding. By the way, you must have seen his
son, I fancy-young Esmé Fielding (my godson), for Mr.
Kerrison tells me he knows him very well.
"Mr. Esmé Fielding is your godson, sir?"
4.6
Certainly. I've never seen the lad since he was five
46
}
WHY NOT?
which she was quite competent to settle by herself. Or
(the uncomfortable idea smote him) that she might intend
to give him warning, either on Escott's account or for some
other trivial reason, and that was a contingency he wished
to postpone as long as possible. For, as he told himself
whilst the colonel and he drove to the Meridian together,
what on earth he should do without the woman he could
not possibly imagine. She had become his right hand in all
literary affairs; she had learned exactly how to answer his
business letters; she was clever enough to be able to read
and pass a reliable opinion on the numerous manuscripts
committed to his charge; she saved him a world of trouble
in copying and correcting, and, even as he had told James
Escott, she was able to help him with her perspicuity and
judgment.
No! by Jove, she mustn't leave me!" he thought, with
wrinkled brow. "I'll double her salary if she hints at such.
a thing. Surely she can never be so foolish as to dream of
marrying again! That would be the cruellest blow of all.
But even in that case I'll buy the fellow off if it takes half
my income.
""
"You look worried this morning, John. What's up,
old fellow?'' exclaimed the cheery voice of
Escott by his
side.
C
"Nothing, Jem; only thinking out a situation. I don't
like Bessie Reed's interpretation of the waif in Miss
Credo;' there's too much sentimental prettiness about it.
The girl thinks more of dressing herself than the part. I
told McAdam to find some one else to fill it by to-day.
""
"It is easy enough, isn't it?''
It is a small part, but not so easy to fill as you might
imagine. The appearance has so much to do with it. I,
want a slight, delicate girl, with small features-not a¨
blooming rustic. Reed will have to take the chambermaid
instead. "
As soon as they arrived at the theater he attacked the
stage-manager on the subject.
Have you found some one to take the waif's part yet,
Mr. McAdam?"
(4
Yes, sir, I think so.
Thalia last month. As
the part exactly."
"Where is she?"
ވ
Miss Lily Power.
Miss Lily Power. She was at the
far as appearance goes she'll look
£
22
ļ
(6
WHY NOT?
Waiting to see you in the greenroom, Mr. Kerrison.”
"Come along, Jem."
As the friends left the stage together one carpenter said
to another:
47
"I expect that military gent is the one that has all the
money, and he's at t'other's back; else why should he
come loafing round day after day in this fashion?"
Meanwhile Kerrison and the colonel had entered the
greenroom, at the further end of which a young woman
was sitting in the shadow.
"Miss Lily Power?" said the dramatist, interrogatively.
"Yes," replied a low voice of singular beauty.
"Will you be so good as to come forward? I am Mr.
Kerrison, and Mr. McAdam tells me you are a candidate
for the waif in Miss Credo.'"
'
66
I can play the part if you will trust me with it, she
answered, walking to meet them.
As she halted and lifted her face to theirs, one thought
flashed through both men's minds at the same time:
"Is she beautiful, or is she not ?”
They saw before them a girl of perhaps two- or three-and-
twenty, but with a countenance so careworn, that it would
better have suited middle age. Her complexion was of a
pearly white, without any variation of color; and her hair,
which was of a pale gold, made her look still more blood-
less.
Her eyes were magnificent-large, humid, and clear as
crystal-of a soft gray tint, and shaded with brows and
lashes of a darker color than her hair.
But here her charms seemed to terminate.
Her nose was ordinarily good. Her mouth might have
been pretty, but its trembling lips were almost white. Her
figure was excessively slight, almost fragile, and her stature
was under the ordinary height of women.
She looked hysterical, nervous, and debilitated.
Kerrison fancied she was suffering from stage fright,
but Escott thought she was insufficiently nourished. They
were both wrong.
It was Lily Power's heart that was starving, rather than
her body, and she feared herself more than she did any
other human being. But she possessed the ideal face and
figure for John Kerrison's "waif," and he recognized that
at once.
48
WHY NOT?
"Miss Power," he exclaimed, after a critical survey,
you are the very lady I have been looking for. Have you
ever played a boy's part before?”
A faint color came into her waxen cheeks as she an-
swered:
46
"No."
""
29
GO
Is it in your line?"
I am only a beginner, Mr. Kerrison, and I am very
poor. Anything that I can do is in my line."
Her intonation was so correct, it was evident she was a
lady by birth; and her voice was so pathetic it aroused im-
mediate interest.
John Kerrison made a few more remarks to her regard-
ing his piece, and the character he wished her to assume,
and then led her off in triumph to the stage, leaving James
Escott in the greenroom alone.
What was it in this stranger's voice that had awakened
some sleeping memory of his past? What was it in the ex-
pression of her eyes that sent his thoughts flying back to
that saddest episode of all his life, when he and the woman
he loved stood face to face for the last time and said fare-
well?

He passed his hand thoughtfully across his brow, trying
to solve the riddle for himself.
So had he seen poor Helen's eyes raised to his-with the
same look of pathetic entreaty-of hopeless, wondering
loss-as she gave him up forever!
As the truth struck him he started and sighed. He had
not thought so much of Helen since he had been home.
The salt water seemed to have washed away the last rem-
nant of his regret for her. But the sight of Miss Power
had revived it, and with impatience at the idea, and yet a
sort of yearning to see if he was correct, he left the green-
room and walked after her upon the stage.
He found her in the midst of her most important speech,
reading it from the scrip, but with so much pathos and ap-
preciation that the author was delighted, and could not say
too much in her praise as soon as the rehearsal was con-
cluded.
That Miss Power is a very remarkable girl, Jem!" he
observed, as they drove to the club together.
"Her facial
expression is excellent, and she has the true larmes au voix.
I wonder McAdam didn't pick her up before. She's a gem,
*
WHY NOT?
49
and will make a fine emotional actress by and by. And she
is positively handsome! I thought her plain at first sight,
but I found out my mistake when she began to speak. She
has magnificent eyes, and hair down to the waist, so
McAdam tells me. I call her a regular find!"
"Who is she?" demanded the colonel.
"I can't discover; but she doesn't belong to any theatri-
cal family. I suppose she is some nursery-governess or
clergyman's daughter who is wise enough to prefer the stage
to starvation. Heaps of them go on nowadays, but few
have this girl's ability. I shall not lose sight of Miss
Power. I shall have her trained for my emotional parts.
That saint-like face of hers will draw double in the midst
of a farcical comedy."
""
He could not forget the subject, even when he returned
home for the evening, but discussed it openly, and without
stint or praise, in the presence of Mrs. Arlington, who list-
ened for some time in silent disgust.
At last she observed, inquisitively:
"A new protégée of yours, Mr. Kerrison?""
"A most promising débutante, who is about to appear in
'Miss Credo,' Mrs. Arlington. She plays Philip — you
know the part-and she will look it to the very life."
"I've not much opinion myself of a woman who will ap-
pear in public dressed as a boy!" replied Lola Arlington,
with something of a sneer.
66
66
That's because you take the bigoted view of an outsider
concerning such things!" returned Kerrison. A wom-
an's character has nothing to do with her profession!'"
66
"And I am sure if you saw Miss Power," interposed the
colonel, eagerly, that you could have none but a good
opinion of her, Mrs. Arlington!"
"So you are going to play Saint George also in defense
of this maiden, colonel?" said the housekeeper, with com-
pressed lips. "I conclude she must be very handsome to
have enlisted two such gallant knights in her cause."
.
K
Colonel Escott was annoyed, and said no more; but John
Kerrison continued to dilate on the voice, gestures, and ex-
pression of the new actress, until Lola Arlington was beside
herself with jealousy and chagrin.
She came off badly on all sides that evening, for Kerri-
son was so full of the chances for his comedy and the in-
terpreter of the waif, that he never even asked her to sing
출
​}
50
WHY NOT?
a song, nor take a hand at cards; and Escott's heart was
beating in dull time to a tune of long ago, and making him
feel almost guilty to find that the notes sounded strange to
him.
The advent of the stranger had had the power to stir the
natures of both these men, although in different keys.
One-it was heading onward to the future! The other
—it had driven back upon the past!
i
Nevertheless, the fact remained that Lily Power, and the
thoughts and memories Lily Power had conjured up for
them, occupied their minds until they retired to bed.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SUCCESSFUL WAIF.
JOHN KERRISON'S interest in the new actress did not
abate as the days went on, although he was careful to keep
the fact a secret from his friend. On the contrary, it in-
creased to such an extent that he became frightened at it
himself, and used to rub his forehead thoughtfully, and
wonder why he had never felt such anxiety to find himself
in the presence of any woman before.
Escott appeared to like the girl; but Escott never said
more than that she was a very interesting person, and the
tones of her voice haunted him long after they had died away.
For Lily Power certainly gained in every way upon acquaint-
Her face had a spiritual beauty about it, quite apart
from any regularity of feature, and her manners were those
of a gentlewoman-quiet, dignified, and refined.
ance.
John Kerrison had tried in various ways to show his esti-
mation of her services, but without effect. He had invited
her to dinner at his house, and she had replied that she
never went into society. He had asked leave to call upon
her at her own residence, and her answer was that she never
received visitors. He had even ventured to offer her a
present, such as most girls in her position would have been
charmed to receive, and she had rejected it as an insult.
Yet she was always at her post, faithfully doing her best
with her part, and she improved in consequence every day.
She would never be a brilliant performer perhaps; but she
looked unusually sweet and pathetic in the character she
WHY NOT?
51
had undertaken, and even Mr. McAdam said she was a very
capable actress.
Kerrison did not tell his old chum the colonel of the
efforts he had made to gain Miss Power's confidence, nor
of the rebuffs he had received. He felt ashamed of them
somehow. He flung the bouquet she had refused to take
from him into the street one night, and locked the bracelet
with the diamond horseshoe somewhere away in his drawers,
where he should never come across it again. Never had
any former rebuffs rankled in his mind as these did. He
found himself longing each night for the morning to arrive
which should bring him to Miss Power's presence again;
and when it dawned, nothing short of the gout would have
kept him from the Meridian.
Never had a piece been better rehearsed than Miss
Credo." The author found something to amend each time
he saw it, and would not let the company off duty for a
single day. Of course Mr. Kerrison's continual absences
and unusual fits of moodiness did not escape the notice of
Mrs. Arlington. Colonel Escott was too blind to see any
difference in his friend's demeanor, but the housekeeper
knew all about it, and began to search for the cause.
At last the night for the production of "Miss Credo "
arrived, and the household in Hyde Park Gardens was in
a fever. Dinner had been ordered somewhat earlier for
the occasion, and Esmé Fielding, who, notwithstanding his
own apparent superficiality, had struck up a great friend-
ship for his godfather-whom he termed a jolly old inno-
cent was one of the party.
66
""
CC
say.
މ
ܚ
66
'I go to most first nights," he observed, in the course
of conversation; "but I don't know when I expected more
pleasure than I do from 'Miss Credo.' The fact is, you
two old foxes have been so sly about it that I believe you
have quite a stock of pretty girls hidden away in the
Meridian, with whom you are going to dazzle the public.
Now confess, Mr. Kerrison, don't you find my respected
godfather here a terrible fellow behind the scenes? Isn't
he always in some scrape or other? Haven't you had to
rescue him a dozen times already?"
The colonel took the accusation in perfect good faith,
and denied it seriously.
66
My dear Esmé, you can not possibly mean what you
I should be the last person to abuse Kerrison's trust
52
WHY NOT?
in me after that fashion. Besides, I really never cared
about girls. They are too frivolous to please me. If I
ever thought of such a thing—which I assure you I have
given up doing years and years ago-it would be in connec-
tion with some much older women than I should meet be-
hind the scenes of the Meridian. My friend Kerrison there
will, I am sure, corroborate my opinion, that the conversa-
tion and manners of very young girls lose their flavor for
men of a certain age. We prefer the sex ripened, like our
wine."
"I am not quite so sure of that," replied Kerrison, a
dull red mounting to his cheeks. "A girl's idle prattle is
rather a relief after a hard day's work than otherwise. One
doesn't want to go in for politics and domestic economy
when one's brain is tired. However, I have not had much
experience of either."
،،
Nor I," laughed the colonel, nor ever mean to.
Kerrison and I are two old bachelors, Esmé, vowed to celib-
acy to our lives' end.
We leave marriage and all its cares
to such youngsters as yourself, who have plenty of money
and nothing to do with it."
Mr. Fielding's brow overcast.
I am afraid I shall never have a chance of trying it,
colonel. My mother sets her face entirely against matri-
mony as far as I am concerned. She is queen-regnant at
Applescourt, and she will allow of no meaner light near the
throne on pain of my disinheritance. It's rather selfish,
isn't it? But such is her decision."
"Well, you must prove you are independent of it," said
the colonel, cheerfully.
"How can I?”
66
By working, my dear boy, like other men, and sup-
porting your wife with your own hands. When you've met
the girl you want to marry, go in and win her, and chuck
the money to the winds. What's the good of money com-
pared to love?”
K
“But I have never been brought up to do anything, you
see," replied Esmé, looking cown, and playing with his
knife and fork. "I am an only child, and naturally look
forward to inheriting my parents' property. So that it
would be rather a waste of time my bothering myself about
work, when I might come into Applescourt any day-
wouldn't it?''
3
WHY NOT?
53
”
CC
Perhaps so," rejoined the colonel, in a tone of disap-
pointment. Well, then, you must do without the wife-
that's all! And I don't suppose it will make much differ-
ence to you any way. The boys of the present day seem
made of a different stuff from what they were when I was
young, and jeer at love, and home, and domestic happi-
ness, and all the things we used to think sacred. So I dare
say a bachelor's life will suit you best, Esmé, after all.”
At all events, until I come into my property," laughed
the young man.
66
"That is another thing I find altered for the worse,
remarked the colonel. "In my day we used not to speak
too lightly of the chances of our parents' deaths."
Esmé Felding looked ashamed of himself then, and
dropped the subject.
The kind-hearted colonel feared he had been too hard on
him, and hastened to introduce another.
"Where are you going to put Fielding and myself to-
night, John?" he asked.
66
In my box, as usual, Jem.”
CC
I was in hopes we were to be behind the scenes!'' ex-
claimed Esmé, looking up.
John Kerrison frowned.
"No strangers are allowed behind at the Meridian," he
said, curtly.
(C
"
→
"And where is Mrs. Arlington to sit? Is she coming
with us?" inquired Escott.
66
Oh, no! I have put her in the dress-circle. I did not
know if it would be agreeable to you and Fielding," replied
Kerrison.
"I have not the least objection, nor can Esmé have, I
am sure. Why, the box will hold half a dozen, John. Do
let Mrs. Arlington join us, if it pleases her."
Oh! don't let's have that woman!" exclaimed Mr.
Fielding, deprecatingly. "I can't bear her! She looks
like a murderess!"
The colonel, gentle as was his disposition, could have
murdered his god-son at that moment.
"Hush!" said Kerrison, warningly.
"She will sit
where I put her! It is better for all parties."
Then, their dinner being concluded, they rose from the
table, and prepared for the evening's amusement.
2
*
*
邂
​- 54
WHY NOT?
Miss Credo" went swimmingly from beginning to end,
and proved a complete success.
Kerrison was, of course, behind the scenes all the time,
directing, encouraging, and applauding, and Escott and
Fielding occupied the stage-box.
The first thing the colonel did on settling down, was to
sweep the house with his glasses in search of Mrs. Arling-
ton.
"C
Presently he discovered her in the second row of the
circle, looking glorious, as it struck him, in a black lace
dress and yellow roses, but frowning ominously, and with
her gaze steadfastly fixed upon the stage.
He fancied she was annoyed at her position, and he was
sorry John had put her there. He had often heard her say
she always occupied the author's box on first nights, and
since she helped him so much with his work the colonel
thought she had every right to do so.
He should be miserable if his advent deprived this glori-
ous woman of her privileges. He hoped so sincerely that
she did not misconstrue his actions, or imagine his wishes
had had anything to do with the change, and he deter-
mined, in his own mind, to seek an early opportunity to let
her know the truth.
Such were Colonel Escott's thoughts, whilst Lola Arling-
ton sat with knitted brows regarding the stage, and per-
fectly oblivious of his presence.
And John Kerrison, behind the scenes, was hovering
about Lily Power, and wondering why he felt so dumb
when brought in contact with her.
She was looking wonderfully well in her waif's costume,
but no amount of compliments seemed to bring a flush into
her marble cheeks. Her face was white as alabaster, from
the midst of which her luminous eyes shone like stars. Her
beautiful hair was rolled away under a boy's wig of the
same color, but the ragged suit falling off her neck and
chest displayed a skin smooth as ivory, and of the most
dazzling fairness.
She had not much to do in the first and second acts, but
she watched the piece throughout, and Kerrison felt as if
he were bewitched, and could not move away from her
side.
CC
I am all anxiety to see this new goddess of Mr. Kerri-
The Marke
138/
WHY NOT?
55
son's," said Esmé Fielding, as he consulted the play-bill.
"Miss Lily Power! I have never heard the name before!"
،،
"I dare say not. I understand she is quite a beginner,"
replied Escott. But if you are expecting a beauty,
Esmé, you will be disappointed. Miss Power's chief per-
sonal attraction lies in her fairness."'
"I like fair women--the fairer the better for me," ex-
claimed the young man, with a quickly repressed sigh.
66 Do you really mean that?" said the colonel, elevating
his brows. How strange! To me, fair women seem so
insipid. But here comes the lady, and you can judge for
yourself."
It was the third act where Lily Power had the first oppor-
tunity to show what she was made of. She had walked
across the stage before, but she had never turned her face
fully to the audience. Now came the moment of recogni-
tion, when she was compelled to come down to the foot-
lights, and deliver her best speech. As she half fell, half
lay, before them, Colonel Escott recognized her prettiness.
"I have maligned the girl!" he said to Esmé Fielding,
over his shoulder. "She really looks beautiful to-night.
I had no idea she was so handsome! What glorious eyes!
And what a skin! It is white as snow.
What do you
think of her, my boy?" he continued, as he turned to the
young man behind him.
66
M
But Mr. Fielding's face had become gray as ashes, and
he was staring at Lily Power as though he saw a phantom.
What's the matter, Esmé? Are you ill?''
(C
He recovered himself with a ghastly smile.
"Ill? No! I was only admiring your beauty-Miss
what's her name--Lily Power!"
66 But you recognize her! You have met her before!"
"How can you tell that, colonel?”
"I read it in your face-any one could see it!"
<<
Well, if you press me, I have met her before; but I'm
sure I can't tell where! At a dance, perhaps, or a supper-
party. These actresses are all over the place, you know!
But, if you'll excuse me, I'll just slip out for a moment.
This theater is intolerably hot to-night, and I have a head-
ache. I'll be back directly."
He disappeared without giving his companion a chance
to offer to accompany him, and rushed round to the box-
office.
T
Y
56
WHY NOT?
"I see a friend of mine upon the stage," he said, hur-
riedly. Miss Lily Power! Will you give me her private
address?''
"C
"It is against the rules, sir."
(6 Will you send a note to her, then?""
66
I can not do that either; but there are plenty of mess-
engers about who will carry it round to the stage-door for
you."
"Thanks for the hint!"'
He procured a sheet of note-paper at the bar, and scrib-
bling a few lines in pencil, dispatched them to their desti-
nation, and, having swallowed a glass of brandy, returned
with a very flushed face to the stage-box.
"Do you feel better?" inquired the colonel.
(C
A little-but you'll forgive me if I run away as soon
as the curtain is down. I feel as if I must get out to the
fresh air."
Meanwhile the efforts of the waif had been loudly ap-
plauded, and the pathetic eyes and voice of the new actress
had won her an easy road to public favor.
Kerrison was delighted with her success. He waited for
her at the wings after each appearance, and complimented
her warmly on her impersonation.
"If you will allow me," he said, at one time, “I will
write a piece expressly for you, and give you the very best
opportunity I can to make your name with the public.
""
66
You do me too much honor, sir," replied Lily Power,
gravely; and I am afraid you overrate my abilities; but
am only too much flattered by your offer.
"C
Don't say that; you don't know how much I would do
to please you. May I offer you my carriage to return home
in to-night?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Kerrison; your kindness might be
misconstrued. It is better I should go by myself," she an-
swered, in the same grave tone.
But a few minutes afterward she came to meet him with
a hurried, anxious manner at another part of the stage.
In her hand she held a crumpled paper, and her whole
appearance was indicative of distress.
"C
Mr. Kerrison," she exclaimed, hastily, "you were
good enough just now to offer to send me home in your car-
riage. Will you do more? Will you take me home your-
self, and at once?”
M
WHY NOT?
57
?
A
She had so pertinaciously refused to give him her private
address hitherto, that her proposal took him completely by
surprise, and his pleasure was evinced in his face.
(7
Don't mistake me," she added, with her eyes raised
to his; "I am only making a convenience of you. I have
had a note from a person I once knew, and he says he shall
wait for me at the stage-door to-night, and it frightens me,
Mr. Kerrison. I can not meet him-indeed I can not!
Oh! do take me away at once!''
John Kerrison's chivalry was instantly aroused.
"Tell me his name, Miss Power; I will see that he does
not molest you!"
CC
No, no, I can not! Only take me home without delay.
I am quite ready, you see, and my part is over.
I want to
go now now directly-before he can come round in
search of me.
""
"My carriage is here; I will put you in it this moment,"
he said.
"And come with me," she pleaded, as she grasped his
arm, and glanced fearfully around her.
He conducted her hastily through the passages to the,
stage-door-and, not waiting to answer the call that the
audience were certain to make for him, jumped into the
carriage after her, and drove off into the darkness of the
night.
CHAPTER IX.
GIVE ME YOUR LOVE.
MISS POWER Occupied some dingy lodgings in the Water-
loo Road. As they reached the door, and Mr. Kerrison
handed her out of the carriage, she said, in a confused
manner:
“You won't come in, will you?"
And then, as though suddenly conscious of the rudeness
implied in her words, she added, hastily:
I mean, of course, you are welcome to do as you choose;
but there is no reason I should trouble you further."
But he only answered, gravely:
>>
"If I have your permission to do so, I will see you up-
stairs, as I have something to say to you.
The door being opened by this time by an untidy, slip-
}
58
WHY NOT?
shod servant, Lily Power led the way without further com-
ment to her private apartments, which were dirty, com-
fortless, and in keeping with the remainder of the dwelling.
Arrived at this haven of unrest, she flung herself into a
chair, and hiding her face in her hands, cried for a few
moments hysterically.
Then she said, without daring to raise her eyes to his:"
""
What must you think of me, Mr. Kerrison? First, of
my being so presumptuous as to enlist your services on my
behalf; and secondly, of my breaking down like this. But
I am tired, and excited, and not strong. You will forgive
me, will
you not?''
"Miss Power, I am ready to forgive you anything, on
one condition—that you will permit me to help you out of.
your trouble!"
"But that is quite impossible! It lies too deep for any
cure. Oh! Mr. Kerrison, what shall I do? I shall have
to throw up my engagement at the Meridian-to leave the
stage altogether, since this-this person has found me out!
I never thought I should see him again. He will persecute
me to death! If he doesn't leave London, I must!”
"But this is unbearable, Miss Power! Such tyranny is
unheard of, and must not be allowed. Tell me the name
of this man whose presence alarms you, and you shall never
speak to him again."
CC
•
Oh, I can not—I can not!" she sobbed.
"Is he a relation of your family?
over you?"
66
""
Has he any authority
Yes, in a measure. I could not make you under-
stand how without telling you all. But I dare not remain
in the same place with him!"
"Has he threatened you?
"He threatens to find me out, and visit me."
ވ
"Have you not sufficient authority to keep out any per-
son you may not wish to see?"
"Not him, I am afraid!" she answered, shuddering.
66 Have you given your private address to any one at the
theater?''
(C
Not yet."
"Refuse to do so, then. I know it is the rule to demand
it, but I will explain the reason of your reticence to Mr.
McAdam. If this person is unmanly enough to persecute
WHY NOT?
59
""
you with letters take no notice of them, and he will soon
leave off writing. He can only send them to the theater.
"But he will be in wait for me, and follow me home, Mr.
Kerrison."
"I will take care of that, Miss Power, if you will put
yourself under my protection. I will send you home each
night myself, and see that the stage-door entrance is cleared
before you pass through it."
"How good you are to me, sir! The part of Philip is
not worth so much as that.
"
"I am not thinking of your part now, but of yourself.
Believe me that, if you will let me help you in this dilem-
ma, it is I that shall incur the obligation rather than your-
self.”
She seemed to read something in his eyes then that
startled her, for she stood upright, white as death and cold
as marble.
"What right have I to trouble you like this, sir? I
ought to know better. I am not in a position to accept an
obligation from any man. I beg of you to let me thank
you for your kindness, and to wish you good-night."
“And there is no other way in which I can serve you,
Miss Power?"
I
"There is no other way in which I can accept your serv-
ices, Mr. Kerrison. You are a man of the world, sir.
need not point out to you that a young woman, situated as
I am and living by myself, dares not take a benefit from
the hands of strangers.
""
CC
But when will you cease to look on me as a stranger?
I have known you now for six weeks, but I have seen you a
great many times. Are we never to be nearer friends than
we are at present?"
"I hope we may be," she said, in a low tone.
'You
have been very good to me, Mr. Kerrison, and I should
like to return your kindness-if it were possible.
""
"It is more than possible, if you will choose to make it
$0. Miss Power, do not think me impertinent; but I can
not help seeing that you are poor, and, it seems to me,
friendless. Have you quarreled with your friends?"
I have none, she answered, looking down.
CC
"No friends!-no relations! You are an orphan, then?"
"I am an orphan, sir.”
};
6.4 Without brothers or sisters?"
ور
ލ
CC
(
WHY NOT?
"Without brothers or sisters."
"Good Heavens! at your age, and with your attrac-
tions! It is incredible. And in so perilous a profession
too! What made you adopt it?"
.
"To put bread in my mouth, Mr. Kerrison; and to kill
thought that was killing me."
(6
My poor child! So sad and lonely, and yet you will
not let me be your friend!''
66
I think you are so, Mr. Kerrison; the best one, at least,
that I possess.
""
60
"Prove your belief by trusting me, Miss Power. Come
and see me, and let us try to know more of one another.”
66 But you are a single man, sir!"
CC
I am single, but I should not dream of asking you to
visit me unless it were in the company of other ladies fitted
to protect you. Besides, I have a widow lady to keep my
house-a Mrs. Arlington-who is a sufficient chaperone in
herself. Will you come, Miss Power?"
.6C
Perhaps some day. But I have no wish for society.
It galls and irritates me! I am much better alone."
I will not take that for a definite answer," said John
Kerrison, as he offered her his hand; "but ask you again.
and again until you consent.
She tried to appear grateful for his attentions, but wished
him "good-night" in a listless manner that showed that
her thoughts were far away.
"You are sure no one followed the carriage, or is wait-
ing about outside?" she asked, in a fearful manner, as they
parted.
(C
Quite sure; but I will take an extra look now on your
account.
>>
He passed out of the hall-door, but returned after a min-
ute to whisper:
"The coast is quite clear; there is not a loiterer in sight.
Good-night!" And she echoed a grateful "good-night
as he drove away.
""
Thoughts of her filled John Kerrison's mind as he drove
homeward. Whom did she fear? Why did she fear him?
What power could any man hold over this innocent, harm-
less girl? But whatever it might be, he determined he
would free her from it.. It was terrible to think of a young
creature like that living alone without friends or fortune,
battling with poverty, and compelled to work for her bread,
މ
j
*
WHY NOT?
61
and hanging over all she did or said this shadow of a secret
fear!
Kerrison, remembering his ample income and his large
empty house, sighed. How strange it seemed that one
mortal should have so much in this world and another so
little! How he wished that the rules of etiquette would
permit him to make this young fellow-creature comfortable
forever, and beyond the reach of stint or care! But he
knew it was impossible.
.
He was thinking thus and sighing over it, as many men
have done before him, when he turned the latch-key that
opened his own door. It was later than he had imagined.
The time had flown on silver wings in Lily Power's pres-
ence, and the clock in the hall pointed to half past one.
John Kerrison was still disencumbering himself of his
overcoat and opera-hat, when a figure walked out of the
library and confronted him. It was Mrs. Arlington. He
started as if he had seen an apparition-she took him so
completely by surprise. He was always uncertain in his
hours of returning home, and this was the first time that
she had ever sat up for him. His first idea was that James
Escott had been taken ill.
K
"Good Heavens! is that you, Mrs. Arlington?" he ex-
claimed. "Is there anything the matter with the colonel?'*
Mrs. Arlington looked annoyed.
"I really know nothing about the colonel, Mr. Kerrison.
He is not such an object of interest to me as he is to you.
I sat up with a very different purpose. Because—because,
I was too unhappy to sleep.
She pronounced the last words with a falter in her voice
which made John Kerrison look up sharply. He saw,
then, that she was unusually pale and careworn in appear-
ance, that her hair was in disorder, and her face was stained.
with tears.
"C
99
My dear woman!" he cried, involuntarily, "what is
the matter? Has anything occurred in my absence? Have
you received any bad news?"
66
No, no!" she answered, shaking her head, whilst a
large tear rolled down either cheek. "It is nothing new.
I am simply overexcited, and-and miserable."
"Nonsense," returned Kerrison, stoutly; "you are tired
-that's what it is. A first night is enough to tire any-
body, and you ought to have been in bed long ago.
Come
6.2
WHY NOT?
along into the dining-room and have a brandy-and-soda.
That's the thing to set you right again. I insist upon it,"
he continued, as she appeared to make a slight resistance,
and he placed her arm within his own and dragged her in
a friendly manner to the apartment he had indicated.
"There!" he exclaimed, as he handed her the foaming
mixture, drink that to the continued success of Miss
Credo!' Wasn't it splendid? Did you ever hear louder
applause? Were you not proud of your share in it?”
But instead of pledging her employer and the new
comedy, Mrs. Arlington laid her head down upon the table
and burst into tears.
66
Kerrison became annoyed. He felt no sympathy with
this distress as he had done with that of Lily Power; it only
worried and made him impatient.
"Now, now, now! what is this all about?" he asked,
petulantly. "You will wake the whole house, Mrs. Arling-
ton, if you make such a noise. Has anything happened to
annoy you? You can not expect me to condole unless I
know what I am to condole with.
"You would not understand if I answered you," she
murmured.
"You do not give me credit for much sense. Why
shouldn't I understand?",
""
"Because you are so blind-so blind! You can not see
-you never have seen all this time-that my heart-my.
heart-is breaking !”
"Your-heart-is-breaking!" repeated John Kerri-
son, utterly confounded.
66
Breaking! Yes! My only wonder is that it has not
broken long ago. But what do you care so long as your
plays succeed so long as the artists fulfill your expecta-
tions-you think nothing of the hand and the brain that
have worked to help you! Any new fancy will make you
forget me! Do you suppose, as I sat alone and neglected
in the dress-circle this evening, watching the girl you take
such an interest in, and are always lauding to the skies,
that I didn't think where she would have been, and the play
would have been, except for me! I do all the rough work,
it is true, and you take all the credit. But I labor as much
as yourself, and you have often said you could not do with-
out me.
"
"I know I have, and I repeat it," replied Kerrison,
WHY NOT?
63
with a perplexed brow. You are of the greatest value
to me! When have I denied it to anybody? What have I
done now to deserve these reproaches?
""
"I am everything in the library," went on Mrs. Arling-
ton, still sobbing; but out of it I am nothing-nobody-
only the housekeeper!" with a bitter stress upon the word.
And why do you suppose I have worked for you? What
motive do you think I have had for my labor? What re-
ward have I looked forward to?"
"I'm sure I don't know," said the dramatist, ruefully.
"But if you think your services are underpaid, Lola, say
so at once, and I will give you any salary you may require.
"Give me your love," cried Mrs. Arlington, impetuous-
ly, as she pushed her hair off her face, and looked up at
him with her large dark eyes.
މ
CHAPTER X.
"
I WILL DROWN MYSELF."
""
IF Mrs. Arlington had asked John Kerrison to give her
his house and furniture or his entire income, she could not
have surprised him more. He almost staggered as her de-
mand struck upon his ear; it appeared so supremely ridicu-
lous. But then his mood changed under the supposition
that the woman was hysterical, or overexcited, and he
answered, roughly:
"You don't know what you are talking about! You had
better go to bed before you say any more. You will be the
first to laugh in the morning over the absurdity you have
been guilty of."
But Mrs. Arlington was not to be shaken off so easily.
She had taken maman's advice to let John Kerrison read
the true state of her feelings regarding him, and what she
had begun, however awkwardly, she intended to go through
with. So she made no attempt to stir.
"C
"Don't send me from you!" she pleaded, with those big
eyes still fixed on his and making him feel exceedingly un-
comfortable. Let me tell you all that is in my heart.
Oh, I did not mean to say so much, believe me. It slipped
from me unawares. I had been waiting for you so long.
Your unexpected kindness made me forget myself.
""
•
64
WHY NOT?
John Kerrison passed his hands through his gray hair
thoughtfully.
66
,,
(C
6 C
"I don't quite understand you," he said, in a tone of
annoyance. You speak as if I had in some way or other
neglected you—as if I were not habitually mindful of your
claims upon my attention. Is this the case, Mrs. Arling-
ton? Is there anything in the treatment you receive in
this house, either at my hands or those of my servants, that
you wish altered? Is there any comfort you have been de-
nied? It is quite a reproach to me to see you in tears of
the cause of which I am completely ignorant.
Oh, have I not told you?" she cried. 'Is their mean-
ing not plain enough? Do you think it is possible for a
woman with my appreciation for genius and every good
thing that can attend it, to live month after month under
the same roof with a man like yourself and not feel her
soul knit to his own? Do you think I can follow the work-
ings of your talent, from its first embryo thought to its
final success, without feeling myself as it were incorporated
with it, and part of the great plan from beginning to end?
And yet I am nothing to you-nothing.
Mr. Kerrison, although growing more uneasy with every
word she uttered, fought bravely under the banner of mis-
comprehension, and professed to be totally ignorant of her
real meaning.
፡፡
"I feel flattered by your opinion," he answered, gently.
No man could feel otherwise. I am glad, too, to think
that you derive a certain pleasure from co-operation with
my work. But I am afraid you overrate my powers. I
am a successful dramatist, but not a genius. I hold the
public to-day, and to-morrow they may hiss me off the
stage. Still, whilst I do hold them I am very sensible of
your appreciation of my work, and grateful for the assist-
ance you give me in it."
"C
"You will not understand me!" exclaimed Mrs. Arling-
ton. Oh, Mr. Kerrison, it is more than that. I must
unbosom myself whatever you may think of me. Why-
why have you drawn me to you with a magnetic chain
that I can not break? Why have you wound the fibers of
my heart around your own until they can not be uprooted
without they wither and die? Why have you let me live in
close association with you for months and even years, since
after all you have no warmer feeling for me than a cold
ލ
""
-
ہے
^
h
65
WHY NOT?
Į
and meager sense of duty? I wish you had killed me first!
I wish I was dead and buried at this moment, and gone out
of sight and sound forever!""
And Lola Arlington abandoned herself anew to her des-
pair. There was no mistaking her meaning now, and John
Kerrison stood by her with compressed lips and a darkening
brow. What man ever liked a woman the better for letting
him openly see that she loves him? He may affect to re-
turn her feelings for the sake of flattered vanity or his own
purposes; but he despises her when he is alone, and no prot-
estations he may make to the contrary are true exponents
of his mind. As the full meaning of Lola Arlington's con-
fession broke on Kerrison's comprehension he experienced
an unconquerable distaste and loathing for her presumption
and lack of modesty. But his vanity stepped in to save
her from too merciless a scourge. After all it was a com-
pliment she had paid him, and the poor woman (so he
argued with himself) could not be held responsible for her
feelings. But his voice was very stern and decided as he
answered:
66
I can not recall what I have done since you have lived
under my roof, Mrs. Arlington, to entitle me to any re-
proaches on your part. I am not aware that I have ever
failed to treat you with deference and respect, or that my
conduct has been such as to give you the slightest grounds
for forming any expectations on your own account. Can
you remind me of any one instance in which I have forgot-
ten what is due to you and myself, or by which I have
raised hopes in your mind which I have omitted to fulfill?"
CL
"Oh, never-never! You have always been too good
and generous to me. Had it not been so, I might never
have formed this fatal attachment, which can only end with
my life. Oh, Mr. Kerrison, have you no pity for me?"
she continued, growing bolder in her despair as she grasped
his arm.
Say that you will not despise me for my weak-
ness-that you will remember I am only a woman, and let
me return to the duties I have taken so much pleasure in
for your sake, and I will perform them more faithfully than
ever if you will sometimes give a thought of compassion to
my loneliness and my empty, empty heart!"
The cunning jade believed that he would gladly take ad-
vantage of the compromise she offered then and there, so
as to get her out of his sight and give himself time to think
3
✓
66
WHY NOT?
over the wonderful revelation she had made to him. And
with most men (so long as they are not in love with some-
body else) to ponder over the confession of a woman's love
for them is to make them return it-after a fashion of their
Own. But she was little prepared for John Kerrison's col-
lected reply:
"Mrs. Arlington, you must know that what you ask is
not in my power to comply with. I am very sorry indeed
for what has taken place to-night-more sorry than I can
tell you-and had I known what was coming I would have
prevented it by every means at my command. But what
is said is said, and you must feel it can lead but to one re-
sult our separation.
>"
Spa
*
"Oh, no-no!" cried the housekeeper, startled beyond
measure by the decision of his manner; don't say that,
Mr. Kerrison. I can not leave you! What necessity is
there for it? You may rely on my not mentioning this
subject again. Why can not everything go on as it did be-
fore?"
CC
މ
"That is quite impossible," he replied, gravely," and a
sensible woman can not fail to see it. You have broken
down a barrier between us to-night, with your plain speak-
ing, that must prevent the old relations being ever renewed
between us. How could I consult with you about such a
paltry thing as dinner, or set you your task of copying,
knowing all the while- No, no; it is impossible! it is
your own doing, Lola. It is you that have cut the tie be-
tween us, but you have done it most effectually, and the
sooner we part the better. You know that I am not un-
generous, and will take care that you lose nothing, in a
monetary sense, from the suddenness of the rupture. You
have known me long enough, I hope, to trust me with that;
but I should wish you to leave to-morrow.
""
"So soon-so soon!" she sobbed, with her face hidden
from him.
"Certainly. What use is there in your remaining?
Each moment will only be a prolonged torture for both of
We can not look in each other's faces without remem-
bering this unfortunate revelation."
us.
"You shall never look into mine again!" exclaimed
Lola, passionately, as she started to her feet, "for I will
drown myself before the morning's light."
She rushed toward the front door as she spoke, with a
1
,
}
WHY NOT?
67
feint of leaving the house, but Kerrison seized her by the
arm and held her back.
Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed, as she
struggled with him. “You turn me out of your house,
after years of communion and friendship, just—just be-
cause, in a moment of misery and weakness, I have showed
you my heart; and I will not survive the shame and the dis-
grace! Why shouldn't I end my life? What use is it to
me without you? Let me go, I say!"
Kerrison was thoroughly alarmed by her violence. He
thought she was going out of her mind, and that the house-
hold would be roused and made the confidants of her un-
lucky passion for himself.
"Lola! Lola!" he said, soothingly, "don't be so hasty!
Listen to me. I can not and I will not allow you to leave
my house to-night. You are not in a fit condition to go
anywhere, except to your bed. Try and calm yourself, and
if you really care for me, do as I say. Go upstairs, and try
to sleep, and in the morning we will talk over this matter
again. Will you do this to please me? I ask it as a favor.
I am deeply sensible of the honor your feelings do me,
Lola, and what I said just now I said for your sake, not iny
own. But drop the subject till to-morrow, and let me see
you go quietly up to bed-for my sake, Lola!”
He laid so much stress upon the accentuated syllables that
she thought it wiser to comply with his request. Indeed,
she had never had the slightest intention of drowning her-
self, or even of walking about the streets bare-headed.
Her ruse had had the effect she intended, and she was
enabled to give in gracefully.
"For your sake then," she whispered, gaspingly, as she
commenced to toil laboriously up the stairs, leaving him at
the foot.
When she had mounted three or four, she turned, with a
smile of heavenly sweetness breaking through her tears,
and held out her hand to him in silence.
She looked so like a repentant Magdalen as she did so,
that, notwithstanding his new-born flame for Lily Power,
Mr. Kerrison could not do less than take it, and convey it
to his lips.
Then Mrs. Arlington walked slowly up the remainder of
the stairs, and turned another watery smile upon him be-
fore she disappeared from view, leaving him in such a state
ľ
68
WHY NOT?
of perplexity and annoyance as he had seldom experienced
before.
What was he to do about this most unpleasant matter?
That was the question that worried him for the remainder
of the night.
To lose Mrs. Arlington was to lose the mainstay and
prop of his establishment. He had told her very promptly
that she must leave the house the following day, but what
he should do if she took him at his word he dared not even
think. In the middle of the season, too! It would be im-
possible to replace her! And supposing he could get a
housekeeper to take charge of such vulgar necessities as din-
ing, and cleaning, and engaging servants, who would help
him in his literary labors?
He had tried half a dozen assistants without success be-
fore he hit on Mrs. Arlington. He was not a man who
could get on with everybody. Some people worried and
irritated him; others drove him wild by their slowness and
stupidity; and with none but herself had he ever felt free to
think aloud. To the suggestions of no other had he ever
listened with patience or any sense of sympathy. If she
left him half his ability would go with her. He must have
been a dolt to propose such a thing! At all hazards, he
could not part with Mrs. Arlington.
Then, again, would it be fair of him to part with her
against her own consent? His home had been her home
for some time past. He had considered her settled there
for life. She was a widow without any private means, and,
as far as he knew, without any family of her own to fall
back upon for support in time of need. She was not fitted
for every sort of situation. He had lifted her somewhat
above her original sphere by associating her with his work.
Would it be manly, or generous, to throw her back upon
. it, for no fault of her own? For, after all-and at this
point vanity stepped in to aid the woman's cause—when all
was said and done, what was her crime? A foolish, over-
weening fancy for himself. It was ridiculous and incon-
venient, but it was not criminal; and if it were, he was the
last person who should visit it upon her head.
John Kerrison lay awake through the livelong night,
ruminating on the position, and the decision he arrived at
was, to speak openly to Mrs. Arlington the following morn-
ing, and see if they could not come to a compromise. They
졇
​WHY NOT?
69
would both be calmer by that time, and able to argue the
matter from a common sense point of view. Yet his hand
and voice shook considerably when, breakfast being over on
the succeeding day, he rang his library-bell, and desired the
footman to tell Mrs. Arlington that he wished to speak to
her for a few minutes.
CHAPTER XI.
THE LADY SECRETARY.
AFTER a significant delay of a few minutes she appeared,
looking very nervous, very pale, and with her eyes cast
down to the ground. She did not advance into the room
either, but stood at the door like a servant, waiting until
she was spoken to.
'
"Please come in and sit down, Mrs. Arlington," said
Kerrison, trying to speak in his usual tone.
It is very
warm to-day, is it not? And you do not look to me as if
you had had sufficient rest. Why did you not remain in
your own room a little longer? I should not have asked to
speak to you unless I had heard you moving about.
""
(6
I have my household duties to perform, sir, and I hope
I shall not neglect them-as long as I remain here," she
answered, in a low vioce.
"That is just what I want to talk to you about," re-
sumed her employer. "I don't think we were either of us
quite ourselves last night, Mrs. Arlington, and we said
several things we had better have left unsaid. Shall we try
and forget what passed between us? Is it a bargain?"
"You may be sure I shall never renew the subject, Mr.
Kerrison."
"Of course not! We will neither of us ever refer to it
again. That is plainly understood. You were overtired
and excited, and I dare say you hardly remember what
you did say; neither do I. We talked a lot of nonsense
about separation, but I don't think that step would benefit
one of us more than the other. I should lose an invaluable
ally, and you would give up a home that is, at least I hope,
a comfortable one to you. What do you say?"
"It would be a life-long blow to me, sir."
"Very well; then let us consider the idea abandoned and
forever. But whilst we are on this subject, Mrs. Arling-
A
70
WHY NOT?
ton," continued Kerrison, glancing toward the door to be
sure it was shut, and we have agreed it is mooted for the
last time, perhaps we had better speak to each other with-
out reserve. If our connection is to be continued, you fully
understand, I hope, that it will be on the old footing of-
what shall we say?-author and amanuensis.”
"I understand, sir, fully," rejoined Mrs. Arlington,
rather bitterly.
66
66 You see, my
dear Lola," said John Kerrison, ventur-
ing on a little soothing process now that he had settled the
main point, "I am not a marrying man, and the sooner
my friends recognize that fact the better. I consider I am
past changing my condition in life, and it is a very good
thing for the women that I am. I don't think I should
make a good husband-not even a pleasant one.
You see
me at my best, for I have a habit of shutting myself up
when I feel unfit for company. But I am very morose and
gloomy at times, and then I am a caution I can assure
you.
""
S
"All persons who work their brains much are subject to
periodical fits of depression," observed Mrs. Arlington.
CC
Then they are better left alone, my dear lady, until
they come out of their sulks again. Heaven forbid I should
depreciate the kind indulgence of my friends! for no man
is more dependent than myself on affection and sympathy;
but I am not fitted to form a nearer tie than friendship. I
should lose instead of gain, on a closer inspection. I
am too much wedded to my own habits and customs to be
able to forcibly break through them without detriment to
my temper and disposition. Do I make myself plain to
you?"
፡፡
Quite plain, sir."
The terms on which we have worked together hitherto
appear to me to be the only ones on which the sexes can
approach each other, and keep clear of the dissensions.
which invariably follow a closer intimacy. You have al-
ways been ready to give up your time or your pleasure to
meet my convenience; and I have sometimes, I think,
made similar little sacrifices for you.
"Indeed you have, Mr. Kerrison. You have always
treated me most generously and considerately. I acknowl-
edged as much to you last night.
66
Pooh! pooh! We mustn't refer to last night, remem-
"J
""
WHY NOT?
71
ber. It is buried henceforth as in the depths of the sea. Ι
want only to talk to you of the future. Do you intend to
remain with me or not?"
"It must be just as you please, sir."
{
"You know I should wish it to be so, under the con-
ditions I have mentioned-namely, that all things go on
just as they did before. But with regard to yourself-
would it make you happier to go?”
CC
Oh, Mr. Kerrison! how can you put such a question to
me?" said Mrs. Arlington, with an intonation that made
him hurry on with his next sentence.
66
me.
Very good, then, that is settled; you will remain with
But is there anything more I can do to mark my ap-
preciation of your services? You have your own sitting-
room-is it sufficient? Would you like to have a writing
room apart from this? Will you feel more comfortable to
occupy a separate room from mine? Speak out—don't be
bashful. We need have no secrets from one another.
Then I would rather remain here, sir."
"C
66.
Very well; and for the future, Mrs. Arlington, we will
change your designation and call you my lady-secretary.
You will still take the charge of my establishment, and be
my housekeeper; but my friend Escott and I have been
talking the matter over, and we think that the higher title
is more befitting your station in life. If it is in accordance
with your own feelings also, I shall be glad if you will take
your meals for the future at our table. This will place you
at once in your proper position with the ladies who may
chance to honor me by dining here. I suppose you will
have no objection?"
""
*
No objection! By the rich color that mantled in her face
at the idea, he might have seen if she had any objection to
it.
If Lola Arlington had been asked what balm would best
soothe her lacerated feelings of the night before, she could
not have chosen one better fitted for the purpose. To dis-
card the name of housekeeper, which had always seemed to
place her on a level with the servants' hall, and adopt that
of lady-secretary, with the privilege of sharing the meals of
her employer, gratified all the ambition which his repulse
had left her. Hope returned to her bosom. Whilst she
had access to his presence she would not despair, and her
eyes glowed with renewed pleasure.
72
WHY NOT?
66
Oh, sir, you are too good to me! I confess that my
position here has galled me sometimes-just for a little-
and had it not been for-for-certain circumstances I
should have thrown it up long ago. It was so new and
strange, you will understand, after having had a house of
my own; but my poverty left me no choice. "
"Of course, poor thing! I knew that, and I have felt
it all along, but it was difficult to make any change whilst
I was alone. You are too handsome, you know, to be din-
ing tête-à-tête with a bachelor, however old; but now that
the colonel lives with me, it is different. People will not
talk so much. It will make an increase in your salary too,
naturally, but we will settle that next pay-day. And now,
since we have made up our little difference and laid our
plans for the future, I should advise you to go upstairs and
lie down and rest yourself, for you are certainly not fit for
any work to-day.
""
66
""
Indeed, indeed I am, if you will only let me.
No, I will not let you. Besides, I am thinking out
something, and want the library to myself. So good-bye
for the present, Mrs. Arlington, and remember that Escott
and I shall expect to see you at the dinner-table this even-
ing.
""
66
But, left to his reflections, Kerrison looked rather per-
plexed, and could not decide in his own mind whether he
had acted quite judiciously or not. It was true that Colonel
Escott and he had talked over the advisability of raising
Mrs. Arlington's position in the household. It did not
seem quite the correct thing that the housekeeper should
spend half her time in her master's library, helping him
with his work. But there would be nothing strange in the
fact of his lady-secretary undertaking to direct his house-
hold into the bargain.
Escott, under the influence of his admiration for Mrs.
Arlington, had naturally argued strongly in her cause, and
John Kerrison had seen the reason of it. But the revela-
tion of the night before should have shown him it would be
a mistake. However, his own convenience, and a laudable
desire to soothe the woman's wounded vanity, had made
him propose the change, and now it was too late to repent
it. But he doubted if he had been wise. Another thing
troubled him. In order to justify his behavior to Lola
WHY NOT?
73
Arlington, he had told her he was not a marrying man,
and would never change his condition in life.
.
It was what he had been in the habit of saying for years
past, and a month ago he would have repeated it over and
over again, without compunction. But to-day, somehow,
the remembrance made him uneasy, and he found himself
wondering what the new lady-secretary would do or say, if
he ever changed his mind. Would she throw it in his teeth,
or consider he had broken some sort of a compact he had
entered into with herself?
For Mr. Kerrison was very conscious that his thoughts
had been drawn of late, far oftener than was necessary, in
the direction of Lily Power; and that this pale, reserved,
and mysterious sort of girl was taking a hold upon his mind
that alarmed him. He had been gradually awakening to
the truth for some weeks past, but since Lola Arlington's
confession he had been sure of it.
What else was it but a heart already fixed in another
direction, that had made him turn, almost with loathing,
from the pleading of a young and handsome woman for his
love?
Why did her flashing eyes revolt him? Her dark hair
and crimson lips appear to possess no beauty? Only-be-
cause his fancy at that moment was riveted on a slight,
fragile form, and pensive eyes that shone through tears like
wood-violets bathed in dew. Only-because a white face,
with quivering, pale-tinted lips, had taken possession of
his heart without his knowing it, and all riper charms
looked coarse and uninviting beside the image enshrined
there. And in assuring Mrs. Arlington of his entire free-
dom, both in the present and the future, he seemed to have
put a fetter on his actions, and pledged himself to a life
which every hour was becoming more distasteful to him.
He was still ruminating over what had passed between
them, when Colonel Escott's tap sounded on the door.
Quite alone, my dear John?" he asked, peeping in.
Quite so, Jem. By the way, old fellow, I have just
been talking to Mrs. Arlington about the little alteration
you suggested in her nomenclature the other day, and she
is quite pleased with the idea. So we decided that for the
future she is to be my lady-secretary, who is good enough
to include the superintendence of my household amongst
66
66
74
WHY NOT?
her duties, and that she will take her meals at the same
table as ourselves. Will that satisfy you?"
The colonel's honest face beamed with pleasure.
66
My dear John, I really think it is the right thing to
do. It seemed a shame to me that a woman with such
manners, and such a mind, should be placed on a level
with an upper servant. She was so out of her place, too.
And I am sure it will make our meals much more agreeable
to have her sitting at the table with us, instead of hovering
in and out of the room, as she was in the custom of doing.
It makes me nervous to have a woman waiting on me.
think the change will be altogether for the better."
I
66
I
Well, if you're content, old boy, I am; and now you
are here to look after us, we will hope it may give rise to
no scandal. I think she will be useful as a chaperon for
my young lady guests. It is sometimes awkward to secure
the presence of a married woman when you want one.
was thinking of giving an entertainment shortly to the
Miss Credo' company. I think it would be a graceful
acknowledgment of their success last night. They all
played remarkably well, didn't they?"
C
.،
Remarkably; especially your protégée, the waif. She
came out quite strong in the last act. I had no idea she
had it in her!"
66
66
off the honors.
She did well enough," replied Kerrison, with affected
carelessness, as he turned over the newspapers that lay
upon his table.
But of course Emily Hartlebury carried
She is the best comedy actress I know.
"We enjoyed it all through, Esmé and I," said the
colonel," but I was quite sorry to see Mrs. Arlington in
the dress-circle; I fancied she felt it. She should have
been in your box, John. I wonder you didn't put her
there."
Kerrison shrugged his shoulders.
Well, I suppose now that she is transformed into the
lady-secretary,' she will claim a seat there for the future.
However, she had nothing to complain of; she had an ex-
cellent view of the stage. By the way, did Fielding return
here with you last night?"
،،
C
،،
No; he wasn't very well, and left me as soon as we
found you had no intention of responding to the cries for
"author. By the way, John, why didn't you turn up? I
was quite disappointed at your defalcation. The audience
"
沪
​}
775
;
WHY NOT?
were so very enthusiastic, it seemed quite ungracious not
to respond to their demand.
.،
I was called away on business in another direction, and
did not get home till half past one," replied Kerrison, with
an averted face. "Besides, I don't care for appearing be-
fore the curtain, Jem, and always avoid it if I can. Tenniel
does just as well. I suppose he apologized for my ab-
sence"
66
در
Oh, yes; everything was done en règle, but it was a
long time before they left off shouting. It was an exciting
scene. I felt quite tired after it, and went to bed as soon
as I came home. When will your Miss Credo dinner
come off?"
>
"Next week, I hope, but don't say anything about it,
Jem; we may as well keep it to ourselves. I don't want
the place overrun by a lot of men; the few we may require
to make up the party I can bring home from the club."
"All right, old fellow, I won't mention it to anybody,
replied the colonel, who looked unaccountably cheerful at
the news he had heard.
99
CHAPTER XII.
66 QUEEN LILY AND ROSE IN ONE."
JOHN KERRISON's self-constituted guardianship of Miss
Power effected its object so far as that young lady's free-
dom from molestation was concerned, but it did not pass
without comment in the theater. Each night he conducted
her to her cab himself, or sent her under the charge of
some trustworthy person, who was bound previously to as-
certain that no one was hanging about the stage-door likely
to approach or speak to her.
Esmé Fielding, therefore, although on several occasions
he was lurking round the corner to try and obtain a private
interview, was never bold enough to run the risk of a pub-
lic refusal, especially as Mr. Kerrison was so often her
attendant cavalier.
I
This constant solicitude on the part of the dramatist for
the young actress's safety was not altogether interpreted to
her credit. Men who have reached the top of the tree, and
become wealthy and powerful, do not often patronize young
and obscure girls from motives of charity and benevolence.
76
WHY NOT?
Yet Miss Power was so pale and undesirous of attracting
attention, that few persons recognized the depth of her
beauty; and so quiet and reserved, that fewer still would
have accused her of flirting. The pursuit was universally
allowed to be on Kerrison's side only, and he was credited
with poor taste for his pains; but he went on his way, un-
heeding public opinion, and was fain to confess to himself
that, the oftener he saw and conversed with Lily Power,
the stronger hold she took on his imagination, and the
more her image haunted him when she was away.
Of course his theatrical dinner had been organized en-
tirely with the view of securing her company amongst the
rest, but it was a long time before he could persuade her to
accept the invitation.
66
I never go out anywhere, Mr. Kerrison-indeed I do
not," she pleaded, in excuse for her refusal-" I do not
care for society, and I am not fit for it."
"How can you say such a thing, when you are fitted to
fill the highest niche it could afford you!”
"You say that because you do not know me. If you met
me in company, you would see how shy and timid I am,
and how foolishly silent. I can never find anything to say
to strangers.
">
"And yet you are completely at your ease upon the
stage."
މ
That is a different thing; I can not see my audience,
or hardly distinguish one face from another.
When I am
playing I feel quite alone-or rather, I do not feel that I
am there at all-I seem to go away for the time being, and
the 'waif' is too much occupied with his own troubles to
leave me any time to think of mine.
"You have the spirit of a true artist!'' exclaimed Ker-
rison, delightedly, "and you interpret the character to the
life. How long have you been on the stage, Miss Power?"
"Not long," she said, evasively.
"You must have had a great deal of practice as an
amateur.”
"I don't think I did."
CC
Forgive my curiosity, but have none of your family
been upon the stage?"
"6
None, Mr. Kerrison; but please don't speak to me of
my family; they are mostly dead, and would rise from their
graves, if they could, to reproach me with what they would
WHY NOT?
T
consider my degradation. Had my parents lived,'' she con-
tinued, in a choking voice-" But there, let us talk of some-
thing else."
John Kerrison laid his hand in sympathy on hers.
She did not start nor draw it away. The girl seemed to
have outlived the lesser feelings of humanity, but she never
responded to his attentions in any way.
66
We will talk, then, of my little party," he replied,
cheerfully; "it is to be quite a family affair, and you must
join us.
""
"Who is to be there?"
C
Only the Miss Credo' company-that is, Emily
Hartlebury, Nelly Nevins, Mrs. Forbes, and I hope your-
self, with Jack Armstrong, and Dudley Amory. My lady-
secretary, Mrs. Arlington, a very charming person, will be
of the party, and my old friend Colonel Escott, and my-
self. Nothing very formidable, you see. Only the same
faces you meet every night at the Meridian."
"You are sure there will be no one else?" she said, nerv-
ously.
Co
66
Quite sure, unless I bring in a club man or two to fill
up vacant places. I wouldn't ask you to a large party,
knowing how you dislike publicity; but this little gather-
ing will consist really of only ourselves.
29
And you very much wish me to be present, Mr. Kerri-
son?" she asked, wistfully.
(C
Very much indeed-more than I dare tell you! The
affair will be a complete failure to me without you!"
In that case, I will come. You have been so good and
kind to me, and I have no way by which I can express my
gratitude except by complying with your wishes. But I
am afraid I shall be a very stupid guest-a kind of female
Banquo at the feast, and you will regret that you did not
ask some one else instead of me."
މ
When the evening arrived, however, and she stood in
John Kerrison's drawing-room amongst the other women,
she was the fairest of them all. Mrs. Arlington, in black
lace and artificial flowers, looked coarse beside her-Emily
Hartlebury, vulgar and overrouged-little Nelly Nevins,
insipid-and Mrs. Forbes wrinkled and old.
Miss Power was the plainest dressed amongst them-
would have said she was the plainest in appearance.
But she looked like a lily amongst cabbage-roses.
many
WHY NOT?
She wore a white dress of some clinging material, made
high to the throat, and hanging in straight folds to her
feet.
"
Her golden hair was coiled round her shapely little head
till it crowned it like a nimbus. Her face was guiltless of
powder or of rouge. Her complexion was colorless, but
clear. Her lips were tinged with a faint flush of pink like
the inside of a sea-shell, and the dark lashes of her pensive
eyes swept her cheek. She was very reticent and shy at
first, as she had feared she would be.
7
John Kerrison, to avoid comment, placed her under the
charge of Colonel Escott, whilst he devoted himself to the
brilliant Emily Hartlebury.
But the honest colonel found his companion very difficult
to draw out. He was not yet sufficiently au fait with
theatrical matters to be able to converse with her fluently
on the topics that might be supposed to interest her most,
and she did not help him out a whit.
At last the dinner was announced.
"What's become of those men?" cried Kerrison, im-
patiently.
Jack Armstrong had disappointed him at the last mo-
ment, and so, to make the numbers even, he had invited
Captain Riley and Esmé Fielding to join the party, an in-
vitation to which they had responded readily, although they
did not know whom they were to meet.
But their clocks were evidently slower than Kerrison's,
and they were not in Hyde Park Gardens at the dinner-
hour.
"Give them five minutes' grace," pleaded Escott; and
so Kerrison fumed through five minutes more, and then,
presenting his arm to Miss Hartlebury, who was, accord-
ing to theatrical reckoning, the highest lady there, he con-
ducted her to the dinner-table.
M
It was laid out with perfect taste. Mrs. Arlington un-
derstood thoroughly how things should be done, and John
Kerrison had aided her on this occasion with his advice.
•
The center piece was a huge block of ice on a silver
plateau, embosomed in hot-house ferns, which cast a deli-
cious coolness on all around.
Before each lady's plate too, in American fashion, was a
spray of flowers artistically arranged for wearing in the
!!!,;
11
WHY NOT?
779
dress, and chosen with a view to the taste or complexion of
each fair guest.
Emily Hartlebury had a spray of stephanotis and gera-
nium; Nelly Nevins, blue forget-me-nots and pink acacia;
Mrs. Arlington, deep crimson roses; and Mrs. Forbes,
Neapolitan violets and camellias. But in front of Lily
Power's seat at Mr. Kerrison's right hand was a little
bunch of pure white lilies resting on their waxen leaves, and
beside it a long gold pin with a pearl of value at its head.
She took it up, wonderingly.
"It is not real?" she said, inquiringly.
Mr. Kerrison shook his head, and answered, in a low
voice:
"No! no! Merely a little souvenir of the evening to
fasten your lilies with. Are you vexed because I choose
something for you so pure and simple? It was only be-
cause I thought them like yourself as modest and bashful
-and-and-sweet!”
•
He almost whispered the word amidst the bustle of the
guests subsiding into their seats; but Lola Arlington, sit-
ting on the opposite side of the table, noted his looks, and
did not forget them.
66 It
Here are our truants!" exclaimed John Kerrison.
is really more than they deserve to find the dinner so little
advanced,"
The soup was not dismissed before the defalcant visitors
were heard in the hall.
66
"Halloo, Riley! Halloo, Fielding!" he continued, as
the two men entered the room and commenced to make a
thousand apologies for being late, "we've nearly finished,
but I think you're in time for the cheese.
It would serve
you right not to introduce you at this late hour, but I am
afraid that would punish the innocent with the guilty.
These ladies you have seen before, though not quite so
close, perhaps. Miss Hartlebury, Miss Nevins, Mrs.
Forbes, Mrs. Arlington, and Miss Lily Power," he con-
tinued, rattling off their names like an acquired lesson.
Captain Riley, Mr. Esmé Fielding.
66
""
..
Miss Power started so violently as he pronounced the last
word, that he eagerly asked her what was the matter.
(C
Nothing-nothing whatever," she answered, quickly,
only—I have pricked myself with this pin.
در
t
80 ܀܀
WHY NOT?
"I am so sorry. It is awkwardly long, I am afraid.
Will you let me try and fasten it for you?”
She did not make the faintest objection. She seemed to
have lost the power of speech, as he fumbled in his masću-
line fashion over the refractory little instrument, and
finally succeeded in running it for about half an inch into
her flesh. But he noted how she trembled the while he
bent over her, and how her bosom heaved and palpitated
as if she had lost all command of herself; and he inter-
preted these symptoms of feminine weakness according to
his own wishes, and fully believed she was agitated by his
proximity.
Meanwhile, Esmé Fielding stood stiff and upright, like a
soldier sentenced to be shot, and gazed at her. It had been
the one desire of his heart to meet this woman again, but
he had little thought the meeting was so near.
Lola Arlington, regarding his strange attitude and the
girl's confusion, and remembering the prophecy she had
overheard maman utter through the locked door, took in
the whole situation at a glance. Here was the white wom-
an who was to be met first in a crowd. In a moment the
secret each heart believed to be its own was her property,
and she had resolved to fathom it to the lowest depth.
Lily Power was the woman, consequently Lily Power was
the first, apparently, to recover her self-possession, and she
made the prick she had received from the pearl pin an
occasion for bantering her host about his awkwardness.
66
Really, Mr. Kerrison. You have half stabbed me to
the heart. That pin of yours is a veritable stiletto. May
I not try a shorter and a humbler one?"
66
I shall be very much distressed if you do. I have set
my mind on your wearing this. Won't you oblige me?"
he said, in a low voice.
66
Certainly, if you wish it. But I must put it in my-
self," she answered, as she again bent over her dress and
tried to hide her face in her flowers.
,
،،
Fielding, my dear fellow, when are you going to sit
down?" exclaimed Kerrison, suddenly alive to a neglect of
his guests; "that is your seat opposite your god papa. I
placed him there so that he might keep you in good order,
that is, if he can spare any time from his next-door neigh-
bor.'
""
The colonel, who was becoming quite at home with the
1
}
WHY NOT?
· 81
fair sex, answered brightly that he had certainly no leisure
to look after godsons with a lady each side of him, and
Esmé must be left to his own devices for that evening only,
by particular desire.
The young man was evidently not ready with one of his
usual sallies, for he seated himself in silence, and glared in
an imbecile manner at the servants as they whispered the
name of one hors d'œuvre after another into his ear. He
was almost stunned by the sudden rencontre.
66
""
Although he knew that Kerrison was acquainted with all
the members of the Miss Credo company, he had had
no idea he was invited to meet them, and Lily Power's un-
expected presence acted on him like a spell.
He eat and drank mechanically. The voices of the
assembled guests seemed to him far away as the voices in
a dream, whilst his thoughts flew back into the past, and
reviewed the happy hours which he had spent by this wom-
an's side before the world and Mammon had combined to
separate them. Mrs. Arlington noted his confusion and
Miss Power's pallid silence, and put her own interpreta-
tion on them. The secret which had upset his life was the
same secret that had made her thin, and pale, and uncom-
municative. It lay between those two. She was certain
they had met before.
66
I
<<
Fielding, my dear fellow, you are not enjoying your
dinner," rang out the host's cheery voice. Edward,
champagne to Mr. Fielding. Will you take champagne,
my dear boy, or moselle? Why, what's come to you?
Have you lost money, or got a new pair of boots on? If it.
were not so late in the season I should certainly say you had
backed the loser. I never saw you so glum.
""
66
(C
'I have backed the winner and lost upon it before now,
Mr. Kerrison,” replied the young man. But it was an
old loss that was pressing on my mind just then, not a new
""
one.
66
Well, my boy, whichever it is, you must drop it for
this evening, for it is an insult to Miss Credo." You
were there on our first night, and I am sure you will join
me in a bumper to her continued success, and that of all
the talented ladies and gentlemen who have made her what´
she is."
66
Hear, hear!" cried Captain Riley.
C
"I drink to the health of Miss Credo' and the lilies
82
{
WHY NOT?
and roses that made her," said Fielding, raising the wine
to his lips.
And to Miss Lily Power,' queen lily and rose in one,
quoted Kerrison, with more enthusiasm than prudence, as
he followed his example.
ވ މ
The names of the various artists were mentioned one after
the other, and congratulations and compliments accom-
panied each toast.
Only one woman at the table was left out-Mrs. Arling-
ton. Colonel Escott fancied she looked hurt at the omis-
sion, and he could not bear that she should feel herself
slighted. He waited till the cheering and enthusiasm had
died away, and then he said, bashfully:
“I would like to give you one more toast, John, if you
have no objection. There is a lady present who interests
herself keenly in your work, and rejoices unreservedly in
your success. From a dramatic point of view she is not
perhaps the rose, but she has been near it. And in herself
she is rose enough to attract the notice of any nightingale.
You must know I allude to Mrs. Arlington, and I am sure
the gentlemen will join me in drinking her health, and
wishing her all prosperity for the zeal she displays in carry-
ing out your wishes."
John Kerrison did not quite like this little speech. It
looked as though he had forgotten his duty to one of his
guests. But he tore his eyes away for the moment from
Lily Power, and murmuring:
"Yes! yes! of course; you're quite right, Jem. Your
very good health, Mrs. Arlington," drank the toast in a
hurried, indifferent manner, and immediately recommenced
his attentions to his fair neighbor.
Lola sat, dark and glowering with indignation, at the
head of the table.
What avail to her were Colonel Escott's honeyed speeches
and pretty flatteries, whilst John Kerrison was engrossed
by Lily Power? It was no palliation in her eyes that Miss
Power sat silent and reserved by his side, and did not seem
to be paying beed to a single word he uttered.
She would have liked to strike that pale, indifferent girl
dead at her feet, for having the power to engross his
thoughts to the exclusion of every one else. But she
thought she saw an opening for her revenge, though as yet

WHY NOT?
83
in a glass darkly, and she knew where the information was
to be acquired which should make the rough places plain.
She made the signal for the ladies to retire, with a
malicious anticipation of the moment when she would be
able to give her rival one or two sword-thrusts to carry
home with her, but Miss Power did not afford her an op-
portunity to carry out her benevolent intentions. By an
almost supernatural effort of will she had passed through
the cruel ordeal of dinner without displaying one sign of
distress; but as soon as the immediate necessity for self-
control was over she broke down like a frightened child.
“I am ill, Mrs. Arlington!" she exclaimed, as soon as
the women found themselves alone; I have hardly been
able to sit through my dinner. I must ask you to let me
return home at once.
""
"Ill, dear?" echoed Miss Hartlebury; "why, what's
the matter? You don't look any paler than usual; you
never have any color, you know."
CC
Nevertheless, I am not well enough to remain here any
longer," rejoined Miss Power, coldly," and I must beg
Mrs. Arlington to let one of the servants call me a cab."
But you
had better try some remedy first.
Let me
send for Mr. Kerrison," suggested Mrs. Arlington, with a
sneer; "he is sure to do you good.
66
Lily Power sunk down into a chair, apparently over-
whelmed by their opposition; and the housekeeper began to
consider what the consequences might be, if she were really
taken ill in the house, and established there as Mr. Kerri-
son's guest.
I must go home," murmured the girl, faintly; "I can
not hold up my head. I am unfit for anything but solitude
and rest. "
މ
ލ
ور
66
"Well, of course if you must, you must," acquiesced
Mrs. Arlington, as she rang the bell, and gave the servant
orders to call a cab for Miss Power, but I am afraid Mr.
Kerrison will be very much vexed with me for letting you
go."
(6
I can not help it. Please make my excuses, I shall be
better to-morrow," said the girl, in broken sentences, as
she hurried through the hall.
But Lola Arlington took care to accompany her to the
vehicle, and listen to the given address.
66
What number did you say, Miss Power?" she inquired,
84
WHY NOT?
sweetly, after Lily had spoken to the driver through the
trap; he can't hear you.
""
And the girl, who suspected no collusion, and had but
one prominent desire-to get away before Esmé Fielding
should enter the drawing-room-answered, deliberately:
Three hundred and twenty-eight, Waterloo Road, and
please tell him to drive as quickly as he can."
CC
""
CHAPTER XIII.
"
YOU ARE A REAL WITCH.
THE remarks passed by the other women upon Lily
Power, as soon as her back was turned, were tinctured with
as much charity as is usually displayed by the female sex
toward one of its own gender.
"A mysterious illness," said Mrs. Arlington, meaningly,
as she returned to the drawing-room; "I saw no signs of it
at the dinner-table."
CC
C
"Nor I," acquiesced Emily Hartlebury. "In fact, I
thought the flat-fish' (that's our nickname for her in the
theater, Mrs. Arlington, because she's such a wet_blanket)
was looking uncommonly lively this evening. If I thought
her clever enough to flirt I should have said that she was
flirting with Mr. Kerrison."
"Clever enough!" sneered Nelly Nevins; "she's clever
enough for that, you may take my word for it, and a good
deal more. I always suspect those very quiet, mousey,
saint-like creatures, who consider rouge wicked and lip-
salve an abomination. She's no more ill than I am.
She's had her dinner and she's got another appointment.
That's about the length of it."
66
ton.
I think it goes deeper than that," replied Mrs. Arling-
"I observed her manner completely change when
those two gentleman came into the room. I fancy they
have met before, though I don't know why that fact should
have any effect upon her."
"There's something not altogether above-board in Miss.
Power. She is too reticent about her affairs.
No one
knows anything about her antecedents. I suspect she is a
woman with a history, "croaked old Mrs. Forbes (whose
own histories, had they been written, would have filled a
library), “and I don't like to see such people received in
WHY NOT?
85
good society. One never knows with whom one is associat-
ing.
""
66
Pooh!'' cried Miss Hartlebury, "she's not handsome
enough to have a history. Ugly, pale-faced dab! No
more expression in her face than in a table. I don't know
what Mr. Kerrison can see in her!"
"Oh! his interest in Miss Power lies wholly in the fact
that she looks like a half-starved beggar on the stage,"
laughed Mrs. Arlington, anxious to believe what she
affirmed.
"I am not so sure of that," responded Miss Nevins.
"Everybody's talking of it at the Meridian, and my belief
is she's no better than she should be."
Lola Arlington was still biting her lips and fuming over
this remark when the gentlemen came noisily into the
drawing-room. John Kerrison's eyes made a tour over the
apartment at once in search of his divinity.
CC
Why, where is Miss Power?" he exclaimed.
Miss Power was not well and has returned home, Mr.
Kerrison," replied Mrs. Arlington, coldly.
CC
The consternation depicted on all the masculine faces at
this intelligence made her frown, but she particularly noted
the start with which Esmé Fielding received it.
"Not well!" repeated Kerrison; "what was the matter
with her? Why didn't you send for a doctor? Why didn't
you tell me? Surely you never let her go home alone?”
"She insisted upon it, Mr. Kerrison. These ladies are
witness that I begged Miss Power to remain here and let
me send for advice, but she would have her own way. She
said all she wanted was to get home.
""
66
But she may faint on the road. There may be no one
to look after her when she arrives at her house. I
really
think some one ought to follow and inquire if she is safe,
said John Kerrison, with a look of distress.
He was longing to go himself, but he hardly knew how
to accomplish it. Here were three other lady guests de-
pendent on him for attention and hospitality. He could
not be so rude as to leave them to amuse themselves whilst
he ran after Miss Power. But his annoyance was very pat-
ent to all present.
"She'll do well enough, Mr. Kerrison," remarked Miss
Hartlebury, tossing her head, "you needn't look so mis-
erable about it. She's one of those sickly girls who have
86
WHY NOT?
always an ache of some sort or other on hand. I dare say
she's bilious. She said she'd be all right to-morrow.
""
"But it is so strange-so sudden-a lady leaving my
house in this way. I don't like it at all," replied Kerrison,
wiping the heat from his brow. "I think Mrs. Arlington
should at least have persuaded Miss Power to lie down for
an hour or so before she went home. The doubt we are in
concerning her will spoil our evening.
މ މ
"Really, Mr. Kerrison, I am not to blame," said Mrs.
Arlington, in an offended tone. "Miss Power is evidently
a young lady who likes her own way, and she refused to
listen to anything I said. But since you are so anxious to
hear if she has reached home in safety, why do you not ask
one of these gentlemen to go and ascertain for you? It
would not take more than half an hour to drive to the
Waterloo Road and back. I am sure Mr. Fielding would be
obliging enough to go if he were asked.”
That I will with pleasure!" exclaimed Esmé Fielding,
quickly.
66
No, no," replied Kerrison,
replied Kerrison, "I will trouble no one
here. I can easily send a messenger to inquire after her if
the ladies will excuse me for a few minutes. And bow-
ing, he left the room.
"
ވ
މ
Everybody looked at everybody as he disappeared. Mrs.
Arlington shrugged her shapely shoulders expressively, and
Emily Hartlebury observed that Miss Power might be
Venus newly risen from the sea by the fuss that was made
over her. The men stood about in uncomfortable attitudes
awaiting the return of their host, and conversation seemed
at a standstill. Esmé Fielding commenced to examine the
ornaments and pictures, and worked his way round the
room until he found himself near the sofa on which Mrs.
Arlington reclined. Whereupon he dropped leisurely into
a seat by her side and whispered, with a languid drawl:
Anything really the matter do you think, Mrs. Arling-
ton, with this mysterious Miss What's-her-name- Lily
Power?"
CC
"I don't think it was illness at all, Mr. Fielding, if you
ask my opinion, although I could not venture to say so be-
fore Mr. Kerrison. I believe something had upset her."
Esmé Fielding flushed at the remark, but professed to
ignore it.
}
;
87
WHY NOT?
¿s
By Jove! But that's not likely, is it? Unless Kerri-
son said something to her during dinner.
66
Oh, no! I don't think it was anything Mr. Kerrison
said, Mr. Fielding," Mrs. Arlington answered, in a low
tone, as she glanced at him. I'm a bit of a witch you
must know, and can read people's thoughts better than
66
""
that comes to.
"Do you mean you can read mine?”
I fancy I know more than you imagine. And one
thing is, that this is not the first time you have met Miss
Power."
His dark eyes opened to their uttermost.
CC
By Jove! How ever did you guess that?"
66
I have guessed more. I think you have been very
anxious to meet her again.
""
"Mrs. Arlington," he said, suddenly, "can you give me
her address?"
6 C 'Of course I can. Three hundred and twenty-eight
Waterloo Road. I have never been there, but I know it is
where she lives.
""
CC
"You are a real friend," he said, as he transcribed the
address in his memorandum-book. 'I don't know how to
thank you enough. I would rather not have it talked of,
you understand; but I did know Lily--Miss Power as she
calls herself a long time ago, and have been wishing to
renew my acquaintance. Do you know if she lives alone?"
"I do not. I have never heard Mr. Kerrison say. But
the young ladies here call her a mysterious personage, and
therefore I conclude she lives by herself."
66
One word more, Mrs. Arlington. Is there any truth
in the rumor that Mr. Kerrison is her acknowleged ad-
mirer?''
At this question his companion's face glowed with indig-
nation.
"No; certainly not. How wicked people are to say
such things! What should a man of his age want with a
young girl like that? It would be folly-madness! Be-
sides, he is not a marrying man. He never intends to
change his condition. He told me so only the other day.".
"Ah!" sighed Fielding, "so many men make good res-
olutions until the temptation occurs to break them.
Com
>>
"You think it would be a temptation then?"
8888
WHY NOT?
"I think it might be so to some men," he answered,
flushing.
66
Mr. Fielding, excuse my saying so, but I think you
would prefer that Mr. Kerrison did not yield to this particu-
lar temptation."
66
To tell you the truth, I would.
CC
Then put it out of his power by being first in the field
or rather, since you have been there already-”
"I have been there already!" he repeated after her,
wonderingly.
"Yes. Since you have been there already, re-establish
your influence to the exclusion of any other. You have so
many advantages on your side you can not possibly fear
Mr. Kerrison for a rival."
"You are a real witch!" replied Esmé Fielding, admir-
ingly.
But at that moment John Kerrison re-entered the room,
and the conversation subsided, after which the evening
passed far less pleasantly than it had been expected to do.
The ladies chattered, and sung, and flirted, and did their
very best to make the time fly; but over all their merriment
hung the shadow of their host's depression, and no one was
sorry when the moment came for saying good-night.
The messenger to Waterloo Road had returned before
then with a penciled note to the effect that Miss Power
had a violent headache, but hoped to be better after a little
rest. But in reality the rest was long in coming.
"
ޕ
1
Hours after her companions of the evening had driven
off to their respective homes, and forgotten the incident
that had disturbed their merry-making in sleep, Lily Power
lay wide awake, staring into the darkness, and wondering
what the issue of that night's rencontre would be. She had
met him again. She had stood face to face, although she
had never raised her eyes to his, with the man who had
made the misery of her life--from whom it had been her
effort for twelve months past to hide herself.
She had left her home and changed her name, and en-
tered a profession where she believed he would never dream
of looking for her. And yet it had been all in vain, and
Fate had brought their troubled streams of life once more
side by side. What would be the next move on the chess-
board of her destiny? Would Esmé Fielding, spite of the
silence with which she had treated the note he sent her at
12
89
the theater, follow her to her home and force an entrance
there? Would he compel her, in self-defense, to appeal to
strangers for protection against his insults-necessitate her
harrowing up her feelings by a review of his past conduct
to her, and a repetition of the sentiments with which they
parted, as she believed, forever?
The poor child shook and shivered as she lay on her cov-
erlet that burning night in June, and anticipated the trial
that was before her. But Esmé Fielding did not give her
much time for speculation or suspense.
She had hardly finished her modest meal the following
morning, when, without any warning, the door of her sit-
ting-room burst open, and the man who had made and
marred the world for her stood within the threshold.
WHY NOT?
CHAPTER XIV.
66
'I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN.'
""
LILY POWER did not start or scream as she recognized
her visitor, but she rose suddenly to her feet and stood
holding on to the back of the chair, with her breast heav-
ing, and her eyes staring as though she saw some one newly
risen from the dead.
"Lily!" said Esmé Fielding, imploringly-" Lily-!"
He moved a step nearer as he spoke, and the action seemed
to restore her powers of speech.
66
Don't approach me!" she exclaimed, shuddering.
“Don't touch me, for I could not bear it!”
“Oh, Lily!—don't be so hard on me!"
CC
"Why are you here?" she asked, without heeding his
last remark. Why can not you leave me to live out the
remnant of my life in peace? My silence must have told
you how little I desired to look on you again.
""
CC
But I can not exist away from you!" exclaimed the
young man, passionately. "I have tried to tear your im-
age from my heart, Lily, but it is in vain. Everywhere I
see you-hear you feel you! The world is empty for me
since you have ceased to fill it with your presence. You
were my life!. I have not lived, in the true sense of the
word, since we parted!"
"You should have thought of that before," she an-
swered, coldly. "Time was when I could have said the
•
;
90
WHY NOT?
same-when I did say it! But all the answer I received
was to find myself thrust out upon the world, without
home, or means. have survived it all. I have outlived
my foolish despair. I have even made a sort of home for
myself. And I have but one desire respecting the past-to
forget everything and everybody connected with it. Leave
me to do that in my own way.
Esmé Fielding sunk into a chair, and covered his face
with his hands.
"I can not," he said; "the thought of what you may
have suffered or undergone for my sake has made my life a
misery! I have spent the last twelve months in wandering
about and looking for you; my home has lost all its pleasure
and interest for me. I can not bear the name of Apples-
court since you have left it.
މ
CC
!
"That seems a pity," she answered, sarcastically,
'since you bartered your peace of mind and mine for its
possible possession. It should be doubly valuable to you
>>
now.
'I did not barter you for that. Don't make me out so
mean!" he exclaimed. “I gave you up in deference to my
mother's strict prohibition; I thought that my duty to
her-"
..
Stop, Esmé Fielding," said the girl, interrupting his
passionate disclaimer, "don't deceive yourself, or try to de-
ceive me, with so paltry a subterfuge. Your mother bade
you choose between her good-will and me, and you chose to
let me go. I do not blame you now. I have outlived the
pain, and I can better appreciate the policy of your de-
cision; but don't call your self-interest by the sacred name
of filial piety. Had your mother been a poor woman and
I a rich one, you would not have hesitated to reverse your
choice."
"How can you believe me to be so mercenary? If you
would only hear me speak!" he pleaded.
"I do not wish to hear you! I have listened to you too
often already; and nothing you can say can undo the past!
You know how innocent-how humble I was-when I first
entered your mother's house as her companion. I am of
as good birth as yourself; but I should as soon have
dreamed of stealing as lifting my eyes to her son! But you
came across me, and you taught me to love you; you per-
severed for weeks and months until you had won my affec-
J
12
WHY NOT?'
91
tion in return. And then, when the time of trouble came,
in that supreme moment, when you should have stood up
for me before the world-you disowned me!"
A low groan from Esmé Fielding was all the answer she
received.
"Shall I ever forget that night," she went on, vehe-
mently, her pale features lit up with indignation, "when
your cruel mother, having found out the truth, taunted
and reviled me until I dared her to send for you, and let
me abide by your decision. I believed in you then, Esmé,
I believed, too, in my fellow-creatures. I thought that
when men told women they were all the world to them,
and they might trust themselves without fear to their
honor, they meant that they would stand up for them and
protect them against slander, and insult, and cruelty. But
you undeceived me thoroughly. You can not be surprised
that my eyes are open now!"
"Go on," he murmured; you can not say anything
more bitter than you are saying.
22
،،
"Have you forgotten, then, what followed? Do you
want your memory refreshed?" continued Lily, panting as
she spoke. "To be reminded how you answered Mrs.
Fielding's summons, and when she accused you of loving
me, and told you to choose between her affection, and her
property, and her fortune, and the miserable girl whom
you had taught to trust in you--you chose your mother's
money, and let me be turned out of my situation to make
my way in the world as best I could?”
66
No-no, Lily! you are too hard on me. It was not
so bad as that," exclaimed Esmé Fielding, starting from
his position.
You know I have no fortune of my own.
I had not, at that time, even an allowance. How, then,
could I possibly have cast in my lot with yours? My mother
threatened me with disinheritance if I did not let you go;
and so I felt compelled, for your sake as well as my own,
to accede to her demands, in hopes that my concession
might be the means of my helping you in the future. And
it has proved so. When my mother felt convinced I was
in earnest she settled a regular allowance on me, and I have
employed it in searching for you ever since. It is not a
very liberal one, but it is sufficient for our needs-sufficient,
at least, to absolve you from the necessity of appearing on
the public stage to earn your living. Oh! how it hurt me
{
$92
WHY NOT?
to see you there! The shock nearly stunned me. I had
been seeking for you high and low, but naturally under the
name you held whilst with us. Had it not been for the
change, I should have found you long ago. But now-now
that I have the happiness of seeing you again-tell me that
the miserable past is forgiven and forgotten."
66

Forgotten!" repeated Miss Power, bitterly. "That is
how men talk. They behave falsely, faithlessly, meanly to
us; but the moment it pleases them to return, they expect
us to forgive and forget. No, Mr. Fielding, I have not
forgotten-I never shall forget. You had better under-
stand that at once.
""
"I will make you do so, Lily. I will remind you of
those happy days at Applescourt, when we were all in all
to one another, until your heart yearns to taste the bliss
of love again. I will talk to you of the sweet summer
nights when we wandered through the woods and fields to-
gether, and the balmy mornings when we rose in time to
brush the dew from off the grass-so loath were we to lose
one moment of each other's presence-until you cry 'Come
back, Esmé-come back, dear days and nights and let me
live that life of love again!' And you will say it, Lily,
will you not?"
It would seem almost as if she were ready to say it, from
the tears that filled her eyes, but still she shook her head
resolutely.
"No-no! you are quite mistaken. We were happy-
there is no doubt of it--but it was a foolish happiness; and
the bursting of the bubble made us wise. At least it has
made me so; and the world can never be again what it has
been."
،،
"Let us grant that, then!" exclaimed Esmé Fielding,
and agree to make the best of what remains. I can not
let you stay upon the stage, Lily. It is not a fit place for
""
you.
"I have no alternative."
(C
Don't say that. Have I not just told you that my
mother makes me an allowance of five hundred a year?
Whilst I retain it there is no occasion for you to work for
your living.
""
66
Thanks; but I should not care to live on Mrs. Field-
ing's money."
22
}
WHY NOT?
93
"It is not Mrs. Fleming's! It is mine! And I offer it
to you! Come back to me, Lily, and share it.”
The girl seemed to consider for a moment whilst she re-
garded him steadfastly.
Then she uttered, slowly:
"In what capacity?"
"How can you ask? As my wife-the solace of—”
You wish to marry me, then?" she exclaimed, inter-
rupting him.
Esmé Fielding flushed a deep red.
"Of course, after my mother's death. You would not
doubt my honor, or that I should do you justice when it lay
in my power, Lily? But just at the moment, you know, it
would be impossible. They would be sure to hear of it at
home, and every hope I have for the future would be
ruined. You understand the necessity there would be for
a little delay, don't you?”
Lily said nothing, but pointed with her finger at the door.
"What do you mean?" said Mr. Fielding, looking round.
"Go!" she articulated, after a momentary effort.
"There is the door-go!"
"But, Lily, my dearest girl, hear me-"
Go!" she repeated.
You have insulted me with
your presence long enough. I should not have been so
weak as to listen to a single word from you! I should have
known, from bitter experience, how this interview would
end. I know there are some women in whose natures the
affections play so large a part that they can stand being
humiliated, and mortified, and trodden on, and still condone
the offense from the impossibility of tearing the offender
from their heart. But that is not the case with me, Esmé.
I loved you-ah! Heaven!" cried the unhappy girl, sud-
denly breaking down, "I loved you till I sacrificed the
world for you, and thought it nothing-nothing in com-
parison with the bliss of knowing that you loved me in re-
turn. But now-it is quite different. I can not see you
without thinking of that night when your mother stood be-
tween us, and you turned your face away from me. It is
only by Heaven's mercy that I did not take my own life
from the pain you gave me. And now, even if Applescourt
and all your prospective wealth were in your own possession,
and you came and laid them at my feet with the name of
wife,' I don't think I should take them! I am sure if I
C
T
94
WHY NOT?
did that they could never wipe off the stain that rests upon
you in my sight. And so you, who did not think me
worthy to be your wife-you I do not think worthy to be
my husband.
That is all. You had better know the truth
at once, and trouble me no further. I beg of you to go,
and never seek me again-here or elsewhere for I will not
even offer you my hand!"
"Lily, I can not-I will not believe it!" he exclaimed,
springing to his feet and approaching her side.
The old negress's prediction had been running in his
mind throughout the interview, and he remembered she had
said that love, though maimed and bleeding, was hidden in
the white woman's heart for him, and he thought if he
made a bold assault on it that he would still win her.
66
"I know you love me!" he said, confidently; every
word, every tone, tells me so; and I will never leave you
alone until you confess it."
CC
You intend to persecute me, then?"
"Don't call it persecution; say that I mean to persevere,
at all risks, until I gain my end. You were mine once,
Lily. I can shut my eyes and see, in fancy, your golden
head upon my breast-feel your hand clasped in mine-gaze
into your eyes, and—”
66
Stop!" cried the girl, vehemently-" stop! I will
hear no more. I have given you my final answer, and each
further word you utter is another insult. I was yours
Heaven forgive you that the tense is in the past-but I am
yours no longer; and I never shall be yours again. Do you
understand me now? My love for you is dead and buried
-cold, motionless, and silent! Nothing you can say or do
will ever make it feel again! I despise you-I hate you-I
renounce you! These are my last words; now that you
have heard them there is nothing more to stay for.”
He seized his hat and cane.
"I obey you, Miss Power, and I will go. But do not
imagine, because you choose to renounce me now, that I
shall ever forget what we have been to one another; on the
contrary, whilst a chance remains of my success, I shall
never cease to plead my cause with you.
"
-66
Then you will force me to appeal to my friends to pro-
tect me against your intrusion.
66
"You will hardly do that, I think, whilst a memory of
Applescourt remains. I may have offended you-I know I
WHY NOT?
95
have-but that can not undo the past. Don't forget how
often you have promised to be only mine!"
Your con-
"That was when I believed you to be true.
duct since then released me from all protestations of fidel-
ity.
""
"But your heart has not released you any more than
mine; and I shall yet live to hear you say so. Farewell,
Lily. This is not the last time we shall meet.
""
He passed from her sight with a confident and self-
possessed air; but the old negress's words-" You will find
her, but you will not keep her" -were ringing in his ears
as he did so.
މ
As for Lily Power, she stood where he had left her-pale,
silent, and trembling-with the tears fast gathering in her
eyes and rolling slowly down her cheeks.
CHAPTER XV.
66 WILL YOU BE MY WIFE?",
DID she love him, or did she not?
She could not have answered the question with any cer-
tainty, even to herself.
There were moments when, remembering all they had
been to one another, she felt that the world was nothing to
her in comparison with Esmé Fielding, and that she would
bear any contumely or disgrace only to find herself once
more by his side.
But these moments were few and far between. They oc-
curred only when she was physically weak, with her nerves
overstrung, and her spirits at a low ebb. Far oftener she
thought of him as she had seen and heard him last—with
an averted face and a stammering tongue, and a general
aspect of fear and self-excuse.
She was still standing and thinking thus when a tap
sounded on her door. Believing it to be the servant, she
averted her face and said, "Come in."
The door opened, and, to her consternation, revealed Mr.
Kerrison.
There was no time to conceal her tears. She was com-
pelled to brush them hastily away and turn to greet him.
He was shocked to see her care-worn and distressed ap-
pearance.
**J
1
96
WHY NOT?
ME
66
"Are you sure I am not intruding?" he demanded,
gently. I asked for you, and the servant told me to
walk upstairs. But I have come too early. You have not
finished your breakfast.”
66
I have quite finished, thank you. Pray sit down. It
is I who should apologize for such an untidy room; but I
have not been very well, and I rose late this morning.
""
"It is to inquire after your health, as you may suppose,
that I am here. We were so concerned to find you had to
leave us last evening; and I am afraid you are not much
better to-day," said John Kerrison, as he regarded her
earnestly. I don't like to see those tear-stained cheeks
and red eyes. Will you think me impertinent if I ask you
to confide your trouble to me, and let me see if I can help
you out of it?”
At these words the girl's tears welled up afresh.
"You are very, very kind, Mr. Kerrison, and your sym-
pathy is a comfort to me; but your help must end there.
My distress is purely of a private nature. No one can re-.
lieve me of it, and it is best not alluded to.”
I did not mean to be inquisitive," said John Kerrison,
"but I feel a great interest in you, Miss Power, and all
that concerns you. It seems so unnatural that a young
creature like yourself should live alone. There must be so
many hours when you need companionship and solace.
"Not many," she answered, smiling faintly through her
tears. "You forget how exigéant you are with regard to
rehearsals, and how many morning performances Miss
Credo' promises to require. Besides, you must give me
credit for occasional study. I want to improve vastly be-
fore you intrust me with another part. Your generous
praise makes me fearful lest I should not continue to de-
serve it."
"But you might be taken ill in these lonely lodgings,
without a soul to nurse you or look after you.
You were
taken ill last night, and had to return home and remain
through the long hours of darkness alone. I could not
sleep for thinking of it. It seems terrible to me. I wish
you had some one to live with you.
66
"
My dear Mr. Kerrison, I would much rather be alone.
I am not a sociable person, and the constant presence of
another woman would worry and irritate me.
When people
}
917
WHY NOT?
are poor they can not get away from one another; that is
the unpleasant part of it to me.
""
John Kerrison began to fidget on his chair. He had not
come there with any more serious intention than that of
asking after Lily Power's health; but as he noted the evi-
dent distress she had passed through, and took in the lack
of comfort displayed in her surroundings, the thoughts that
had haunted him lately rose to the surface, and threatened
to influence his tongue. For Lily Power was looking
especially interesting that morning. The second-rate fur-
niture and meager breakfast-table seemed to add to, instead
of detracting from, her charms. She stood in the midst of
them, in her white morning-wrapper, like her namesake
flower in the rank corner of a kitchen-garden.
With her delicately chiseled features; her luminous eyes,
her pale gold hair, and her alabaster skin, she looked like
the incarnation of purity. No one, to see her, would ever
have imagined she could feel the force of a consuming pas-
sion, far less that she had suffered it to scorch and wither
up the very springs of her life.
There are some men for whom such statuesque tempera-
ments express the ideal of womanhood, and John Kerrison
was one of them.
"I believe," he said, after a long pause,
told me, Miss Power, you have no relations living.
66
It is true. I have no relations; that is, none whom I
consider such, or who wish me so to consider them.
"Ah! that is too often the case in this world. A little
more than kin and less than kind.' I have experienced it
myself. When I was a lad I relinquished the army for the
stage, and all my family cut me in consequence.
As soon
as I had made a name for myself they offered to be friends
again. I rejected their proposals with scorn! I hate such
hypocrisy! But a man is so much better able to look after
himself than a woman. You, especially, are too young and
too tender, my child, to live alone. I tremble to think
what you would do if you fell sick.”
The tone of his voice was so earnest that it made Lily
Power stare.
<< that you once
""
"I am not so very young," she said; I was twenty-
two last birthday; and if I fell sick I could always go to
the hospital."
John Kerrison shuddered.
4
{
t
I
98
""
WHY NOT?
The hospital! For you! It is sacrilege to think of it;
and I see this life is new to you also. You are not like
others, who have supported themselves from the beginning.
You have not been used to battle with the world. I am
sure you were brought up in a very different position."
I was, till my parents died."
"And do you like the stage?"
66
"Pretty well. It feeds me, and that is all I require of
it. It does as well as anything else."
"Perhaps you do not anticipate remaining on it long,
Miss Power?'5
66
I do not understand you.
"Most young ladies look forward to marriage. Yours
may be already a settled thing.
""
She colored faintly, and shook her head.
"C Oh! no.
I have no arrangements of that sort on hand,
and am not likely to have. I shall never marry, Mr. Ker-
rison!",
C
66
"Have you such a dislike to the condition, then?"
I have not tried it, and so I can not say. But I should
think it required more inducements than are ever likely to
fall in my way to render it an irresistible temptation.
>>
"It certainly requires certain adjuncts to give it a chance-
of turning out happily," replied John Kerrison, gravely.
"Money is a necessary evil in the arrangement.
We
hear a great deal of living on love; but love, as we know,
won't buy bread and butter. And then there must be
suitability of temperament; that is, if two people can not
agree, they must agree to differ. And under such circum-
stances I consider marriage ought to prove a sociable and
comfortable arrangement, if not a very ecstatic one. What
do you think?'
""
66
I agree with you," replied Lily Power, who was, in
effect, not thinking at all, except of the misery she had just
gone through.
"Then will you be very much astonished," continued
John Kerrison, nervously," if I tell you that I have been
considering the subject very seriously of late, and that if-
if I can induce the woman I want to take me, I mean to
get married myself?"
(C
"Why should I be astonished?" she answered, smiling.
I am only surprised that, with all your advantages, you
have not married before."
WHY NOT?.
99
Because I have never seen a girl whom I would have
cared to call my wife- until-until-"
"Well?" ejaculated Lily, almost laughing at his timidity.
Until the murder will out, my dear-until I saw
you!"
She started back as if he had struck her.
Until-you-saw-me!" she repeated, in a low voice.
"Yes.
Is there anything wonderful in that? I am old
compared to you, my child. I was forty-six on my last
birthday-more than double your age--but I can love you
for all that. I have loved you, I think, from the first hour
we met. Your youth, your loneliness, your poverty, and
your anxieties have haunted me ever since like a troubled
dream. I want to take you out of it all. I want to carry
you home-to make you the mistress of my house and fort-
une-to raise you forever above the grip of poverty, or the
necessity to work for yourself. And if you will accept my
offer, Lily, and become my wife, you will make me the
proudest and happiest man in England.
""
CC
Oh, no, no, Mr. Kerrison, it is impossible-it can never
ލ
ވ
be!''
She said the words with such a plaintive cry that it
alarmed him.
"Why can not it be?''
CC
'I am not worthy. It would be absurd! What would
the world say? To take a girl from my position in the
theater, on the lowest rung of the ladder, and ask her to
share your popularity and famous name, it would be too
incongruous. They would say you were mad!"
"You silly child! I don't ask you to marry the world
-I ask you to marry me. And as for your position in the
theater (though I can not imagine my not loving you at any
time), I am sure you are sweeter and more unpolluted now
than you could possibly be if you had gained the top of the
ladder. If this is your only objection, it is as good as
none."
He laid his hand gently on hers as he spoke, but she
pulled it away from him.
66
No, no; there are other obstacles, but I can not ex-
plain them to you. There have been sore troubles in my
past life which I could not tell to any man. They do not
altogether belong to me, and I must not share them with
a stranger. So I shall carry them alone until I die."
$
"
100
WHY NOT?
"And suppose I am willing to forego your confidence,
my dear? To take you as I see you, satisfied that you are
what you are, and that no woman could surpass you in my
eyes; can not I in this way alleviate your troubles without
intruding on their sacredness?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Kerrison, it would not be wise nor right in.
you to do so. Some day-who knows?-you might rise up
and condemn me for my reticence. I only mentioned it to
show you how entirely it forbids my considering your gen-
erous proposal.
"And were it not for this imaginary obstacle would you
consider it?"
66
>>
How could I fail to do so? Do you think I am insensi-
ble or blind?''
66
Then, Lily, think of it now. I do not pretend that a
marriage with me could fulfill all the dreams you may have
dreamed of a future life. I am a plain, middle-aged man,,
rather rough in my manners and unsociable in my habits.
But I love you.
Your presence in my house would turn it
into a little heaven for me, and I would repay your goodness
by every means in my power. If a marriage that would
raise you above want, above solitude, above the necessity
for work or anxiety of any kind, presents any advantages
in your eyes, take my offer, and trust to me to see that you
are not disappointed in your expectations.
Again he took her hand in his, and this time she did not
draw it away.
"If I could be quite sure she faltered.
2
(6
Quite sure of what, my sweet?"
66
That you would never come to me and say-' You mar-
ried me under false pretense. I thought you everything
that was good, and I find you are everything that is
bad—'",
son.
My se
99
ލ މ
G
"I could never say that, under any circumstances; if I
found you had committed a murder, I could not say that!"
"Well, then, if you said I expected more of you, and E
am disappointed,' I think I should kill myself.
C
""
"But I shall not be disappointed," urged John Kerri-
"Will you think of the worst woman you have ever
known," went on the girl, hurriedly, "and then imagine I
am she? Would you ask me to marry you then?”
"I would ask you if you had committed every crime in
}
WHY NOT?
101
{
the decalogue. I want no assurances-no confidences-no
revelations I want only you-just as you stand before me
to-day, without one thing altered in your past or present;
and so I say again, without a single question or condition,
will you be my wife?"
But she still hesitated.
CC
You are not acting fairly to yourself, Mr. Kerrison;
I have never thought of this before. It is a most unex-
pected surprise to me. I esteem and admire you above
most men; your talent is a constant source of wonder to
me; but I can not pretend-it would be untrue to pretend
I have even thought of-of-loving you.
""
"I do not suppose you have. I should scarcely believe
you, my child, if
you had. All I ask is to be
you said
allowed to love you. If the idea is not utterly distasteful
to you, grant my request.
25
I
The idea excites nothing but gratitude in my breast.
can not think what I have done or said to merit such a dis-
tinction; but I am very sensible of it, Mr. Kerrison."
"And you will make me happy, Lily?"
“If I can,” she answered, gravely, as she placed her other
hand on his.
ވ
CHAPTER XVI.
AN UNEQUAL GAME.
WHEN John Kerrison had done this deed, and drove
from Lily Power's lodgings to his club as an engaged man,
he began to feel very uncomfortable about it.
Not that he regretted his victory in the slightest degree.
On the contrary, it had so elated him that his face was
glowing with the pleasures of anticipation, and his pulses
beating more rapidly than they had done at any time since
five-and-twenty. And of course he was his own master,
and free to order his life to please himself.
But he had talked so openly, and for so many years past,
of his determination to keep single, and had impressed the
advantages of celibacy with so much pertinacity on others,
that he dreaded the jests his club companions would make
at his expense when they learned the truth.
Miss Power had stipulated that the engagement should
be kept a secret, at least for the present.
I
X
102
WHY NOT?
John Kerrison felt that the difficulty would be, not to
hold his tongue on the subject, but to make his confession
(especially to the home circle) when the time came for the
revelation.
Colonel Escott he feared a little, but Mrs. Arlington a
thousand times more. The former had the greater right
to complain of the contemplated change, but the latter was
bound to have the most to say about it.
No woman who has enjoyed absolute sway over the
establishment of a bachelor ever likes to have a mistress
set over her, and Mr. Kerrison still retained an uneasy rec-
ollection of the little scene which took place on the first
night of "Miss Credo.
""
Notwithstanding, his conscience pricked him most on
the score of his old chum James Escott. He had induced
Jem to take up his permanent residence in Hyde Park
Gardens on the express agreement that they were to end
their days together, and it seemed hard he should be forced
to seek another home.
Not that John Kerrison had the least intention of turn-
ing Colonel Escott out, in order to make room for his
young wife. On the contrary, he should do everything in
his power to make him continue to live with them, but he
justly doubted if Escott would accept the offer.
And so, under all his secret triumph, Kerrison felt guilty
and ill-at-ease, and his absence of mind and uncertain
spirits soon made themselves patent to the two people he
was most anxious to keep in the dark.
After having once inquired the cause and been put off
with an evasive answer, Colonel Escott came to the con-
clusion that business matters were somehow going wrong
with his friend; but Lola Arlington was not to be deceived
by words.
She had watched John Kerrison's growing interest in
Lily Power from the beginning of their acquaintance. She
had suspected his feelings for her on the first night of
"Miss Credo," and became assured of them on the occa-
sion of the dinner-party.
Now, to be added to her other doubts, came his frequent
absences from home, and his wandering thoughts, which
had constantly to be brought back to the point.
With feminine tact, too, she detected various little altera-
tions in his dress, which denoted a desire to appear more
I
WHY NOT?
juvenile. His neckties were brighter, and frequently
changed. He appeared in white waistcoats and highly
varnished boots; and laid in a set of Oxford shirts, that
were only fit for a boy of twenty.
That silent, pale-faced girl had gained some influence
over him-by what means Lola Arlington was at a loss to
discover-but she felt certain, in her own mind, that it was
she, and no other, who occupied John Kerrison's thoughts,
and drew him so frequently from home.
To suppose that the jealousy that took possession of Mrs.
Arlington's breast at this discovery was actuated only by
the fear of losing her influence, or her situation, would be
unjust.
In her way she really loved the somewhat brusque and
uncouth genius whom she called master. She had been
permitted to approach him nearer than others. She had
watched the workings of his brain, and been lost in admi-
ration of the talent which could construct so cunningly,
and write so brilliantly, and put upon the stage so perfect-
ly the creations of his fancy.
She was a clever woman, and could appreciate strength
in others. And daily contact had caused her admiration to
ripen into love, until she believed she could not live if any-
thing came between her and John Kerrison.
103
W
The idea that he was cultivating an intimacy with an-
other woman-with some one who might become necessary
to him, perhaps, as she had flattered herself she had done
-who might try and supplant her in his estimation-step
into her shoes-take over her work-fill the place in his
establishment, which she would be no more needed to fulfill
the duties of Oh! it was maddening even to think of.
Mrs. Arlington had no idea, at that period, that Lily
Power possessed any interest but that of friendship for Mr.
Kerrison. But she did not wish him to have any female
friend but herself. She dreaded the advent of a possible
rival, and resolved, at all risks, to prevent it.
It was not long before every one concerned saw that
something was wrong with Mrs. Arlington. At first she
displayed a persistent melancholy, but finding that recoiled
more on herself than on John Kerrison, especially as he
was so seldom at home to be influenced by it, she went on
a different tack, and tried if she could pique him by jeal-
ousy to take more notice of her.
-
x
104
WHY NOT?
The card she played was naturally the one closest to her
hand, Colonel Escott; and the colonel, with a fluttering
wonder at his honest heart as to what her unusual atten-
tions might mean, responded cordially to them. But the
game was not a fair one, for the stakes were unequal, and
one of the players was a sharper. Yet in this world, for
every winner there must be a loser, and Colonel Escott had
to share the general lot. There was a day in the future,
though as yet too far off to be distinguishable, when the
trump card would be in his hand. Would he sacrifice it,
or go in for his revenge?
It was usual for the two friends, when not entertaining
guests themselves, to spend the Sunday evening quietly in
their own house.
Escott had a simple, kindly heart, which would not per-
mit him entirely to forget the teachings of his childhood;
and he disliked all rioting and feasting on the first day of
the week, because he had been taught to keep it holy.
Kerrison, although reared in a very different school, was
not sorry to have an evening he could call his own, and
Mrs. Arlington was only too pleased to keep him for a few
hours to herself.
The trio were accustomed to spend their Sunday even-
ings, therefore, in Colonel Escott's sanctum, where the
men would smoke their pipes, and talk over old times, or
read their books and papers, whilst she went to the piano
and sung softly to her own accompaniment, or sat apart
and wrote letters to her friends. They were peaceful,
wholesome evenings, and Kerrison had often said they did
him good, and he looked forward to them. But now he
seemed always seeking an excuse to spend them from
home, and it was difficult to do so without raising the sus-
picions of those he left behind. One evening in particular,
at the end of July, when he had arranged to take Lily
Power to Richmond, he came down-stairs just before the
dinner hour, clad in morning costume, and evidently with
no intention of joining the family party.
Mrs. Arlington, who was becomingly arrayed in white,
looked woefully disappointed, and even Escott could not
contain his surprise.
،،
Why, John, old fellow! what is this? Are we to lose
you to-night?"
Mr. Kerrison appeared to be searching for his gloves.
{
WHY NOT?
- 105
"Yes; didn't I tell you, Jem? Some fellows bagged
me to go to Richmond. It's an awful nuisance. I hope
you won't miss me; but I can't possibly avoid it.'
66
C
Oh, as to missing' you, that goes without saying,
replied the colonel, cheerfully. "We couldn't fail to miss
you-could we, Mrs. Arlington? But business must come
before pleasure, and I suppose there's business, as usual, at
the bottom of this?"
"Naturally. I belong to everybody, you know, but
myself. Well, good-bye, old fellow. I do not expect to
be very
late. If you are still up on my return, we'll have
a pipe in the sanctum together. Good-night, Mrs. Arling-
""
ton.
And with some confusion, John Kerrison got clear of
the house.
The two he left behind felt rather disconsolate without
him. They eat their dinner almost in silence, although
Colonel Escott did all he could to entertain his fair com-
panion.
(C
(C
Come-come! this will never do," he exclaimed, as
dessert was placed upon the table. John will get too
conceited if we let him see his absence has the power to
affect us to this degree. Can not we manage to pass a
pleasant evening in each other's company for once in a way,
Mrs. Arlington?""
ވ
She elevated her dark brows with well acted surprise.
"Are you alluding to Mr. Kerrison's absence, Colonel
Escott?"
(C
Well, I suppose so; or to the effect it is having on our
conversational powers. I don't think you have said ten
words to me all dinner-time.”
"Oh, colonel! what a calumny! It is you who are vis-
iting your own depression of spirits upon me. If you con-
descended to take any notice of what I say whilst Mr. Ker-
rison is present, you would find I never talk much on Sun-
days. It is such a holy, peaceful day. It seems quite sac-
rilegious to disturb its quiet by discussing worldly things."
The colonel's blue eyes beamed with suddenly awakened
interest.
“Do you really think so? I had no idea you felt in such
""
a manner.
"You thought, I suppose, that it is impossible for a
woman who is generally engaged in worldly duties and con-
-
106
WHY NOT?
here the
versation ever to have a serious moment. But, sometimes,
the more careless and ungodly our surroundings, the more
we are driven inward to seek relief from them.
66
Colonel Escott stared. This was the sort of talk he had
been used to years ago, when he lived with his mother at
home; but he had seldom listened to it since. And to hear
it from the lips of Lola Arlington was the strangest thing
of all; yet he felt glad-very glad-that it should be so.
I can't tell you how you interest me," he replied,
earnestly. "I confess I was not prepared to listen to such
an expression of feeling from you, but then I have never
stopped to think or inquire what your ideas on such sub-
jects were. The only thing which has disappointed me a
little in meeting my dear old friend John Kerrison again-
I am sure I may speak openly to you, Mrs. Arlington, and
that you will respect my confidence-is the utter absence of
anything like religion that pervades himself and the com-
pany he frequents. Don't mistake me, Mrs. Arlington. I
am not what is called a 'religious' man myself, and never
have been. But not to hear the mention of anything but
the world and the things of the world does jar on me some-
times. It seems as if in this great, careless, money-loving
city, there was no time or space to think of anything but
the amusement, and dissipation, and indulgence that shuts
out the remembrance of a grave. It was so different in
India," he concluded with a sigh.
ގ
""
"Perhaps you had more congenial friends in India!"
suggested Mrs. Arlington.
Oh, no, indeed! I have never had a friend in all my
life that I loved as I love John; but I lived chiefly alone
whilst there, and solitude is conducive to serious thought.
"
"How well I know that, Colonel Escott; for though you
may be surprised to hear me say so, I too have lived the
chief part of my life alone-or worse than alone. For
what real solitude can equal the heart-weariness induced by
the weight of an uncongenial companionship! It is the
memory of the past that brings so many silent, depressing
hours with it for me even now.
މ މ
"But you are quite happy in the present?" interposed
Colonel Escott, eagerly.
Mrs. Arlington glanced at him from the depths of her
big brown eyes, and then lowered her lashes without a re-
ply.
}
WHY NOT?
66
"You
I trust we are going to spend this evening together,'
remarked the colonel, as they rose from table.
won't desert the sanctum because Kerrison is not in it,
Mrs. Arlington!"
107
"}
"Certainly not, if you prefer my company, Colonel Es-
cott. But you must not stand on ceremony, if you wish to
be alone."
"How could I wish to be alone?" replied Escott, gal-
lantly, as he held the door open for her to pass through.
She appeared, therefore, as usual, with the coffee, and
sung him some plaintive quasi-religious ballads suited to
the occasion. The colonel hung over her enraptured. He
thought he had never met so attractive, so interesting a
woman before.
66
Do you know, Colonel Escott," she exclaimed, sud-
denly, as she finished a song about dreams and memories
of long ago, "if you won't consider me very impertinent
to say so, I can not help thinking that you have had a sad
past as well as myself. Not in the same way, perhaps, but
having much the same effect upon your spirits, and that
you, like me, oftener dream of the future than of the
present."
ލ
W
"Tell me about your past," he said, moving his chair
nearer to hers; and then I shall be better able to judge
if your surmise is a correct one.
""
"There is little to tell except what all the world knows.
already," she answered, heaving a deep sigh.
“A child
of sixteen forcibly married to a man of sixty, without
knowing what marriage meant, or what were its duties and
its obligations; and then a life of horror, of deceit, and
fraud, and chicanery-and I obliged, by threats of vio-
lence, to see it all, and appear to approve of it, and make
no sign. Oh, Colonel Escott, if you could guess what that
bitter experience was like you would pity me!"
"I have heard something of it from the lips of my
friend Kerrison, dear Mrs. Arlington, and I do pity you,
replied the colonel, pressing her hand.
66
Ah! but you can not realize it. And do you wonder,
then, if my thoughts yet go back with feverish longing to
those days when I was an innocent, happy child at my
mother's knee, and I thirst to obliterate the terrible scenes
that intervened, and find myself there once more. These
peaceful Sabbath evenings," she continued, gazing at him
108
WHY NOT?
ال
with the tears she had the magical faculty to conjure up at
will standing in her eyes, and making them doubly charm-
ing-" how they appeal to all that is best in my nature!
How I wish we could persuade dear Mr. Kerrison to go to
church; it would make the day twice as dear!"
"Do you not go yourself!" inquired the colonel, who
could not have spent the week with a peaceful conscience if
he had not attended divine service at least once on Sunday.
"Of course," she replied, with ready deceit; "long be-
fore either of you lazy people are out of bed. But it is a
kind of thing I don't care to talk about. There is so much
profession and so little practice in the world, that it is best
to keep one's most sacred feelings to one's self. One is so
seldom given credit for sincerity. I would not have men-
tioned the subject to any one but you.
But this is enough
of myself; tell me of your troubles, dear Colonel Escott-
that is, if you consider me worthy of such a confidence.
A friend-especially a woman friend-can sometimes des-
cry light where all appears to be in darkness. Not that I
am presumptuous enough," she added, with her long black
eyelashes sweeping her cheek, "to think that you regard
me in the character of a friend.”
..
CHAPTER XVII.
"I AM GOING TO BE MARRIED."
THE Colonel seized her dimpled hand, and raised it def-
erentially to his lips.
66
It is I who would be honored by your permitting me
to call you so,
"he answered. 66
Seeing the high esteem
in which you are held by my friend Kerrison, I have long
wished to ask you to give me a place in your regard; for,
do you know, Mrs. Arlington, I fancied when I first came
here that you quite disliked me, and the idea has given me
much pain."
Mrs. Arlington's glance of distressed surprise was a pict-
ure.
މ
¡
M
"Disliked you! Oh, Colonel Escott! if you only knew
my real opinion of your merits! But I am not in a position
to express all that I feel. However, I thought the sub-
ject of myself was ended. If you consider me worthy to be
WHY NOT?
109
your friend, treat me as such, and tell me what sad mem-
ory it is that makes you so often distrait and thoughtful."
The colonel flushed scarlet.
"Indeed, there is nothing to tell; or, at least, so com-
mon a story that it possesses no interest, and one that hap-
pened so long ago that it is almost out of mind. I do not
deny that my life has been a disappointment to me; I sup-
pose few men or women, married or single, arrive at my
age without the same conviction; and to suffer in company,
they say, is to have your suffering halved; therefore, I con-
clude I am not worse off than my neighbors, and I am con-
tent it should be so.
"Have you no regrets then? No yearnings for a
change?",
"I won't go so far as to say that. If things had gone
right with me instead of wrong, and I was a married man
at this moment, with my boys and girls growing up around
me, I dare say I should be happier than I am at present;
but the situation would have brought its cares and respon-
sibilities with it, and perhaps I might sometimes have wished
I had never undertaken them. You see, mankind is so
perverse; we generally want that which we do not possess,
and the best cure is to look around and see how impossible
it is for any worldly condition to satisfy us. We must have
some troubles in this life, and it is only a question of choice."
"But you must not talk as if all chances of happiness
were over for you, Colonel Escott; you have not reached
middle-age yet, and have many years before you with the
capacity of enjoyment in them. Even the hopes you be-
lieve to be dead may yet be fulfilled-who can tell?"
66
But I am not sure if I wish them to be fulfilled," re-
plied the colonel, gazing full at her handsome face; “I
fretted a good deal whilst I was in India, for I was alone,
and had nothing to distract my thoughts from dwelling on
the past. But since I have returned home I have felt less
and less regretful, and I think it would take a very little
now to make me overcome it altogether.
در
J
"You must look out for a nice wife," said Lola Arling-
ton, with a bewildering smile, "and the past trouble will
vanish like an unholy dream.”
66 Oh, no,
"he answered; "I am like my friend John-
I shall never marry; it is a pact between us. Besides, what
should I marry for whilst I can live here and have you to
110.
WHY NOT?
look after me? Do you very much want to get rid of me?"
he added, tenderly.
66
There is no need for me to answer that question,
Colonel Escott; you know how happy it makes me to be
able to contribute to your comfort. But should this lady
""
turn up-
66
She can never
never turn up,' as you call it," he said,
quickly; and if she did—”
(C
She is not dead, then?"
T
6
.
"No; she is not dead in the ordinary acceptation of the
word, but she is dead to me. There will never be any fur-
ther communication between us; I do not desire there
should be. Will you not believe me when I say that in
your friendship, since you are so good as to promise it me,
and in that of my dear Kerrison, I have all that I require
to make my future life happy and contented?”
She heaved a deep sigh.
"And supposing Mr. Kerrison should marry-"
James Escott smiled with supreme incredulity.
66
That is not probable-I might say, not possible. John
and I have discussed the subject more than once, and he has
convinced me of his resolution; he is no more likely to mar-
ry, Mrs. Arlington, than I am. Will you promise not to
laugh at me if I tell you something?"
Do friends laugh at one another?" she returned, softly.
"Once in a way, perhaps, for this is really ludicrous!
When I first arrived in England and saw how charming
you were, I accused poor John of an intention of marrying
you.
""
"How awfully absurd!" she exclaimed, fanning herself
vigorously;
and what did he say?"
6
66
'Oh, he denied it in toto, of course; and it was on that
occasion, I think, that we plighted our troth of continual
celibacy."
"But people do break their troths sometimes," suggest-
ed Mrs. Arlington.
"It must be hard for any man to keep it with you in
the house," replied the colonel; "but I am sure Kerrison
will; he has too little faith in his own power to make a
woman happy.
""
"And are you as incredulous, Colonel Escott, with re-
gard to yourself?”
WHY NOT?
111
"I know I could have no recommendation to the fair
sex, except their own love of exercising charity.
""
66
Oh, dear! how blind you men are! and how unfairly
you judge women! You never give us credit for valuing a
friend for his mental attractions; it must be all outside
show and glitter, or we shall pass you by. You really
don't deserve a true woman's regard. How did you like
the young ladies of the 'Credo' company, whom we enter-
tained at dinner that memorable evening?"
66
Not at all; I thought them ill-bred, superficial, and
flashy—all, at least, except Miss Lily Power."
"Oh, you admire her?" rejoined Mrs. Arlington,
quickly.
She seems a gentle, refined, and lady-like sort of girl
to me, but she is so silent one can hardly judge; any way,
she stands out in pleasing contrast to such women as Miss
Hartlebury and Miss Nevins. Don't you agree with me?”
"Not entirely, Colonel Escott; she appears to me to be
deceitful-sly-and probably with something in the back-
ground to conceal. These silent streams run deep. I wish
you could persuade Mr. Kerrison that she is not worthy of
his regard."
"Oh, Kerrison simply looks on her in a business light.
She fulfills his requirements of the character she has under-
taken. He would never dream of making her a friend.
""
66
Lam not so sure of that, Colonel Escott; there are ill-
natured rumors afloat about them, and his evident pref-
erence is doing the girl no good. I think such an intimate
friend as you are might give him a hint on the subject.
""
But this was a matter Colonel Escott thought it better
not to discuss behind John Kerrison's back, and so he
evaded an answer by entreating his companion to sing to
him again before they parted for the night.
She went to the instrument at once and trilled out another
little ballad about tears and smiles, an angel love, and
the joys of "long ago.
""
"How I wish I had known you in that long ago," the
colonel ventured to whisper, as he hung over her.
66
Why ?" she asked, looking up at him.
This straightforward question was rather a poser, but he
managed to get over it without an actual confession.
66
Because, when we were both young and light-hearted,
112
WHY NOT?
WECJA
we might have enjoyed each other's society without the in-
tervention of these sad memories. >>
"But we should have lost the privilege of consoling one.
another," she replied.
66
Right!" he exclaimed, "as your sweet sex always are.
Ah! if I could only believe that my true friendship might
be any solace to you -the least distraction from the har-
rowing remembrance of your troubled girlhood-how proud,
how happy I should be!"
<<
Don't undervalue it," she said, as she gave him her
hand at parting; "I feel that it will prove a new era in my
life."
Long after she had left him he sat still, thoughtfully
smoking his pipe, and wondering how much or how little
she had meant by her last words, and whether it were pos-
sible that so brilliant and fascinating a creature could ever
come to look upon him with any feeling warmer than
friendship. How glad he was to think that he could culti-
vate her regard without treason to his dearest friend, and
that John Kerrison would be happy to hear that she no
longer looked on him as an interloper! Yet the simple
colonel had no idea he was falling in love with her. He
thought she was an underrated and hardly judged woman;
that she possessed virtues and had experienced sufferings
for which she gained no credit; and that if his esteem and
friendship could bring any pleasure into her life he should
be only too proud of the knowledge.
He was still musing in this fashion when John Kerrison
entered the room and disturbed his reverie.
"Halloo, Jem, old boy! are you still waking? I am glad
of that, for I want to speak to you!" he exclaimed, as he
threw himself into a chair.
"You are back earlier than we expected. It is only
half-past ten," replied Escott. "Mrs. Arlington has not
long left the room. She can not have retired yet. Shall I
tell her you have returned?"
66
Hang Mrs. Arlington," said Kerrison, testily; "it is
you I want, Jem, not her. I have something to tell you.
I know you will be awfully surprised, but it's no use beat-
ing about the bush. I am going to be married!"
<
What?" cried the colonel, nearly leaping from his
seat, and quite uncertain if he had heard aright.
"I am going to be married," repeated Kerrison. "I
گرم
WHY NOT?
113
have not made up my mind very long about it, or I should
have told you before. Of course I felt bound to tell you
the first of all. But there are reasons now-that is, I have
come to the decision that the sooner the marriage takes
place the better, and so I give you the earliest information.
I am sure, old fellow, that you have too much regard for
me not to wish me every good luck."
(6
You are going to be married?" said the colonel, in a
dreamy, incredulous voice. John, you have positively
taken my breath away! Going to be married? You!
Why, it seems only like yesterday that you told me nothing
on earth would induce you to change your condition."
"I know I know," said the other, impatiently; "don't
remind me of my folly. Yesterday (as you term it) I had
not seen her.
""
"And who is the lady? Do I know her?"
"Didn't I mention her name?
you must guess it-Miss Power."
66
"Miss Power!" exclaimed Escott, more surprised than
ever; that pale girl? Why, John, she is a child com-
pared to you!"
(C
"
Well, that signifies to no one but myself and her,
returned Kerrison, roughly.
<<
No, no, of course not. Forgive me," said the colonel,
"and let me congratulate you, and say Heaven bless you,
John, with all my heart."
Leaving his seat, he walked over to the other's side and
grasped both his hands cordially, and looked into his face
with eyes not altogether guiltless of tears.
CC
What a dolt I am; but
My dear old John-my best and most constant friend
-I shall so sincerely rejoice at anything which brings you
happiness. And this marriage will make you happy, will
it not? You have well considered? You have done noth-
ing in a hurry? You are quite sure that Miss Power is the
one woman in the world for you?”
“I am quite sure, my dear boy. Do you think I should
break through the resolution of years for less? The fact
is, Jem, I have never met any one before in all my life that
I ever wished to marry; but she is so pure-so gentle-so-
like her namesake, Lily, that I can not conceive how she
ever consented to be my wife."
66
Oh, come! John, that is nonsense! There is not a
woman in London but might be proud to share the name
1
་།
114
WHY NOT?
you have made so famous. I am not the least surprised to
hear that Miss Power accepted your offer. I am only just
a little bit astonished to hear you made it!"
"After all my vows of celibacy and resolutions against
the sex," said Kerrison, with half a smile and half a sigh.
"You may well be, Jem. I am more than a little bit
astonished at myself! But I am afraid our vows become as
melting wax when the one woman who can influence us
brings her charms to bear against them! I know mine.
vanished into air. Women are terrible temptresses, Jem,
when you love them; one feels one could lay down one's
life for their sake, let alone all one's good resolutions.
"I suppose so!" replied the colonel, gravely; "at least
I know so, for I too have loved in my day. And you
really care for Miss Power like this, John?"
"I care for her more than for all the rest of the world
put together!" replied his friend, solemnly.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CC WHAT WILL MRS. ARLINGTON SAY?”,
AFTER this, the two men smoked for some time without
speaking a word. Escott could not quite trust himself to
ask any more questions about the contemplated change,
which involved so many undreamed of contingencies; and
Kerrison felt half guilty, and more than half foolish, as he
remembered how often he had pictured a future to his
friend which he had been the first to destroy.

At length the silence was becoming oppressive, and
Colonel Escott made an effort to break it.
"I wonder," he said, reflectively, "what Mrs. Arling-
ton will say?",
The allusion nettled Kerrison. He also had wondered
(more than once) what Mrs. Arlington would say, but he
was too proud to confess it.
66
6+
I don't understand you, Jem," he answered.
I am
not in the habit of consulting my servants about my private
affairs!"'
66
66
John, you would never call Mrs. Arlington a servant.”
"No! I was wrong to use that term, perhaps, but your
remark instigated it! What I should have said is, that I
should as soon think of consulting my servants as Mrs.
WHY NOT?
115
Arlington. She is a paid employée in my establishment,
and has nothing to do with any department but her own!"
"But will she continue to fill that department under the
new arrangement?"
"Why should she not?"
"I don't know. The question simply occurred to me.
Ladies do not always get on very well with each other.'
"Mrs. Arlington will have nothing to do with my wife.
I shall put it to-to-Lily, if she wishes her to continue to
direct the housekeeping. If she does--things will go on as
usual. If she does not-Lola will subside into my secre-
tary only, and my wife will look after her own house.
see no difficulty in the matter.
>>
For mo
"Not from your point of view, perhaps. But women
are difficult creatures to deal with, and I have always
heard that when a bachelor who has kept up an establish-
ment like yours, marries, he generally finds he has to get
rid of the female members of it?"
"Then Lola Arlington may go?" replied Kerrison,
promptly.
"Go" echoed Colonel Escott, in surprise.
(C
Yes; of course she must go! Do you suppose I shall
allow a single creature, male or female, to remain in the
house to annoy my darling? Not a bit of it! I am going
to marry her in order to try and remove the worries and
troubles of life from her path-not to augment them! And
whoever annoys her in the slightest degree, or fails to make
her more comfortable instead of less, must find a home
elsewhere. That is all!"
"I had no idea," said the colonel, in a voice which was
a little shaky on Mrs. Arlington's account, "I had no idea
that you would part with an old and tried friend in so un-
courteous a manner. Think how careful Mrs. Arlington
has been of your comfort-how devoted to your interests.
You would surely not resent a little natural annoyance on
her part by a summary dismissal?"
K
"What right would she have to feel annoyed?'' de-
manded Kerrison, with an uncomfortable recollection of
the avowal she had made to him.
"Only the right of friendship to mourn when it finds it-
self no longer first," replied Escott, sighing.
"That's a hit at me, old fellow, and all the promises I
have made to keep to you, and to you only, to my life's
་
+
116
WHY NOT?
•
end. But you mustn't imagine that my marriage will make
any difference between us. No woman can come between
you and me; you will still be my best friend and chum to
my life's end. Promise me.
""
66
Always your best and truest friend, John, to the day
of your death," replied the colonel, with emotion.
"You
may depend upon it."
މ
ވ
That's right; and all the rest may go hang! I know
you will be charmed with my Lily, and she will soon be as
fond of you as I am. As for Mrs. Arlington, I will speak
to her the first thing in the morning, and she must decide
for herself. If she doesn't care to stay with me as a mar-
ried man I will look out for another secretary; but if she
does stay she must treat my wife with the deference and
attention due to the mistress of my house, or we shall fall
out on that score.
>>
The idea of Lola Arlington treating Lily Power with def-
erence was so incongruous a one, that Colonel Escott did
not stop to contemplate it, but passed on to another sub-
ject:
"When is the marriage to take place, John?"
"At the close of the season. I have already secured a
shooting-box in the Highlands as you know. I shall take
my wife there for the honey-moon, and after a fortnight
you must join us, and we'll have a rare time after the
grouse together.”
66
Thanks, dear old man, but you will be better alone,
and I shall have business to detain me in town."
What business?''
(
Well, I shall have to look out for rooms for myself for
one thing, and the furnishing of them will occupy all my
time."
66
Jem, you are not in earnest!”
"What do you mean, John?”
{
"You will not leave me because I am going to be mar-
ried! You promised, you know, to take up a permanent
abode in my house. I look upon you as a fixture here-in
·fact, I will not part from you.
""
"My dear fellow, that is nonsense! The arrangement
was made under the idea that we were both to remain bach-
elors. Now that you are about to blossom into a married
man, all such promises must come to an end.
What
WHY NOT?
117
would your wife say to having a constant visitor at your
table?"
"My wife will say what I say," insisted Kerrison; "and
I say that you shall not go. Here you are, and here you
remain.”
"It is impossible, John. It would not make me happy.
It will not be the same thing at all. I should feel like an
outsider.' I am quite determined to make a home for
myself.
+6
""
It was the first cloud that had arisen to overshadow Ker-
rison's bright anticipations of the future, and he felt it
deeply. He did not argue the matter further, he did not
even go on smoking, but he put his pipe on one side and
leaned his head despondently on his two hands.
Escott guessed his thoughts, and drew nearer to him.
"Don't worry about it, old fellow," he said, gently.
"It's only what was to be expected in the natural course
of events. I never quite believed that, with your wealth
and popularity, you would keep single forever. I have had
a very happy time of it whilst here, and I shall never for-
get it.
But I shall always be near at hand, and able to
drop in on your disengaged evenings, and smoke a pipe as
we have been doing now."
"It won't be the same thing," echoed Kerrison, wring-
ing his hand.
66
"We will hope it may be something much pleasanter,
said Escott, cheerfully.
"And who knows but one of
these days I may follow your example, and look out for a
wife for myself. Then there will be two good old bachelors
spoiled instead of one."
""
CC
""
"It's all very well to laugh," responded John Kerrison,
irritably; but you
you have made me miserable.
And on the following morning, when he sent word to
Mrs. Arlington to join him in the library, the same idea
was in his mind.
CC
(6
I suppose she will give me warning, too!" he thought,
fiercely, to himself; and then I shall have lost both of
them."
The anticipation made him almost rough in his manner
of announcing the news to her:
"Mrs. Arlington, I have something of importance to
tell you-at least, it may prove of importance in shaping
T
118
WHY NOT?
your plans for the future. I am going to be married to
Miss Power on the tenth of next month."
To say that the woman was surprised is nothing. She
felt as if she had been suddenly turned to stone.
The re-
pulse which she had received at John Kerrison's hands a
month before had only (if possible) inflamed her desire to
conquer him. It had staggered her, but not made her de-
spair. She still trusted in maman's prophecies, and be-
lieved that in time she should win him for herself; and
now he was about to be married-to be lost to her perhaps
forever!
She flushed and paled under the intelligence, and her
body swayed to and fro where she stood; and yet she had
sufficient command over herself to look him full in the
face, and say:
"Indeed, sir!""
(C
Yes, it is true. I should have told you sooner had it
been possible; but it came about at the last rather sudden-
ly, as I suppose such things usually do. Any way, it is a
fact. And now I want to know your wishes on the subject.
My wishes, Mr. Kerrison
>>
66
64 I mean with respect to your situation here. Do you
intend to retain it or not?''
CHAPTER XIX.
MRS. ARLINGTON WOULD RATHER STAY.
LOLA ARLINGTON did not know at first what to answer.
She had reigned in that house like its mistress; she had had
the control of everything. The servants had been retained
or dismissed as she thought proper, and no limit had been
placed on her expenditure or her authority. To remain in
it, therefore, under the rule of Lily Power would be gall
and wormwood to her. And yet how could she part with
him? How could she go forth to seek another home where
she should never hear his voice nor see his face again? The
unfortunte woman, with the blind, unreasoning love of an
animal, which brings no intellect to bear upon and coun-
teract the evil of its grosser nature, believed that she would
kill herself sooner than give up the dangerous pleasure that
formed her daily food. Even if she must resign all hope
of becoming his wife, she would still remain near him, she
-
WHY NOT?
119
thought, and retain her influence over him, and continue
to make herself a necessary adjunct to his life. That his
wife (if she loved him) would he made unhappy by such a
course of action never entered for one moment into the
calculation of Mrs. Arlington. Wives, in her estimation,
were insignificant items, whose happiness (however author
ized) was not to be thought of for a moment in compari-
son with her own. It was herself she considered, and
therefore, notwithstanding her disappointment and chagrin,
she elected to remain. To gain time she repeated John
Kerrison's words:
CC
Do I intend to retain my situation or not? The ques-
tion ràther is, sir, do you intend to retain me ?”
"Of course I do, under-under certain conditions."'
May I inquire what those conditions are?”
66
"You set me an unpleasant task in asking me to repeat
them, but I don't think I need do more than remind you
of a certain confidence that took place between us a month
ago, for your answer.”
Mrs. Arlington's brow grew dark at the allusion, but she
made no comment upon it.
"I suppose, although it may sound egotistical," con-
tinued John Kerrison, "that it is only due to my future
wife and myself that I should tell you, Mrs. Arlington, that
we are very much attached to one another, and that what
hurts her will hurt me. Also, that I expect and intend
her to come into my house as its sole mistress; and although
I do not think she will have any desire to interfere with
your prerogatives, her wishes on all points must be deferred
to as if they were law.
"Of course!" said Mrs. Arlington.
"She possesses a sweet, gentle nature, without any idea
of domineering or tyrannizing, and she has known trouble,
and will be quick, I am sure, to feel for others. But she
will be my wife-the honored head of my household, and
the first thought in my life-therefore, she must be treated
as such by every one who lives under the same roof."
(C
'I expected no less, Mr. Kerrison!”
"And I expected no less of you than a recognition of
her rights, Mrs. Arlington. I was sure you were too sensi-
ble a woman to do anything else. But if-under the cir-
cumstances—you would rather leave me than stay-say
SO."
120
$
-WHY NOT?
"I would rather stay! It would be folly of me to pre-
tend that I shall not somewhat feel the change, but you.
shall not be troubled by any knowledge of it. Let me stay
and be your friend and assistant, as I have been hitherto.
The future Mrs. Kerrison will never receive anything but
the utmost courtesy and deference from me. Only-unless
you find she can better fill the place than myself-let me
still be your secretary-your housekeeper, if it pleases you
both--and I will continue to serve you as faithfully as I
hitherto have done!"
6
Oh! I don't think the future' Mrs. Kerrison, as you
call her, will interfere with either your secretarial or house-
wifely duties," replied John, softly laughing to himself.
"She is a tender flower like her name, who has consented
to bloom in my garden for the rest of her days. She is too
delicate for work of any kind, and should never had been
set to rough it in the world. But we shall soon remedy all
that! On the tenth of next month, then, Mrs. Arlington,
my house will have a mistress. Please make the fact
known in the servants' hall; it will save me an infinity of
trouble. Good-morning!"
"Are you not going to work to-day, Mr. Kerrison?"
"Well, no! I think not!" he said, rather confusedly.
"The fact is, I am not much in the humor for work just
now (as you may suppose), and there will be plenty of time.
for it when I have settled down. I am going to Greenwich,
and may not return to dinner. In which case, make my
apologies to Colonel Escott. I suppose you have nothing
more to say to me?" he continued, moving toward the
door.
66
Nothing, Mr. Kerrison."
}
He nodded carelessly to her in reply, and passed from.
the room, leaving her standing by the table with an expres-
sion on her face which was not pleasant to behold. Her
hand too, as it hung down by her side, was clinched with
anger, and the eyes that followed his retreating form were
dark and vindictive.
John Kerrison would have reason yet to remember the day
when he told Lola Arlington that he was going to marry
Lily Power.
WHY NOT?.
121
CHAPTER XX.
AT APPLESCOURT.
THE season was over. The theaters were closing one
after the other, and London streets looked empty. Every
one who had enough money to leave town had rushed away
to the sea-side or the country trying to shake off the defile-
ment of dust and the enervating effects of languid days and
heavy nights in the breezes from the Channel or the fresh
luxuriance of the woods and fields.
Applescourt, situated in the heart of Surrey, was in its
summer glory. It was an ideal estate for a gentleman of
independent means, owning a park, and a wood, and a lake,
with an extensive flower-garden, and just sufficient farm
and poultry-yard to supply the wants of the family.
Mrs. Fielding, to whom the property belonged in her
own right, was very proud of it, and boasted of possessing
the finest flower-garden, the longest line of hot-houses, and
the best gardener in England. Reynolds (as this last-
named functionary was called) was always well to the front
at every horticultural show, and had a row of prize silver
cups upon his sideboard that were the envy of the neigh-
bors. His mistress was as great an enthusiast as himself,
and almost spent her life amongst her flowers. Indeed it
was the general opinion of the country-side that Mrs.
Fielding only cared for two things in the world-her garden
and her son-and no one was quite sure which she loved
best.
-
If she was a good mother to Esmé she was certainly not
a pleasant one, for she tried to rule him with a rod of iron.
He was her only child, and she had been left a widow at
nineteen, with nothing but her little boy to comfort her.
She had been deeply attached to her husband. She had
married him, being a great heiress and he a poor man,
against the wishes of all her friends; she had regretted but
one thing that he had died and left her to enjoy her riches
by herself. Nothing, however, would induce her to part
from their son.
Until the days of infancy were over, Esmé had slept in
her bosom all night, and been her constant companion by
122
WHY NOT?
X
day. As he grew older, her friends entreated her to send
him to a public school and make a man of him. But Mrs.
Fielding insisted on having a private tutor for him instead.
She brought him up to no profession. Her only wish was
to educate him to be a companion for herself, and a fitting
inheritor of her property when she should be gone.
Meanwhile the youth moped and became discontented
with his lot, and fell into mischief for the want of some-
thing to do. The doctors, probably instigated by young
Esmé's relations, recommended travel and change of scene,
and most unwillingly Mrs. Fielding gave her consent to
his going abroad for a twelvemonth with his tutor. This
had happened about three years ago. Meantime his moth-
er, feeling lonely in his absence and missing the presence of
youth in the house, had secured the services of a young girl
as companion, and imprudently retained them after her
son's return. The usual consequences ensued. The girl
- was pretty and innocent-the boy impressionable.
In an evil moment Mrs. Fielding discovered that the two
young people had plighted their troth to one another, and
exchanged rings.
-
In her blind rage and mortification she even thought she
had discovered much more; and the idea that Esmé had
dared to free himself from her leading-strings, and choose
his own path in life, drove her frantic.
She was a woman of a violent temper, and it had never
been crossed before. She called her son and her companion
to appear in judgment before her, and accused them of a
mutual affection.
They could not deny it. They even went so far as to
appeal to her sense of justice and mercy; and led away by
her anger at their apparent opposition, she commanded
Esmé to choose at once and forever between herself and the
girl he professed to love.
The young man was taken aback. He did not know what
to do. To give up his mother, who had been everything
to him from his birth, was an impossibility. Yet it seemed
equally impossible to desert the trembling girl he had been
the means of bringing into this trouble. He tried to tem-
porize in vain; he appealed to his mother's affection for
him with no better effect. Mis. Fielding was adamant. He
must relinquish her society, and all hopes of inheriting her
J
WHY NOT?
123
property-or this low-born girl whom he had chosen to de-
grade himself by associating with.
It was an awful moment for Esmé-one of those eras in
a man's existence when it seems impossible for him to act
kindly and honorably by all. He had a hard struggle with
himself, but, when it ended, his choice had fallen on his
mother's side, and Mrs. Fielding was triumphant.
But she could not let the matter rest there. She drove
the poor girl (who had been the cause of her trouble) from
the gates of Applescourt, with such revilings and innuendoes
as robbed her of her reputation forever.
And then, when, frightened, trembling, and in tears,
the poor young creaure had fled from her sight, Mrs. Field-
ing turned her attention to consoling her son.
But this
proved to be no easy matter. Esmé either sulked, or sor-
rowed so much, that his mother found very little pleasure
in his society.
xy"
At last he startled her by a demand for an allowance ·
adequate to his position. He was then of age, and con-
sidered, as he had no profession, that it was only due to
him.
Mrs. Fielding felt this circumstance bitterly. It was the
first effort Esmé had made to break the chain that linked
him to Applescourt, and she feared lest, once free, he
might fly away altogether.
But when she consulted her friends on the subject they
advised her to comply with her son's request, or to antici-
pate worse consequences. He would run away to sea, or to
Australia, they said, if she did not lengthen his tether.
So, much against her will, Mrs. Fielding agreed to give
him five hundred a year as a private allowance, and the
usual result ensued.
Esmé spent more than half his time away from Apples-
court, and only returned there when he had exhausted his
revenue. He was at home at present, however, and his
mother was content.
She thought he looked ill and pale, but he gave no ac-
count of his doings, and only attributed his appearance to
the unusual heat of the London season.
He never mentioned the rupture of his youthful attach-
ment to Mrs. Fielding, and she often wondered if he had
met that disreputable girl again, or if he were in communi-
124
WHY NOT?
cation with her. She would have liked to question him,
but she dared not.
It was two years now since it occurred, and Esmé had
advanced to manhood with rapid strides, and bore a look
upon his handsome face so like his father, that she felt
sometimes just a little afraid of displeasing him; so the
matter appeared to be sunk in oblivion.
•
They were sitting at breakfast one morning together, in
a pleasant, lazy sort of way, skimming their letters and
newspapers as they eat and drank. It was burning hot in
London at the time, where the August sun was streaming
down on bricks and tiles that had not yet cooled from the
day before; but here at Applescourt, although the land was
flooded with light, a cool breeze was rustling through the
pine woods, and wafting perfume on its wings as it gently
lifted the paper that Mrs. Fielding was trying to decipher.
"What a string of marriages!" she remarked presently.
"It seems as though people purposely delayed their wed-
ding-day until they were ready to leave London, in order
to make one journey serve both purposes.
}
""
M
"And very sensible too," yawned Esmé.
"There's
quite enough to do in the season without having to marry
any one!--such a bore as it must be at any time!"
Mrs. Fielding laughed at his nonchalance. It seemed as
if he had quite got over his youthful folly for the dismissed
companion.
66 What is the name of the man with whom Colonel Es-
cott is living?" she asked presently.
"John Kerrison."
"Then he is married. Listen here: On the tenth of
August that was last Thursday-at All Saints', Bays-
water, John Kerrison, of 302 Hyde Park Gardens, to Lily
Power."
"To whom?" cried Esmé, suddenly leaving his seat,
and crossing over to her side.
މ
"Lily Power. Who is she? Do you know her?"
"Where is the paragraph?" he asked, as he took the
paper from her hands.
Women are very sharp in all matters connected with the
heart. Esmé spoke low, and tried hard not to let his voice
tremble; but Mrs. Fielding detected the effort at once, and
looked up quickly in his face. It was paler than it had
1
WHY NOT?
been, and his dark, straight brows were knitted together.
Her suspicions were aroused at once.
"I have read it out to you! There is nothing more to
see," she said, sharply.
But he took no notice of the remark.
125
"Well," continued Mrs. Fielding, after a pause, "why
don't you answer my question? Do you know this Lily
Power, that you appear so interested in the marriage?"
"I know Mr. Kerrison," he replied, evasively; "is not
that enough? And I am surprised my godfather never
told me he was going to be married; it is most unexpected!
In fact, the only time the subject was mooted before me,
it was to hear it emphatically contradicted!"
66 Who contradicted it?"
CC
"Mrs. Arlington-Mr. Kerrison's lady-secretary."
And did you meet this Lily Power there?"
Yes; I met her there.”
"Esmé, what is the matter with you this morning? You
don't mean to tell me that the mere fact of this woman
bearing that girl's name has the power to affect you? You
are not so weak and foolish, surely, as to be hankering after
that old business still?'
(6
ލ
At this allusion Esmé Fielding flushed darkly red.
66
C
Mother, that old business, as you call it, took place
two years ago, and I have never spoken to you of it from
that day to this. I don't recognize your right, therefore,
to rake it up again.
"
"You may not have spoken of it, but you have often
thought of it; and that you can not deny.
""
61
I have no wish to deny it. I shall think of it to the
day of my death!"
"Esmé, I am ashamed of you! I thought you had more
pride! An ill-bred, presuming girl-"
"Mother! if you don't stop I shall say something you
will be sorry to hear; for if I have not spoken of that time
to you, it is because I have been too angry to trust myself
to speak of it! Did you imagine that my silence meant ap-
proval? That because I was too foolish, or too cowardly,
to stand up in the defense of Lily Prescott, as I should
have done, I had no eyes for your injustice to her--no in-
dignation for your unwomanly taunts and threats? If so,
you are marvelously mistaken! I have thought of her con-
stantly! I have never forgotten that degrading day when
1
126
WHY NOT?
you turned the poor child out of Applescourt without a
name, a character, or a friend! Whatever has become of
her since-whether she is an honored wife, or has joined
that unhappy company that nightly haunts our streets, her
fate lies at your door! Her blood is on your hands! If you
have any wish to retain my affection or respect, don't men-
tion the name of Lily Prescott to me, for it is the shame
and mortification of my life!"'
Mrs. Fielding was astonished at this outburst. Her son
had been so reticent hitherto, that she was quite unprepared
for it, and guessed at once that it must have been caused
by some later incident than the one he alluded to. Was it
possible that these two Lilys were the same? And yet how
could Mr. John Kerrison have committed the folly of
marrying an outcast?
66
-
'Don't attempt to deceive me!" she exclaimed, with
true feminine tact, assuming that to be true of which she
needed the assurance, "you have met that girl again, and
it is useless denying it."
66
66
Why should I deny it?" he returned. 'I am my own
master."
66
66
(C So you take good care to let me know!" said his moth-
er, bitterly. But you would do well to remember that
your allowance can be withdrawn at my pleasure, and that
I am at liberty to leave my property to whom I think fit."
Oh! take back your allowance, then, and leave your
money to the butler, if it pleases you!" exclaimed Esmé,
for I am weary of these constant threats; or, rather,
since it is my misfortune to be dependent on you, let me
draw a year's allowance in advance, and I will go out to
Australia or America, and rid you of my presence forever!
I am sick of England, and everything in it, and wish for no
better fate than to lose myself and my identity in a new
66
world!""
"He has seen that girl, and she is beyond his reach,"
thought Mrs. Fielding, sagely. "I shouldn't be in the
least surprised to find it is she who has entrapped poor Mr.
Kerrison; she was artful enough for anything! I shall
make it my duty to discover, for I will not let Esmé fall
into her clutches a second time. If this is not Lily Pres-
cott under an assumed name, why should he be so upset at
reading of the marriage? There's more here than meets
the eye.
""
WHY NOT?
127
As she pondered thus behind the shelter of the newspaper
--she was too agitated to read-Esmé was gnawing his
heart out on the opposite side of the table.
"Married!" he thought-" married, and gone beyond
my reach forever! How mad I was to speak to her as I
did! My action must have determined her fate!"
He did not address his mother again, but, rising present-
ly, took out his cigar-case and prepared to pass through the
French windows into the garden.
Mrs. Fielding became afraid she had gone too far; she
crossed the room to her son's side, and, standing on tiptoe,
kissed him on the forehead.
"We won't talk about Australia just yet, my boy," she
said, kindly; " you know you can have double your present
allowance, if it is not sufficient, and that all my real desire
is for your happiness. If we don't always quite agree on
what will further it, you must ascribe my different views to
a mother's anxiety. You are all I have, Esmé; I could
not part with you; but don't let us broach this subject
again, my dear. It can lead to nothing but unhappiness;
let it be dropped between us henceforth, and forever."
She was very careful to make no further allusion to Mr.
Kerrison's inarriage, or the lady who had denied its possi-
bility; but she had forgotten neither of them nevertheless,
and she fully intended to carry out her plan of discovery.
Colonel Escott and she were naturally friends, and through
him she would be able to find out all she wished; but she
knew the only way to lull Esmé's suspicions regarding her
actions was to pretend that the painful subject was closed
between them forever.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE UNEXPECTED VISITOR.
WHILST this little episode was occurring between Esmé
Fielding and his mother at Applescourt, Colonel Escott and
Mrs. Arlington had much need of mutual comfort in Lon-
don.
PH
The marriage-a quiet affair, at which no one but the
principal actors concerned were present-was over.
John Kerrison had seen such long faces pulled each time
the subject was alluded to, and Lily Power shrunk so pal-
{
128
WHY NOT?
pably from publicity, that between his dread of ridicule,
and her dread of criticism, they had walked into church one
morning by themselves, and emerged thence as man and
wife. For the same reason Mr. Kerrison had not been
able to persuade Miss Power to re-enter the house, of which
she was so soon to be the mistress, so that the inmates had
not seen her since the day of the dinner-party; and a letter,
which the bridegroom posted to Escott the day of the
wedding, as they were starting for the Highlands, was the
first intimation the household received that their master
was married. It was written in John's usual affectionate
style, yet the colonel did not feel much the happier for its
reception.
Dear old chum," he said, you must join us as soon
as ever you can, for I shall not begin to enjoy myself until
you arrive.
Don't be afraid that we shall bore you by an
exhibition of conjugal bliss. Lily is the most sensible
woman I ever met, and agrees with me that such things are
best kept for privacy. The land-agent at Glencara writes
me word the birds are very plentiful this season, and there
is room for six guns on the little preserve. If you come
-which of course you will-I shall ask Chantrell to join
us, and then you will be always sure of a companion. "Or
would you prefer to bring young Fielding? Do just as you
please, old man; only come as soon after the twentieth as
you can.
""
M
66
But Escott would not go. He did not doubt the sincerity
of Kerrison's invitation, but he had no heart to accept it.
"John must give me a little more time to become recon-
ciled to the idea of his being a married man," he said in
confidence to Mrs. Arlington, as they sat at dinner together.
"It is stupid of me, I suppose, but I can not realize it.
He has always been the embodiment of freedom to me. It
seems so impossible to picture him tied to a woman's apron-
string-perhaps to the couch of a sickly woman, for she
looks anything but healthy to me-and obliged to give up
his bachelor dinners, and come home early and play pro-
priety. I feel as if he would not be the same Jolin I have
known. And (if I am not mistaken, Mrs. Arlington) you
think much as I do.”
މ
For Lola Arlington had been unusually grave and quiet
since the reception of the news, although her heart was
thirsting to find out some means of revenge.
{
WHY NOT?
129
You are quite right, colonel," she answered, with a
sigh. "Of course it is not my part to criticise any action
of Mr. Kerrison's, but-I speak to you in the strictest con-
fidence-I can not help thinking this marriage is very ill-
advised. I have thought so from the beginning. I don't
know that, under any circumstances, Mr. Kerrison would
be happy as a married man, but he should at least have
united himself to some one in the same position of life."
"Miss Power is a lady," rejoined Escott, quickly; "at
least, I have always understood so."
Oh! I dare say she says so, colonel, but I don't know
what means Mr. Kerrison has taken to ascertain the truth.
She has never-produced any of her relations. He is not
even aware if the name she goes by is her own.
"I think John must have made sure of that!" said her
companion, uneasily. "But it certainly seems very strange
that we have heard nothing of her family. She is bound
to have kinsmen somewhere. And this exceedingly private
marriage-almost a secret marriage-too! I am sorry Ker-
rison agreed to it. It may make ill-natured people fancy
there is something wrong.
"
"
66
"They're sure to say that," replied Mrs. Arlington, with
a dubious laugh; and I am afraid poor Mr. Kerrison will
find he has laid up trouble for himself. However, it is
done now, and no one can help him. But I suppose you
will join them after a time, Colonel Escott? It will do
you good to have a little change, and there is no saying how
soon your friend may require the comfort of your pres-
"
ence.
“I have no intention of doing so," said the colonel, with
a tender glance beaming from his blue eyes.
"London-
whilst you are here is quite good enough for me, and
leaves me no desire for change. If John had proposed to
ask you to Glencara to be my companion, instead of Chan-
trell, it might have formed an inducement for me to alter
my plans. As it is, there is none.
It will be seen by these words that the pledge of friend-
ship entered into by Colonel Escott and Mrs. Arlington on
a certain Sunday evening, some time before, had been more
than redeemed. Indeed, in the infatuated woman's desire
to pique John Kerrison, by an affectation of interest in his
friend, she had said and listened to a great deal more on
5
1
J
130
WHY NOT?
the part of the latter than she had at first intended, and
did not see the way open for her to draw back.
"And what are your plans!" she answered, smiling.
"If I thought there was any chance of your being in the
same place, I should run down for a few weeks to the sea-
side, but I suppose there is not?" said the colonel, wistfully.
"My dear colonel, what are you thinking of? What
would become of the house and the servants if I were away?
Oh no! there is no hope of my having a holiday this year.
Here I remain until our people return.
"
66
Then I shall do the same," replied Escott-" that is,
I shall stay in London. I have seen a cozy set of chambers
near the Marble Arch, which will just suit me, and it will
take me some time to fit them up according to my fancy.
I am a regular old bachelor, Mrs. Arlington, as you must
have found out by this time-fussy and fidgety to a degree
—and I shall want everything about me to be very nice.
Will you give me the benefit of your taste in furnishing?
It will be so very kind of you, and I shall value my things
twice as much if they have met with your approval.
""
"Of course I will give you all the assistance in my
power, colonel," said Lola, bashfully. "Although I shall
be dreadfully sorry to see you go away, and the house will
seem empty to me after your departure.
CC
މ
.
My dear girl," cried Escott, getting hold of one of her
hands, “how I wish I could persuade you to come and
keep house for me! What a happy little home we might
make for ourselves together! I am not rich, it is true;
but I have enough for comfort and But there-I suppose
it is of no use trying to tempt you to leave Kerrison!"
He dropped her hand again as he concluded, and she
avoided the question in his eyes by professing to arrange
the lace on her bosom.
Leave Kerrison indeed! If the simple colonel could have
looked into her heart he would have read how hopeless such
an attempt would be.
"My dear colonel, I feel so flattered by your suggestion;
but you must know the plan is impossible. Whatever
would people say if I left Mr. Kerrison's service to go and
keep house for you? You forget that I am a poor unpro-
tected woman, with nothing but my character to earn a liv-
ing by."
(
Forgive me. It was a stupid thing for me to say, but
"?
WHY NOT?
131
The
I hope you did not misunderstand my meaning.
highest lady in the land could not receive more honor than
I should pay to you; but my tiny menage would necessarily
afford no scope for the exercise of your domestic talents."
"If it is so tiny I dare say I shall be able to manage
them both," said Mrs. Arlington, gayly; "and having
ordered Mr. Kerrison's dinner here, run over to give an
eye to the cleaning of your furniture there."
ވ
"Is that a promise?" exclaimed the colonel, eagerly.
May I really hope that you will sometimes brighten my
rooms with your presence, and cheer up a lonely old
bachelor with your charming_talk? For I shall be really
Ionely, Mrs. Arlington, when I leave you."
CC
66
'And do you suppose I shall not feel the same?” she
answered, dropping her eyes.
He seized her hand again, pressed it, and released it with
a sigh. Then-as if he dared not trust himself longer in
her presence-he turned from her suddenly, and left the
room.
Lola Arlington looked after him with a smile of derision
upon her countenance.
In consequence of this conversation the next day's post
conveyed a letter of hearty congratulation to the newly-
married pair in the Highlands, but a decided refusal to
visit Glencara. And for the next fortnight Colonel Escott
and Mrs. Arlington might have been met in diverse places,
with their heads close together in earnest consultation over
the various merits of inky-blue or terra-cotta; over silks
and stuffs, or wall-papers.
Every article of furniture for the new chambers was
chosen according to the taste of Lola Arlington, or made
up under her direction; and bystanders, who only watched
the game, would have been puzzled to know with what ob-
ject (Mr. Kerrison being out of her reach) this woman toiled
to keep herself on good terms with Colonel Escott. But
she never did anything without a purpose. She saw, in
this honest, simple gentleman, a tool ready made to her
hands for the future, and that it was to her advantage to
keep him in the dark with regard to her real feelings.
What pain he might suffer in consequence never troubled
her mind for a moment. She thought only of herself and
her own benefit. She saw that he was kind-hearted and
132
WHY NOT?
-
susceptible, and greatly admired her, and trusted, by play-
ing on his feelings, to secure a friend for the hour of need.
Things were in this position one day toward the end of
August when she returned home hot, tired, and dusty, to
be informed that a lady was in the drawing-room, waiting
to see her.
Mrs. Arlington's first impulse was to deny herself to the
visitor. She had been standing about all day choosing car-
pets and curtains, and fatigued herself too much even to
do justice to the luncheon which the colonel had gallantly
provided for her afterward. Besides, she knew of no lady
whom it would be to her interest to receive. She was not
a woman to make friends with her own sex-as a rule she
detested them; and the few female guests John Kerrison
invited to his house were not in the habit of calling on
Mrs. Arlington afterward. Yet the footman informed her
that the visitor had asked for her distinctly by name, and
been waiting for more than half an hour to see her. She
therefore concluded it was her duty to inquire at least what
she wanted. As she entered the drawing-room a tall, thin,
dark woman, fastidiously attired, rose from the sofa and
bowed to her.
"Mrs. Arlington, I presume?"
"That is my name, madame. Perhaps you are not
aware that Mr. Kerrison is absent from home, and will
not return for another month."
"It is you I called to see, and not Mr. Kerrison," replied
the visitor; "for although I know him very well by name,
I am not personally acquainted with him. I am Mrs.
Fielding, the mother of Mr. Esmé Fielding, whom you may
have seen here.”
"Have I really the pleasure of speaking to Mrs. Field-
ing?" cried Lola, her interest in the stranger immediately
aroused. How sorry
I am, madame, to think that you
should have been kept waiting. But it was unavoidable.
I have been out all day choosing furniture for Colonel Es-
cott; and he is away too. I regret to say he is about to
leave us on account of Mr. Kerrison's marriage, of which
doubtless you have heard. I am afraid it will be a terrible
break up for us all. And of course you want to see the
colonel?"
CC
66
No, Mrs. Arlington (as I said before) I have come up
to London from Applescourt this morning expressly to see
WHY NOT?
133
you. I have a strong motive, as you may imagine-one
known only to myself. And I should not venture to place
so much confidence in a stranger if my son Esmé had not
mentioned your kindness to him in glowing terms to me.
"".
"Mr. Esmé Fielding is too good," murmured Mrs.
Arlington. "I have often seen him here; but I can not
recall any occasion on which I have been enabled to show
him more than ordinary civility. But will you not remove
your walking-things, and allow me to offer you some re-
freshment? Traveling on such a day must have greatly
fatigued you. I should advise a little rest and a cup of tea.
before you honor me with the confidence you have alluded
to."
This was just what Mrs. Fielding desired. She was not
prepared to make a full disclosure of her reason for visit-
ing London at once. She wanted to beat about the bush.
and feel her way a little before she opened fire. And Mrs.
Arlington was just of the same mind. Whatever Esmé's
mother had come to find out, she would have to show her
hand more openly before she obtained any satisfactory in-
formation. They were well matched to sit down and play
a game of speculation together.
CHAPTER XXII.
CC SHE WAS A LILY TOO!"
AT last, when they were rested and refreshed, and had
mutually paid various compliments, and practiced a little
light skirmishing, after the manner of women who intend
to worm out each other's secrets, Mrs. Arlington led Mrs.
Fielding into Colonel Escott's sanctum, and seated her in
a luxurious arm-chair near the open window.
"Here, my dear madame," she said, suavely, "we shall
be secure from interruption, and as comfortable, I think,
as this unpleasantly warm weather will permit us to be.
This was poor Colonel Escott's sitting-room. I little
thought when I superintended its arrangement, on his re-
turn from India last May, that he would give it up so-
soon.
""
ވ
"It is a charming little apartment," replied Mrs. Field-
ing, looking round her, "and furnished in exquisite taste.
But why do you sigh, Mrs. Arlington, when you speak of
A
131
WHY NOT?
Colonel Escott? Is it not his own choice to leave Mr. Ker-
rison's house?”,
"Yes, madame, it is certainly, for nothing would induce.
him to remain. But he feels it acutely for all that. You
see, Mr. Kerrison and he always intended to remain single,
and live together to the end of their lives. And so they
would have done had this-this-lady not unfortunately
come in the way!"'
His marriage was a sudden arrangement, then, on the
part of Mr. Kerrison?""
66
Very sudden! I don't think he had known her for
more than a couple of months!''
"And who is she, Mrs. Arlington?"
:6
I can not tell you, madame, for I do not know!"
"But to what branch of the Power family does she be-
long? It's an Irish name. You must have seen some of
her relations?"
(6
No! we never saw any of them."
"Not at the wedding?"
CC
The wedding took place privately. Even Colonel Es-
cott and I heard nothing of it until it was over!''
"Dear me! That is very extraordinary!" said Mrs.
Fielding. "And with a man of Mr. Kerrison's fame and
popularity too! What is the young lady like? Is she very
beautiful?"
You might call her so," replied Mrs. Arlington, care-
lessly. "She is tall and thin, with a pale complexion,
colorless hair, and washed-out eyes. She impresses me with
the idea of consumption; but tastes differ. I suppose Mr.
Kerrison considers her perfection. I have heard him say
she is the personification of her name, Lily."
Mrs. Fielding's eyes had twinkled brightly at Mrs.
Arlington's description of the bride, but she only remarked,
demurely:
(C
Lily is not a common name!"
"It is a striking one. Perhaps Miss Power-Mrs. Ker-
rison, I should say-adopted it for the purposes of the
stage.
Was she on the stage, Mrs. Arlington? How shock-
ing!"
She was indeed! She appeared in London first in Mr.
Kerrison's play, ' Miss Credo. That is how they met. A
great misfortune, I am afraid; but it is no use regretting
WHY NOT?
135
it. And all this time we are neglecting the object of your
visit, Mrs. Fielding. I am quite anxious to learn in what
way I can be of assistance to you.
Mrs. Fielding's eyes were still twinkling with the light of
success, but she pretended to be struggling with her diffi-
culty.
"C
""
Well, my dear Mrs. Arlington, I feel more diffident as
I approach the subject, and less certain that I shall not be
worrying you to no purpose; but it was a word or two
dropped by Esmé that brought me here. At the same
time, as the opinions of mothers and sons do not always
agree, may I first claim your kind promise to keep my visit
and its design a secret?"
"Oh, certainly!"' cried Lola Arlington, who would have.
promised anything to get at the truth.
The fact is, that some time ago I had a girl at Apples-
court who turned out very badly. I had engaged her as a
companion for myself, having no daughter, whilst my som
was abroad. But on his return to England, this girl laid
herself out deliberately to entrap the poor boy, and did
so far succeed as to cover herself with disgrace, and necessi-
tate my sending her away without warning or character.
So far my story is a common one. Such unpleasantnesses
happen, I fancy, in most families.”’
(6
They certainly do happen-sometimes," acquiesced
Mrs. Arlington, cautiously.
ފ
"Naturally I was very anxious that, once separated,
these young people should not meet again. My son Esmé
is my only child, Mrs. Arlington. He comes of a high
family on both sides, and he is the sole heir to all my
property. You may judge, then, how much I desire that,
when he marries it shall be according to my wishes, and
some one of whom I can entirely approve. And yet I can
not help fearing that he still hankers after this wretched
creature, Lily Prescott.'
66
She was a Lily too!" exclaimed Mrs. Arlington, in-
voluntarily.
CC
Yes; that is perhaps why the name of the bride struck
me as unpleasantly familiar; and, strange to say, Mrs.
Arlington, your description of Mrs. Kerrison tallies won-
derfully with that of Miss Prescott. You noticed, perhaps,
my surprise when you mentioned her appearance. I have
a bad habit of betraying my feelings. Though, of course,
The

136
it can only be a chance resemblance. We meet many peo-
ple as we pass through this world-perfect strangers to each
other-who might be taken for relations. But I have Lily
Prsecott's photograph with me," fumbling in her pocket
as she spoke. It was taken when I believed she was a
girl to be trusted, and I found it in one of my drawers
yesterday, and brought it up to see if you could recognize
it!"
WHY NOT?
CHAPTER XXIII.
I MAY CLAIM MY REWARD."
IN making her last observation Mrs. Fielding played a
wrong card, and was made to acknowledge the error with-
out delay. Mrs. Arlington drew herself up stiffly, and
inquired:
"How can I possibly recognize a person I have never
seen, Mrs. Fielding? The name of Prescott is quite un-
familiar to me. I do not remember to have heard it be-
fore. Did any one tell you that I had?”
Mrs. Fielding saw she had put her on her guard. She
could have bitten out her tongue the next minute for doing
ît, but it was too late to rectify the error. So she stam-
mered, lamely:
66
Well, to tell you the truth, dear Mrs. Arlington, Esmé
did (in speaking of his London friends to me) so nearly
reveal that he had met Lily Prescott again, that I have
been puzzling my brains ever since to think where it could
have happened, and determined to come up and ask your
advice. You see it might have been anywhere, and know-
ing Mr. Kerrison received so many young ladies from the
theaters and such-like places, I thought it might have been
here. And-now let me make a friend of you, dear
madame, and tell you everything-I would give hundreds to
prevent Esmé meeting this girl again. She is thoroughly
bad and unprincipled, and-you will forgive a mother's
anxiety for her only son-she is not a fit associate for any
young man. And I thought perhaps if it were here he
had met her-I should be doing a kindness also to you
(who have been so kind to my dear boy) by putting you on
your guard against her."
But Mrs. Fielding had done more-she had put Mrs.
ن
:
3 #
WHY NOT?
137
Arlington on guard against herself. The fair Lola had
taken in the situation at a glance. If her rival should prove
to be the disgraced Lily Prescott under an assumed name,
she held the game in her own hands, to be played as suited
her convenience. And she meant to have no partner in it.
It was to be a game of solitaire. All she needed for her
purpose was to see the photograph.
66
I can not thank you sufficiently for your kind interest
in me, Mrs. Fielding," she answered, sweetly;
"but I
hardly think I shall be able to help you. Is Miss Prescott.
on the stage?"
CC
I have heard nothing of her since she left my service.
She disgraced herself too terribly for me, to wish to hear
anything. But she may be for aught I know to the con--
trary."
"C
Perhaps the photograph will help
Arlington, lightly.
us," said Mrs.
Mrs. Fielding placed it in her hands. Yes, there was no
doubt about it. It was the likeness of Lily Power!
She had been less thin in those youthful days. The face
was rounder-the smile more content; but the girl who
stood for that picture was the same girl John Kerrison had
made his wife. And yet Mrs. Arlington gazed at it, with-
out the least sign of recognition on her countenance.
"It is a pretty face," she remarked,
she remarked, presently; "and
the young lady must have been very youthful when it was
taken.''
"You do not recognize it, then?" inquired Mrs. Field-
ing, anxiously.
Lola Arlington looked up at her with open eyes.
66
Recognize it! How could I? I told you I had never
even heard the name before.
""
..
But people change their names occasionally and I am
sure she had every reason to change hers.
mind you of anybody you have seen?"
Does it not re-
Mrs. Arlington shook her head determinately.
"No one.
But if your heart is very much bent on dis-
covering if Mr. Esmé Fielding is still in communication
with this young lady, I might be able to help you in my
poor way.
"
66
I shall be everlastingly grateful to you if you will.
But how shall you set about it?"
66
Ah, that is my secret, Mrs. Fielding!" cried the other,
J
138
WHY NOT?
I
laughing; "and you must not ask me to divulge it. Only
leave me the photograph for a few weeks, and you shall
have the first intimation of any discovery I may make."
"You will not show it to my son, or tell him of my visit-
ing you?" said the mother, fearfully.
Mrs. Fielding! am I a woman? Please credit me with
a little more finesse and tact than that amounts to. Of
-course I shall not allude to the subject by so much as the
merest hint before Mr. Fielding. But I may tell you one
thing-he has already gone so far as to confide in me that
there is a young lady in London whose address he is anxious
to discover. But this was months
But this was months ago; he may have found
her out before now. ""
"I am sure he has!" cried Mrs. Fielding, clasping her
hands. “If you had seen his change of manner the other
morning, when I read out to him the announcement of Mr.
Kerrison's marriage, you would have divined at once there
was something wrong. Indeed, it was that which excited
my suspicions. I could not help suspecting-you must
promise me never to mention this again, but I could not
help believing-that Miss Lily Power and Lily Prescott
were one and the same person; but I should not dare to say
so to any one but yourself.
""
Mrs. Arlington's sense of the ludicrous was so tickled by
this idea that her mirth was positively infectious.
"Oh! dear. Oh! dear!" she gasped.
"What would
poor dear Mr. Kerrison say to such a notion? I believe
he would kill you, or me, or Mr. Esmé Fielding! The Lily
Bride, a disgraced companion! My dear madame, pray-
pray never speak of such doubt again. You must have
been utterly and completely led away by your imagination.
Mrs. John Kerrison is an elegant, stately young person,
who has never stooped to service, or had the least slur upon
her character. You must put this ridiculous fancy out of
your head, once and forever.
""
66
Mrs. Fielding was a lady of much importance in her own
estimation, and did not at all relish being called ridicu-
lous" by a housekeeper. But when we have placed our-
selves in the wrong, we are apt to be compelled to swallow
humble pie. The mistress of Applescourt had to do so on
this occasion, and join in the laugh against herself.
6 C
"I am really ashamed to think I should have made such
a ludicrous mistake," she faltered, "but you must ascribe
WHY NOT?
139
it entirely to my solicitude about my son. I know how ob-
stinate young men are, and that the very opposition they
encounter makes their wishes appear ten times more desir-
able to them. I would give,
I would give," she continued presently-for
she could not divest her mind of the idea that Mrs. Arling-
ton knew more than she chose to divulge-"I would give
any one a hundred pounds who would bring me undeniable:
proofs that Lily Prescott is dead, or married.
(C The first will be the safer assurance to receive of the
two," replied Lola Arlington.. "Well, Mrs. Fielding, I
will keep my eyes open on your behalf, and perhaps some
day I may come and claim my reward. Meanwhile-""
66
Meanwhile, if you ever come across her under any cir-
cumstances, keep my dear Esmé, at all risks, out of her
sight."
(C
MA
Ah! now, my dear madame, you set me a task beyond
my powers, for, believe me, I have no influence whatever
with Mr. Fielding. His godfather, who is really fond of
him, would be a far better person to apply to."
66
rs
Ah! no," exclaimed Mrs. Fielding with a shudder
"Colonel Escott is too good and unworldly for my pur-
pose. He would advise my boy to marry the girl, what-
ever came of it. He holds those old-fashioned ideas of love
and honor, which are very estimable, no doubt, but quite
unfitted to assist a young man to make his way through
the world."
"He is a truly good man," said Mrs. Arlington, with
one of those sudden convictions which are borne in occasion-
ally on every soul, however low it may have sunk in wick-
edness.
66
--
Oh, certainly! But in a case like this we want tact,
and not virtue; and it is to your tact, Mrs. Arlington, that
I look for assistance in my extremity."
"I will do my best for you," repeated the younger
woman, as she pocketed the photograph and lay back in her
chair, as though to intimate the subject was exhausted.
But long after Mrs. Fielding had returned to Apples-
court Lola Arlington sat there, with her full, dark eyes
turned up to the evening sky, and tried to think out the
mystery.
There was no doubt of one thing-Lily Prescott, the dis-
charged and disgraced companion of Mrs. Fielding, and
Lily Power, the wife of the most popular dramatist of the
140
WHY NOT?
day, and the mistress of the house she sat in, were one and
the same person. So far all was plain; and Esmé Fielding
had been the lover of Lily Prescott, and was the lover of
Lily Kerrison. So much she had gleaned from maman's
prophecies and his own admissions; and she loved Kerrison
with all her heart and soul, and would give her life to see
her rival exposed and cast out upon the world again! But
how to manage it without bringing down the wrath of the
outraged husband on her devoted head?
Here was a pretty mystery!-an intricate game of chance!
But life to Lola Arlington was composed of such intrigues;
she cared for nothing else.
CHAPTER XXIV.
66 'I DON'T LIKE HIM. ""
It is difficult to analyze the motive that made Lily Power
accept so readily the hand of John Kerrison. It was cer-
tainly not from avarice or ambition. No girl loved money
less, or the luxuries that money can procure us.
one had a humbler mind, or shrunk more from publicity
And no
than she did.
Not that she was unintelligent, or ignorant of her own
powers. On the contrary, she had proved herself to be a
very capable artist; and her ideas and opinions, when on
serious subjects, astonished John Kerrison himself. He
had never supposed so young a woman to be capable of so
much thought.
But the greatest minds are always the most diffident of
their strength-the most reluctant to display their resources.
Therefore, although she was quite competent to fill the
position to which her marriage had raised her, Lily Kerri-
son was anything but anxious to commence her reign in
Hyde Park Gardens, and would have been content to be
hidden forever from the world in the shooting-box at Glen-
cara. And the same feeling made her cling to her husband
in a child-like manner, which enchanted him, but which
seemed to denote a great deal more of affection on her part
than it really did.
The fact is that she had married him with a great fear
knocking at her heart, and his offer presented a refuge from
it, in which she thought she would be safe forever.
*
141
The period she had spent in Mrs. Fielding's house, and
the terrible episode which had been the cause of her leaving
it, were burned in upon her brain in letters of fire.
Her relations, all gentle people, in respectable positions
of life, had believed the cruel story spread against her, and
refused to receive her since.
WHY NOT?
{
!
Our relations generally are the ones to believe the worst
of us, and in their craven fear lest their own names should
be besmirched with ours, make no allowance, and accord
no sympathy.
Lily had thenceforth, therefore, to make her way in the
wide world alone. To affirm that she had erased the love
of Esmé Fielding from her heart would be untrue.
She was very proud, but very affectionate, and hating the
sin, she loved the sinner still, which perhaps made her hate
herself the most of all.
His finding her out, and following her to her lodgings,
had filled her breast with a great dread, not of his violence
or reproaches, but of his persuasion. She feared lest in a
weak moment she might yield to it, and cast in her lot with
his. She doubted her own powers of resistance. She trem-
bled when she thought of the passionate love in her bosom;
that love, for cherishing which she despised herself, and she
longed to find some barrier to build up between them; and
when John Kerrison asked her to become his wife she saw
the stronghold it presented her at once. As Mrs. Kerrison,
20ho would dare to molest or persecute her?
Even Mrs. Fielding's rancorous tongue would be silenced,
and no visitor could gain admittance to her presence whom
she ordered to be kept out. Marriage meant safety and
privacy to her. It meant a sheltered home, with no further
occasion to appear in public to earn her daily bread, and a
trusty friend always ready to watch her interests and supply
her need.
Is it any wonder that she took the goods the gods pro-
vided her? And as the days of the honey-moon slipped
away she found no reason to be less grateful. John Ker-
rison was an adoring husband, but still he was a considerate
one. He had left off expecting to receive love from women,
and the little Lily bestowed on him was quite enough to
make him happy. They were more like two good friends
together than husband and wife; but Kerrison had lived a
purer life than most men, and had few remembrances of the
142
WHY NOT?
"roses of rapture" to bring in contrast with his present
-calm existence.
But Lily often wished that she had been more explicit
with him before their marriage on the subject of Esmé Field-
ing. She had had no idea then that there was any connec-
tion between the families. She had never heard his name
mentioned by Kerrison until she so unexpectedly encount-
ered him at his dinner-table, and then she imagined he
was a chance guest, whom it would be easy for her to shake
off again. But it is difficult to express an opinion concern-
ing another person without adducing a reason for it.
The first time Esmé Fielding's name rose up between
them after her marriage it filled her soul with dismay.
There were French windows in the breakfast-room at Glen-
cara that opened on to a shady veranda, and Lily was seated
at one of them waiting the advent of her husband.
She looked younger than her age by several years, clad in
a simple white gown, and with her pale golden hair plaited
in two long tresses on either side of her head. Her eyes ap-
peared to be gazing only on the expanse of moor spread out
before her-a purple mass of heather-bloom, like the violet
mist encircling the Alps at sunset, and palpitating, as the
morning breeze moved through it, like a living thing. But
her thoughts were far away-wandering in a world of her
own, as she wondered half guiltily, if he had heard of her
marriage yet, and whether a day would ever dawn when she
could think less contemptuously of him than she did at
that moment. Her reverie was broken by John Kerrison's
kindly voice.
-
"Dreaming still, my darling," he said, as he put his
arm about her, "wishing it was all undone again, and you
were back in your stuffy little rooms in the Waterloo Road?""
Anything but that," she answered, with a faint smile,
as she gently pressed the hand that clasped her waist.
66
There are some women who, having lost the one great
good they attained to, can not even find comfort in the
affection of another man. Lily Kerrison was not one of
them. She was very child-like in her nature. She loved to.
be loved and taken care of. She had had so little of it during
her lifetime; and though she did not respond after the same
fashion perhaps, so long as she was allowed to show her
gratitude in her own way, it was a pleasure to know she was
the object of so much devotion; and John Kerrison was
to t
1
143
quite satisfied with her behavior. Like most men who do
not fall in love until they have reached middle age, he was
extravagantly fond of his young wife. He positively adored
her. He thought she was the loveliest, Inost charming,
and most amiable creature he had ever met, and how she
could ever have consented to marry himself was a riddle he
had not yet found the solution of. The faintest smile she
gave him—the feeblest pressure she laid upon his hand-
were sources of ecstasy that set him marveling at his own
happiness.
He was far less selfish and exacting in his love than
younger men, who expect to be worshiped rather than to
worship; and the very restraint he put upon his feelings,
for fear of wounding his wife's susceptibilities, bound her
closer to him. Indeed, they were already, after ten days
of matrimony, in a fair way to become fast and faithful
friends. Only Lily wished so much that she had had the
courage to tell him all.
"Not quite tired of me yet?" continued John Kerrison,
emboldened by her smile. "Not quite sick of being shut
up in a little cottage on a lonely moor with no better com-
panion than an old man who bores you to death with his
admiration and his kisses?"
CC
WHY NOT?
Have I ever said so?" demanded Lily.
No; you have been the very sweetest and most patient
of women under it all. Yet I wish I had been successful
in procuring a little society for you. It would have made.
the evenings pleasanter. I hoped Escott would have joined
us by this time, but he writes me word he can not come.
I am afraid the dear old boy is a little bit sulky at our mar-
riage. I can not account for his preferring London in
August to the grouse in any other way."
Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed Lily, quickly, "for it
would make me so unhappy to come between you and any
of your friends. And you have known Colonel Escott all
your life, have you not? He may well hate me if I am the
means of separating you."
CC
66
My darling!'' cried Kerrison, "if Jem has any feeling
of the kind it will soon pass away.
And what do you sup-
pose I should care if I lost every friend I ever made in
comparison with the joy I feel in possessing you! I have
not thought of the matter since. I should not have
thought of it at all, except as it affects yourself; but Jem
144
WHY NOT?
is a good fellow at heart, and I am sure you will like him.
Why he refuses to come here I can not imagine."
66
Perhaps he is afraid he would be de trop," said Lily,
shyly.
Her husband laughed.
I provided even against that. I promised not to excite
his envy by too open a display of my happiness, and I told
him to bring up young Fielding (or any one he liked) as a
companion for himself.
"Who did you tell him to bring up?" asked Lily, in a
constrained voice.
66
"
Esmé Fielding, the young fellow who dined with us
the same night as the Credo' company. Oh, I forgot
though. You were taken ill, poor child, and doubtless
never observed him. However, he is a godson of Jem's
(who was a distant cousin, I believe, of his father's) and
they are very much together. He stayed with us for
several weeks at the beginning of the season, and I hope he
may do so again. He is a fine young man, and I like him.”
I don't," said his wife, in a low voice.
66
ލ
"You don't? Do you remember him, then? But you
saw nothing of him, my dear! How can you tell whether
you would like him or not?"
.
""
ލ
I judge from his appearance. I often judge of people
so, and I generally find I am correct. I saw Mr. Fielding
plainly enough all through dinner-time, and I don't like
him. I hope you won't ask him to the house when we go
back, John. I should so much rather not know him.
""
She uttered the words in such a pleading tone, and with
so humble an expression, that her husband's sympathy was
aroused at once.
"My own child-my darling Lily, of course not-a thou-
sand times over--if you have the slightest objection. Un-
derstand, my love, that from the moment you enter my
house you reign supreme there. I will turn every servant
out of it, and cut every friend I have ever made, if it would
give you any pleasure.
CC
66
Oh, John! don't think so badly of me as that!" she
replied, with a delicate color mantling in her cheeks; for
my part, I should wish to be a friend of all your friends,
but I don't quite like Mr. Esmé Fielding.
""
66
And what about Riley, my dear, and poor old Jem?
Do their phrenological bumps satisfy you or not?"
•
}
י
C
WHY NOT?
145
"Now you are laughing at me, John, and that is not fair!
I did not observe Captain Riley, but Colonel Escott seems
very nice, though he did not speak to me much. He was
so taken up with your lady-secretary. What is her name?
Mrs. Arlington?"
Kerrison frowned.
"I half suspect Mrs. Arlington is at the bottom of Jem's
leaving us, Lily, and it displeases me. You see, my darling,
before I had ever met you and made an old idiot of myself,
Escott and I came to the conclusion to pass our lives to-
gether, and I did not anticipate that my marriage would
rupture the contract. However, he insists upon taking
chambers for himself, and it hurts me terribly!"
But what has Mrs. Arlington to do with the matter?"
inquired Lily.
76
މ
22
Well! she never liked poor Escott from the beginning,
and has taken various means to let him know it; they have
seemed better friends of late, but I do not think the feud is
forgotten, and perhaps she has taken advantage of poor
Jem's fear of being in our way to get rid of him altogether.
"But that is going rather beyond her province as your
housekeeper and literary assistant," said Lily.
"John,,
don't be vexed with me, but I fancy Mrs. Arlington has a
dreadful temper. She frightens me somehow, her eyes are
so black, and-and-malignant!""
"Malignant! Oh, what a big word to apply to a
woman's whims. Say, rather, that her eyes are envious,
Lily. What eyes would not be, looking at you and me?
The women's, because they are jealous of your beauty-the
men's, because they grudge me the possession of it. Poor
Lola Arlington is but human. You must not be too hard
upon her if she looks dissatisfied when she compares your
lot with her own."
"She may well envy me my dear, good husband," re-
plied Lily, softly.
66
My darling girl, it is I only who am to be envied; but
apropos of Mrs. Arlington: if she displeases you, or makes
you nervous, she must go!"
"C
My dear John! what a notion, and when she is of so
much use to you. I would not hear of such a thing; why,
she is your factotum, is she not? Orders your dinners, and
looks after your servants. I am afraid you would find my
services a sorry substitute.'
.
+
146
WHY NOT?
"I don't want you to be troubled about anything, my
Lily. I want you simply to enjoy your life, and let others
wait upon you; that is why I have not dethroned Mrs.
Arlington from her position as housekeeper, until I had
learned your wishes on the subject. If you prefer to look
after such things yourself, say so, and I shall retain her
simply as my secretary. If you do not care about the
trouble, she can continue to manage the house as she has
hitherto done.”
Oh! pray let everything go on in the same routine,
John. I should be a shocking bad manager. You know I
have never had any experience in such things. Only-"
"Only what, my darling?"
""
Don't let Mrs. Arlington come much in contact with
me, because I am afraid we might not agree.
John Kerrison knit his brows.
66
ވ
C
"There must be no question of your agreeing or not
agreeing, Lily. Lola Arlington was not always in the in-
ferior position she occupies at present; but the fact remains.
that she is my servant, and as such must defer in all things
to the mistress of the house. We have spoken on this sub-
ject together, and she perfectly understands what is ex-
pected of her. The matter now rests entirely with you.
Keep her in her place from the beginning, my dear, and all
will go well. Be kind to her, but not familiar. She dines
at table with us, but it is as a privilege, not a right, and
you can always let her understand that you remember it
If you can manage in this way to make the househol
wheels work smoothly I shall reap the benefit of it, for
there is no doubt that Mrs. Arlington is very useful to me,
and that I should find it difficult to replace her.'
"
Lily put her arm round her husband's neck, and looked
up confidingly in his face.
"And do you think that I, to whom you have been so
good, and who owe everything to your generosity, would
wish to deprive you of the services of any one who can
lighten your labor? Why! I would make friends with the
old gentleman himself if I thought it would be of any assist-
ance to you-’
John Kerrison strained her to his heart.
(C
My dearest wife! You are a thousand times too good
for me.
I feel ashamed to think I can offer you so little in
return for all your love."
""
T
}
<}
147
=
WHY NOT?
፡፡
"Don't
No, no!" she cried, shrinking from him.
say that. Only take it, the best I can give you, as a small
expression of my gratitude for the haven of rest to which
you have brought me.
"
.
"And where nothing that I can prevent shall ever dis-
turb your peace," he answered. "Not even Mrs. Arling-
ton."
، .
"Oh! let us forget Mrs. Arlington for the present," said
Lily, impatiently. It was foolish of me to mention her.
After all, as you say, she is only a servant, and her tempers
are beneath my notice."
"You will never see much of them," replied John
Kerrison. "I will take care of that, Lily, for the first
time she presumes to exhibit such a thing before you, she
goes !”
CHAPTER XXV.
WAR TO THE KNIFE.
THE day that the Kerrisons returned from Glencara was
an epoch in the household.
66
""
j
Mrs. Arlington had schooled herself for the occasion.
Though she was still burning with mortification at the fail-
ure of her hopes, she recognized the fact that, if she was to
continue in her situation, she must preserve at least an out-
ward appearance of deference to John Kerrison's wife, and
had resolved of two evils to choose the least. But it had
not entered her mind that she would be deposed from the
position she had been permitted to assume.
Since she had been promoted to dine at the same table
as her employers, she had given herself all the airs and
graces of a lady, and required more waiting on and atten-
tion than they did. The retiring and somewhat submissive
aspect which she had formerly exhibited had entirely van-
ished, and she had become rather aggressive in pushing
herself forward and doing the honors of the house instead.
She intended to make herself agreeable, after her fashion,
to the new Mrs. Kerrison, but it never struck her that Lily
would have the assurance to put her in her place. She re-
membered her only as a pale, silent, and apparently timid
young woman, who was not likely to assert herself however
undemonstrative she might be.
1
148
NO
WHY NOT?¨
When she was, therefore, prepared to receive the bride
in an effusive and somewhat patronizing manner, Mrs.
Arlington imagined she had done all that was necessary to
meet John Kerrison's wishes on the subject. For she
thought only of him; his wife occupied but a secondary
place in her consideration.
On the evening when they were expected home to dinner
she arrayed herself with much care in a black lace dress,
that displayed her arms and neck in a liberal manner,
whilst in her bosom bloomed a large bunch of sweet-scented
tea-roses. Her cheeks were unusually pale, with the green-
ish pallor that accompanies dark blood, but her lips were
scarlet, and her eyes glowed like two stars.
Colonel Escott, who had been asked to welcome his
friends to their home, thought he had never seen her look
so handsome before, and told her the fact without hesita-
tion.
Lola smiled at the compliment, and pretended to enjoy
it, whilst her ears were pricked up to catch the first sound
of the returning carriage-wheels.
At last they arrived. The handsome barouche which
Mr. Kerrison had bought for his bride stopped at the door,
and in another minute Colonel Escott had wrung John's
hand, and was helping Mrs. Kerrison to alight from the
vehicle, whilst Mrs. Arlington stood in the hall smiling, to
receive her.
Lily looked tired from her long journey, but she was still
reserved and dignified. The caution her husband had given
her respecting Mrs. Arlington was in her mind as she en-
tered her own house for the first time, and when the latter
came forward with an outstretched hand she failed to see
it, but with a distant bow passed on to the drawing-room.
Mrs. Arlington became dumb with rage. She accepted
John Kerrison's greeting in silence, and did not attempt
to follow in the footsteps of his wife.
"How are you, Mrs. Arlington?" he said, cheerily.
"We have had a long journey; I am afraid my wife is
terribly tired. Please let us have dinner at once," and
hurried on without further comment.
W
"Did you see that?" said Mrs. Arlington, with closed
teeth, to Colonel Escott, who lingered by her side.
66 See what?",
2
149.
WHY NOT?
she treated me. She did not even take my
Mrs. Kerrison? Oh, she did not mean it. It must
have been an oversight. You mustn't feel umbrage at
trifles. She is tired; don't judge her till to-morrow.
But all Mrs. Arlington did was to turn from him, and
order the footman to desire the cook to dish up" at
66
once.
(C The way
hand!""
66
Meanwhile, John Kerrison was fussing over Lily in the
drawing-room.
My darling, you look quite cold! They ought to have
had a fire for you. Those September evenings become
chilly. Where is your maid? Why is she not here?"
"I don't know; I have not seen her," replied his wife.
Can not Mrs. Arlington send her to me?''
~66
<6
ލ
"Here! Mrs. Arlington," cried Kerrison, from the
open door, "where is Mrs. Kerrison's maid? Why don't
you tell her to come and attend to her mistress? And we
should like a fire lighted in the bedroom. Come! bustle
about, there's a good creature, and see after our comforts
a little! My wife is worn out with traveling."
>>
He spoke impatiently, and Mrs. Arlington shrugged her
shoulders, as she gave the necessary orders before entering
the presence of Lily Kerrison.
66
Will you go upstairs now? I think you will find the
room ready, and the maid in attendance," she said, in a
cool voice, as she addressed her: "and perhaps you would
like to have your dinner sent up there to-night? it will be
no trouble if you prefer it!"
Lily turned her eyes upon her in calm surprise.
Thanks! But if I had wished it I should have ordered
it so. John, I think I will go and take off my things be-
fore dinner," and, slipping her hand through his arm, she
left the drawing-room.
ލ
66 Had you not better offer your services to Mrs. Kerri-
son? I think John will expect it," said Colonel Escott to
Mrs. Arlington, a few minutes later, as, attracted by her
playing on the piano, he entered, and found her sitting
there alone.
"I shall do no such thing! She has her lady's-maid,
and I was not engaged to wait upon her; she seems more
stuck-up and disagreeable than ever. Poor Mr. Kerrison
bids fair to have a nice life of it!"
150
WHY NOT?
Meanwhile, Lily was saying to her husband:
"John! is she going to dine with us in that dress? For
a woman in her position it is utterly absurd! Bare neck
and arms by daylight-I don't call it decent!''
John Kerrison scented trouble ahead of him.
'
My dear girl, you must settle that matter between you;
it is quite out of my province, though I certainly consider
such a display to be perfectly unnecessary."
(C
29
It is ridiculous! and for a family dinner too! But it
would be out of place at any time! I shall speak to her
about it on the first opportunity.'
""
After which Mrs. Kerrison came down to the table her-
self in a high brown velvet dress, in which she looked pre-
eminently fair and delicate, and directed her attention
almost entirely to her husband and the colonel, answering
Mrs. Arlington's flippant remarks in monosyllables, and
glancing every now and then with stern displeasure at her
liberal display of bust, arms, and shoulders. Already there
was thunder in the air.
66
How did you enjoy your grouse-shooting?" inquired
Escott of his friend.
"So-so! The birds were rather shy, but I should have
had a good time on the whole had I not been troubled with
the idea that Lily was lonely at the lodge. It is dull work.
being shut up on the moors, without the means of getting
about."
"Affords too much time for thought," remarked Mrs.
Arlington, sweetly.
CC
That depends upon what you have to think about,
laughed the colonel, glancing at the bride.
"Of course!" sighed Lola; "but few people who have
come to years of discretion, colonel, have not some melan-
choly reminiscences to attack them when alone.
>>
"Not when they're just married, surely?" he rejoined,
lightly.
"You must appeal to Mrs. Kerrison for your answer,"
replied Mrs. Arlington; "I was married so terribly young,
that I had no past to look back upon! Only fifteen! No
time to have had a lover, or even to know the meaning of
love! But few wives have had my experience."
(C
މ
ވ
""
Spa
'Do you mean before or afterward?" inquired Lily,
innocently.
"I mean before, Mrs. Kerrison," said Mrs. Arlington,
~1
WHY NOT?
151
"I had
delighted to have drawn her into the discussion.
had no opportunity to jilt any one, or to allow any one to
jilt me. Some young ladies have lived a life-time before
their wedding-day, and go to the altar with their consciences
burdened with dark secrets they dare not disclose to their
husbands! But I was different; my soul was like a white
sheet of paper-unwritten on-and my husband was re-
sponsible for every character that was inscribed upon it."
Mrs. Kerrison had regarded the speaker earnestly during
the delivery of this little tirade; when it was finished she
observed, quickly:
"You were lucky-and he was lucky! I hope he never
inscribed a character there for which you need blush.
John, I will take another cutlet."
The die was cast in that brief sentence.
The women had measured their weapons, and knew what
they had to expect from each other. They had hardly ex-
changed a dozen words, but it was going to be war to the
knife between them.
When Mrs. Kerrison rose from the dinner without deign-
ing to give Mrs. Arlington an intimation of her design, and
swept out of the room before her, Lola knew that her reign
was over. This upstart from the boards of a theater, with
a secret social ban upon her, intended to keep her in her
place! But she little dreamed that the sword of Damocles
was hanging by its single hair above her head! But the
climax of Mrs. Arlington's indignation was not yet reached.
Lily walked about her handsome drawing-room for some
moments in silence, examining the ornaments and pictures,
sat down for a few minutes to the grand piano and played
through part of a waltz, then threw herself on the sofa and
desired Mrs. Arlington to ring for coffee.
The footman appeared with the silver tray, deposited it
on a side table, and began to pour out the fragrant
beverage.
"I believe this is your province," said Mrs. Kerrison,
with a faint smile, to Mrs. Arlington; "tell the man to
leave it, please, I should prefer being waited on by you.
>>
The footman quitted the room, and Lola commenced,
with a darkening bow, to dispense the coffee.
"Did you expect any guests to-night beside Colonel Es-
cott?" demanded Lily, presently.
152
WHY NOT?
“Guests!—no! Why do you ask me?" returned Mrs.
Arlington, sharply.
Because of your dress. It struck me as so unsuitable
for a family party; and indeed I think at all times that a
high dress is better than a low one at the dinner-table.
You will oblige me by not wearing it again, if only because.
I always wear high dresses myself."
"C
ލ
Well, really!" exclaimed Mrs. Arlington, with a toss
of her head. I have been in Mr. Kerrison's employment
now for three years, and I never heard a complaint made
about my dress before!"
"I dare say not.
You see, it doesn't signify with bach-
elors; but now I shall be having ladies to dine with us, and
it is best not to excite remark.
""
It would be well, Mrs. Kerrison, if no one had ever
excited more remark than I have."
66
'I don't understand your answer," said Lily, flushing,
"and it was quite unnecessary; I was only telling you my
wishes.
""
Mrs. Arlington did not make any further reply, but her
bosom heaved rapidly, and she had great difficulty in hold-
ing her tongue.
John Kerrison entered after a few minutes and took his
wife up to her own room. She said good-night in passing,
but did not offer her hand; and as soon as she was out of
sight Lola Arlington flung herself down upon the satin sofa
and burst into a flood of tears.
Colonel Escott, coming upon her in that condition, over-
whelmed her with sympathy.
"My dearest Mrs. Arlington, what is the matter? Are
you ill, or has anything occurred to vex you? Pray tell me
your trouble; you know that you have promised me your
confidence.
""
"Anything occurred to vex me! How can you ask?
Didn't you see how that woman treated me at dinner-with
marked impertinence? And since we have been in the
drawing-room together she has ordered me to wait upon her
as if I was a servant, and dared-yes, actually dared-to
criticise my dress, and to tell me I must alter it!"
Al
"Your dress!" repeated the colonel, gazing with ad-
miration at the creamy-white arms and shoulders that were
displayed before him. "What fault could she find with
that? Why, it is just perfect!"
1
WHY NOT?
I
153
"I know it is. I suppose the cat is envious because she
can not afford to wear a low-cut dress herself, and so she..
says it is not suitable for my position! But I will not stand
it, Colonel Escott! I am not going to remain here to be
ordered about by that girl, and told what I am to wear, or
not to wear! And if you only knew what I know about
her!"
66
About Mrs. Kerrison?" gasped Escott.
"Hush! I ought not to have mentioned it. But noth-
ing will induce me to submit to her tyranny! I will leave
the house to-night, and never come near it again!"
46
But what would poor Kerrison do without you?” cried
the colonel, with his first thought for his friend.
"He must do as best he can; unless, indeed, he chooses
to control his wife. But my life will be a misery—a tor-
ment-to me!"
"If you can't agree with her, it certainly will be," ac-
quiesced Escott; but, Lola, if I may call you so, you
know where you will always find a welcome and a home.
Don't be downcast, my dear; if the worst comes to the
worst, come to me.
(C
""
Oh, Colonel Escott! I have told you it can not be!"
"Not as my housekeeper-that would be absurd!-but
as my wife! I know I have nothing to offer you worthy of
your acceptance; I am not rich, like Kerrison, or able to
give you a house and carriage and horses, such as you are
fitted to adorn; but you would have a home, Lola, and re-
spect and affection to your life's end. I feel ashamed to
have so little to offer in exchange for yourself, but all I say
is, don't despair whilst a shelter remains open to you.
22.
He spoke very diffidently, this noble gentleman, whose
true love any woman might have been proud to possess, and
he laid his hand with a very timid touch upon her dark hair
as he said the words.
And Mrs. Arlington laughed within herself at the ab-
surdity of his proposal as she lay prone upon the sofa, with
her face concealed from him, although she professed to an-
swer it with a bashfulness equal to his own.
-
(6
Oh, Colonel Escott! You are too good to me! I have
always told you so; but I would not overweight you (at
least for the present) with such a burden as myself. Let
me struggle on-this is only a little natural disappointment,
which will soon pass away-and try to do my duty; and
▼
154
WHY NOT?
[
*
then, if everything fails, and I am fated to be unsuccessful,
I will not forget the generous offer you have made me to-
night."
CHAPTER XXVI.
AN UNEXPECTED LETTER.
MRS. ARLINGTON's evasive answer to his proposal,
which meant nothing, threw the simple colonel into a fever
of delight. He thought of it long after they had parted for
the night, and went back to his chambers to dream how
they would look if such a glorious presence as that of Lola
Arlington ever came to beautify them for him.
He could almost have prayed that she and Lily Kerrisom
might fight like cat and dog, if he might only see the
fruition of his desire. Looking at her from Mrs. Arling-
ton's point of view he felt all his admiration for his friend's
wife vanish into air. There was a time when poor Helen
Glamoye had looked up into his face with the same sad,
serious eyes as Lily, and he had been ready to declare they
were the sweetest ever seen; but his opinions had changed;
Lola's rich, tropical charms and impassioned speech over-
powered more delicate beauty and thrust it in the shade.
The colonel found, like Guinivere, that he wanted
"warmth and color. He had begun to think Mrs. Ker-
rison almost plain, and decidedly sickly in appearance. As
for the other woman, he never thought of her at all; she
had faded into his past, like a bad photograph, and the
outlines of that portion of his life had become blurred and
indistinct. If it ever flashed on his memory at all, it was
only to bestow a half-contemptuous smile of pity on himself
for having been so easily contented.
•
1
Mrs. Arlington was his beau ideal now. In mind, and
form, and feature, he thought he had never met a woman
so calculated to make him happy. And he more than half
believed that she would consent to make him so. Could
he but have read her heart!
She had no more idea of becoming Mrs. Escott than she
had of becoming the Princess of Wales. She would not
have married the man under any circumstances. She
laughed at the notion as something too ridiculous to be en-
tertained; for whatever she might say in her hot haste and
WHY NOT?
155
indignation, Lola Arlington knew that she would stay in
the service of John Kerrison, and that the more she was
insulted by his wife, the more it behooved her to remain by,
her side, else what would become of her revenge.
She
held a two-edged sword over this girl.
She had received Mrs. Fielding's testimony as to her
character, and she had overheard what maman had told
Esmé concerning her and himself. She had probably but
to bring these two young people together, in order to create
a scandal that should clear the path before her.
Or, if that plan failed, she could always go to Lily with
her secret in her hand and make her pay for her silence;
or, little by little, she could raise the veil that hung over
John Kerrison's eyes, until he saw the woman he believed
in, in her real colors.
But Lola foresaw the necessity of caution, lest, if she gave
his love too rude a shock, she might be overwhelmed her-
self by the catastrophe that should ensue.
A few hours' reflection before she went to her night's
rest made Mrs. Arlington see all these things in a clear
light, and she rose well satisfied with her prospects in the
morning.
The primmest of Quakers could not have found fault with
her dress at the breakfast-table. She wore a plain black
gown, with a simple frill of lace about the throat; and she
addressed Mr. Kerrison with so much deference, and waited
on Mrs. Kerrison with so much alacrity, that Lily observed
the difference at once, and was glad she had had the cour-
age to speak to her the night before.
All would go smoothly now, she thought, and she felt
that she had been right in putting matters on a proper
footing between them from the beginning. But she rejoiced
a little too soon. As breakfast was concluded John Kerri-
son rose from his seat.
"I shall give you half an hour for your domestic arrange-
ments, Lola—I mean Mrs. Arlington-and then I shall ex-
pect to see you in the library. I have terrible arrears of
work to make up, and we must have a good long day of it.
The name of the unanswered letters is legion. Lily, my
darling, you will not mind my leaving you alone during the
mornings; you know how important my labors are."
"Of course not, John. I expected no less, and can
amuse myself perfectly well until you rejoin me.
22
}
↓
12
影
​156
66
:
WHY NOT?
'Perhaps Mrs. Kerrison would like to have the carriage,
and go and see some of her own friends," suggested Lola,
sweetly.
John Kerrison frowned.
66
1
He had introduced the subject more than once of Lily's
relations, and her answers had been so unsatisfactory that
he had resolved not to raise it again.
After all, he had married her for herself, and not for her
family. But on Mrs. Arlington's remark he looked at his
wife.
"Would you like it, Lily?"
"No, thank you," she answered, curtly.
"Well, make yourself happy, my dear," he said, as he
left the room.
Mrs. Arlington fidgeted with the tea-chest and household
keys. She wanted to find an opening to let Mrs. Kerrison
know that she could not insult her with impunity.
66
Perhaps," she said, as they found themselves alone—
perhaps some one may call to keep you company. Mr.
Esmé Fielding was here twice during your stay at Glen-
cara.
>>
"Mr. Esmé Fielding!" repeated Lily, coloring. "What
is Mr. Esmé Fielding to me?"
Mrs. Arlington tittered.
"I don't think he would like to hear you say that, Mrs.
Kerrison. He talks of you an immense deal. I tell him
he must have been quite smitten the night you dined here
together.
""
Lily glanced timidly at the shut door. The action did
not escape Mrs. Arlington.
66
Please don't talk such nonsense," she said, coldly.
"I much dislike it. And from what I saw of the gentle-
man you mention, I don't like him much either; and I
should not dream of admitting visitors in the mornings. I
wish to keep them for myself. Will you tell the servants
so?'
"Certainly, since you wish it. But I think you might
make some exceptions. In the case of old friends, for in-
stance."
"I have no old friends in London," said Lily.
"No?" replied Mrs. Arlington, with that peculiar in-
tonation which says so plainly, "I do not believe you."
"And you will be good enough to give the order I men-
WHY NOT?
157
tioned," went on Mrs. Kerrison, in a voice which slightly
trembled.
ވ
▾
She was beginning to feel a little fear.
Why had Esmé Fielding been so unfortunately thrown
again across her path of life? What could he have confided
to this woman, who spoke in such an unpleasant tone of
voice about him?
Was it possible she knew they had met before? and if so,
where might it not end?
Lily grew hot and cold as she thought of it. The very
doubt would force her to see Esmé again, if only to cast
herself on his generosity and honor. She had intended to
say something to Mrs. Arlington about her husband and
herself dining alone for the future, but now she dared
not.
Those few sentences had made her afraid of her, and
Lola Arlington saw and rejoiced over it before she left to
join her husband.
An hour afterward John Kerrison rushed into his wife's
room, like a young lover, to snatch a kiss in the midst of
his labors, and ask if he could do anything for her, and
stood for a few moments in conversation before he went
away again.
66
Lily, " he said, "shall I speak to Mrs. Arlington about
her dining in her own room-as she used to do-for the
future? She seems in an excellent humor, and to have
taken your little hints in good part; so I think perhaps I
had better strike whilst the iron is hot, and then it will be
one trouble instead of two.
29
But Mrs. Kerrison shrunk from the idea.
66
'I would rather you said nothing to her about it, John.
I have been thinking it over, and it would be scarcely fair,
in my opinion, to send her back to a solitary dinner after
she had been accustomed to dine with the family. I was
hasty last night, and mistook what was perhaps only meant
for cordiality for presumption. Don't make any altera-
tions for me. Mrs. Arlington appears well-intentioned,
and I know she is most useful to you. Please let all
things go on as they did before.”
G
John Kerrison was pleased at this admission-more so
than he would acknowledge to himself.
"I really think you only do her justice, Lily. I dare say
I spoiled her a little to save myself trouble, but I am sure
*
"
दै
158
WHY NOT?
she has our interests at heart. She is an invaluable house-
keeper, and if you do not let her become too familiar you
will find her a very pleasant companion. Well, then, dear,
I am to hold my tongue upon the subject? All right. Give
me another kiss, and that must last till luncheon."
As she found herself alone again, Lily laid her fair head
back upon her chair and closed her eyes, as she tried to
think of some way of escape out of the net that seemed to
be closing round her.
Colonel Escott would have felt as if cold water had been
dashed upon his hopes could he have witnessed the appar-
ent amiability with which the trio met at luncheon after
that. But he knew nothing of it. He strolled down to his
club that afternoon with his mind filled with one object-
with two dark glowing eyes set in the scene around him;
with two creamy-white shoulders gleaming from every shop-
front, and blinding his sight for everything but them-
selves.
When Colonel Escott entered his club, and mechanically
asked for his letters-mechanically, because he so seldom
received any that held any interest for him—he had an
envelope put into his hand that flushed his pale cheek with
crimson. He had not seen the writing for years, but he
knew it again directly. Those firm characters, with just
sufficient roundness about them to render them feminine,
how often they had aroused his love, his ardor, his tears!
In them he had read the first trembling confession of in-
terest, in them the last agonizing farewell—in the char-
acters of Helen Glamoye!
But what could have induced her to address him again?
That was what puzzled the colonel. He examined the en-
velope. It bore a penny stamp, with the postmark of Chel-
tenham.
She was in England then. He could contain his curi-
osity no longer, but tore the letter open, and read the fol-
lowing lines:
"MY DEAR COLONEL ESCOTT,-If you have not already
heard of my husband's sudden death in Rangoon, you will
be very much surprised to receive these lines from me.
But it is true. Colonel Glamoye was killed by dacoits
whilst with a skirmishing party at Thyet-Mou. As soon
as I was assured of it I brought my children home.
There
A
WHY NOT?
}
159
are five of them now. Emmie and Rose (whom you must
remember are living with their grandmother.) The three
little ones are with me. My means are naturally limited,
and I have decided to settle in Cheltenham, where I have
many old friends. I hope that you are well, and enjoying
your English life. It is so long since we communicated,
that you may even be married by this time, and have a
family around you. If so, no one will be better pleased to
hear of your complete happiness than myself. Captain
Carboys (who is staying here) gave me your club address,
and I have lost no time in taking advantage of it. To hear
that you are well and happy would be a great pleasure to
me. Pray write and tell me all your news, and believe me
to be your sincere friend,
66 HELEN GLAMOYE.”
Helen Glamoye!" How that name used to thrill him
in days gone by! Helen Glamoye! His Helen, as he used
audaciously to call her in the time when she could not be
his, and had no prospect of ever becoming so! And now
Robert Glamoye-the man who used to kick her and abuse
her, and make her life a torment with his violence and his
abuse, was dead-gone out of her way forever-left her.
free to live her own life in peace and quietness!
Oh, in those days, the memory of which was nearly swept
from his mind, how joyful this news would have made him!
How he would have sunk on his knees and thanked
Heaven for removing the barrier from his path, and leaving
him at liberty to offer the devotion of a life-time to the
woman he so much loved! But now he shrunk from the
idea as if it had been a cup of poison held to his lips. He
-on whom Lola Arlington had smiled-to go back to that
pallid, washed-out, tear-stained creature. Helen Glamoye,
who must be forty now if she was a day. It was impossi-
ble! Surely no one could require such a sacrifice from him!
A widow with five children! It were better a millstone
were hanged about his neck and he were drowned in the
depths of the sea.
No thought of her pale, passion-tossed face, as it was lifted
to his for the last time in the moonlight, troubled him now.
That had all happened long ago-ten years at the very least
-and the colonel was but mortal. He had offered to take
her then. To carry her away from her brutal husband, and
7
160
WHY NOT?
her little children, to a life of love forever more with him-
self, and she had refused it. She had utterly refused to
violate her duties as a wife and mother and make her lover
happy, and she must take the consequences now.
He would have given up the whole world for the sake of
Helen then. He would have sacrificed his profession, and
his honor, and his friends, and have devoted the remainder
of his life to her; but she would not accept it. She pre-
ferred to part with him, and make both their lives misera-
ble, to flying in the face of her conscience. And now,
of
course, it was too late!
Colonel Escott recognized the delicacy which prevented
her making any allusion to their past affection; but he was
almost ready to resent her having recalled herself to his
recollection. But when he had read the letter a second
time he saw that Helen alluded to the possibility of his be-
ing married. He was not married it is true, but he was as
good as engaged, and it would be an excellent excuse for
answering the epistle, for if poor Helen continued to cherish
any hopes concerning him it was better they should be
quenched at once. And so he sat down and wrote to her
as follows.
1
CHAPTER XXVII.
POOR HELEN.
"MY DEAR MRS. GLAMOYE,-The receipt of your let-
ter was indeed a surprise to me.
You will realize how com-
pletely I am losing sight of the old landmarks when I tell
you that, though I generally skim through the service
papers, I had never heard of your bereavement until you
sent me the intelligence. Need I say how much I sympa-
thize with you in your loss? I am very glad to hear you
are pleasantly settled amongst your friends, and that your
little family is likely to prove a comfort to you. You ask
if I am married. Not yet. But more unlikely things have
happened, and I promise you shall have the first notice of
the event. It is only due to you, as one of my best and
oldest friends, to receive the earliest news of my happiness.
Believe me, dear Mrs. Glamoye, with best wishes for your
own health and well-being,
66
Yours, most truly,
"JAMES ESCOTT. ""
WHY NOT?
161
The colonel felt very mean as he posted this letter.
had destroyed several sheets of paper in its composition;
but write it as he would, he could not make it read more
satisfactory. Mrs. Glamoye had placed him in an awkward
position. To have his old love, to whom he had made a
thousand protestations of fidelity, come to the front again,
free to claim the fulfillment of his promises, just as he had
fallen in love with another woman, was, to say the least of
it, awkward.
He
*
He sat, wrapt in thought, and pulling his mustaches,
for a long time before he could decide on his line of action.
But finally he came to the conclusion that he had the right
to please himself.

It was ten years since he had had any communication
with Mrs. Glamoye. Had she accepted his offer then she
would have been his wife long ago, and his fidelity would
have been hers to his life's end.
But Helen had elected otherwise. She had chosen that
they should go their different ways, and try to forget their
unfortunate attachment in the pursuance of their duty.
So he did not consider she had any claim on him now.
Possibly she had forgotten all about him by this time, and
would not marry him if she were asked. And any way, he
was not ready to marry her. The colonel felt quite sure of
that. With the glowing charms of Lola Arlington fresh in
his mind's eye, he had no memory even for Helen's quieter
attractions.
So he sent off his letter-not without a guilty qualm or
two-but still with the conviction that he was performing
an unpleasant duty, which must be gone through with at
any cost.
When Mrs. Glamoye received his epistle the following
morning, and recognized his handwriting, the color surged
up into her face as it had been wont to do on hearing from
him ten years before. She had told herself that she had no
hope in writing to him, and no wish except to greet him as
a friend. She quite realized the likelihood that ten years
of silence and separation had obliterated her image from
his mind, and that he might have formed other and dearer
ties in the interim.
Helen had whispered all this to her own heart over and
over again, but she did not believe it. She had been two
6
162
WHY NOT?
months in England, and every day-every hour almost-
she had hoped Jem would write to her. And then, after
some battling with her pride, she came to the conclusion
that she was foolish not to tell him of her advent, and that
there could be no harm in letting him know that she had
come home.
So she wrote the letter that has been quoted, and when,
by return of post, the answer came, her fingers trembled
so much she could not open it. The rapidity of the reply
seemed like an answer to her unconscious prayer-an
earnest that he had not forgotten her.
She ran away from the breakfast-table and locked the
door of her own room before she could trust herself to read
it. And when she did so it was an awful shock to her-&
terrible uprooting of all her cherished hopes and longings.
A burning shame took possession of her as she became con-
scious of the gulf that lay between them, which was followed
by a deep despair almost as deep as that which she had ex-
perienced when they parted (as they believed) forever.
"C
And I have loved him so-I have loved him so!"' wept
poor Helen, as the cruel truth broke in upon her mind.
She thought her suffering and her disappointment must
exceed that of all other women; but she was only passing
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, as thousands of
her sex have done before her. She had cherished with un-
swerving fidelity the image of this man in her heart for ten
bitter, weary years, stamping down all her troubles, and
refreshing her fainting soul with the distant, infinitesimal
hope of some day meeting him again. And now the day
had dawned; the barrier was broken down, to give place to
a still worse sorrow-the sorrow of finding herself forgot-
ten. But though the shock was bitter, it was brief. After
an hour of unmitigated weeping over Colonel Escott's cool
reply, Helen Glamoye rose up and contemplated her tear-
stained visage in the mirror. It was as well, perhaps, they
had not met again, she thought, for Jem would scarcely
have recognized her. She had been a passably pretty wom-
an in the days when he cared for her; but ten years of an
Indian climate, added to the burden of unkindness, and
children, and domestic cares, do not improve a woman's
appearance. She looked fifty instead of forty (she thought),
as she gazed at her faded face and figure with contempt;
and she might have reabandoned herself to weeping over
WHY NOT?
163
this fresh calamity, had she not been interrupted by the
rapping of dimpled hands upon the bedroom door.
Mamma! mamma!" shouted the childish voices of
Katie, and Lulu, and baby Fred, "let us in.
let us in. We want to
come to you, mamma-we want to come to you!"
Oh! blessed healing touch of infant fingers! What
mother, weeping over the inevitable change that comes with
years in the affections of men, does not know what it is to
feel their influence? Helen Glamoye started up like a new
woman at the recollection that flowed in upon her at the
sound of her children's voices. She was ashamed of the
emotion she had given way to-ashamed that for one mo-
ment she could have permitted anything to make her so
unhappy whilst they remained to her. She threw open the
chamber door, and kneeling on the floor received all three
of her little ones in her maternal arms.
CC
"Mamma's babies," she kept on repeating, as she kissed
each curly head, mamma's dear-dear babies! Is there
any one in this wide world for whose sake I would give up
the last portion of your love for me?”
She had gained strength from the contact with these in-
nocent ones to rise up and bathe her swelled features and
calm her perturbed spirit, and go about her domestic
duties. But she kept them very close to her all day, as
though she feared to trust herself alone; and if, long after
they had gone to rest, she dropped asleep with a sob in her
throat and the name of CC
99
Jem upon her lips, no one was
the wiser for it but herself. But she never wrote to
Colonel Escott again. For many days he expected an an-
swer to his letter, with some comment on the hint he had
given her, but it did not come. This omission made the
colonel somewhat uneasy, and he was concerned to find how
often his thoughts roved toward Cheltenham. He became
curious to know how Helen had taken his letter, and if the
news contained in it had interested her or otherwise.
ލ
Whilst he believed her to be on the other side of the
globe he had not often troubled himself to think about her
at all. But it seemed strange that she should be in Eng-
land, close at hand, and they had not met. He wondered
if she was much changed, or if he should recognize her if
they encountered each other out walking. Also, if she was
likely to marry again.
Cheltenham was a great place for retired officers like
164
WHY NOT?
himself, and Helen had been a very pretty woman in the
days gone by. So it came to pass that whilst Colonel Es-
cott believed himself to be in love with, and was in fact,
completely fascinated by Mrs. Arlington, his mind was con-
tinually reverting in his calmer moments to his old sweet-
heart, and the scenes which had almost faded from his
memory stood out in stronger colors every day; but he did
not write to Helen again, and he thought, perhaps, all the
more deeply because he did not write.
One circumstance that made him brood more frequently
on his past and present than he would otherwise have done,
was the fact that John Kerrison's marriage (as his friend
had always anticipated) made a great difference in their
family intercourse. Not but what the colonel was con-
stantly and warmly pressed to join the family circle in Hyde
Park Gardens.
John had never forgiven him for leaving his house, and
could not mention the chambers without an execration.
But Escott no longer felt at home there.
There was
something in Mrs. Kerrison's manner toward him which he
felt, though he could not define, that was not encouraging.
She always siniled, and seconded her husband's invitations,
but she shrunk from becoming familiar with him, and
especially avoided being left alone in his presence. The
mention of his godson, Esmé Fielding, seemed to freeze her
into stone; and, strange to say, Kerrison appeared also to
have cooled toward the young man whom he had once made
so welcome to his house.
The colonel asked Esmé once if he had done anything to
offend his friends; but though the boy stammered in reply,
he emphatically denied it.
But there were several things that seemed mysterious to
the colonel in the household now. He felt sure there was
a silent feud between the new mistress and Mrs. Arlington;
yet Lola declared he was mistaken, and he felt bound to
believe her. On the contrary, she averred that things were
going on more smoothly than she could have thought pos-
sible, and that Mrs. Kerrison and she were on the best of
terms with one another. And since Colonel Escott had
met his friend's wife driving in the park with Lola Arling-
ton seated by her side in the carriage, he concluded that
Lily Kerrison had fallen a victim to her fascinations as
well as other people.
Se
}
WHY NOT?
165
•
But the summit of the colonel's surprise was reached
when, one dark and misty evening in November, as he was
going home from Piccadilly through the park, he almost
ran into the arms of Mrs. Arlington and Esmé Fielding.
They were walking so close together, and talking so earnest-
ly, that he did not recognize them until he had nearly upset
them, and then they looked as annoyed as he did.
CC
"Bless my soul-Mrs. Arlington!" exclaimed the colonel,
as she raised her head. What are you doing out in the
park on such a foggy evening? And Esmé too! I didn't
know
you were intimate enough with each other for a con-
fidential tête-à-tête.”
tuje
"What nonsense are you talking, colonel!" replied Mrs..
Arlington, sharply. "Mr. Fielding and I met by accident,
and he was kind enough to offer to see me home.
"You should get a better guide," said Escott, irritably.
"Esmé is taking you down to Piccadilly instead of back
to Hyde Park Gardens.
"Oh! that is only because we became interested in what
we were talking about, and agreed to take another turn.
But I suppose it is about time to be going home to dinner
""
now.
""
"You must have got hold of a very interesting subject
indeed," said the colonel, jealously, "to keep you out-of-
doors in a fog like this. Why, you are both wet through!"
"And if we are, it is no one's business but our own,
retorted Mrs. Arlington. "I suppose we are free to do as
we like?"
"
"I am not so sure of that!" replied the colonel, signifi-
cantly. "But if Esmé elects to bore you with his twaddle,
he might at least take care not to injure your health in the
process.
""
66
Really, sir, you speak as if we were doing something
wrong!" interposed the young man. "If Mrs. Arlington
is kind enough to accept my escort, I am surely not respon-
sible to any one else?"
"Certainly not!" chimed in Mrs. Arlington.
66
Well, well, never mind!" said the colonel, a little
ashamed of his ill-humor. "I conclude, at any rate, that
you are going home now, and that I may have the pleasure
of walking by your side."
"Are you coming to dinner with us to-night?" demanded
Lola, as a sudden thought struck her.
166
WHY NOT?
}
"I don't know," replied Escott. "I had no intention
of doing so; but should Kerrison ask me-'
"Do come!" she pleaded, with a slight pressure on his
arm.
It had the desired effect. The two men walked home
with her-one, at least, determined to spend the evening in
her presence.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
"I WILL BE FAITHFUL TO HIM.
THEY arrived at their destination just as the master of
the house was fitting his latch-key into the door.
It was
seven o'clock, and the murky November evening made all
objects indistinct. John Kerrison turned his head and saw
only Colonel Escott with Mrs. Arlington.
66
Halloo, Jem!" he exclaimed, heartily. Coming to
dine with us? That's a good old chap! Lily had the
tooth-ache last night and retired to bed early, and I missed
you terribly!"
66
I'll stop with pleasure since you ask me," returned
Escott.
John Kerrison had opened his door
stood against it to let the party pass in.
then, he perceived Fielding.
"
"C
by this time, and
Then, and not till
ވ
"Why, Fielding, are you here too? Forgive me for not
having seen you before. The evenings are getting con-
foundedly dark! You must dine with us also, my boy-
that is, if you have no other engagement," added Kerrison,
wistfully, remembering his wife's request.
46
I am quite at liberty, if you are sure I shall not be in
the way," replied Esmé.
John Kerrison's sense of hospitality could not stand this
doubt.
"Have I ever let you think you were?" he said, in a tone
of reproach. "You know that you are always welcome in
my house.
"But I am in morning dress," continued Esmé.
"C
Mrs. Kerrison will excuse you, I am sure. She is not
new to Bohemian life, remember," replied his host, as he
ushered the two gentlemen through the hall and conducted
them up to his own dressing-room.
=56
WHY NOT?
167
Mrs. Arlington flew with alacrity to hers to make the
necessary changes in her dress. She was so curious to wit-
ness the meeting between Lily Kerrison and Esmé Fielding.
But if she expected a scene, she was disappointed. Lily
knew that she was liable at any moment to meet her former
lover. She lived in hourly dread of his appearance; so,
though she started and reddened in the fire-light as he en-
tered the room with her husband and Colonel Escott, she
gave no other sign that his presence disturbed her.
،،
Lily, my dear," commenced Mr. Kerrison, "here are
two friends come to dine with us. I knew you would be
pleased to see them, and that Mrs. Arlington is too good a
housekeeper to be put out by such a trifle."
It was the thought of Mrs. Arlington, more than that of
her husband, that made the girl keep her countenance, and
have courage enough to answer in a calm voice:
I am glad to welcome any friends of Mr. Kerrison's,'
as she shook hands with both the visitors.
""
Esmé tried hard to look in her face, but he found it im-
possible. She directed her attention entirely to Colonel
Escott, and slipped her arm through his with easy familiarity
when the dinner was announced. At the table it was the
same thing.
Mrs. Kerrison sat opposite her husband, smiling com-
placently, and joining in the conversation as if there were
no element present that had the power to upset her
equanimity.
Mrs. Arlington watched her furtively, and with the ut-
most disappointment, not to say dismay.
Was it possible that she was wrong in her calculations?
Were all the revelations of mamun, the intelligence com-
municated by Mrs. Fielding, the confidences of Esmé him-
self, some huge and horrible mistake?
Had this girl been fooling him all the time, and, like
most of her sex, simply accepted the better offer, and
thought herself lucky to get rid of him? Or, was she really
in love with her husband, and so rendered proof against all
emotion?
Lola could not solve the riddle. She gazed from Lily's
white cheeks (so free from all trace of uneasiness), to
Esmé's flushed face, and wondered at the coolness displayed
by the weaker sex. Still, they were not alone, and in the
168
WHY NOT?
moment of danger the feeblest creatures will stand to their
ground.
They should be watched whilst together, and without
spectators, if one wished to learn their real feelings; and
should such an opportunity arise, Mrs. Arlington deter-
mined they should reap the advantage of it.
She was thinking out her plans all dinner time, until
Colonel Escott rallied her on her taciturnity.
66
There is no need for me to talk, colonel," she an-
swered, whilst Mrs. Kerrison can amuse us so well. I
have been trying to take a lesson out of her book. How
she can keep up the ball without betraying herself into an
argument beats me! I am such a wretchedly excitable
-creature! I can't talk without arguing, and then I lose my
temper. I would give anything to possess Mrs. Kerrison's
mild, equable temperament.
""
Mrs. Kerrison shot a look of distrust at the speaker, who
met it with eyes wide open with innocence.
"I am sorry if I have monopolized the conversation,"
said Lily; "I would much rather it were general, as I
thought it was."
"Oh, don't apologize!" cried Mrs. Arlington, "or we
shall be forced to compliment you. We admire your cool,
unembarrassed way immensely, and would much rather
listen than join in. I am sure we should never do it half
So well."
John Kerrison was pleased at the praise elicited by his
wife.
"I think Lily does talk exceedingly well," he interposed;
"and she can listen also on occasions, which few talkers
do. She would keep me entertained for a whole evening at
Glencara with little stories of her past life-used you not,
Lily?"
"I am afraid, my dear John, that no one but you would
have been found good enough to listen to them."
"Oh! now, Mrs. Kerrison, I am sure you undervalue
yourself, and that those little stories must have been de-
lightfully naïve and interesting! I wish you would tell us
some_now!" exclaimed Mrs. Arlington.
"Mr. Fielding
and I are dying to hear them! Are we not, Mr. Field-
ing?",
Lily drew herself up proudly.
"Whatever they were I told them to my husband, Mrs.
WHY NOT?
169
Arlington, and not to-to-strangers! If we have finished
our dinner I think that we will
And rising from her seat, she passed into the drawing-
go.
""
room.
A fire was burning brightly in the grate, and the folding-
doors, which led into another apartment at the back, were
closed, and a large Japanese screen placed before them.
As the women entered the room together Mrs. Arlington
turned down the gas.
"What are you doing that for?" said Lily, sharply.
"I thought it would be pleasanter for your eyes; you
complain so much of the glare," replied Mrs. Arlington,
sweetly, as she walked toward the folding-doors.
Mrs. Kerrison had knelt down on the rug, and was
cowering over the fire.
"Very well; but please don't keep that door open longer
than you can help. It positively makes me shiver!" she
continued, as Mrs. Arlington came back smiling, with a
volume in her hand, which she had fetched from the next
apartment.
ވ
"It is very cold to-night; I think there must be an east
wind. Let me fetch you a wrap, dear Mrs. Kerrison,” she
said, as she went toward the door.
Her quick ears had caught the sound of the gentlemen's
feet in the hall, and she guessed they were going to smoke
in the "" sanctum."
The question was, would Esmé Fielding agree to accom-
pany them? Her instinct told her he would not, and her
instinct was right.
As she stood outside the drawing-room she heard John
Kerrison say:
"You know the way, Jem? I shall never forgive you
for deserting it;" and then, to Mr. Fielding, "After your
godfather, sir. I will join you in a minute!"
"If you'll excuse me, Kerrison," replied Esmé, "I
would prefer not to smoke to-night; it doesn't always agree
with me after dinner, and I would rather join the ladies.
"Very good!" said his host, "do as you like best!" and
left him to find his way into the drawing-room.
→
Mrs. Arlington slipped to one side. Now was her op-
portunity; she cowered behind an enormous palm that
stood near the entrance, and as soon as Mr. Fielding had
passed over the threshold, she crept softly into the back
170
WHY NOT?
room, and made her way to the folding-doors which she had
previously left ajar, and whence she could hear everything
that transpired between Lily and her guest.
CHAPTER XXIX.
DISCORD LOST IN HARMONY.
MRS. KERRISON was still kneeling on the hearth-rug,
holding out her hands to the blaze. She was a chilly, deli-
cate mortal, and shrunk from the cold like a mimosa-plant.
As Esmé Fielding entered the room, she glanced beyond
him anxiously for a glimpse of her husband's form.
"Where is Mr. Kerrison?" she asked.
، ،
Upstairs, smoking with Colonel Escott," was the
reply.
And why are you not with them?" said Lily, rising to
her feet.
، ،
Because I seldom indulge in the weed after dinner.
Besides, I preferred to come and talk to you!"
(6
You might have troubled yourself to inquire if I pre-
ferred it too!"
"That is not very gracious of you, Lily!""
"I shall be obliged, Mr. Fielding, by your calling me by
my proper name!"
66
It is your proper name-the name you taught me to
love you by. You won't be so cruel as to forbid my using
it?"
66
Yes, I shall! My name now is Mrs. Kerrison; and no
one shall call me 'Lily,' except my husband!"
66
Your husband is very much to be envied, although he
only enjoys his privilege at second-hand!"
Mr. Fielding! do you wish to insult me?''
66
On the contrary, I think it is you who are insulting
me! I thought you would have used more courtesy toward
a guest in your husband's house!"
66
To his guest, then, I apologize; but to you personally
I will not admit that I owe any apology!"
66
Why do you say so?"
Because, if you had any proper feeling, you would not
have accepted his invitation to dine here!"
"Not even to see you
!""
66 Least of all to see me:
Wher we last met I told you
66
WHY NOT?
171
plainly I did not wish to see you again. Had you the least
regard for me, you would have respected my wish. Espe-
cially now-when I am married!”
(C
I thought that was the very reason we might meet
again. It makes it doubly hard for me, but it is safer for
you.
""
ލ
"It can never be more safe than it was," she rejoined,
bitterly. "I lost all esteem for you long ago; and with my
esteem, my love evaporates.
"
"Then why do you object to see me here?”
"Because I love my husband! You may look aston-
ished, but it is the truth. His goodness, and generosity,
and unselfishness have taught me to love him, and he shall
not be repaid by my ingratitude. If he knew all that has
passed between us--
""
"Then you have not told him?" interposed Esmé,
quickly.
"C
66
Would you
be here if I had told him?" demanded Lily,
in her turn. No, I have been faithful to you, and I will
be faithful to him. Did he know what you have been to
me, do you suppose he would welcome you here as his
guest? You know he would not. I know he would not!
It is too much to expect from human nature. Well, then,
I mean to behave to you as if he did know, and I say that
you must not come here again.
""
"You are too severe!" cried Esmé. "I thought that
the insurmountable barrier you have raised between us
would at least bear this balm for its sting—that it would
open the door to a more familiar intercourse; and now you
say that we are not to meet. Lily, you have lost the last
spark of affection you held for me.
""
66
Not so, Esmé," she answered, in a voice that slightly
shook from pain; "my feelings are not changed toward
you. If anything, they are softer than they were; but if
you wish them to continue so, you must try and please me,
and that will not be by coming here."
(6
It is difficult to say what would please you," he mur-
mured.
She raised her serious eyes to his.
"To see you living a nobler life," she answered; "a life
like other men. To see you no longer dependent on a
mother's caprices, but yourself. Valuing your work be-
cause it gives you the liberty to value other's; and valuing
މ
.
172
WHY NOT?
money only as it enables you to help your neighbor, not to
sit above him. Oh, Esmé, it was money that made you
what you are. You would have been a happier and a bet-
ter man if you had been born poor. Don't you think so?”’
"I am sure of it," he said, sighing. "And so you really
love your husband?"
66 I
Lily blushed; she knew how different this love was from
the last.
He is so good to me," she said, in a low voice.
can not do a thing in his eyes that is wrong. That is why
I have been too great a coward to tell him about you. If
he knew it, I am afraid he would never look at me with the
same eyes again.
""
He must be a strange man if he expects to marry a
woman of twenty-three and find that she has never had a
lover before.
66
"
"But if I told that I must tell him all !" exclaimed
Lily, excitedly. "Of your mother's cruel accusations and
my own family's belief of them. Of my being thrust out
of Applescourt without a character, and obliged to change
my name because I was ashamed of it. Why, Esmé, he
does not even know my real name-I married him under
the false one. ""
66
"I think that was imprudent," replied Fielding; 'but
it makes no difference, I believe, to the legality of the act.
But don't let my mother get scent of all this, Lily—I mean
Mrs. Kerrison. She is very bitter against you still, and
very unforgiving.
""
(C
46
She is a bad woman!" cried Lily, clinching her hand,
a bad-bad woman! Heaven will judge her for what she
did to me. But that is an extra reason for your not com-
ing here, Esmé. Promise me it shall not happen again!"
66
The young man hesitated, and she repeated her request.
Do promise me! If you do not I will never believe
that you have loved me again! I will go to my dear hus-
band this very night and tell him everything, and beg of
him to protect me from your intrusion and that of Mrs.
Fielding. I will lay the case exactly before him, and if—if
he turns against me and breaks my heart-still, it will do
no good to you. So what will you gain by a refusal?"
What shall I gain if I consent?" said the young man,
wistfully.
67
(6
My regard-my respect-a softer remembrance of all
-
WHY NOT?
173.
that has spoiled my life," she answered, holding out her
hand to him.
He took it gently and raised it to his lips.
"Then I will do as you ask me, Lily. I give you my
word upon it. And I will try hard to shape my life in the
future so that you may feel a little more esteem for me than
you do at present."
"I think I feel it already," she said, tearfully, as she
withdrew her hand from his.
At that moment Mr. Kerrison and Colonel Escott en-
tered the drawing-room.
Halloo!" cried the former.
"Where is Mrs. Arling-
""
She left the room some time ago, ostensibly to fetch
me a shawl, replied his wife, as she sat down beside Colonel
Escott on the sofa.
66
ton?",
66
މ
66
That word 'ostensibly' is rather a hard one," he de-
murred. Surely you can have no doubt of Mrs. Arling-
ton's sincere desire to please you?"
"I don't know," returned Lily, indifferently.
"Some-
times I am not sure what I think of her. Any way, she
went away for the purpose I named ten minutes ago, and
has not yet returned. She must be making the shawl."
"She has been detained, probably, by some household.
matter. Let me go and look after her," said John Kerri-
son.
66
މ
No, dear! don't stir an inch; I am much warmer now,
and scarcely need a wrap. Come and sit by me, and tell
me all that you have done, seen, and suffered to-day!"
Kerrison, delighted at the invitation, took a seat by her
side, and engaged in cheerful conversation with her. Es-
cott drew young Fielding apart.
"What's the matter with you, my boy?" he said, "you
have the 'blues' to-night.
""
"Not at all, sir! You see me a little serious, that is all;
in fact, colonel, I am very anxious to set up in life for my-
self. I am tired of living on my mother's income, and
being at her beck and call like a hired servant. It's rather
degrading for a fellow of five-and-twenty-that is, it would.
be if she were not my mother. Don't you agree with me,
sir?"
"I think every man should have a profession, and be in-
dependent, Esme. But what would you do?”
174
WHY NOT?
"I have not decided that yet, colonel. I am only think-
ing of it, and would like to have your advice.''
<
Come to my chambers to-morrow morning, and we'll
talk it over," said the colonel.
CC
That I will, with pleasure," rejoined Esmé Fielding.
"Oh! thou tiresome servants!" cried Mrs. Arlington,
bursting into the room like a whirlwind; "I had hardly
reached the upper corridor, dear Mrs. Kerrison, before I
was assailed on all sides, and compelled to listen to numer-
ous complaints in order to get free again. But here is your
wrap; I thought this soft, white, woolen thing would make
you look as cozy as a little lamb. Let me put it on your
shoulders."
"Thanks! but I don't want it now, I am warm again,'
replied Lily, coldly.
66
Oh, dear! I'm afraid I have kept you waiting, but in-
deed it wasn't my fault. If you only knew what the cares
of such a household are!”
""
ވ
·
"She doesn't want to know," said Kerrison, laughing,
"she is perfectly content to hear about them. Never mind
the wrap, Mrs. Arlington-put it on Escott, he looks quite
shriveled with the east wind-and go to the piano and sing
us something very nice and sentimental!"
And so the discord of the evening was lost in harmony.
CHAPTER XXX.
(C HAS SHE PREDICTED THAT?”
"IT is all a failure-a wretched and unmitigated fail-
ure!" exclaimed Lola Arlington, as she flung herself down
upon a chair in her mother's house.
Claircine de Pellé stood before her daughter, silent and
dismayed. She had offered to relieve her of her walking
attire, and to fetch her some refreshment, and been re-
pulsed on both counts unceremoniously.
The rebuff alarmed rather than hurt her.
She was more than half afraid of her handsome and
arrogant daughter, who, she felt, looked down upon her as.
an origin unworthy of her beauty and her position.
"Hush, my pretty one!" she ventured to say, presently.
"But what is a failure?"
"C This business of the Kerrisons.
Maman is either a
F
WHY NOT?
175
¡
fool or a knave! Not a single one of her predictions has
come to pass! Kerrison has married this girl, notwith-
standing that I humiliated myself before him by a confes-
sion of love; and now that, with great difficulty, I bring
the former lover back to her side, she repulses his atten-
tions, and orders him never to enter the house again. She
declares to him that she loves her husband and will not be-
tray him. She goes further. She tries to imbue the young
man with her own principles, and I am not sure that she
has not succeeded. Bah! What is one to do with such
people? It sickens me to think of them!"
66
Ah!" ejaculated Mme. de Pellé," then she is virtuous
-this young lady."
"She pretends to be.
66
But what was it that maman predicted, Lola? She is
not generally wrong, and lately her eyes seem doubly opened
to the future. As her body decays, her mental powers in-
crease. She frightens me sometimes by her marvelous
prophecies. It is as though she saw the scroll of fate spread
out before her."
66
She could not frighten me, whatever she said. I only
wish she would tell me the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth. I would like to know everything
that is to happen to me, even though I saw myself swing-
ing on the gallows."
Claircine de Pellé started forward with a sudden cry:
46
Ah! don't say that, my child! It is too terrible! To
think of those beautiful eyes starting from their sockets!-
that satin skin discolored by strangulation!-that delicate
throat twisted out of shape by the cruel knotted rope! I
could not bear it, Lola-I could not bear it!”
The description seemed too much for the younger woman
also. She turned pale as she listened to it.
66
"Has that old witch predicted that for me?" she asked.
No, no, my child; calm thyself; and if she had, what
matter? You say that her predictions have no truth in
them."
66
Some of them have," muttered Lola;
"and I am not
sure now if she ever did say I should marry Mr. Kerrison.
But it is still on the cards, isn't it, mother? Wives die
sometimes, and I think if she died now his thoughts would
turn to me for comfort. I should have gained him the
first time had his mind not been preoccupied. But she is
176
WHY NOT?
no companion for him. It is I to whom he looks for con-
versation and amusement. I who assist him in his work,
and keep him a comfortable and happy home.”
"C
You will win in the end, never fear," said Mme. de
Pellé.
(C
Yes, if she would only die!" replied her daughter,
feverishly.
CC
Well, and that is not difficult if one has the mind to
bring it about. Sleep is a temporary death; we have only
to prolong it to convert it into death itself. You had bet-
ter consult maman about it.
""
66
Ah!-no!-maman is too terrible!" said Lola, with a
shudder.
"My daughter, if you are likely to require her counsel
or her assistance, you had better take it at once, before it is
too late. Poor maman weakens every day. Any time
when you come here you may find her with the angels.
And then, if you have let your opportunity for wealth and
station slip by you, what is to become of me? How can I
live when maman is gone? Will these few rags I have to
wash keep me in board and lodging? I ask you to think
of me as well as yourself.
""
"It is hard that you should depend upon me, mother.
I-who was thrust from your very arms to earn my own
living as best I could!—who have been tossed about this
world like a cork upon the billows ever since! You have
had other children besides me. Is there no one else on
whom you have a claim for your support?"
66
No one, my child," returned Mme. de Pellé, whim-
pering, with her apron to her eyes.
"Your father-bah!
he was a vile man, whose memory is distasteful to me, and
your brothers are scattered over the world. I should not
know them even if we met. But you I provided well for;
and how did you requite my benevolence?"
"What do you call providing well' for me, mother?"
"Did I not marry you to Agar? Ay-marry you hard
and fast in the church! I had a battle to do it, I can tell
you, Lola! The man offered me hundreds of pounds-
enough to make me comfortable for life-to let him off.
But I was firm. I was determined that my beautiful daugh-
ter should be a lady, and have her own fortune, and so I
forced him to give in to my wishes and make you his wife."
Make me his slave, you mean! Do you call that ' pro-
CC
}
WHY NOT?
17
viding' for me, mother? You sold me as a child of fifteen
to a horrible old Jew with the worst of characters, who
initiated me into every sort of crime. He only wanted me
as a decoy-duck to his gambling-saloon. And then-when
he found I had a will as well as himself-he ill-treated me
until-until he aggravated me to take my revenge!"
،،
Oh, yes, Lola-oh, yes! you had your revenge!" said
Mme. de Pellé, chuckling.
"And what for? To see everything seized by his credit-
ors, and find myself penniless, and cast for the second time
upon a world that did not want me!"
(6
" But
The world always wants beautiful women, Lola; and
you are still in your prime," replied her mother.
what has become of the colonel? Has he cooled of his fancy
for you?"
"Not at all. But what use is it? I can no longer serve
to fan Kerrison's jealousy into a flame, and he has no
money for me to fall back upon.
>"
"It would be a position!" croaked Mme. de Pellé.
"Wealth is double the value of station, mother. No; I
see a better prospect than that, if the other fails-Mr. Esmé
Fielding-the young Englishman who came here to consult
maman-Mrs. Kerrison's quondam lover. He will have a
rich property by and by, when his mother dies, and if I get
hold of him she won't live long afterward."
66
But isn't he still in love with Mr. Kerrison's wife?"
"( Yes. But when an attachment is hopeless a man's
heart soon turns in another direction; and he is the sort of
susceptible youth I could soon get an influence over. In
fact, I have it already. We have had two or three walks
together, and I found him most amenable. It would be
simply a question of whether I wished it or not, especially
now that Mrs. Kerrison has given him the go-by. Oh!
men are so easily caught they are not worth the winning!""
Particularly when they are dependent on the caprice of
their mothers. You would have to get into Mrs. Fielding's
good graces, Lola, unless you wish her to alter her will,
and that would not be so easy I fancy!''
((
66
I don't know that. The old lady came to see me whilst
Mr. and Mrs. Kerrison were absent, to worm out all she
could about the bride. But I put her on the wrong track
altogether. I foresaw that if she let the cat out of the bag
before my plans were matured, she would have the game
1
178
WHY NOT?
to herself; so I sent her off, bewildered by her own mistake,
and ready to pounce down upon Lily Prescott in quite
another direction!"
66
My clever girl," said Mme. de Pellé, admiringly.
"When did you ever fail to do the right thing at the right
time? If she had acquired a knowledge of the truth she
would have prevented her son entering the house."
CC
Exactly so. Not that it has been of much service hith-
erto. I wish I could think of some plan to let Mr. Kerri-
son learn the truth concerning her, without compromising
myself.
""
""
ލ
Maman will find it for you!" exclaimed Mme. de Pellé,
confidently. "Maman is like the wire-worm, that bores
its way in the dark, yet always arrives at the spot where it
desires to be. She was chanting a song about you only
last night, and the refrain of it was always success. Death
""
and success.
"Bah!” cried Lola, shuddering. "I wish she could
sing of something more exhilarating than death. It is not
a cheerful subject, whether we contemplate it in the per-
sons of ourselves or others."
"Maman is too used to the sight to fear it. She has
been a witness in her youth to the ceremonies of the Vau-
doux, and has seen live victims immolated on their altars."
"And eaten them too, I dare say," said Lola, grimly.
"And why not, my child?" demanded Claircine de
Pellé, calmly. "It is only prejudice that debars the whole
world from the same act. However, I speak from surmise
only. I have never heard maman confess she was a party
to it. But she must have been reared upon strange food to
make her what she is."
66
She is a weird old creature, there is no doubt of that,
though very useful at times," replied Mrs. Arlington.
But, mother, remember there must be no more convul-
sions. They frighten me, and arouse suspicion. Make
maman understand that. Surely, amongst her vast collec-
tion of decocted herbs-""
"What you
'I understand," said Claircine de Pellé.
want is a sleeping draught, in case of need; something to
keep by you, and watch your opportunity for use. Some-
thing that will induce sleep profound and deep. That stops
the heart as it stops with disease-neither faster nor slower
-and lulls the sleeper to a calm repose. Oh! yes. I know
L
WHY NOT?
179
where it is and how to use it. But let us ask maman first.
She may have something better to propose."
CHAPTER XXXI.
""
SEND HER TO SLEEP."
THEY found the old negress with her arm-chair placed
close to the fire, and apparently in a state of torpidity.
Every hole and crevice that could possibly admit air to the
apartment had been carefully stuffed up with rags or paper,
and the little room was so insufferably warm, not to say
offensive, that Lola Arlington started back, as she crossed
the threshold, with an exclamation of horror. Yet the cold
seemed to have shriveled the old black woman to half her
size; and as she sat huddled up with her elbows on her
knees, and her eyes half closed, she looked a mass of seams
and wrinkles.
(C
ލ
"This is unbearable! I shall faint if I stay here long!"
said Lola. "Is she asleep?"
"No, no, my child, only dreaming! Speak to her, and
she will answer you.
>>
66
Maman! Maman Rosita! It is I-your Lolita! How
are you to-day, maman ?”
But no response came from the immovable figure in the
chair.
މ
CC
"It is of no use," said Mrs. Arlington, addressing her
mother. It is as if she were dead! It frightens me! I
would rather go. She must have been at the opium
again!"
"You are mistaken," replied Mme. de Pellé; "it is an
impossibility! There is no opium in the house. I take
care of that. But her spirit is away from the body. Per-
haps on your account. Let me stir the fire into a blaze.
That will bring her to herself again."
She seized the poker as she spoke, and hammered at the
smoldering coals until they broke into a bright flame that
commenced to lick the sides of the chimney. As the fire
gave signs of life, the old negress began to stir and talk to
herself.
"How
"I told you it would wake her up," said Mme. de Pellé.
"Flames! flames!" muttered Maman Rosita.
they curl the bodies up, and toast and roast them! One
180
WHY NOT?
would think that they lived, and were about to speak.
But they are dead-dead! I saw them die. Janotte strug-
gled and screamed, but Cécile died like a lamb! What was
the use of screaming? They had both to die, one as much
as the other, and be silent forever."
She is dreaming of her old life, and the religious cere-
monies of the Vaudoux. I believe she was what they call
a maman loi, and had the selection of the victims. No
wonder she is used to death, and considers it a trifle.”
66
But, mother, it is terrible! It scares me!'' said Mrs.
Arlington.
"So it has me at times, but I am accustomed to her talk
now. Though I have heard that it was the discovery of
this that killed my poor mother-your grandmother, Lola,
whom you never saw-and so it might a timid and nervous
woman as she was. But we have no nerves-you and I-
and are above such follies.
>"
"that they used to practice
"They do it to this day, chérie. The Vaudoux religion
and cannibalism are one and the same thing. And as long
as the English Government takes no notice of it, they will
continue so. Come, wake up-wake up!" continued Mme.
de Pellé, shaking her grandmother, "and speak to Lolita,
or she will go away again without your seeing her.
What does she want?" demanded the negress.
Revenge, maman!" replied Mrs. Arlington.
You
promised me success for my best wish, but another woman
has stepped in and taken it from me.
""
66
66
""
"I see her," cried the old woman, suddenly-" a white
-white woman with pale hair. She stands between you
Remove her then--remove her, and success
and the light.
will be yours!"
“But is it true,” said Lola,
such barbarities in Hayti?"
66
“But how, maman—how?”
"I had a rival once," said maman," and I betrayed her -
to the papa loi. I dragged her to the altar under pretense
of gratifying her curiosity, and there they fell upon her and
gagged her, and stabbed her in twenty places. And when
she was roasted, I eat a piece of her flesh," continued the
horrible old creature, chuckling; "and it was sweet to my
taste because it was hers-my rival's-and I knew that she
could stand in my way no more to try and take what was
mine away from me.
""
WHY NOT?
181
CC
66
'I would do the same if it were possible!" cried Lola,
with kindling eyes.
I would drag my rival into the fire,
and watch her burn to death beneath my eyes. But we are
in England, not in Hayti. "
"There are other ways and means," muttered Maman
Rosita.
I
'Listen to me, maman. This woman is bad-bad.
am sure of it. There are secrets in her past life which she
dare not tell her husband. How can I impart them to him
without appearing openly as an informer? He is an honor-
able man, but very strict. If he knew her as she is, he
would not keep her by his side. Yet he would hate the per-
son who opened his eyes to the truth! And he is so ab-
sorbed in his plays that he thinks of nothing else but them
and her. Tell me some plan by which I can enlighten him
as to her real character, and turn his love to gall!"
66
Stop!" cried the old negress, who had been handling
her magic crystal all the while, "I can see something. A
low, long room, hung with velvet and carpeted with crim-
son. On one side of it are books--many handsome books.
On the other, a sofa between two windows. In the window
recesses are tables covered with ornaments.
At the upper
end is a fire-place--above it a mirror in a black carved
frame. On the mantel-piece a black marble clock and
bronze figures. Before the fire-place a writing-table with
an arm-chair. The walls of the room are hung with paint-
ings. In one corner there is a white statue-in the other a
tall vase of many colors. Do you recognize it?"
"Yes-yes!" cried Mrs. Arlington, eagerly, "it is Mr.
Kerrison's library."
66
I see a man and woman in that room," continued
maman, in her untranslatable creole patois, stooping
over the same paper. The man writes-the woman dic-
tates. She is telling him some story which he has not heard
before, and he is putting it down on paper that he may
twist and turn it into a book or a play, that shall
the world, and be made public from east to west.
go before
"And she will see it!' cried Lola Arlington, taking up
the parable impetuously," and betray herself, and explana-
tions will follow, and he will know how she has deceived
him. Thanks-thanks, maman, a thousand times. I see
my way clearly now. But suppose," she added, in a more
subdued voice, that she is bold enough to see her own
66
66
182
WHY NOT?
history acted on the stage and pretend that it is new to her?
I shall have all my work to do over again.
""
Send her to sleep-send her to sleep!" said the old
negress, she is not fit to live."
(C
I think it would be much better to do it at first, with-
out having all this fuss," said Mme. de Pellé, opening a
little cupboard in the room. "What's the use of thinking
twice about such a whey-faced creature?"
66
But if she died now, mother, she would be transformed
into a martyr and live forever in his memory. He has
managed to exist without women up to middle age, and he
believes the best of them. Nothing but a complete disen-.
chantment would banish her from his mind.”
"She is sickly you say," continued her mother. What
medicines is she in the habit of taking?"
ވ
66
"I have never heard her mention any, except a tincture
for neuralgia. I know she suffers with pains in her head
continually. Sometimes she can not sleep for nights to-
gether, and has a sleeping-draught, with morphia in it,
always standing on the mantel-piece in her bedroom. "
"That is the very thing, Lolita. You have only to
empty out half the contents of her bottle and substitute
this," holding up a little vial of colorless liquid, “and the
next time the lady goes to sleep it will be forever. It is
the safest thing in the world and impossible of detection.
You should never be without it. It is little I shall have to
leave you, dear child, but I will take care you have the
recipe for decocting this little quieting draught before I
die
"Are these maman's charms and love-philters?" asked
Lola, as she gazed curiously at the contents of the cup-
board.
(6
distill them now, but
But they are of little
nowadays.
""
and I wish maman
One of the good old
Do you think it would
66
66
Yes; she is too old and blind to
she has left a good stock behind her.
use-people don't believe in such things
I do," returned her daughter,
would give me a real love-philter.
kind that used to drive men crazy.
have any effect on him, mother?"
66
No, Lolita, I don't. I never believed in them myself.
These philters took years to concoct, and contain ingredients
from every part of the world, but I never saw any good
come from them. Most of them contain human blood, and
WHY NOT?
183
you may fancy the difficulty there was to get it. The blood
of a virgin must form part of a love-philter! I have much
faith in this," continued Claircine de Pellé, holding up the
little vial with its colorless contents, "this can never fail,
and it leaves no trace behind it. It is secret, safe, and sure.
If no eye sees it deposited in the bottle or the glass it is im-
possible to trace the deed. You had better take this home
with you, Lolita. It is bound to be useful some day. If
not for this individual-
-
""
"For myself," laughed Lola; "I quite agree with you,
mother! There are times when life is not worth living, and
it is as well to have an easy way of opening the door. It
gives no pain?" she added, interrogatively, as she took the
vial in her hand.
66
ލ
Absolutely none! Were it not for you, and poor old
maman, I would take it myself to-night. It creeps upward
and downward, paralyzing every faculty, and lulling one
off into an uncontrollable and never-ending sleep. It
should be labeled 'death made easy.
“That would be rather too dangerous," said Lola, as she
deposited the poison in her hand-bag; "however, I may as
well take it with me!''
"""
At this juncture the old crone stared with her sightless
eyeballs at the ceiling and burst out into a discordant
laugh.
High! high!" she croaked," look at it swinging in the
sky! And now it's fallen into the water-in the deep water
-under the waves-bob, bob-float, float, like a great
bunch of sea-weed! It's having a merry ride-ha-ha!
With its face and its heels turned up, and the light died out
of its eyes!"''
"What is she talking of? It makes my blood run cold
to hear her!" said Mrs. Arlington, with a shudder.
,
66
It is nothing, chérie! Don't listen to her! Sometimes
she talks for hours in that rambling fashion, and I never
stop to think what she means! Her mind is nearly gone for
all earthly things, and when she discloses the future she
only repeats what she hears!"
"C
It is very uncanny, that is all I know!" replied Mrs.
Arlington, and if she has nothing more to say, I think we
will go down-stairs again. You are sure you have given.
me the right stuff, mother?"
66
Quite sure! There is no other like it here!"
184
WHY NOT?
"And might I not try a love-philter?" said her daugh-
ter, coaxingly; "it can do no harm, can it, if it does no
good?",
CC
I am not sure of that, my dear! I have heard of men
going partially insane from them, though not with love.
They contain the decocted roots of the mandragora, and
the venom of snakes. I would not meddle with them, if I
were you, Lolita. Your eyes are surer love-philters than
all the potions in the world!"
"They have not proved very efficacious in this case,'
grumbled Mrs. Arlington; "however, I do not care to be
found with dangerous medicines in my possession; neither
do I wish to drive John Kerrison out of his senses. I'd
rather he lived to carry out my little plan! Good-bye,
maman. You are a very wonderful old lady! though you
do make one's flesh creep! Mother," she cried, as she
stood in her beauty on the threshold and pointed back with
her finger to the withered old negress, looking like a wrin-
kled monkey in her chair, who would ever imagine, to
look at us two, that there are only four generations between
us?"
66
ވ.
Kla
"No one, Lolita; for you are the living image of your
father. But you mustn't despise poor old maman because
she is not white. The whites are wicked and cruel, my
child, as well as the blacks, and often much more so.
1
"They are not cannibals, at all events," said Lola, with
a gesture of abhorrence.
6 C
No; they don't eat the flesh of their women and chil-
dren, but they eat out their hearts by unkindness, which is
only a slower and more painful process of killing. But
don't let us talk of such things, Lolita; we never agree on
them."
*
"I have not much need to love Englishmen at this mo-
ment,” returned her daughter, nor does it seem as if I
did, considering what I carry in my pocket,
""
66 It is not for him ?"
"Heaven forbid! Yet it is for him, through her! But
I will never use it, mother; I will rather expose her treach-
and deceit to him, and turn his milk of human kind-
ery
ness into gall! Oh! it will be a grand day for me! A day
of triumph and delight, when I see her sink in his estima-
tion to something lower than a thing of clay! Pray for it!
Ka
}
WHY NOT?
185
-pray for it!" continued the excited creature, who never
prayed for herself or others.
(C
I have more faith in the little bottle," replied Mme.
de Pellé, calmly, as she let her daughter out into the
street.
CHAPTER XXXII.
"I DISINHERIT YOU.'
CHRISTMAS was at hand-a green, unhealthy Christmas
-and Mrs. Fielding was spending it alone at Applescourt,
irritable and discontented because her son was not with her,
and had sent no intimation of his coming.
The contradiction she had received at the hands of Mrs.
Arlington respecting the identity of Mrs. Kerrison had
startled but not convinced her. Yet she could think of no
better means of arriving at the truth.
She was not personally acquainted with John Kerrison,
and, living out of town, had no plausible excuse for calling
on his wife.
މ މ
Esmé had gained admission to the household solely on
the plea of being Colonel Escott's godson; but the colonel
had never been friendly with Mrs. Fielding. He had been
a great chum of her husband's at the time of the boy's
birth, but Mr. Fielding's death and his own departure for
India had severed the connection between them until his
return. Since then a single visit of courtesy to Apples-
court had been all the communication that had passed be-
tween the widow and himself; and to tell truth, Mrs. Field-
ing stood rather in awe of the colonel's plain speaking, and
he was the last person she would have chosen to repose her
confidence in.
Still, she could not help thinking that Esmé must have
fallen in again with Lily Prescott, or lost his heart in an-
other direction, and either surmise was enough to make her
miserable. He had never spent such long absences from
Applescourt before, nor been so reticent about his proceed-
ings.
And now Christmas-eve had actually arrived without her
receiving any notice that he would be with them on the
morrow. It would be the first Christmas-day he had ever
I
186
WHY NOT?
passed away from home, and the thought drove Mrs. Field-
ing almost to despair.
What would the grand dinner, which the housekeeper
and butler always arranged between them for that day, be
to her if her boy did not grace the head of the table? Ab-
solutely nothing!
She sat in the dull drawing-room (for no rooms look so
dull in winter as those with French windows to the ground)
and watched the rain drip, drip on the shrubs, and ever-
greens, and rank grass, until she felt as if she could almost
take her own life.
Miss Drebble, the luckless companion who had supplied
Lily Prescott's place for the last two years, had much more
reason to take hers. She came in for all the blame and ill-
temper that could not by any means be foisted on any other
shoulders, until she began to think that "
merry Christ-
mas was entirely a misnomer. But fifty years of enforced
servility had made her very meek and humble. She was
neither young, beautiful, nor clever-Mrs. Fielding had
taken good care of that. All she could boast of was an
uncomplaining spirit, and that she possessed to perfection.
22
But even her humility aggravated Mrs. Fielding on this
occasion. To abuse her for her stupidity was like kicking
against wool. She offered no resistance, and she made no
sound. And so the mistress of Applescourt sat silent in
the wintery dusk, eating her heart out with vexation, and
longing, and disappointment.
66
"If you please, Mrs. Fielding," asked the meek voice of
Miss Drebble, through the gloom, can you tell Johnson
how many guests there will be at dinner to-morrow even-
ing?"
I don't know."
66
you
"He wishes to ascertain on account of the courses.
Well, then, tell him I don't know," repeated Mrs.
Fielding, stamping her foot.
Are deaf? How many
more times do you expect me to say the same thing?""
And Mrs. Keith says,
went on Miss Drebble, imper-
turbably, are the school-children to have tea in the serv-
ants' hall as usual?”
""
66
6
66
""
""
No; I can't be bothered with them. Send word the
tea and cakes will be sent down to the school-room.
"And if you please, Mrs. Keith wishes to know if the
I
WHY NOT?
187
almshouse women are to have their Christmas dinner in
the kitchen, as they did last year?"
(C
"Good heavens, woman!" cried Mrs. Fielding, rising
from her seat and pacing the room, why do you come
and worry me with these details when you see I am half out
of my mind? No-no-no! to everything. I will have
no feasting nor festivities in my house this Christmas of
any kind. I will have no singing nor merry-making sound-
ing in my ears whilst my dear son is away. Isn't it enough
that I have to bear the bitter sting of his absence without
your worrying me about making other people happy? Let
the beef, and the pudding, and the other things be sent
down to the pensioners. I don't wish them to be deprived
of their usual gifts, but I will have none of them in this
house. Make Johnson and Keith understand that plainly.
If they don't attend to my orders they will drive me mad!”
She continued to pace up and down the long room as if
she did not know what to do with herself, whilst Miss
Drebble stood silent, but unsatisfied, at the door.
66
Well, what more have you to say?" demanded Mrs.
Fielding, presently, stopping short in her perambulations.
"Whatever it is, say it and have done. Your slowness is
more aggravating every day."
"I only wished to ask you, madame-if you will excuse
my mentioning the subject-where I am to put Colonel
Escott?"
"Colonel Escott! What do you mean?"
rr
I trust I have not made a mistake," replied Miss Dreb-
ble, stammering, "for it is very dark, and I only caught a
glimpse of him in the hall; but the gentleman struck me
as being like Colonel Escott.”
He came in with Mr. Fielding.'
In the hall! When?"
Just now, madame.
"With my son !”
"Yes. I think they must have walked from the station,
as they were very wet, and they went upstairs together to
Mr. Fielding's room.
22
""
Mrs. Fielding walked up close to her companion's side.
(C
And you knew this, you driveling idiot, all the time
you have been wearying me with your talk about the
almshouse dinners! You saw me half frantic with disap-
pointment because my darling boy had not arrived, and
you knew he was in the house all the while and never told
I
Kana
188
WHY NOT?
me! How dared you come to me with petty details of
school-children's teas and old women's dinners when the
master of the house had just arrived! I wonder you were
not afraid to brave my anger in such a way.
""
"I was coming to it by degrees," said Miss Drebble,
tearfully.
"Coming to it by degrees!" repeated Mrs. Fielding,
with scorn. "I'll teach you to come to things by degrees,
you maundering old creature!" and raising her hand, she
gave the unfortunate companion a sounding box on the ear,
and marched out of the drawing-room.
When she found herself in the hall, however, she became
uncertain how to act. Esmé had treated her with scant
ceremony in coming home without any previous announce-
ment of his intention, and her pride forbade her seeking
him in his own room. Besides, Colonel Escott was appar-
ently with him. So Mrs. Fielding turned into the library
and rang the bell. It was answered by a footman.
"Miss Drebble informs me that Mr. Fielding and
Colonel Escott have arrived."
66 Yes, ma'am.
"Where are they?"
(6
?
މ
މ
"Up in Mr. Fielding's dressing-room, ma'am."
"You have taken them all they may require?"
"Yes, ma'am.”
Well, light the gas, and send Mrs. Keith to me.”
In a few minutes the portly housekeeper had entered the
room. All traces of agitation had by that time been re-
moved from her mistress's countenance.
"Mrs. Keith, next time you have any message for me
concerning the household management, I request you will
deliver it yourself, and not entrust it to Miss Drebble. She
is so incapable of expressing herself that I can not under-
stand half she says. What is this difficulty about the -
school-children's tea and the almshouse dinner?"
"We only wished to know, ma'am-Mr. Johnson and
me-if they was to be given in the kitchen and servants"
'all as usual.”
66
Of course they are! I was not aware that I had said
anything to the contrary. And for to-morrow's dinner we
shall be almost alone. Only Mr. Esmé and Colonel Escott
(they have just arrived, Thomas tells me), and, Mr. and
1
189
Mrs. Robbins from the parsonage. I need not add, let
It always is!"
WHY NOT?
،،
I tries my best.
everything be very nice.
Thank you, ma'am.
That is all, Keith. Only send Thomas to tell the gen-
tlemen they will find me in the library, and let dinner be
served at the usual hour.
66
""
The housekeeper courtesied and withdrew.
Such a grand, courteous, dignified lady as her mistress
appeared to be! She always declared there wasn't such an-
other for her age in the country-side. Who could have
supposed that a quarter of an hour before she had been
raving and stamping up and down the drawing-room like a
lunatic, and that the reason poor stupid Miss Drebble was
crying in her attic at the present moment was because the
place still smarted where she had boxed her.
Meanwhile Mrs. Fielding had to sit in the library a little
longer than she cared to do, awaiting the advent of her son
and his friend. The day had been very wet, and they had
been soaked through during a two-mile walk from the sta-
tion. But in about half an hour more they appeared,
armed to the teeth with apologies.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting so long," said Esmé,
nonchalantly, as he kissed his mother, "but we were wet
to the skin, and had to change every mortal thing.
>>
ވ
"If you had had the grace to apprise me of your advent,
Esme," replied Mrs. Fielding, as she returned Colonel Es-
cott's salutation, “I should have sent the carriage to the
station for you. But I really began to believe I was not to
see you at all."
66
(6
And no more you would except for the colonel," said
her son, with a slight laugh. That is why I make no
apology (though I know none is needed) for bringing him
down to spend Christmas with you, for it was he who per-
suaded me to come myself.
""
"Not very complimentary to me," observed Mrs. Field-
ing, with pursed-up lips.
Oh, come, mother, there's no offense in that! Christ-
mas dinners are worn-out festivals, and for my part I can't
understand why they are ever given nowadays. They only
serve as monuments for our losses. Each year sees some
face vanished from the table-if not by death, by separa-
tion," said the young man, with a deep sigh.
M
190
WHY NOT?
Are these Colonel Escott's sentiments as well?" de-
manded Mrs. Fielding, icily.
66
"Well, I, as you may suppose, know little of such anni-
versaries," returned the colonel. My Christmas dinners
have been chiefly eaten at mess without a creature of my
own blood near me, and the thermometer at eighty degrees
in the shade. I have therefore almost lost remembrance
that such things were.
6
ލވ މ
CC
"And what brought me down to Applescourt to-night,
mother," continued Esmé, and without time to warn you
of my arrival, is a subject of some importance upon which
I have come to speak to you.
""
(C
My dear Esmé, had you not better defer the matter
until after dinner?" interposed Colonel Escott, anxiously.
It is likely to be a discussive one, and not suitable to
speak of before the servants."
<6
"Oh! all right," returned young Fielding, gloomily.
"If it is a subject which can not be discussed with pro-
priety before my household," said his mother, with her
mind always full of Lily Prescott, "it had certainly better
be left till we are alone again.
"
This little allusion did not tend to make the meal that
succeeded a cheerful one, and Esmé's constant furtive looks
at the colonel told the latter that he had expected a storm
was hanging over their heads.
Mrs. Fielding did not allude to the subject again until
the after-dinner coffee had been served in the drawing-
room, and then she said, stiffly:
"If you have really anything of importance to com-
municate to me, Esmé, perhaps this is the best time for it.
I trust to you, however, not to allude to any of those un-
happy incidents which have produced estrangement be-
tween us hitherto, because I give you fair notice that I will
not listen to them."
"You need not be afraid, mother. You have never
heard of this plan of mine before, I am quite certain of
that, and therefore it is not one of the old bones of conten-
tion. It will startle you, however, and therefore, before I
disclose it, I will ask you to remember that I am four-and-
twenty years of age and my own master; also, that I have
quite made up my mind on the matter.
"Consequent upon your mother's consent, Esmé," in-
terposed the colonel.
-
¿
WHY ---
i 191
NOT?
No, colonel; I shall be sorry to grieve my mother, but
I mean to go through with this, with her consent or without
it."
(C
"Then why go through the farce of asking for it?" said
Mrs. Fielding.
""
"I didn't say I had come down for that purpose. My
words were, that I wished to speak to you.
"You might as well have dispensed with that formality
also."
66
No, mother, I could not. Do you think I can forget.
what a good mother you have been to me? How you have
supplied the place of both parents, and, with the exception
of one unhappy dissension that has had much to do in sepa-
rating us, have scarcely ever thwarted me in a single wish?"
"I am glad you acknowledge so much. Pray go on with
your story," replied Mrs. Fielding, coldly.
'It is told in very few words. I have resolved for the
future to support myself."
"Indeed!
And how ?"
"In an honorable manner, you may be sure of that, and
one of which my godfather approves. I have been offered,
and have accepted, the post of secretary to Sir James Mal-
colm, the newly appointed Governor of Malta. "
"To go out to Malta and live there?"
I hope so. Unless I am kicked out of my appointment
for incompetency."
"C
And it is you, then, whom I have to thank for robbing
me of my only son!" exclaimed Mrs. Fielding, turning
fiercely upon Čolonel Escott. "It is you who have come
back to England with your wicked old bachelor ways, and
your military immoralities, and lured my child away from
his home, and made dissension between him and his moth-
er!"
"Indeed, Mrs. Fielding, I can assure you- com-
menced the colonel, deprecatingly.
"Don't speak to me, you wicked old man! My Esmé
was as pure as a child before he fell into your hands, and
you made him as bad as yourself! Godfather indeed!-a
fine godfather! A godfather to lead him to his ruin!
That's all the good you'll ever do him! You ought to be
ashamed of yourself!"
>>
Esmé had laughed at the first part of this tirade, but his
mother's last words roused his indignation.
1
#
192
WHY NOT?
{
"Mother," he cried, plucking at her sleeve," leave off!
How dare you lay such charges at the door of the best
friend I possess? You would have had a great deal more
to contemn in my behavior had it not been for Colonel Es-
cott's kindness and advice. If there is any one to blame
for my leaving Applescourt it is yourself."
"I" she returned, indignantly.
66 How have I fur-
thered such a step? Have you not had everything you
could desire whilst living under my roof?"
66
No, mother. I have never had my liberty, and a man
of four-and-twenty can not submit to be coerced like a lit-
tle child. You meant it for kindness, doubtless, but it
was a selfish and a cruel kindness, and it has hardened me.
Even to accept an annual allowance from you, which you
threaten to take back on every trifling lapse of duty, galls
my spirit! I will not eat your bread any longer, nor be
under obligation to you of any kind. Let me be free, and
I shall feel like a man. Now, I am a slave !"
He covered his face with his hands as he spoke, and Mrs.
Fielding's heart was smitten with self-reproach.
"Oh, my son!" she cried, "forgive me! Come back
to Applescourt, and you shall never see me interfere with
your pleasures again! I will double your allowance, Esmé,
and you shall spend it as you choose! I will settle the
money on you! It shall be yours to do as you will with! I
will never ask how it is expended! Only say that you will
take your place here as master of the house, and let me spend
my last days by your side!"
"It is not my place," replied Esmé, gloomily, "nor can
I ever be master in a house where you are mistress!"'
"Oh! if your poor father could hear you!-he who loved.
me so! But you will not go to Malta?"
"Most certainly I shall go to Malta," he said, decidedly;
"I have accepted Sir James Malcolm's offer, and we start
next month. I came down to reconcile you to the fact,
not to listen to any arguments against it."
((
Colonel Escott, will you not be on my side?" cried the
unhappy woman, appealing to her guest.
Not if it be to dissuade my young friend, Mrs. Field-
ing, from a step which I consider does honor to his heart
and mind. A dependent life is not calculated to be a man-
ly one. You had much better let the lad go and see a little
wading you
WHY NOT?
193.
of the world, and he will return to Applescourt with twice
the affection he has for it-and you at present.
"He will never return!" cried Mrs. Fielding, hysterical-
ly. "I feel it!-I know it! Esmé, by the memory of
your father, I conjure you-I forbid you to accept this mis-
erable appointment!"
>>
"It is useless your talking like that, mother, because my
mind is made up, and the thing is done, and the least said
the soonest mended.”
"Then I repudiate you!" exclaimed his mother, harshly.
I disinherit you! I will no longer call you my son, and
the sooner you and your treacherous friend leave my house
the better!"'
ཉ
"Very good," said Esmé, rising; "if you are ready,
colonel, we will go.
""
"I am more than ready, my dear boy. I have been
kicked out," replied the colonel, rising, and following his
friend. They went upstairs together, and after a few min-
utes Mrs. Fielding, with her temper cooled and her mad-
ness almost past, heard them walk out of the front-door
and into the pelting December rain again.
She sunk down with her face buried in the cushions of
her chair, and felt that she had destroyed her happiness
with her own hands.
Poor Miss Drebble had a bad time of it that night.
T
CHAPTER XXXIII.
A NEW PLOT.
MRS. ARLINGTON was not well. Every one observed it.
The brilliant, active woman had become languid and de-
pressed. She had lost her appetite, and her nights' rest
was broken and disturbed. She even appeared to have
parted with that beautiful serenity which, notwithstanding
her naturally hot temper, she had always been politic
enough hitherto to uphold in the presence of her superiors.
Mrs. Kerrison declared she was getting unbearable, and
requested her husband to keep his lady-secretary as much
as possible out of her way. But John Kerrison guessed the
true cause of Mrs. Arlington's low spirits, and it made him
lenient. Men generally are disposed to be so toward the
women who have professed an attachment for themselves.
7
}
194
WHY NOT?
In the light of a wife Lola Arlington had seemed posi-
tively repulsive to John Kerrison, who had his whole mind
fixed on a woman of a totally different stamp. But as a
rejected, and yet humble worshiper, he began to pity her
for all that she had lost in him. And, strange as it may
seem, Lola Arlington really did, after her own fashion,
love Mr. Kerrison. It was not only his position and fort-
une that she had aspired to-it was himself. He was
middle-aged and unattractive, gray-haired and somewhat
unpolished in manner, and yet this woman, who was still
young and very handsome, loved him.
Is any explanation of the fact necessary? Can we
always account for the strange freaks that Love plays
with his victims? Perhaps his genius had attracted her,
until she could not harmonize with a less gifted nature.
Perhaps the very contrast between his matured age
and her glowing youth had worked the charm. Any
way, she cared for him, and now that the first excitement
of his marriage was over, she began to feel the gulf that
had been fixed between them, and her hatred for the inno-
cent cause of their separation increased daily. There is
nothing extraordinary in that either. People love and hate
according to their natures, and it was the nature of this
child of the tropics, whose blood, created beneath an Indian
sun, ran like molten lava through her veins, to feel both
emotions extravagantly.
She would have laid down her life for John Kerrison;
but she would have killed his wife, the creature he loved
best, without the slightest compunction. Yet she could
not help shrinking a little from the deed itself and weigh-
ing its consequence in her own favor. What she would
gain by separating Lily and John Kerrison forever was the
question that worried her by night and day. If his wife
died, would the man ever turn from her memory to an-
other woman? His devotion to her seemed to grow by
what it fed upon. He spent every moment he could spare
from his work by her side, and had almost deserted his be-
loved club for her sake; and Lily, on the other hand, was
drawing closer to her husband. She had not forgotten
Esmé Fielding. He was her first love, and perhaps she
never would forget him. But, for the very reason that she
was conscious the young man's image haunted her more
than it should have done, she courted the society of her
1
Į
1
WHY NOT?
lawful owner, and forced herself to relinquish the solitude
which encouraged disloyal thoughts, to be his companion.
So Lola Arlington, watching their increased affection,
and feeling herself more and more shut out from the hus-
band's confidences, fretted visibly and lost much of her
good looks. Her hopes had been nourished hitherto by
Maman Rosita's predictions. She had had unbounded
faith in maman. But now it began to wane a little, and
though she frequently went to that terrible house in the
Minories to have it renewed by fresh prophecies, as soon as
she found herself at home again her belief wavered and she
lost confidence in herself.
195€
John Kerrison, in common with others, noticed the dif-
ference in her looks, and commented on it to Lily; but
Lily was not sympathetic. She was afraid of Mrs. Arling-
ton, but not too much afraid to show her dislike, at all
events, behind her back. So her husband had to carry his
doubts and fears to his old chum, Colonel Escott, and con-
sult him as to what could ail Mrs. Arlington. And the
colonel naturally became at once a troublesome mass of
anxiety. He assailed Lola on the score of her looks, and
her health, and her spirits, till she hated the very sight of
him. He implored her to take care of herself for his sake
till she was tempted to tell him the bitter truth, that she
was utterly indifferent to his feelings concerning her. In-
deed his affectionate interest in her welfare brought about
the very climax which she had not had the courage to at-
tain for herself. It drove her to appeal to John Kerrison
to save her from the colonel's persecution, and the appeal
brought about an explanation between them.
They were in the library together when she broached the
subject. This library was Lola's heaven. There she
reigned alone with Kerrison, and even Lily was jealous of
her sovereignty. The order which excluded all interruption
from his hours of study did not exempt his wife's presence
from that of strangers. Sometimes even Lola found herself
excluded, but as a rule she wrote his business letters or
copied his manuscripts at another table, whilst he sat with
wrinkled brow composing at his own.
One morning in the early spring of the year, as she was
looking unusually pale, he asked her if she felt well enough
for work.
66
>>
Certainly, sir. There is nothing the matter with me.'
}
/
196
WHY NOT?
She had been very particular since Kerrison's marriage
to address him in this deferential manner. She knew that
the more familiar a woman is with a man, the more, as a
rule, he puts a guard over his own words and actions con-
cerning her.
"Have a glass of wine, then, before we begin," he con-
tinued.
"No, thank you, Mr. Kerrison. Surely you must know
by this time that I never touch wine in the morning.
Then you
you should take a tonic or something. You are
looking as white as a sheet!"
66
CC
>>
Am I? Perhaps it is the effect of the light. I am a
little worried, but not ill."
"What has worried you? My questions?"
(C
Oh, Mr. Kerrison, how can you hint at such an idea!
Your kind inquiries are only too flattering to me. But I
don't care for all the world discussing my looks and feel-
ings.
""
Somebody else has been worrying you then."
It seems ungrateful to use such a term for what is
meant for kindness," replied Lola, bending over her work.
66 But if you would not tell Colonel Escott anything about
me, Mr. Kerrison, I should be very much obliged to you.
If—if I suffer a little, I prefer to keep it to myself. You
understand me perhaps, but strangers do not; and it is so
hard to be catechised about one's most sacred feelings.
He was very
""
John Kerrison understood the allusion.
much attached to his wife, but he could not forget that this
woman had once betrayed that she loved him, and he did
not feel the less interest in her on that account.
CC
66
It's a confounded piece of impertinence on Jem's part
to allude to it at all before you," he grumbled. "I have
mentioned the fact to him, I allow, because I feel anxious
about you, Lola, and sorry to see you look so unlike your-
self. But I did not mean him to repeat what I said to
you."
"Pray don't apologize, sir. It is nothing," murmured
Mrs. Arlington.
<< Excuse me.
me. If you are annoyed, it is a great deal, and
I shall take care it does not occur again. I shall tell Jem
it is not advisable to discuss your health in your presence.
But that rule does not hold good with me, Lola. You have
been with me now so long that I look upon you as one of
WHY NOT?
197
£
the family, and I can not let you. neglect yourself with im-
punity. Now just try to look on me as an uncle or a
brother, and tell me what will do you most good. Will
you go to Brighton for a few weeks, or to Paris, and see
what a little change will effect for you? Don't think twice
about funds. If you are short, I am not; and in a case
like this you must use my purse as your own.
Only make
your choice, and leave me to carry it through. What do
you say?"
But all the answer he received was conveyed by Mrs.
Arlington laying her head down on the table and bursting
into tears. A man seldom knows what to do when a woman
cries. If she happens to be his wife, he generally gets
angry; but should she stand in the position of a friend, he
is fairly nonplused.
As Mrs. Arlington's sobs burst forth, John Kerrison
glanced nervously at the door, and then walked timidly up
to her side.
"Don't cry, my dear," he said, in a fatherly sort of
way; "what is the matter? Confide your trouble in me,
and I will do all in my power to help you out of it. You
may depend upon that."
در
"You are very-very good," gasped Mrs. Arlington,
presently, "but there is no trouble, I am only a little
weak! I don't sleep well at night, and I feel tired. Indeed
that is all!"'
،،
ވ
w
Can't you read yourself to sleep?"
"I have often tried to do so; indeed, I seldom go to bed
without a book in my hand. And I have occupied myself
in another way!" she added, glancing upward, shyly.
C
Indeed; what is that?"
"I dare not tell you, you will think me so silly—so pre-
sumptuous!"
"What nonsense! You are a clever woman, and would
succeed in most things you undertook!”
"If I could only think that!" cried Mrs. Arlington,
clasping her hands, "but it is impossible; it would be too
great a happiness. How you would laugh if I were to con-
fide in you!"
(6
I mean to be confided in! I shall keep you here till
you have told me this wonderful secret!''
66
Remember, then, if it appears too extravagantly fool-
ish in your eyes, that it is the outcome of my acquaintance-
}
By
شی
A
198
WHY NOT?
ship with yourself. The fruit of having enjoyed the hap-
piness of seeing you work-of having helped to transcribe
your great thoughts-of having served under you-my
master-and-and-”
Sug
ވ
You mean that you have written a book!" interposed
Kerrison, hastily, afraid of what she might be about to say.
No-no! Not a book; as if I were clever enough!"
A play, then?"
C6
66
Oh, Mr. Kerrison! you make my confession seem so
small. But in the night-watches-ah! how long and
dreary they sometimes seemed to me!-I have tried to be-
guile the time by working out a little plot, and I think,
perhaps, if it were modeled".
"Let me see it!" exclaimed John Kerrison, delighted
to think she had found a legitimate outlet for her thoughts
and feelings. "I have often fancied it would come to this
with you, Lola! You are so quick and bright, and have
had such varied experience in life, that you are the very
woman to take to literature. Besides, I flatter myself you
have served a good apprenticeship under me!"
"I owe it all to you," she said, feverishly; "I knew
nothing when I came here! You have taught me how to
live!"
"If I can teach you how to write, my dear, you will have
learned to live twice over. But give me a synopsis of your
plot, Lola! I am sure it will be original!"
CC
66
"I have it written out here," she answered, drawing a
paper from her bosom. It is very disconnected. You
know how difficult it is to write down a plot; but your
master eye will grasp its possible capabilities at a glance."
He looked at the paper for a few minutes, elevating his
shaggy eyebrows, and making a running commentary as he
proceeded.
"Good!-good-very clever-an original situation-an
excellent climax," he murmured at intervals, as he perused
the outline to the end.
66
And how much do you want for your plot, Mrs. Arling-
ton?" he asked, smilingly, as he refolded the paper in his
hand.
"Oh! Mr. Kerrison, don't talk like that! If you should、
think there is the remotest possibility of a taking plot in
it-"
66
The possibility is not remote. It is close at hand. The
"'
WHY NOT?
199
story will want working out and constructing, of course;
but it will make an excellent melodrama, and I am ready
in for it with you.
to
""
80
Mr. Kerrison! what do you mean?"
I mean that (if you agree to it, Lola) I will write the
play and share the profits with you. My name, joined to
yours, will give you a lift upon the stage, which, if you
continue to write for it, will help you in after years. Be-
sides, I think this will be an excellent occupation for you
just now. You are unhinged and restless. It will afford
you interesting work, and a diversion from whatever may
be on your mind. What do you say to my proposal?''
66
It is too sudden-too generous-too noble! I hardly
know what to say. To be associated, however humbly,
with your work, has been the pride of my life.
To see my
name brought before the public in conjunction with your
own would be too much. I think my heart would burst
with pride and pleasure."
، ،
Don't talk nonsense. Hearts don't burst up after that
fashion. They're much too tough. But I shall really be
glad to be of assistance to you in this matter."
He spoke the truth; but could Mrs. Arlington have read
his mind she would not have felt so flattered by his offer.
He felt he owed her something more than her wages, and
he saw a way by this means of defraying the debt.
This woman, who had served him faithfully for many
years, and given him her heart as well as her service, de-
served something more at his hands than mere money. At
one time he would have offered her a home for life in re-
turn for it. But lately he had begun to think that it would
be the better for all parties if they could decently part.
Lily disliked her, and she was evidently jealous of his wife.
What domestic peace should he ever gain between them?
Besides, he loved his wife too well to keep any one beside
her who was not entirely to her taste. Therefore, sooner
or later, he felt that Mrs. Arlington must go; and if he
could turn her out upon the world again in a better posi-
tion than that in which he had found her, he felt that he
should do it with an easier mind. Now she was dependent.
As his collaborateur she would be independent, at least, of
domestic service. And John Kerrison's heart glowed at
the idea of being of real assistance to her.
"I am heartily glad of this," he continued, shaking
-
200
WHY NOT?
}
}
مال
:
Iv
Į
L
{
*
Lola by the hand. "I have always felt you were worthy
of better things than copying manuscripts. I will keep
this little paper and think it over, till it becomes more
ship-shape, and then you shall set to work and write down
all your ideas about it, before I come blundering in with
my own.
We'll make a big thing of it, never fear. And
now," he said, looking at her affectionately, "you will try
to be a little happier, Lola, for my sake, and let me think
that I have helped to make you so.
"I will do anything for your sake," she answered, in a
low voice.
""
.
John
This little dis-
66
By the way,
of a possible
The situation was again becoming dangerous.
Kerrison turned quickly toward the door.
"I can't work any more this morning.
covery has quite excited me," he said.
Lola, I suppose you have not yet thought
name for your first venture?"
56
"I wish to leave everything to your decision, Mr. Kerri-
son, "she answered; but, if you have no objection, I
should like to call it The Companion!"
C
""
CHAPTER XXXIV.
AT THE STORES.
AFTER this little explanation with John Kerrison Mrs.
Arlington regained her usual health and spirits, and things
went on as smoothly as before. She shut herself up a good
deal in the library and her own room, but no one but her
collaborateur knew the reason for which she did so. She
had entered into an agreement with him from the begin-
ning, that the fact of her helping him in the new drama
should be kept a secret until their joint work appeared
upon the stage. She was so afraid of failure, she said.
His share in it, she knew, would be faultless; but she was
such a novice, she might make a bungle of her crude at-
tempt, and have to withdraw from the undertaking
altogether; and in that case she should be so thankful to
feel that no one knew of her disappointment but herself.
Mr. Kerrison agreed in the wisdom of her decision. He,
too, was uncertain how she would come out of the ordeal
(though he did not say so), and thought that if she suc-
ceeded, it would be better to take the world by surprise.
불
​}
WHY NOT?
201
So he said nothing, even to Lily, of the nature of the work
she was engaged upon; and Mrs. Arlington, under the in-
fluence of ambition and the hope of success, became more
agreeable and fascinating than before.
It was poor Colonel Escott who suffered most from her
changeful moods at this period; but he, too, was unable to
make a confidant of any one on the subject. Lola had
strictly forbidden his mentioning the understanding that
existed between them, on pain of her serious displeasure,
and the uncertain way in which she accepted his attentions
kept him in a constant state of feverish excitement. Some-
times, when they met without spectators, she was so sweet
and winning in her ways that he almost thought she loved
him. At others, she kept him at a distance, and refused
to remember they had ever spoken of a nearer tie than
friendship. She was, in fact (after a custom very common
with her sex), playing with the man like a fish upon a hook,
and keeping him as a piece de résistance, in case her other
prospects failed. But like all men in love, he was a perfect
fool concerning Mrs. Arlington, and saw all her actions
through the rosy glasses of his own sick imagination. Her
indifference he called womanly reticence; her fickleness,
modesty; and her arts to keep him by her side, affection.
He would have liked to pour the story of his love for her
into the kindly ears of John Kerrison; but this solace had
been forbidden him, so he was fain to content himself with
adoring her in secret.
He presented himself at the house as often as he dared,
but his frequent visits were naturally attributed to his old
friendship for John Kerrison; and Mrs. Arlington took good
care no one should guess he came to see her.
The colonel, however, contrived to smuggle many a let-
ter and present into her hands unperceived by her employ-
ers, and Lola never remonstrated with him for spending
his money on her behalf.
One afternoon in February he walked down to the Stores
to buy a work-basket for her.
The evening before Mrs. Kerrison had asked her, rather
sharply as it appeared to Colonel Escott, why she never
brought down any work into the drawing-room, but sat
with her hands folded before her all the evening? For Lily
was a most industrious little woman herself, and never seen
without some employment.
1-
A
202
WHY NOT?
And Mrs. Arlington had answered, in the affectedly meek
voice which she had schooled herself to use to John Kerri-
son's wife, that she had no work-basket, and it was such a
trouble carrying her needles and cotton and materials back-
ward and forward.
Here was one of the opportunitiies to show his devotion,
for which the colonel was always on the lookout.
He made a note of the work-basket on the spot, and the
very next day found him on his way to the Army and Navy
Stores, in search of something both novel and pretty.
As he ascended the steps he encountered Esmé Fielding.
"Halloo, my boy!" he exclaimed, "you here?"
"I, and no other, colonel. They're rather dilatory with
some of my outfit, and we start early next week.
""
"Have you seen your mother again?"
No. She is as obstinate as ever, and refuses to receive
me unless I resign my appointment, which I have no inten-
tion of doing. It is the only thing that has given me any
real pleasure for years.
It is selfish of her to wish to bind
me down to an idle life when she knows the harm it has
done me.
""
66
"Still, Esmé, she is a fond mother, if a prejudiced one.
Don't leave England without wishing her farewell. Go
down to Applescourt and take her by storm, and she will
thank you for it afterward. Remember, you may have
many sweethearts in your life-time, but you can have only
one mother.”
"Why should you make that
The young man colored.
allusion, colonel?"
"Because I don't go through the world with my eyes.
quite shut, my boy; and when you tell me you have no
pleasure in life, I guess there is a woman at the bottom of
so unnatural a sentiment.
"There was,” replied Esmé, sighing, "but it is all past
and done with now. My mother might, had she so chosen,
have bound me to her side by gratitude and affection; but
she preferred to outrage the best feelings of my nature, and
she must take the consequences.
It is her fault entirely
that England has become too hot to hold me!"
"The woman then, lives in England?" said the colonel,
inquiringly.
Young Fielding laughed.
"I shall not answer another question, colonel.
You are
{
7.x
지도
​WHY NOT?
à great deal too smart for me. You will have all my
secrets in your hand in another minute. But I will con-
sider what you say about running down to Applescourt
again,'
66
That's a good fellow. Don't think I can't feel for
you, Esmé. I-I-have had my troubles about women as
well as most of us, and I know they're the hardest of any
to bear. But there are as good fish in the sea as ever came
out of it."
66
6 C Did you think so when you were in trouble, colonel?"
Well, I can say so now, you see, and so will you, if
you live to my age. But you will spare an evening to run
in and say good-bye to the Kerrisons and Mrs. Arlington
before you go, Esmé, will you not?'
"
203**
در
"To the Kerrisons-yes. But with regard to the other
party I am quite indifferent. "
66
I thought you admired her. I don't see how any one
could help doing so," replied Escott, uneasily.
..
Physically, perhaps, I do admire her; but as a woman
I particularly dislike Mrs. Arlington.
"C
I am surprised to hear you say so! What can be your
reason?"
K
"Oh! it's not worth mentioning, sir. But she is exactly
opposite to my ideal of the sex. Too pushing, and forward,
and domineering; what I should call an oppressive woman,
especially to live with. But I may be prejudiced. What
part of this vast establishment are you bound for?"
"The baskets-that is, I wanted to see commenced
the colonel, stammeringly.
"And I have to visit the tailoring department at the
other end, so I'll wish you good-bye; but I dare say we
shall meet again," and with a nod Esmé Fielding turned
on his heel and disappeared.
Colonel Escott let him go without a remonstrance. He
had been disposed to sympathize with the lad's troubles,
but his last words had changed the current of his feelings,
and all the more because some inward monitor told him
(although he would have died before confessing it) that his
young friend's judgment of Lola Arlington was true.
Every one knows how unreasonably angry he feels with
the person who has boldly clothed with words the doubt or
the fear which he has not dared to whisper to his own heart.
So the colonel inquired his labyrinthine way to the basket
""
7
J
204
WHY NOT?
department with more resentment in his breast toward his
unconsciously offending godson than he had ever felt be-
fore. He was still upset when he reached it, and felt quite
unable for the moment to attend to business.
So he wan-
dered about a little, and examined the various baskets on
view, from the dainty little French work-basket, lined with
quilted satin, and decorated with fringes and tassels, to the
tall red and white receptacles for linen; and the panniers
to carry children on a donkey's back.
As Colonel Escott stood before the latter articles he per-
ceived a lady just in front of him who was examining them
with some interest, whilst an attendant explained to her
their mode of usage and various prices. There was some-
thing in her appearance that struck him as familiar even
on a first view, and yet there was nothing remarkable. She
was a slight, graceful-looking woman, clothed in half
mourning, but as far as he could see she was neither fash-
ionable nor young. Presently she answered some remark
of the salesman.
CC
ވ
Yes," she said, in a sweet, low voice, "they are very
nice and very cheap, but I am afraid I must not indulge in
one to-day."
ވ
The colonel started and breathed hard. Was it possible
he could be mistaken?
66
con-
You will find them worth double the money,
tinued the salesman. "This one for example, to carry
three children-one on the saddle and one each side-is
only seven pounds ten, and will last for twenty years.
is a first-class article."
It
"It will outlast my children in fact," replied the lady,
with a slight laugh.
Colonel Escott hesitated no longer.
up to her side and held out his hand.
her face as her eyes fell upon him.
Don't you know me, Helen?" he
ant withdrew. "I recognized the first sound of your
voice."
66
said, as the attend-
Ci
ވ
""
He walked straight
All the color deserted
'I—I never expected to see you here," she answered, in
a half-audible tone, as she tried to evade his scrutiny. But
he clasped her hand as in a vise, and gazed into the features.
which were twitching with emotion. He, too, was not un-
moved by the encounter.
It had not been an easy task for him to write coolly to
WHY NOT?
205
the love of his youth even when ten years of separation
stretched between them; but all his philosophy deserted-
him as he stood with her face to face. All the good and
high-toned sentiments we express in letters are so apt to
find themselves nowhere before the influence of a personal
presence.
Helen Glamoye had been a very pretty woman in the
olden days, and Colonel Escott found her far less changed
in appearance than he had anticipated. Her soft brown
hair was still sunny and untinged with gray, and her liquid
blue eyes had only a line or two about them to mark the
channels of the tears she had shed for him. A twelve-
month's residence in England had restored much of their
youthful appearance to both of them, and as James Escott
gazed at his old love he forgot the time that had elapsed
since their last meeting.
66
Why did you not let me know you were in town?" he
inquired next. Why leave our meeting to a chance like
this?"
66
"I am only up for a few days," she stammered, and
and I thought you might be busy, or—or engaged. It is
such a long time since we met.
"A very long time; and I can not tell you what I feel at
meeting you again. Are you pressed for time? Won't you
come and sit down for a few minutes and tell me something
about yourself and the children?" he added, after a short
pause.
Let me hear all your news," he commenced.
are you living?"
cc
66
-
"Yes, I have no objection," faltered Helen.
He found her a chair in a secluded corner, and stationed
himself beside her.
CC
Where
Still at Cheltenham, where you wrote to me. The
place is not expensive, and it suits me.
""
66
Do you often come to London?"
No. This is my first visit. My cousins the Gordons
are here, and asked me to spend a week with them; and I
-I came to the stores to-day to get some things for my
children."
66
pected.
در
،،
CC
"I am so glad you came," he answered, fervently.
Only fancy our meeting in this way!''
6 C
Yes," she said, with a little gasp, "it was very unex-
* Dang
•
WHY NOT?
"Are you sorry to have met me?"
(C
Oh, no, Jem (I mean Colonel Escott).
206
be?"
66
Why should I
When was I
Don't call me Colonel Escott, Helen.
anything to you but
Jem "?"
66
Ah, in the old days," she said, with a deep blush.
"But that is all past now.
66
The remembrance of them alone should make us friends
for life, Helen. What changes time has wrought! I can
hardly imagine you free. Does your freedom bring you the
happiness you thought it would, dear?"
The tender inquiry almost upset Mrs. Glamoye's equa-
nimity; and, in her endeavor to conceal the fact, her an-
swer was harsher than it need have been:
S
<
C
"I have my children, and they are all I need. There
are five of them now, Jem. Such bonny creatures! You
would not recognize your godchild Rosie. She will be
twelve in June. Quite a young woman-or so she thinks
herself."
A
"You were not looking at the donkey-panniers with an
eye to her, then?"
66
Oh, no! what nonsense! They were for my babies.
My little Fred is only two years old; and the next one,
Lulu, is very small of her age.
""
"They will be just the things for them. You will buy
them, will you not?"
66
I am not sure I have not decided," said Mrs.
Glamoye, unwilling to let him know that they were beyond
her means.
"C
Well, you must come and have a little luncheon. You
look so pale, I am sure a glass of sherry will do you good.
Now, it is of no use your refusing. You know I was never
a fellow to be put off with excuses in the old days.
""
66
I know you were always fond of having your own way,
said Helen, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry at the
unexpected position in which she found herself.
He conducted her to the luncheon-room, and, over a cozy
little meal, some of the old familiarity seemed to come back
to their tongues-some of the old happiness to sparkle from
their eyes.
"Do you find me much changed?" asked the colonel,
after awhile.
66
At first I did, Jem; but now you look just the same to
**
لي
WHY NOT?
207
me.
You are a little bald, but your hair has not lost its
color. It is the same as ever," she said, as her hand went
involuntarily to the locket on her watch-chain.
He observed the action.
CC Do you still wear that old locket, Nell?"
Mrs. Glamoye flushed scarlet.
"Oh, yes! I always have. It was a promise, was it
not?"
"I am glad you wear it. I am glad to find I am not
quite forgotten, though I hope all the pain I caused you
has been over long ago. How much longer do you remain
in London, Nell?"
"Only till Thursday. My babies can not spare me any
longer.
در
May I come and see you before you go? Will the
Gordons admit me?"
66
Why not? They are pleased to see any friends of
mine."
"But I must not keep you in. When are you likely to
be at liberty?"
To-morrow afternoon I have reserved for packing.
T6
Then I shall come and disturb you in the midst of it.
I can not part with you like this, Helen, after a separation
of so many years. I want to hear more about your Chelten-
ham home. May I call on you to-morrow afternoon?"
"Yes," she answered, quietly.
At this juncture Esmé Fielding sauntered by, and seeing
Escott had a companion, greeted him with a silent nod.
"That is my godson, Esmé Fielding," exclaimed the
colonel. "I should like to introduce him to you;" and,
calling the young man to his side, he made him known to
Mrs. Glanioye.
After this the conversation became general; and when
Helen announced her determination to return home, both
men saw her down to the entrance of the stores, and raised
their hats as she drove away.
"What a charming woman!" cried young Fielding, as
she disappeared.
މ
>
"She was!" sighed Colonel Escott.
66
"C
She is " reiterated Esmé. She reminds me some-
what of Mrs. Kerrison. She has the same serious, pensive
look about her eyes and mouth; they might pass for sis-
ters."
1
-208
WHY NOT?
"Mrs. Glamoye is old enough to be Mrs. Kerrison's
mother," remarked the colonel, trying to stamp down an
unpleasant feeling of regret in his heart by making out
there was no occasion for it.
"She doesn't look it,” insisted Esmé. "I shouldn't
have thought Mrs. Glamoye was more than two- or three-
and-thirty.
"Oh, yes, she is!"
"You knew her long ago perhaps?"
"Years and years ago," said the colonel.
"Well, all I can say is, she wears well. But she is the
sort of woman that would look well to the last. That
pensive kind of beauty suits old age as well as it does
youth. It's not like Mrs. Arlington's overblown charms,
that will go on increasing till she is a mountain of flesh."
I don't see why you should introduce Mrs. Arlington's
name into the discussion at all!" replied Colonel Escott,
rather irritably.
CC
No more do I!
»
މ
ވ
It's blasphemy to compare her with
the lady who has just gone out. Is your business here fin-
ished, colonel?"
CC
Not yet! I have another order or two to give up-
stairs," he said, as he left the young man again alone, and
walked straight to the basket-counter. But he seemed to
have forgotten the purpose he had in first going there; the
only order he gave, was for the most expensive set of pan-
niers in stock, to be sent to Mrs. Glamoye, at Mrs. Gor-
don's address, as a present for the little friends down at
Cheltenham, whom he had never seen.
CHAPTER XXXV.
"GET RID OF HER.
ESMÉ FIELDING did not spare an evening to the Kerri-
sons, as Colonel Escott had suggested he should do. He
had a few words to say to Lily alone, and he knew that at
that time he should find her surrounded by her friends; so
he called in the morning instead. He had penciled on his
card, "I leave England to-morrow. May I say good-bye
to you?" and sent it in to Mrs. Kerrison by the servant..
It was not the hour for visitors, and it was the house-maid
who answered the door to him, in lieu of the footman, tak-
""
ܓܪ
WHY NOT?
209
ing his ease below; so, having shown Mr. Fielding into the
drawing-room, she carried his card to the library-door.
Her tap was answered by Mrs. Arlington in person.
"What is it, Eliza?"
"Please, ma'am, a gentleman to see you.
Mrs. Arlington examined the card, and read the penciled
message.
CC
Z
""
Where have you shown him?"
"Into the drawing-room, ma'am."
"Very good! Take this card up to Mrs. Kerrison's
boudoir; it is for her!"
66
Any one for me?" demanded John Kerrison, who had
only half heard the whispered colloquy, as Lola returned to
her seat.
(C
No, sir! for neither of us. It is Mr. Esmé Fielding,
called to see Mrs. Kerrison.”
66
What an extraordinary hour for calling! It is not
twelve o'clock! What can he mean by it?"
66
Perhaps he has some private communication for Mrs.
Kerrison, and thinks he is more likely to find her disen-
gaged in the morning.
">
Private communication! Rubbish! Why, they hardly
know each other, and Lily particularly dislikes Fielding.
She told me so long ago. I think you had better go and
keep her company during his stay. I am sure she would
rather not be left alone with him."
، ،
Mrs. Kerrison is sure to send for me, sir, if she requires
my presence. But I think you must be mistaken about her
not liking Mr. Fielding. I thought they were great
friends."
66
Oh, dear no! My wife took an unaccountable aversion
to the young fellow the first day she met him in this
house."
"But they knew each other before that, surely."
"Certainly not. Whatever put such an idea into your
head?"
"I don't know.
suggested it to me.
myself. But any way,
impressions of him."
Somebody or something must have
am not very quick of observation
Mrs. Kerrison has overcome her first
I
"I dare say she has tried to do so because she saw they
vexed me. She is a good girl. How far have you got on
with the second act, Lola?”
>
;
WHY NOT?
CC
Only to page fifteen, sir. It is close copying. It will
be a long drama."
66
210
Oh, it will want a lot of cutting in rehearsal. What a
funny idea that is of yours that Lily and young Fielding
had met before! Where could they have met?"
""
"Don't ask me that, Mr. Kerrison. I know nothing of
your wife's antecedents. She has never honored me with
her confidence. I don't even know her maiden name.
Why, she was Miss Power," replied John Kerrison,
testily; you know that as well as I do.”
66
"I beg your pardon, sir. I fancied 'Power' was only
a stage name.
CC
Well, now you know it wasn't," he rejoined, in the
same tone. But he was more angry because he could not
prove what he said was true than because she doubted the
accuracy of his statement. Meanwhile, Lily had received
the card of Esmé Fielding. Her first impulse was to deny
herself to him, but the penciled words made her yield to
his request. She could not learn that he was about to leave
England without feeling some sort of emotion.
She was
glad of it, and yet sorry at the same time. It was best for
both of them. Still the past was not forgotten, and the
parting might be forever. So she went down to the draw-
ing-room very pale and solemn looking, with a vague regret
in her serious eyes, and they met and shook hands in
silence.
.
"I have read your message," said Lily, presently, "or
I should not have come down to see you, and is it really
true that you are going?"
66
Quite true. Do you suppose I would venture to tell
you a falsehood? I thought Colonel Escott would have told
you that I had obtained the post of private secretary to Sir
James Malcolm."
"He has said something about it I believe to Mr. Ker-
rison, but we did not understand it involved your leaving
England."
67
Yes; Sir James has been appointed Governor of Malta,
and starts with his suite to-morrow. This is my last day
at home."
"And what does your mother say to your going away?"
asked Lily, with a faint smile.
"She is outrageously angry. I was down at Applescourt
yesterday and we had a terrible scene. She has threatened
WHY NOT?
211
to disinherit me if I do not relinquish my secretaryship, but
I hardly think she will go as far as that. Any way she will
not alter my determination. I have made up my mind to
work, and I mean to stick to it.'
"I am sure you are right," said Lily.
66 If I am,
am, it is you who have made me so. Do you re-
member that evening last autumn when I asked you what
would please you, and you gave me my answer? I never
forgot it, Lily, nor did I rest from that day until I had
procured something to do. And you will wish me success
in it I am sure.
""
"I wish you all the success in the world."
66
Nothing more?"
"What more can I wish you, Mr. Fielding?"
"The restitution of your esteem, your affection. No,
do not shrink from me, nor misunderstand my meaning. I
am not forgetting that you are the wife of a man more
worthy of you than myself. But you loved me very dearly
once, Lily, and to have lost your regard has been a greater
grief to me than losing yourself. When I followed you to
your lodgings in the Waterloo Road, and you stood up in
that little room and poured out the vials of your contempt
upon my head, you made me see my conduct for the first
time in its true light. I have never forgotten that inter-
view. I never shall forget it. The iron entered into my
very soul!"
66
Forgive me if I wounded you too deeply!" she mur-
mured. "Remember, Esmé, that I was wounded myself,
and forgive me, now that we are about to part.
>>
66
It is only myself that I can not forgive, Lily! for hav-
ing let the treasure of your love float out of my reach.
But if I put my shoulder to the wheel now, and work hard
to make a name and a competency for myself, let me take
with me the encouragement, the hope, that some day you
will not think quite so harshly of my conduct.'
99
66
I
"Those feelings have passed already, Esmé," she an-
swered, simply. I regret our mutual loss-I think I
shall never cease to regret it--but the bitterness is over.
suppose it was not our fate to spend our lives together.
Things happen so inexplicably in this world, that I have
begun to believe that each one of us has a fate, which we
can neither evade nor alter.”
"But you are happy in yours?" he said, anxiously.
$
-
{
•
212
WHY NOT?
•
66
'I am indeed, both happy and content.
My husband
makes my life so smooth for me that I shall want a little
more real trouble by and by to make me remember I am
still living in the world! "But don't let it come through
you, Esmé."
.
66
"Not if I can help it," he said. I have taken up
this appointment, Lily, on your advice, and in order to
please you; and if I am rewarded by your friendship, I shall
be content.
""
"You shall always have my friendship," said Mrs. Ker-
rison.
"May I take advantage of it at once, then, to say a few
words of warning to you before we part?"
"Of warning?" she echoed, in a startled voice.
"Yes; against that woman Arlington! I don't like her,
Lily! I wish she were not to remain here with you. I
distrust her. I can not explain my reasons more fully,
but I am sure she is no friend of yours.
As he spoke Lily grew pale as her own name-flower.
66 How strange that you should speak thus to me! Your
words are the very echo of my own belief. I know she
hates me, why I can not say; but she betrays it in every
look and action. More than that, Esmé," she continued,
lowering her voice, "she has some knowledge of our past
lives, though how obtained it is impossible for me to guess;
but she has alluded to it more than once, and I am afraid
of her!"
"Get rid of her, Lily--get rid of her at once!" exclaimed
Mr. Fielding, excitedly. "She is a wicked, dangerous
woman, and you must not keep her by your side. She
hinted the same thing to me long ago, and pretended she
was reading it in the lines of my hand. She has tried by
various means and ways I can not mention before you to
get me in her power. There is no question about it. If
you wish to preserve peace in your married life, you must
get rid of Mrs. Arlington!"
"But how can I get rid of her?" said Lily, piteously.
"She is invaluable as an amanuensis to John! He would
never consent to part with her unless I told him the truth.”
"Can not you say she is obnoxious to you? Surely he
would not keep a woman about the house (however useful)
whom you disliked? He is too fond of you for that."
“I know he is; and when I first came home I did try to
>>
>
WHY NOT?
213
keep her in her place, and make her understand that I was
mistress here. But she paid me out for it, Esmé. She
frightened me with her hints and innuendoes, and since
then I have let her do as she liked. It is the easier plan
after all. I am not strong enough to battle with a will like
hers."
And Lily drew her shawl about her shoulders and shiv-
ered.
1
Esmé, gazing at her in the new light she had presented.
to him, saw for the first time how ill she looked.
"Lily, this woman is indeed frightening you! She is
turning this new happy life of yours into a horrible night-
mare! But supposing she did her worst!-supposing she
blurted out the truth (which we are not even sure she
knows) what then? There is nothing discreditable in it
to you.
CC
,,
Not in the truth; but she would repeat what the world
thought, not what I did. And Mr. Kerrison is a proud
man, Esmé. He loves me, but he would never forgive me
for a deception. How I wish I had told him the truth be-
fore we were married!"
"Why didn't you?"
"I offered to do so, but he refused to hear it.
He pre-
ferred to take me on trust. He thought it was a proof of
his love for me, and so it was; but I should be far happier
if there were perfect confidence between us!"
"It is not too late for it now, Lily.
CC
22
،،
What! betray you to him, and when I have received
you in his house? Oh, no! He would never believe my
version of the story now! He was my lover yesterday. He
is my husband to-day. That makes all the difference."
Well, if the occasion arises for you to make a clean
breast of it, Lily, don't spare me. I have deserved any-
thing my folly may bring upon me, and I would rather
never see you again than mar your happiness for the second
time. But whatever you do, try and get rid of Mrs. Arling
She is a snake in the grass! And now I must go.
Good-bye and Heaven bless you! Get over it quickly, for
I have not so much courage to say it as I thought!"
ton.
They rose and stood on the hearth-rug together, holding
each other's hands.
"Good-bye, Esmé; be brave and hopeful, and think of
me as a friend."
Ja
!
363
214
WHY NOT?
"I suppose I must not kiss you, Lily?”
(C
No, no! Such things are best forgotten between us!
Good-bye, and go—”
But at this moment the door opened suddenly, and Mrs.
Arlington stood on the threshold.
Esmé and Lily sprung asunder as if they had been shot.
"Dear me!" cried Lola, with arched eyebrows, "I hope
I am not de trop! But Mr. Kerrison wishes to know, Mrs.
Kerrison, who was the gentleman who called about an hour
ago?"
"An hour ago!" repeated Lily, confusedly—“I have
seen no gentleman-at least, besides Mr. Fielding."
"But Mr. Fielding has only just arrived?" said Lola,
interrogatively.
When
"Oh! no; he has been here some little time.
did you come?" continued Lily, appealing to her visitor.
"I don't know. About half past eleven, I think," he
answered, curtly, not liking the other's interference.
I
"And
"Oh! Indeed! And it is now a quarter to one.
see," replied Mrs. Arlington, consulting her watch.
so you were the gentleman, Mr. Fielding, who called an
hour ago! We have been playing at cross purposes.
But
it was Eliza's mistake. I won't interrupt you a second
time."
And with a malicious smile she disappeared.
"You see! That is how she treats me!" said Lily, in-
dignantly.
"Never mind; she can not really harm you. Only re-
member, my last words are-Get rid of her.
And murmuring again "Heaven bless you!" he wrung
her hand, and was gone.
Lily, had she followed her own inclination, would have
crept to her husband's side after Esmé's departure, and
tried to console herself for what she had lost by recalling
what she had gained.
But she was afraid to do so. The terror of Lola Arling-
ton's mocking smile was over her, and she went up to her
own room instead, and sought relief for her pent-up feelings
in a quiet rain of tears.
WHY NOT?
215
CHAPTER XXXVI.
{
JEALOUSY.
THE next few months passed dully enough for Lily Ker-
rison; not on account of Esmé Fielding's departure, but
because she fancied there was a difference in her husband's
behavior to her. He was not less kind and tender in his
care than he had been; indeed, if anything, he seemed more
anxious than ever that her life should be surrounded by
every luxury and comfort.
But she saw less of him than theretofore, and when they
met he was gloomy and abstracted. He recommenced his
nightly visits to the club, and many an evening his wife
had no resource but to endure the distasteful companionship
of Mrs. Arlington.
John Kerrison spent more of his time in his library,
also, than he had been wont to do. Hour after hour, both
morning and afternoon, he would be shut up there with his
lady-secretary; and there was a suppressed air of triumph
about the latter which was very irritating to the feelings of
the mistress of the house.
Yet, when Lily questioned her husband on the subject,
the only answer she received was that he was busier than
usual, on a play which he wished to produce before the
close of the season.
At last the first anniversary of their wedding-day arrived.
John Kerrison had not neglected, during the past year, to
liberally commemorate her birthday, and Christmas-day,
and New-year's-eve, and Lily quite expected to receive at
least a cordial greeting on this occasion. But Mr. Kerri-
son rose from his bed and went about his usual avocations,
without apparently giving a single thought to the matter.
His wife felt disappointed and aggrieved, but was far too
proud to remind him of his neglect. She fancied that Mrs.
Arlington's dark eyes searched her countenance narrowly
as she sat down to the breakfast-table, and so she laughed
and chattered, and affected to be more cheerful than usual.
But about noon, as she sat alone in her boudoir, thinking
it over, a basket of hot-house flowers was brought up to her,
with Colonel Escott's card attached to the handle.
$
K
H
216
WHY NOT?
It was the sort of thing the colonel would do. He was
always ready to pay those delicate little attentions which
are so dear to the heart of women.
But his offering of to-day quite upset the studied equanim-
ity of Lily Kerrison, and as soon as she found herself alone
with the basket of flowers she burst into a flood of tears.
This man, then-comparatively a stranger to her-had
remembered her wedding-day, when her own husband had
totally forgotten it. The idea made Lily almost hysterical,
and she wept so vehemently that John Kerrison, passing
by the door of her room, heard her sobs, and entered at
once.
"Why! my darling," he exclaimed, anxiously, "what
is the matter?"
There was no lack of fervor in the tone in which he ad-
dressed her. He was shocked beyond measure to find her
in tears; she who, above all other women, he so ardently
desired to make contented and happy.
66
"What can have happened?" he continued, as he sat
down beside her. Have you heard any bad news? Oh!
Lily, be open with me, and tell me all your trouble. ”
"It is nothing-you will think me so foolish," she
sobbed-" only-only-Colonel Escott sent me these flow-
ers, and you-you had forgotten!"
John Kerrison read the date on his old friend's card, and
looked terribly blank.
"By George!" he said, under his breath, "and so I
had! My dear girl, you must forgive me. I am a brute,
but I am so busy. Every moment of my time is engrossed
by this play!"'
"I know it is," cried Lily; "I have seen scarcely any-
thing of you lately. I am always alone now, or with that
that horrid woman!"
John Kerrison smiled a pitying smile.
Don't call harsh names, my darling. Whatever you
may think of her, I am sure Mrs. Arlington has only kind
thoughts of you.
>>
C
I don't believe it. Oh! John, I wish I could be your
secretary instead of her. It is so very difficult? It seems
so hard that she should be shut up with you in the library
all day long, and I should not be allowed to pass over the
threshold. She is much more like your wife than I am."
"My wife! Heaven forbid! Lily, you don't know
}
;
WHY NOT?
217
what nonsense you are talking. I acknowledge that Mrs.
Arlington's working hours and mine are longer than usual,
but there is a reason for it, which it is proper you should
know. We are writing a play."
"I have heard that before," said Lily, pouting. "You
are always writing plays.'
,,
But you don't understand me, dear. Lola is not
merely copying my script this time; she is actually part
author of the piece. Some time since she submitted a plot
to me, with great capabilities in it, and I agreed to write it
with her. It will be put in rehearsal next week, and then
you and I will be more together than we are now.
He imagined this explanation was all that was necessary
to soothe his wife's wounded feelings; but he was very
much mistaken. Women can be terribly jealous, even
when they are not in love. That is one signal difference
between their nature and that of men. Where a man is
indifferent, his jealousy sleeps; but a woman holds tena-
ciously by her rights, even when she has no value for
them. And Lily loved her husband (after a certain grate-
ful, confiding fashion), and she was indignant to hear that
Mrs. Arlington had had the presumption to associate her
labors with his.
"You have been writing with her!" she exclaimed, with
dilated eyes-" with that woman! You are going to let
your name appear in public, associated with that of your
housekeeper! John, I could not have believed it of you!"
and she pushed him away from her as she spoke.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE MATRIMONIAL CLOUD.
(C
"BUT, Lily, my darling," said Mr. Kerrison, persuas-
ively, Mrs. Arlington is really very clever. You would
be astonished to read the language in which she clothes her
ideas. And she has picked up a marvelous amount of
knowledge of the stage since she has been with me. Her
work is really dramatic. My name will suffer nothing
from being associated with hers."
"I don't care if it suffers or not!" cried Lily, passion-
ately. "I hate the very idea of its appearance in print by
the side of Mrs. Arlington's. So that is what she has
ch
218
WHY NOT?
been appearing so conceited about lately, and no wonder!
You will turn her brain with your foolish indulgence."
"Not quite so bad as that I hope," replied Kerrison,
with a sad smile," but I foresaw that, since you have taken
such a dislike to one another, our connection could not
continue much longer; and, feeling that I owed Lola Ar-
lington something—
"
66
What do you owe her?" interrupted Lily, sharply.
"She has always had her wages.
Her husband did not know what to answer. He had
gone further than he intended.
""
"Well, she has served me faithfully for several years,"
he said, after a pause, " and you will acknowledge she is
above her position as a housekeeper, or even secretary. So
I thought if I could give her a lift in the world by the help
of my name it would not be a kindness thrown away.
That is all, Lily!"'
66
""
Very well! I understand! And now you can go back
to her! I dare say she is waiting for you!"
66
My darling girl," Kerrison cried, in a pathetic voice,
"don't be so unkind to me!"
މ
Lily was not of a perverse temperament. She recognized
her husband's distress, and responded to it by turning and
laying her head down on his breast.
It is so hard," she whimpered, "that she should come
""
between us.
(6
She has never come between us!" he exclaimed, as he
kissed her tears away. "No woman ever can! I agreed
to write this drama with her, partly for her sake, and part-
ly for my own; and I kept it a secret at her particular re-
quest until we knew whether it would result in anything.
But it is the first time we have collaborated, and it will be
the last. As soon as it is fairly produced I shall take you.
away to Switzerland, and see what the mountain air will
do for these pale cheeks. And during our absence we will
think of some plausible excuse to get rid of Mrs. Arlington.
No one shall remain in this house, Lily, who does not con-
tribute to your happiness. And now, what can I do to blot
out the remembrance of my horrible forgetfulness from
your mind? Will you let me drive you down to Richmond
this afternoon, and give you a cozy wedding-dinner at the
Star and Garter? It will do me good as well as you. Say
6
yes,' my darling, or you will break my heart."
3400
WHY NOT?
219
So Lily said yes," and the matrimonial cloud blew
over. But as the days went on, and the new drama was
put in rehearsal, the triumphant bearing of Mrs. Arlington
was almost more than she could stand. John Kerrison had
made a rule lately never to allow any outsider to be present
at the rehearsals of his pieces, and he would not make an
exception even in favor of his wife, so that Lily did not see
"The Companion" until it was produced in public. But
Lola Arlington, as part author, was necessarily present,
and the importance and mystery which she assumed in con-
sequence were very irritating to Mrs. Kerrison. She would
have shown her contempt for the whole proceeding, by re-
fusing to honor the first performance with her presence,
had not her husband begged her (as a favor to himself),
to occupy his box on the occasion.
66
(6
""
It will look so marked, Lily, if you are not there.
People might begin to talk then, and say there was some-
thing peculiar about it. For my sake, love, come and sit
by my side throughout the evening.'
For your sake, then, dear John!
lington occupy the same box with us?'
John Kerrison shrugged his shoulders.
66
But need Mrs. Ar-
"It will be still more marked if she does not, Lily.
You know she has always accompanied you to the theaters,
and as part author of the piece, I shall have to lead her on,
if there is a call for us. But I shall ask Escott to come
too; he is an ardent admirer of Mrs. Arlington, and will
take her off our hands for the evening. Be good, my dar-
ling, for this once, and I promise you it shall never happen
again.'
>>
66
I will do anything for you, John," replied Lily, grate-
fully.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE COMPANION."
EVERY ONE knows the excitement attendant on the pro-
duction of a new piece by a popular dramatist.
The first night of "The Companion " was no exception
to this rule. The house was crammed from pit to gallery.
Every box was taken, and the stalls were filled with the
critics of the press, and the faces of well-known profes-
CC
*
220
WHY NOT?
Some
sionals, eager to give honor where honor was due.
shrugged their shoulders when they saw the name of Mrs.
Arlington associated with that of John Kerrison on the
play-bills; but the majority of the audience did not know
who she was, and thought she had only suggested the plot,
or that it had been dramatized from some obscure tale, of
which she was the author.
But Lola Arlington was, as may well be imagined, in her
glory, and believed herself to be the object of attraction to
every spectator. She occupied a prominent position in
the author's box, and clad in black lace over crimson, with
a bouquet of blood-red japonicas in her hair, and another
in her bosom, was really a very distinguished-looking per-
son.
Colonel Escott, who had slightly swerved from his allegi-
ance lately, fell a victim to her charms anew, and seemed
unable to take his eyes off her. And, indeed, she looked
supremely handsome. Flushed with the hope of a coming
victory for herself, and the discomfiture of her rival, her
complexion had just gained the color it needed, and her
dark eyes were doubly brilliant for the soft glow spread be-
neath them. Every now and then she turned a keen,
searching glance upon Lily Kerrison, as though she would
discover what effect the position had upon her.
.
But Lily was pale and silent as a statue, and exhibited no
sign of what was passing within. She looked sweeter and
fairer than usual, in a dress of the faintest tinge of yellow,
made in an old-fashioned style to her throat, which was
adorned by a double row of pearls. Pearls, too, were twisted
in her golden hair; and as she sat in the place of honor,
with her pure chiseled features turned toward the stage,
few people would have recognized in her the young actress
who had played "The Waif" so prettily upon those very
boards, a short twelvemonth before, and lived in a shabby
little lodging in the Waterloo Road.
But though Lily looked like a young princess as she sat
in the front of her box, her heart was very heavy, and she
had to call all her courage to her aid to prevent the tears
from gathering in her eyes.
John Kerrison had certainly been very busy the last week,
superintending the final rehearsals of the drama; but he
seemed to have relapsed into his former cool and indifferent
WHY NOT?
221
*
manner when they met, and several times she had caught
him uttering heavy sighs as he gazed at her.
What was this cloud that was gathering about her, and
threatening to overcast her married life?
Lily had a strong premonition of coming evil that night,
and it was not lessened by the whispered confidences that
were exchanged every now and then by Mrs. Arlington and
her husband, nor the good understanding that evidently
existed between them. Once, indeed, before the curtain
rose, Kerrison took his fair collaborateur behind the scenes
to settle some question that had arisen with respect to posi-
tions or properties.
Of course it had only to do with the play, yet it made
Lily miserable, and she felt as if she were an invited guest
in her husband's box instead of its mistress. At last the
audience were settled in their seats, the preliminaries were
over. John Kerrison secreted himself from view behind
his wife's chair, and the curtain rose upon the first act of
"The Companion."
Mrs. Arlington slightly moved her seat so that she could
not see Lily's face, and all their eyes were directed to the
stage.
The first scene was the baronial hall of a grand old French
château, and the first character introduced was the owner
of it, a titled lady of the old régime, wealthy as Croesus and
proud as Lucifer, the widowed mother also of an only son,
in whom she believed as the embodiment of virtue.
To her presently entered the bailiff of her estates, whose
daughter she had taken into her house as a companion, to
demand satisfaction for his child, whom he averred had
been betrayed by the young marquis. The mother indig-
nantly refuted the scandal, and finally confronted the two
young people to join her in denying it. Instead of doing
which they confessed themselves to be lovers, and entreated
her consent to their marriage.
The marquise was overcome by the intelligence, and after
a vehement altercation, she commanded her son to choose
between herself, her wealth, and the low-born girl whom
he had lowered himself by becoming attached to. After a
long struggle the young marquis relinquished his love in
favor of his future prospects, and the girl, heart-broken
and despairing, left the chateau forever with her father.
As the curtain descended on the first act the applause
}
15
WHY NOT?
222
was long and decided, though it was necessarily not the plot
of the piece that evoked the public admiration, so much as
the way in which it was worked out and put upon the stage.
When the tumult had subsided, Lola Arlington turned to
face Lily Kerrison.
66
2
2
CC
How do you like our little piece, Mrs. Kerrison?” she
asked, with a harsh laugh. " Does the story interest you?"
It is very interesting," replied Lily, with dry lips.
She had been watching the actors feverishly from the
commencement, anxiously waiting the next move on the
part of each character, and yet feeling that she knew be-
forehand what it would be. Was she in a dream, or pass-
ing through the most painful era of her life a second time?
She turned to see if she could learn anything from the ex-
pression of her husband's face. But he was gone! He had
slipped from the box as soon as the curtain descended. She
could only listen vaguely to Mrs. Arlington's somewhat
loud and aggressive laughter, and to the whispered flattery
which Colonel Escott was pouring in her ear.
Sigu
How she longed for the curtain to rise again, that she
might know if the first act was merely a painful coincidence
or part of a story which had become patent to the world.
Her feet and hands became icy cold as the time approached
for her curiosity to be satisfied, and the power of sight
seemed suddenly to desert her eyes as the audience settled
themselves to listen to the second act.
The victim of the marquise was here presented to them
as the loved and trusted wife of a rich commoner, who had
surrounded her with every luxury. But in her salons ap-
peared again her youthful betrayer ready to renew his prot-
estations of affection, and persuade her to be false to the
man who believed in her.
Lily felt the hysterical ball rising higher and higher in
her throat as she watched the attractive lover winning the
wife's affections for the second time, and making her a
worse woman than she had been before. She had difficulty
in preventing herself from shouting out "No! no!" when
the by-standers in the play prophesied that the woman would
fall again into the hands of the enemy, and her dimmed
eyes turned instinctively to meet her husband's and read in
them if he took the same view of the case as his mimic men
and women. For the vague fears that assailed her from the
first, that John had discovered the secret of. her past life,
WHY NOT?
223
+
had now become a certainty, and she felt that she could not
rest until she had reassured him. But he was not there.
He had returned to the stage, and his wife's sick heart
made her believe he had left her side on purpose. Yet she
felt she must conquer her growing weakness, and put a
guard upon herself so long as the dark mocking glance of
Mrs. Arlington was turned upon her. So she sat still and
silent, and watched the bitter story to the end.
""
Are you not well, Mrs. Kerrison?" asked the colonel,
when the act was half through. "You look so pale! Can
I fetch you anything?"
"No, thank you. I am perfectly well," cried Lily,
rousing herself.
"I need not ask you if you are enjoying this delightful
piece of work of your husband's and our clever friend here.
am sure it must be as charming to you as to the rest. of
us?",
..
I am not so sure of that," exclaimed Lola Arlington,
with pretended archness. "I am afraid Mrs. Kerrison is
just a little wee bit jealous of my monopolizing some of her
husband's fame; but really it wasn't my fault. It was his
own proposal. He took such a fancy to the plot. And it
is very natural, isn't it, Mrs. Kerrison?"
>>
(C
"I am not a fair judge," replied Lily, coldly. "I have
not been thrown amongst such dramatic scenes myself.
Indeed!" exclaimed Lola, arching her brows.
"They
seem very commonplace to me. Can you guess the end of
the story? Do you think the marquis will carry her off?"
"I really don't know, and to tell you the truth I don't
care," replied Lily, petulantly, at which Mrs. Arlington
gave another unpleasant laugh.
Oh, how she would have liked to have killed her then and
there! Instead of which, she was compelled to repress her
feelings and pretend that she recognized no incident in the
play proceeding before her. But when it had nearly reached.
its climax, and the husband, finding out the truth, killed
himself to save his wife's character and set her free, Lily's
pent-up emotion overcame her powers of endurance. The
stage swayed and surged before her eyes like a ship at sea,
the artists in their gay apparel became mixed up into a
mass of many colors; the notes from the orchestra sounded
further and further away, and Lily lost consciousness and
fell in a tumbled heap upon the floor.
When she came to
{
224
WHY NOT?
herself again she was in a carriage, driving rapidly through
the night air.
"Oh, what has happened to me?" she exclaimed, strug-
gling to free herself from the two encircling arms.
"Lie still, my dear. You are all right again, and we
shall be at home in another minute. "
It was her husband's voice, and for a moment Lily felt
only pleasure in knowing that he was near her. But then
the events of the evening returned upon her mind with full
force, and she shrunk from his embrace.
66
Oh, you don't believe it-you don't believe it!" she
cried, piteously.
Don't excite yourself, my dear," replied John Kerri-
son, kindly.
"You have frightened me enough already.
Let me get you safely home, and then you shall say what
you like."
Lily sunk back, mastered by his superior will, and did
not speak again until he had carried her into the house and
up to her own room. There he summoned her maid to
her assistance, and when she was undressed and put to bed
he brought her stimulants with his own hands, and fussed
over her like a nurse with a favorite child.
Drink this, my darling, unless you want me to send
for the doctor at once and have you physicked.”
66
"But why are you here?" demanded Lily, touching his
dress-coat in a vague manner, as though she had never seen
it before. Why did you leave the theater? Won't they
want you when the play is finished to make a speech or
something?""
ވ
"If they do they must want," he rejoined, good-hu-
moredly. "I am here to look after my little wife, and I
am not going to leave her for anything or anybody.
""
66
Oh, but I am not worthy. You must know I am not
worthy!" cried Lily, turning from him.
"I know no such thing, my darling. All I know is you
half frightened me out of my wits. I was behind the
scenes, talking with McIntosh, when Jem came running
round to tell me you were ill; and when I reached the box
you had fallen on the floor, and were looking as if you were
dead. It makes my heart almost stop beating now to think
of it!"
It would be better if I had been dead," said Lily, with
a sigh.
1}
WHY NOT?
"My sweet, you mustn't say that!
awful calamity your death would be to me!"
66
Oh, no; not if I were like the woman in the play!"
John Kerrison's face grew suddenly pale.
(6 But you are not like that woman, my dearest. What
made you think so?”
,
"The question is, what made you think so, John?”
I do not. I never have," he answered.
CC
"Then why did you write it? Why-if you have not
guessed my unhappy story-did you put it on the stage?”
John Kerrison looked bewildered.
225
Think what an
"Why did I put that story on the stage? Because Mrs.
Arlington told it me to be sure. The plot is hers, not
mine. But how can it have any connection with you?"
"Ah! Mrs. Arlington !" repeated Lily, looking round
her with a shudder. "Where is she? Don't let her come
66
""
near me.
She is at the theater, dearest.
Escott.
66
I left her there with
Do not be afraid, no one shall interrupt us!"
She hates me, John, and I hate her. She has known
part of my story from the beginning of our acquaintance'
(though I can not tell how), and she has never ceased to
taunt me with it. Oh, John! I told you not to marry me!
I told you I had a dark past which it would make you un-
happy to hear, and yet you would-you would!"
.
John Kerrison was very grave, but he answered, solemnly:
"Yes; and I would do so over again this very minute,
and as blindly as before. And yet, Lily, if there is to be
any happiness for us in the future, I think you had better
tell me that story now.
""
"I mean to! I wish to!" she said, suddenly sitting up
in her bed. "I could not lie down by your side again,
John, until you had heard the truth.'
""
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE CONFESSION.
"PROMISE me," she continued, earnestly," that what-
ever I may say you will not be angry with me?"
CC
Have I ever been angry with you yet, Lily?"
"No, no! You have been too good and kind. But I
have several things to tell you that may sound wrong,
8
226
WHY NOT?
though they are not really so. Are you sure you will be
able to believe me?"
66
"I believe every word before you utter it, my dear."
Oh, John! how much I wish I had had the courage to
insist upon your hearing my story before! But it involves
another person's name as well as my own.
"I was afraid of that.”
"You have no cause to be afraid, for it
gone. But now I will tell you all-all!
thing is, that I was never named 'Power.'
was Lilian Prescott."
ވ
worst.
66
""
John Kerrison had promised not to be angry, but he fired
up at this disclosure.
66
You had no right to marry me under an assumed
name. And why should you have changed it except for
something disgraceful.
"It was for something disgraceful!"' replied Lily, in a
low voice; "but the disgrace was not mine.
said her husband;
66 Go on, ""
66 and let me hear the
""
""
is all past and
And the first
My real name
My mother died before I can remember her," con-
tinued Lily, somewhat shrinking from him, " and my fa-
ther, who was a lieutenant in the royal navy, was lost at sea
when I was about seventeen. I had no brothers or sisters,
and no relatives that I knew of except the uncle and aunt
with whom I had lived since my mother's death. And they
were not kind to me, John. They had never been so, even
when my father paid them for my keep; but when I was
left an orphan they degraded me to the level of a servant.
I had not only to teach their children the little that I knew
myself, and to dress them, and walk out with them, but I
was expected to wash their clothes, and make and mend
them, besides fulfilling all the duties of a house-maid. "
Oh, my poor child!" exclaimed Kerrison, in an access
of pity.
Fancy these tender hands stooping to such
degradation! Who were these inhuman brutes who treated
their own flesh and blood in such a manner? It makes me
wild to think of it!”
66
66
"Never mind, dear John," said Lily, with a faint smile.
"You have lifted me so far above it now that it only lives
in my memory like a bad dream. Their names were Dr.
and Mrs. Lysart, and they lived at a village called Whar-
ton, in Somerset. At length, however, their treatment of
{ }
}
WHY NOT?
227
me was beyond forbearance. My aunt had no scruple in
striking me if I offended her. I had no clothes that were
fit to wear, and work was piled upon me until I fell ill from
fatigue and want of proper nourishment. I was a girl of
eighteen then, and my spirit rebelled against such tyranny;
so I appealed to the clergyman of the parish to assist me,
and after awhile he recommended me as companion to a
friend of his own-a rich widow lady living in the country.
My uncle and aunt were much opposed to my leaving them,
but they dared not gainsay their clergyman, and so I turned
my back forever on their inhospitable doors."
"What was the lady's name, my dear?"
66
Lily breathed hard for a moment, as though trying to
gain courage for the disclosure, and then said, plaintively:
Have patience with me, John, and I will tell you every-
thing! Have I not promised to do so? But these reminis-
cences are terribly painful to me, and to repeat what I have
passed through seems as if it would choke me!"
Take your own time then, my darling; and remember
that you are my wife, and nothing can come between us
""
now.
CC
Except the loss of your love and confidence!" she mur-
mured; and that is what I am dreading, John!”
66
He passed his handkerchief across his brow before he
answered:
66 Whatever you may have to tell me, I shall never forget
that you offered me the information before our marriage,
and that I refused to receive it. But come to it quickly,
Lily, for Heaven's sake, for the suspense is more than I
can bear!""
CC
And yet I am innocent," she said, mournfully. That
is the hardest part of it to me. My virtue has not been its
own reward. Well, John, I went to my new employer's
house. She was a middle-aged lady, living alone; and at
first she was very kind to me, and I was quite contented and
happy. But after a few months-that is, nearly a year,
she went on, stammeringly, "her-her son came home from
a foreign tour.
""
""
"Ah!" exclaimed Kerrison, under his breath.
66
John!" cried Lily, as she heard him, let me get over
this as soon as possible! What is the use of beating about
the bush? The truth may be bitter for both of us, but it
must be told.
66
ވ
CC
}
1
228
WHY NOT?
"He came home and made love to me, and I loved him
-I loved him dearly! What else could you expect? We
were both young, and thrown in each other's company from
morning till night; and he was handsome and attractive,
and ardently attached to me. His mother should have been
the first to perceive the danger, but she was selfish, and
wrapt up in herself. She doted on her son, and expected
him to care for no one but her. But people began to speak-
ill of us.
They could not believe that an only son and heir
could make honorable love to his mother's companion. So
they carried the scandalous tales to her ear, and she believed
them, and insulted me before him—and he-he-"”
"Wasn't he man enough to stick up for you?" exclaimed
John Kerrison, contemptuously.
"John! he was very young, only two-and-twenty, and
he has repented it bitterly since. He denied there had
been any wrong between us, of course. We both denied it,
but his mother would not believe us; and she dared her son
to continue his acquaintance with me, or to interfere with
what she chose to do. She told him to choose between us,*
once and forever. Between her his mother, who had
loved him from a baby, and had the power to disinherit
him with a stroke of her pen, and me—a girl he had known
but a few months, and whom he had not the power to
marry, or the means to support. And-and what would
you have had him do? He chose her!"
"He behaved like a cur!" said John Kerrison, brusquely.
Lily's only answer to this remark was a deep sigh.
CC
Well, that was his decision, tacit if not expressed; and
then he turned on his heel, and left me with his mother.
Oh! John, it makes me shudder to think of that time. She
called me by every bad name you can imagine. She as-
sembled her servants to see me driven with opprobrium
from the house. She even wrote to the clergyman, who
was my only friend, and told him I was a bad girl, who had
beguiled her son from his allegiance to her and his duty to
Heaven, and when I found my way back to Wharton his
doors were closed against me.
""
+
"And there was no truth in it?" said her husband, grasp-
ing her by the arm, and looking her steadily in the face.
“There was no truth in it!" she answered, with her
clear blue eyes fixed upon his.
-
ی امیر
WHY NOT?
“I believe you !'' he said, as he took her in his embrace,
and let her continue her story on his breast.
"Do you wonder, now, John, that I changed my name?
Lily Prescott was branded far and wide as a fallen woman,
and though I knew myself to be innocent, my pride suffered
terribly. Besides, I had my bread to make, and what could
I do in the world without a character? I had a few pounds
of my salary in hand, and before they were exhausted I had
adopted the stage as a living. A traveling manager first
gave me employment, and after a year spent in the
provinces, I found my way to London, and you met me.
And that is all.”
CC
229
No, dearest, that is not all. What is the name of this
man and his mother who used you so disgracefully?"
Must I tell you, John?”
66
CC
I shall not feel satisfied unless you do.
told me so much you must tell me all."
"His name," said Lily, in a low voice, " is--oh, John,
remember that this is in confidence-the strictest confidence
between you and me.
""
"I agree to it, Lily."
"His name, then, is-Esmé Fielding !”
do. Since you have
Kerrison started violently, and disengaging himself from
his wife's clasp, laid her back upon her pillows.
"Esmé Fielding! That fellow who has been visiting
my house and eating my dinners-whilst you receive him
here? Lily, I could not have believed it of you.
>>
66
Oh, John! John! remember that I have never asked
him. I never wished him to come. Did I not tell you so
in the first month of our marriage, when we were up at
Glencara? And since then I declare before Heaven I have
done everything I could to avoid him. Never once have
I seen him of my own free will, except when he came to
say good-bye on leaving England. Whenever Esmé Field-
ing has been brought into this house since I have been here
it has been through the instrumentality of Mrs. Arlington.
That woman knows my past history, John. I am sure of
it. Perhaps (who knows?) she may have gathered it from
his own lips. But I have often thought that she had some
deep design in throwing Mr. Fielding and me together to
upset your happiness and my own.
99
"Lola Arlington knows your past history?" repeated
Kerrison, in surprise. And yet, when I come to think
66
230
WHY NOT?
of it, it must be so. The plot of The Companion!' why,
it tallies with it word for word; and yet she suggested every
incident of it as if it had emanated from her own brain.
Lily, there is something under all this. I am afraid your
idea is correct, and it has been a deep-laid plot to under-
mine the happiness of our married life.””
66
"I felt it every moment as the play went on!" cried
Lily. It was that that made me ill. I said to myself,
she knows everything, and she means that he shall know it.
She has depicted me as a degraded creature. She has in-
troduced the incident of Esmé Fielding following me here.
She has drawn me as guilty, so that, if by some unlucky
accident my husband discovers that his own wife is the
heroine of the play, he shall have so mixed up the two
characters together as to be unable to distinguish between
them to judge which is right and which is wrong—which
is the true woman and which is the false!"
·
(6
"C
But she reckoned without her host,' said Kerrison.
Lola Arlington is a clever woman, but she has not yet
got the length of my foot. I can distinguish between the
true and the false, my darling. I accept every word you
have told me to-night in the same faith in which it was
uttered, and I will love you all the more for the trouble
you have passed through. But I will never forgive her-
never!" he concluded, emphatically.
CC
-
""
Oh, John, my dearest husband! Is it possible I still
retain your love? You will not resent that first attach-
ment? You will believe that there is no room for it in the
heart which is filled with gratitude and affection for your-
self?''
ވ
"My dear girl," he answered, as he took her again into
his arms, "I am six-and-forty and you are twenty-three.
Do you suppose I was so simple as to think you had never
seen a man you would like to marry before I had the good
luck to win you for myself? Besides, you have never tried
to deceive me, and the fault of the rest (if any) lies with
me. Therefore let all this trouble be as if it had never
been. Mr. Esmé Fielding is luckily for us out of Eng-
land, and not likely to return to it. I do not say that if he
does I shall care to invite him to my house again. I think
he behaved in a scurvy manner to you, and I should have
no pleasure in his acquaintance; but I should never dream

11.
2
WHY NOT?
231
of doubting your fidelity to me even if fate threw you to-
gether every day."
"C Oh, thank you, John! To hear you say that is all I
care for! And indeed I have no desire to meet him again.
I am glad to think that we are so far apart.
""
66
I believe you, my dear; and, from to-night, we will
never mention this subject more.
""
ވ
But what will you do," demanded Lily, somewhat
timidly, "about Mrs. Arlington?"
John Kerrison's brows knit in an ominous frown.
66
Leave me to settle with her, Lily. She will know my
mind on this subject before she sleeps to-night. I do not
care to disgrace her before the household by a summary
dismissal, but I promise you shall not be troubled with her
very much longer. Her jealous, envious nature has done
its best to undermine our happiness, but, thank Heaven, it
has not succeeded. She must work with less clumsy tools
next time she wants to bring down so solid a structure as
my love for you, for this revelation has only made you
dearer to me, Lily. I had no notion my poor girl had
suffered so much, and it shall be the task of my life now
to try and make her forget it."
"Oh! how can you do more than you have done al-
ready?” said Lily, as she fell to sleep peacefully in her hus-
band's arms.
CHAPTER XL.
، ، WHAT OBJECT?'
WHEN he was assured that she was fast asleep, Kerrison
laid his wife gently down upon her pillows, and stood for
some time gazing at her with a look of ineffable misery
upon his face. Although she had told her story so ingenu-
ously-although she had passed so lightly over the fact of
her love for Esmé Fielding-she had not hidden the truth
from him, and he felt the hope that had sprung up in his
heart, that he was all in all to her, perish as she spoke.
How could he expect, he asked himself, to fill up the life
of so young and fair a creature as this?
As she lay before him, with the shaded lamp-light falling
on her rippling hair, and her features in perfect repose,
(
232
WHY NOT?
A
she looked like a nymph cast in alabaster. Esmé Field-
ing, with his dark, passionate eyes, and his inflammable
nature, and light burden of five-and-twenty years, was a
far fitter mate for her, he felt, than he had ever been.
He stood with his arms folded, and his frizzled hair fall-
ing over his rugged features, writhing inwardly as he
thought of Fielding's name, but acknowledging the truth to
himself all the same.
Mrs. Arlington (if her intention had been to mar the
peace of their domestic life) had done her work well. She
had not only wrung her secret from this unhappy girl's lips,
but killed forever the hope her husband cherished --that
she loved him. For Kerrison was too modest to believe he
had the power to erase the memory of Esmé Fielding from
Lily's heart. He had behaved badly to her, certainly, but
he had given her reason since to believe in his repentance;
and women do not, as a rule, love men less for holding
them with an open hand. And now, wherever he went,
whatever he did, John Kerrison felt that the shadow of
Esmé Fielding would haunt his married life.
He did not love Mrs. Arlington any the better for the
thought. He awaited her return home with a feeling of
revengeful pleasure. He panted to give the quietus to her
hopes; to show her how she had failed in her malicious de-
signs; to make her believe she had only increased his confi-
dence in and love for his wife; and then to send her forth
upon the world, never to come in his sight, nor clash with
his interests more.
He had not cared for her from the beginning; he had
thought her useful, and believed her true. But all that
was over; she had wounded him in his most vulnerable
part, and the remembrance that she had once cherished an
unsolicited passion for himself rather increased than
diminished his present rancor against her.
He did not leave his wife's side until he heard the voices
of Colonel Escott and Mrs. Arlington in the hall, and he
went down-stairs to receive them.
Lola was, apparently, in the highest spirits, and talking
so loudly that her tones permeated the house.
"Please to remember that my wife is not well, and
lower your voice a little, for she has gone to sleep," said
John Kerrison, coldly, as he reached the hall.
"Oh! how is dear Mrs. Kerrison? We were so concerned
·
:
黛
​act
WHY NOT?
at her illness! I would have returned home with her,
know, Mr. Kerrison if you had allowed me.
you
""
66
"
66
There was no necessity; I could do all that was need-
ful, and my wife prefers to have me with her to strangers.
Well, naturally. And she is really better then? I am
so glad. But you should have come back to witness our
triumph. Oh! it was a grand sight! Wasn't it, Colonel
Escott?"
"It was indeed. I never saw such enthusiasm! The
house rose en masse at the finish!""
66
<
And called Author, Author!' till they were hoarse.
Mr. McIntosh insisted on my going on to apologize for your
absence. Only fancy!"
،،
233
And uncommonly well she did it too. By Jove! John,
you should have heard her!" exclaimed the colonel. "You
would have been prouder than ever of your collaborateur.
She made the neatest little speech possible. One would
have thought she had been used to that sort of thing all her
life."
66
"Oh! it was nothing to boast of," said Lola Arlington,
trying to look modest. One must be stupid indeed not
to be able to say a few words on such an occasion."
"6
By George, I couldn't," replied Escott; "I don't
think I could make a speech to save my life.
""
66
Mrs. Arlington has more confidence in herself than
you have, Jem," said Kerrison, curtly.
66 What's up, old fellow? Aren't you well?”
<<
މ
Perfectly so; but I am naturally worried-greatly
worried-about my wife. She is not strong, and this
evening has upset her altogether. You can't expect me to
think of the trumpery piece when my mind is full of her.”
"Of course," returned Escott, and as it is late, I'll
leave you, John. I sincerely hope Mrs. Kerrison will be
better to-morrow.
66
66 Thank you, Jem. You mean what you say, I am sure
of that," and then the friends shook hands cordially, and,
with a few more congratulations to Mrs. Arlington on her
success, Colonel Escott went on his way.
The house was shut up by this time, and the servants
had retired to bed.
Mrs. Arlington and Mr. Kerrison still lingered in the
dining-room, but Lola did not quite like the looks of her
companion.
234
WHY NOT?
"I'll say good-night too," she remarked, airily, as she
held out her hand. This has been an exciting day for
you and me, and we shall both be the better for a night's
rest. "
66
'It has been a very exciting day," replied Kerrison,
sternly, "but I can not rest, nor you either, until we have
come to an explanation with each other.
">
Lola grew nervous, but she stood her ground.
Dear me!" she exclaimed.
"An explanation! What
can you mean?"
"I will soon tell you. It can be arrived at by a single
question. What object had you, Mrs. Arlington, in sub-
mitting the plot of The Companion' for my considera-
tion?"
"What object, Mr. Kerrison? What an extraordinary
thing to ask me! Why, so that you might turn it into a
play, as you have done. What other object could I have
had?"
"I will shape my question differently then. Where did
you get that plot?"
"C
Out of my own head," said Lola, boldly.
"That is not true, Mrs. Arlington."
""
"I don't know what right you have to say so."
"The right of knowledge. It is not possible that you
should spontaneously devise a plot that agrees, incident for
incident, with my wife's past life.”
Lola Arlington leaned over the table with clasped hands,
and an expression on her face indicative of horror.
CC
Your wife's past life! Oh! Mr. Kerrison, you can
not think of what you are saying! Surely your wife can
never have borne such a terrible character as that of Déluie
Duprêt?''
ވ
Kerrison saw at once that his righteous indignation had
outrun his policy.
Certainly not, but you wished me to believe so. You
have drawn the girl's surroundings so much like hers, that
any one knowing so far might be led to believe the rest.
She recognized it at once, as you must have wished her to
do, and she has told me all in consequence. Mrs. Arling-
ton, I despise you for your malicious attempt to annoy
her!"
How could I know
Who does know
"But I utterly deny the accusation.
the incidents of Mrs. Kerrison's past life?
WHY NOT?
235
them? She has been a mystery to all of us, even to you, her
husband! If the simple little plot I had the good luck to
conceive appeals to her conscience to such a degree that she
sinks fainting to the floor, how am I to blame? You are
unjust to me, Mr. Kerrison! The person to blame is she,
who kept such things from you, and permitted you to
marry her blindfold. I am surprised that you should pre-
sume to accuse me in this unwarrantable manner, and I
must request you will allow me to pass to my own room.
"J
And as she spoke Lola Arlington rose, and, fastening her
mantle with much dignity about her, prepared to leave
him.
CHAPTER XLI.
C IT IS FALSE!'
FOR a moment John Kerrison was staggered.
After all, what proofs had he of Mrs. Arlington's motives,
except the coincidence of the plot of "The Companion "
agreeing with various phases of Lily's life? And might not
his wife's too sensitive mind have traced more resemblance
than there really was? He trusted he had not made an ir-
remediable blunder in mooting the subject, for injustice:
was revolting to a man like John Kerrison.
6
"Do not be so hasty," he said, with a view to prolong-
ing the conversation. "Let us understand each other fully
before we part. Mrs. Kerrison has been terribly upset by
seeing The Companion.' She declares it to be a transcript
of her own experience, and that you have hinted before her
more than once that you are acquainted with the circum-
stances of her past life. Now be honest with me, Lola.
Is that the truth? Have you received more information re-
garding her than she has told you herself?"
"Certainly not, Mr. Kerrison," replied Lola, confident-
ly. "Do.you suppose that I go talking with strangers
about your wife behind her back? I know no more about
her than you do; and if anything which she saw on the
stage to-night was the cause of her illness, the likeness can
only exist in her imagination. But I can't see where the
resemblance comes in. Déluie Duprêt (as we have drawn
her) is an innocent, yielding sort of woman, more weak
ގ
*
236
WHY NOT?
Jump
than wrong. And as for the Marquis, no one can say he is
a bit like Mr. Fielding."
"Who mentioned Mr. Fielding?" demanded Kerrison,
quickly, in a hard, dry voice.
Mrs. Arlington bit her lip. She was the one who had
talked too fast now, and spoiled the whole effect of her
argument.
I have caught you at last," continued her employer.
The mention of that name betrays that all you have told
me is a falsehood; and I know now that my wife is right,
and you concocted that plot on the lines of the intelligence
you have gleaned concerning her, and with a view to her
injury and mine. You have betrayed yourself, Mrs. Arling-
ton. Why-if you know nothing about her should you
connect Mr. Esmé Fielding's name with that of the Mar-
quis? What is Mr. Fielding to my wife, or my wife to Mr.
Fielding?"
CC
66
A great deal more than you would like to know, Mr.
Kerrison?" cried Lola, throwing down her cards. "If you
will insist upon the truth you must have it. Mrs. Kerrison
and Esmé Fielding were lovers long before you came across
her on the boards of the Meridian, and they are lovers to
this day!"
"It is false!" shouted John Kerrison.
It is true as day! I don't care what you know about
it now.
Mrs. Fielding came herself from Applescourt to
tell me the story, having a strong suspicion, from some-
thing her son said, that the Lily Prescott' she had dis-
missed from her house for disgraceful conduct, and the
'Lily Power' you led so triumphantly to the altar, were
one and the same person! But she didn't get the truth
from me, though I knew she was right. I denied Mrs.
Kerrison's identity, but I did not forget what I had heard.
And when I saw that Mr. Fielding still visited her at this
house, and had tête-à-tête with her in the drawing-room, I
resolved that you too should know the story of her ante-
cedents."
"And so you adopted this cruel and cowardly method of
letting the whole world hear it as well as me.
You ought
to be ashamed of yourself!"
.
"What better means could I adopt?" she cried, shrilly.
"Would you have listened or believed, if I had come to
you personally with my convictions? She would have de-
;
f
WHY NOT?
237
nied them, and you would have given the credit to her,
instead of to me. But now you can judge for yourself
whether Mrs. Fielding's conjectures were correct.
"Well," said John Kerrison, after a short pause,
"this
must end it all and forever.
""
"I was afraid it would," rejoined Mrs. Arlington; but
after all it will be for the best. You could never live hap-
pily with a woman who has so grossly deceived you.
""
"You entirely mistake my meaning," he returned,
quickly. "I never had-I never shall have the slightest
intention of parting with my wife. She has told me all,
and I believe her to be entirely free from blame. Even if
she were not so, I would still encircle her weakness with my
strength, and shield her from the cruel judgments of the
world; but there is no occasion. I know her to be as pure
as she looks; and the trouble she has gone through in the
past, and the insult she has been subjected to to-night,
have only made me love her the more, and bound me to her
the closer."
"Then what are you talking about?" cried Lola, inso-
lently.
66 I am talking of you, Mrs. Arlington!" said Kerrison,
taking two or three strides toward her, “and of the infa-
mous share you have had in this transaction. I have borne
with a great deal from you on account of my pity for your
friendless position, and my belief that you had my interests
at heart. But a woman who (under the guise of friend-
ship) can strike me on the tenderest point of my nature,
and through the creature who is dearest to me in the world,
can no longer claim either my pity or my regard. Neither
would I subject Mrs. Kerrison any longer to the annoyance
of your presence. I do not wish to disgrace you openly be-
fore the household amongst whom you have dwelt so long,
but this night sees all communication between us at an end
forever. To-morrow morning I shall take my wife away
for a week, and when we return I shall expect to find you
have left the house. There is a quarter's salary due to
you, and I shall pay you another instead of the usual notice.
If
you follow me to the library I will draw the check at
در
}
think
to
CC
once.
Mrs. Arlington was trembling with indignation and dis-
appointment, but she did as she was requested in silence.
And so this is the end of all our mutual work and
238
WHY NOT?
familiar intercourse," she said, as she received the money
at his hands.
"Not quite all," he answered, "for there will be various.
sums owing to you from the proceeds of that hateful drama.
Let me have some address to which to send them and they
will be duly forwarded."
CC
66
You can send them to Colonel Escott," she answered,
jauntily. He at least believes in me, and will not desert
me, whatever you may do."
"I am sorry for Escott," was Kerrison's caustic reply.
And now that our business is concluded, Mrs. Arlington,
I will wish you good-night and good-bye, and I sincerely
hope I may never see you in this world again.'
56 Are you not even going to shake hands with me?" she
said, in a husky voice, her real feelings getting the better
of her rage and indignation.
66
No!" replied Kerrison, curtly, with his hands behind -
his back. "Your treachery and malice are repugnant to
any ideas of friendship between us, and I will never shake
hands with you again."
CC
Not"
-she panted-" not when you know that I love
you, and that all I have done has been done for your
sake?"
،،
"Silence, woman!" he said, authoritatively, "and do
not defile my ears with the shameless avowal of a passion I
have never returned.'
66
He passed from the door as he spoke, and she stood there,
shrinking under the rebuff he had thrown at her, and look-
ing like some wild beast that has received the lash. Her
dark eyes glowed like living fire-her nostrils were dilated
--and the breath came hissing through her clinched teeth.
"You have done it," she said, under her breath, you
have signed her death-warrant. Had you repulsed her I
might have spared her; but now-that you threaten to
shield her, innocent or guilty, with your words, your arms,
and your caresses!--you shall cease those words before long,
finding they beat against the empty air-you shall open
those arms to see they have embraced a thing of clay!"
-
:
1
★ *
:
WHY NOT?
**
239
66
>
CHAPTER XLII.
AN AWKWARD POSITION.
It was ten o'clock the following morning before Lola
Arlington ventured to ring her bell. She had crept up to
her own room and lain down on her bed, but she had not
closed her eyes all night.
Sarah, the upper house-maid, whose duty it was to wait
upon her, answered her summons.
"Will you bring my breakfast up here, Sarah?" said
Mrs. Arlington, with an affectation of perfect ease. The
play was such a tremendous success last night, and they
made such an absurd fuss over Mr. Kerrison and myself,
that I feel perfectly worn out with the fatigue and excite-
ment, and altogether too lazy for anything.
99
66
Yes, ma'am," replied Sarah, with blissful indifference.
"And what will you please to take?”
"Oh, anything-anything! Have Mr. and Mrs. Kerri-
son breakfasted yet?"
66
Yes, ma'am, an hour ago; and their boxes is in the
hall. I suppose you know as they're going off to the sea-
side?"
"You foolish girl! Of course I do! As if they would
leave the house without letting me know! Your mistress is
not very well, and we thought a little change would do her
good. I shall be going for a holiday myself in a few days.
""
CC Shall you get up to see them off, ma'am?"
"No, Sarah. We said good-bye last night; for they
knew I was very tired, and were too considerate to wish me
to get up early. Bring my breakfast as soon as you can,
and let me know when they are gone.
""
So she contrived (or thought she contrived) to deceive
the servants, who knew the truth almost as well as she did.
Still, they maintained their usual respect toward her, for
Lola Arlington had an eye and manner that commanded
deference.
The breakfast-tray appeared in due course, and with it
the intelligence that the master and mistress had just driven
away, and the house was clear.
Then Lola seemed to breathe freely for the first time,
457
240
WHY NOT?
and for a couple of hours longer she lay in her bed, think-
ing over her plans for the future.
It was a bitter thought to know she had so signally failed
in her endeavors to separate John Kerrison and his wife,
and it brought other thoughts still more bitter in its train.
The love which she had borne for her employer, and
which (though the best feeling she was capable of) was but
a morbid and insatiate passion after all, seemed suddenly to
have evaporated in a thirsting for revenge. She could not
forget his words and looks of the night before. There had
not been one softening phrase or glance to show that he
pitied her, if only for cherishing an unrequited flame.
P
It was all over-there was not a chance for her, she
recognized the truth at last, and it left but one feeling be-
hind it the desire to make him as desolate as she was her-
self. He had condemned her to a life loneliness without
He, too, should feel what it was to stand.
alone in the world, without hope of restitution. But she
had still to decide on the ways and means of crushing him,
and to carry out her plans so as to evade detection.
compunction.
When she had risen and dressed herself she went down-
stairs. The house seemed very empty and cold without the
master and mistress, and the servants had taken advantage
of their departure and her own late appearance to be be-
hindhand with their work.
The door of Lily's bedroom stood ajar. Sarah had not
yet attempted to set it in order.
Mrs. Arlington entered, and surveyed it carefully. The
bed was unmade, and the carpet littered with paper and
shreds. Her quite eyes roved to the mantel-piece. There
stood the bottle of neuralgic tincture in its usual place.
Mrs. Arlington drew a deep breath of relief, and rang the
bell for Sarah.
""
Why have you not done this room yet?''
"I meant to give it a good turn out this afternoon,
ma'am."
66
Very well. Clean it thoroughly, and put up fresh lace
curtains to the windows. Your mistress will be absent only
a few days. And be careful not to displace any of her lit-
tle bottles and boxes; you know how fidgety Mrs. Kerrison
is about having any of her things touched."
"I will see that everything is left exactly in the same
1
241
WHY NOT?
"And cook, she
order, ma'am," replied the servant.
would like to know if you will dine at home to-day?"
"Yes! No!-I am not sure," said Lola Arlington, un-
decidedly.
Her restless spirit was panting to be at work. She did
not feel as if she could sit down quietly to a solitary meal in
that house, where she had once cherished such high ambi-
tions, and which henceforward was to be closed to her. Be-
sides, in a day or two, she must leave it, and it behooved
her to consider where she should go.
What friends had she in London? what refuge which she
would care to accept in the time of desolation that lay be-
fore her? In her extremity her thoughts turned to Colonel
Escott. She knew she had the power to fascinate him.
Once he had offered to make her his wife. It would be
as well to find out if (in case of the worst coming to the
worst) he would be willing to redeem the pledge which he
had given her.
Lola Arlington had not much faith in the protestations
of men.
She had received so many declarations of love-
so few offers of marriage.
But Colonel Escott had certainly seemed in earnest, at a
time when it had been her policy to repulse him. She did
not wish to accept him now, but she felt it would be as well
to make sure that the fish could be landed if necessary.
So she put on her most becoming costume, and set off for
the colonel's chambers.
It was five o'clock in the afternoon when she reached
them, an hour which usually found Escott at his club; but
by chance he was at home.
The fact is he had been worried and upset by a letter re-
ceived from Mrs. Fielding, in which that lady, after an-
nouncing that she was seriously ill, upbraided him for hav-
ing been the means of separating her from her only child,
at a time when she required the comfort of his presence.
The colonel possessed a very tender heart, and Mrs.
Fielding's reproaches smote him forcibly.
After all, why had he taken any active measures to for-
ward the wishes of his godson? What was the effect of put-
ting his hand between the fire and the wood? He had only
burned his fingers. And this poor woman was evidently
suffering, both in mind and body.
That was what hurt the colonel.
He thought he had
242
÷
WHY NOT?
already made women suffer enough. Something in the ex-
pression of Helen's eyes, and in the tone of her voice as she
made allusion to the past, had haunted him ever since their
meeting in the Stores. It was hard that these tender creat-
ures should be victimized for the selfishness and wrong-
doing of men! So the soft old colonel sat down and wrote
to Esmé to tell him that his mother was ill, and if he could
get a few weeks' leave to come over and see her, he was
sure he would not regret it. And whilst he was yet engaged
upon his letter, Mrs. Arlington walked into his room. She
was fashionably attired, and looked well and handsome, but
there was an expression on her face that made him ask at
once if anything was the matter?
66
Then you have heard nothing from Mr. Kerrison?"
she said, as she threw herself into a chair.
"From John?" exclaimed the colonel, starting. "Cer-
tainly not! Is his wife ill?”
Not that I know of."
"Then what can be wrong, after the brilliant success of
last night?"
66
Simply this that we have parted forever."
The colonel could not believe his ears.
"You-have-parted-forever!" he repeated, slowly.
"Yes. It is a fitting reward for years of faithful serv-
ice, is it not? Colonel Escott, I have slaved for that man
as no one knows but myself. I have risen early and sat up
late to get his manuscripts ready for the press. I have
submitted to the airs and graces of his wife-a woman
whom he raised from the lowest position on the stage to
rule over his establishment and himself as I think few
people would have done. And this is the end of it! I am
turned out of his house. Dismissed like a servant-left to
shift for myself!"
"But wherefore? wherefore?" cried the colonel.
"You
take my breath away, Lola! What you tell me seems im-
possible of belief!”
"You had better ask your friend' wherefore.' He will
give you his own version of the story, whatever I may
say.
P
މ
""
"But I would rather hear yours first," said Escott,
crossing to her side. "I feel for you deeply, Mrs. Arling-
ton, in this dilemma; but I hope that things will be put
straight again between you."
""
守
​→→
2
I
WHY NOT?
243
You may save yourself the trouble of doing so,
colonel,” replied Lola, "for the Kerrisons and I will never
meet again. They have gone away this morning-I don't
know where and I shall have cleared out of the house be-
fore they return to it."
"And just when you have made such a remarkable suc-
cess with you collaboration," said the colonel.
"It is in-
66
>
comprehensible to me!"
66
"It is the drama that has worked the mischief, though
you will scarcely credit it," she answered. But it seems
that the plot bears an unfortunate resemblance to Mrs. Ker-
rison's former experience, and she has resented it on me!
She has told her husband that I suggested it on purpose to
expose her.
Did you ever hear such folly? As if I knew
any of the incidents of her past life. If I had—could I
have imagined she was half so bad as Déluie Duprêt is
represented to be--I should have requested Mr. Kerrison
to allow me to resign my situation before she entered the
house."
(C
And John has dismissed you summarily for a coin-
cidence like this? It is incredible!" said Escott, wonder-
ingly.
Nevertheless it is true. We had a stormy discussion
last night upon the subject, in which I tried to exculpate
myself, but without effect. Mr. Kerrison said that his
wife's fainting-fit was caused by her recognition of the
scenes depicted in 'The Companion.' That on returning
to consciousness she had confessed all to him, and the up-
shot was that we could no longer dwell under the same roof.
So I had nothing to do but defer to his opinion. The in-
nocent has to suffer for the guilty; and because Mrs. Ker-
rison's past life will not bear inspection, I am cast out again
upon the world.”
CC
CC
But it is gross injustice; it is not like Kerrison,” ex-
claimed the colonel, hotly. Let me speak to him for
you, dear Mrs. Arlington. Let me set the matter before
him in its true light, and I am sure he will be the first to
apologize for his hastiness. This separation between you
must not-can not be! He will thank me afterward for
my interference."
(C
"No, no, colonel, I forbid it," interposed Mrs. Arling-
ton, decidedly. The matter is settled once and forever,
and there can be no alteration. Mr. Kerrison made his
244
?
WHY NOT?
own terms and I accepted them, and I would not return to
his service not if he went down on his knees to ask me.
Do you suppose I have no pride? The only thing I have
to consider now is what am I to do next?"
She cast her large eyes up to his in an appealing glance
as she spoke, and the colonel began to feel uncomfortable.
Dim visions floated through his mind of a certain evening
when he had asked her, in a moment of infatuation, to be
his wife, and she had conditionally accepted the offer; but
he had no intention of renewing it now. He admired her
as much as ever, and he felt indignant at the idea that she
had been treated unfairly by his friends. But since he had
seen Helen Glamoye again, he had given up all idea of
marrying Mrs. Arlington; if he was married at all, he
thought it must be to his old love. But he did not wish to
marry, he intended to remain an old bachelor to the end of
his days.
So Lola's glance made him feel rather guilty and very
nervous, he was so terribly afraid of what she might say
next.
"Have you no home?" he ejaculated,
receive
you, until you find another situation?"
"None!" she said, with a deep sigh.
“I—I—once met you," stammered the colonel, down
by Aldgate, and I thought perhaps you had relations living
that way.
66
މ
66
no friends to
66
I have no relations," replied Lola.
It seems so strange that, young and beautiful as you
are, you should be alone in the world. Your late husband
must have had friends.
66
"Ah! don't speak of him," she cried, impetuously.
Don't revive such bitter memories. The effort of my life
since has been to efface them from my mind. I would not
enter such scenes again if it were to save myself from
starvation. No! I am utterly desolate and alone. Mrs.
Kerrison has cut me off from every acquaintance I pos-
sessed. You talk of my getting another situation! What
position can I take now that would be palatable to me?
Do you think that I can go back to be an ordinary house-
keeper-a machine to select dinners and control servants-
without breaking my heart? He has lifted me above all
that. He has placed me by his side-taught me to take an
interest in his intellectual pursuits-to be his assistant and
*
NT
f
}
}
WHY NOT?
-245 t
adviser, even his collaborateur. And then, in a moment
of anger, without warning, he has cast me down to the level
from which he raised me. Oh! it is hard! it is bitterly-
cruelly hard!" exclaimed Lola, as she threw herself sob-
bing on the sofa.
66
It is cruelly hard!" agreed Escott," and yet you will
not allow me to interfere between you.
""
<<
It would be useless, I tell you. The breach is too wide
to be ever healed again.
"Then tell me, dear Mrs. Arlington, in what way I can
help you?" said the colonel.
·
"Ah! don't call me Mrs. Arlington,' when my heart
is aching for a word of sympathy and kindness. Call me
'Lola,' as you so often do!" she murmured.
He didn't like it. He felt it was treading upon danger-
ous ground; but he could not refuse so simple a demand
from a woman in distress:
CC
در
Lola, then! Tell me what I can do for you?”
CC
Nothing-nothing! All I want is love and kindness."
66 But when do you leave the Kerrisons' house? You
must have some place to go.
""
To-morrow or next day.
"Shall I find you suitable apartments?"
CC
Find me a grave, where I can forget that I have ever
lived, and I will thank you. Fancy me in apartments! I,
who have been used to society, and bustle, and excitement
all day long, cooped up alone in a couple of rooms. It will
kill me!"
ވ
""
"No, no!" said Escott, soothingly; "you will get used
to solitude, as I have. Besides, you will soon find another
situation. You must not let your trouble weigh you down
like this."
"I will not take another situation!" cried Lola, excit-
edly. "I will die first! Fancy I, who have known him
and-and-you, descending to regulate a kitchen! Oh,
Colonel Escott!" she continued, turning to him with
clasped hands and streaming eyes, "grant the request I
once made to you, and let me come here and be your house-
keeper."
The poor colonel blushed to the roots of his hair. He
could not fail to remember the request with which he had
followed up hers on that occasion.
"My dear Mrs. Arlington," he exclaimed, hurriedly,
246
WHY NOT?
so many abonneethal druge natte
Taman Men, en plačan za
In 19% plan to the
ata al mar de Tarr abget, atau dira nagypt.
"it is impossible! Pray-pray do not pain me by men-
tioning it again. I am not in the position to keep a house-
keeper or or indeed any one but myself. I am not
wealthy like Kerrison, you know. I am a very poor man,
and have often blamed myself for jesting with you and
others about possibilities which I could never carry out.
Living in London is more expensive than I expected it to
be, and I begin to see that if I can continue to maintain
myself as I do now to the end of my days I may consider I
am lucky. Else, had it been otherwise, how glad I should
have been to avail myself of your offer to look after my
comforts! But you must aspire to something far more
worthy of your intellect and capabilities. You must look
out for another secretaryship. I am sure John will do all
in his power to recommend you to one.
""
.
"I shall ask nothing more at his hands or yours," she
answered, in a sullen tone. "You are all alike, you men
-full of flatteries and fair promises when the sun shines,
but broken reeds to depend upon in the hour of distress.
"Don't say that of me!" exclaimed Escott, reproach-
fully; "I have always admired and liked you, and been
anxious to serve you to the extent of my power, and I am
ready to do so still.”
66
Žena malaga Mamalaray captal by not of tested can proving Tenn
Only your power does not extend to fulfilling the hopes
you held out in fairer days," said Lola, significantly.
Escott colored, and moved a little away.
މ
She looked very handsome as she spoke, and his senses
were stirred within him. He had half a mind to tell her
then and there that it lay with her to take him for a hus-
band if she chose; but something seemed to arrest the words
upon his lips. She was a glorious creature without doubt,
but-but he did not feel as if he could marry her. So he
turned aside, and his eyes fell upon an envelope addressed
in Mrs. Glamoye's handwriting, which had arrived from
Cheltenham that morning, telling him how much Lulu and
Freddy and Winnie enjoyed their matutinal rides in the
donkey-panniers he had given them. The sight of it revived
his moral courage; he would not be such a coward; he
would speak plainly to Mrs. Arlington.
"I can not pretend to misunderstand what you say,” he
answered, presently," but you must not blame me for what
is no fault of mine. Had you decided to accept the offer I
once made you, Lola, you would have been placed, long be-
•
B
WHY NOT?
247-
fore this, above the necessity of looking for a home. But
you rejected it in favor of the Kerrisons, and so I tried to
forget that I had ever cherished such an idea; and since
then, it is more than a year ago, remember, I have met-'
"You needn't finish the sentence," she interrupted,
roughly; you have met with some one you like better.
understand you.
>>
66
"Indeed you do not," he rejoined, with quiet courtesy.
'I was going to say I had met with some dear old friend,
whose society seems to promise me so much compensation
for my solitary life, that I have given up all idea of matri-
mony. And indeed, Mrs. Arlington, I think I was foolish
ever to mention it, especially to you. I am no fit husband
for any woman, least of all for one so calculated to shine in
society as you are. So let us forget the folly, then, into
which my admiration of you betrayed me, and do not refuse
to regard me as a friend, because I feel myself unworthy to
be your lover.'
>>
66
I
Mrs. Arlington was not an inexperienced girl to be de-
ceived by high-sounding words, and she read Colonel Es-
cott's mind concerning herself as easily as he did; but it
was not her policy to resent it. She could not afford to
quarrel with both him and Kerrison in one day. Besides,
she knew the power she still held over him, and that it
might be useful to her yet.
And so she turned toward him with a smile shining
through her tears.
-
"Dear Colonel Escott, please don't say any more; you
make me feel ashamed of myself. I was only alluding to
friendship; I have never had any other thoughts with re-
spect to you. And if I may hope to keep you as a friend I
shall be quite happy. I could not "—with a faltering voice
"I could not bear to think that you mistrusted or mis-
understood me!"
66
That I shall never do. You may depend upon me to
remain forever what I am now-your sincere admirer and
your friend," replied Escott, as he raised her hand to his
lips.
But when Mrs. Arlington had gone he sat for hours cogi-
tating over the reason for this sudden eruption between her
and Kerrison, and wishing that John had left an address
behind him, through which he might have communicated
with him.
248
WHY NOT?
However, he was to return home in a week, and as soon
as ever he came back Colonel Escott was determined to
speak with him on behalf of Lola. He could not believe
that the quarrel between them would not, sooner or later,
be made up again.
CHAPTER XLIII.
SHOULD I DIE FIRST.'
JOHN KERRISON took his wife straight down to the sea-
side, and devoted all his time to the restoration of her peace
of mind.
66
""
The fresh breezes of Brighton were delightfully refresh-
ing after the close atmosphere of town, and soon brought a
faint color, like, the rose-tinted lining of a shell, to Lily's
cheeks; but they could not dispel her melancholy, nor that
of her husband, although he battled manfully to hide it.
Kerrison would never reproach Lily for the story she had
told him. He would never, probably, allude to it again.
But he would not forget it nevertheless; and as the days
wore on she realized that she had made a mistake.
John was more attentive than ever, as though he were
trying to make up to her for what she had lost, but he was
less cheerful and more self-contained. He no longer ex-
patiated on the pleasures of his profession, nor looked for-
ward to future triumphs, as he had been wont to do. He
kept silence on the subject, and even alluded once to the
possibility of his throwing up town life altogether, and set-
tling down in the country.
On that occasion Lily ventured to ask him, timidly, if it
was the proposed loss of Mrs. Arlington's services that
made him contemplate such an idea, and to beg him, in
that case, not to consider her feelings in the matter, but to
retain a person who was of so much use to him. But Ker-
rison indignantly refuted the proposal.
(C
Keep that woman in the house!" he exclaimed, “and
after all she knows of you and has said of you? I wouldn't
do it to save my life. I couldn't breathe the same air with
her. Why, she'd probably let it all out, little by little, and
we should have every servant in the house discussing your
former history. The very idea would drive me mad."
"C
'But, John," remonstrated Lily, "if Mrs. Arlington
WHY NOT?
249
{
speaks the truth she can not say anything of me of which I
am ashamed, or which should diminish the respect of my
servants for me!"
"But she belongs to a sex that never does speak the
truth, my dear," replied her husband. "I believe I'm a
very ignorant fellow respecting women, but at least I know
as much as that."
At which assertion Lily was silenced, wondering how
much or how little John believed of the story she had been
weak enough to tell him.
Neither husband_nor wife was happy, and at the end of
the week (Kerrison having first ascertained that Lola Arling-
ton had left the house) they returned home. Escott was
there to meet them-Escott with a troubled brow and grave
demeanor, and a dignified address for Lily, as if he consid-
ered she was the sole cause of the disruption of the house-
hold. But no allusion was made to the absent Lola until
the two men found themselves alone together.
"Well, John, this is a sad business," said Escott, open-
ing fire first.
66
To what do you allude?" demanded Kerrison, with
affected ignorance.
He was aware of Escott's partiality for Mrs. Arlington,
and had expected he would prove her advocate. But he
had not yet been able to make up his mind how far he
should confide in him. How could he tell him of the sus-
picions that attached to his wife? What construction would
a man of the world put on such a narration? And yet how
could he explain his action with regard to Mrs. Arlington
without? He was completely puzzled what to do. So he
tried the effect of a little masterly inactivity until the
colonel should show his hand more freely.
66
-
Why, to Lola's dismissal, of course," replied Escott,
in answer to his remark; "I couldn't believe, at first, that
it was true. The poor girl came to me the day you left in
a perfect agony of distress. She is awfully attached to you,
John! Upon my word, I thought she would have com-
mitted suicide! It was so sudden-so unexpected-and in
the midst of her triumph too! You must allow it is a ter-
rible blow for a woman to bear!”
މ
"She brought it on herself," said Kerrison, moodily.
"But how? What has she done? And is the fault (if
fault there be) irrevocable? Come, John, you're a good-
250
WHY NOT?
hearted fellow! Don't you think if you look into the mat-
ter a second time you may find you have been rather hasty?
And after all, you know, if she has offended you, she is
only a woman.
CC
She is a very dangerous woman," remarked his friend,
dryly, "and I don't care to have dynamite lying about my
house. It is of no use pleading her cause, Jem. When I
dismissed her I had made up my mind about it, and for-
ever-Mrs. Arlington never crosses my threshold again.
Did she ask you to try and get her reinstated?”
"On the contrary, she has repeatedly informed me that
the separation is a final one. But I can't believe it, John;
it is so unlike you. It must be a terrible sin that you have
no heart to forgive!"
66
She has committed the greatest sin of which she is
capable in my eyes," said Kerrison. "She has attempted
to injure my wife! You admire Lola Arlington, Jem, I
know-I don't. I never did. I may tell you, in confi-
dence, that I might have married her long ago had I been
so inclined; but I was not, and she has tried to resent my
indifference on Mrs. Kerrison. That is the long and the
short of it. What story she may have told you I do not
know; but if she has said anything against Lily, it's false-
hood! And now, you will oblige me by dropping the sub-
ject and never alluding to it again.
"7
At this appeal Colonel Escott was silent. He felt that
the matter was concluded, and he had arrived at the gate
over which it was impossible to climb.
So he only sighed and smoked on in silence. After a
long pause his companion said:
I will only mention this matter once more, Jem, and
then we will have done with it forever. There will be cer-
tain sums due to Mrs. Arlington on account of this drama
which we wrote together, and she desired that such sums
should be remitted to you in trust for herself. Have you
consented to the arrangement, or is it only her own idea?"
She has not spoken to me yet concerning it; but I am
quite willing to be her trustee in the matter.
66
You know where she is living, then?"
"Oh, yes. In apartments in George Street, at least for
the present."
John Kerrison regarded Escott for a few moments stead-
fastly. Then, in a sudden access of tenderness very un-
WHY NOT?
251
usual to him, he stretched out his hand and tightly grasped
that of his friend.
"Jem-dear old boy!" he said, huskily, "do you re-
member a question you put to me in the sanctum' the
first evening you spent in this house?"
CC
Perfectly well!" replied the colonel, vividly coloring.
"And the answer I gave you?”
"Yes, John.”
"I won't insult your reason by asking you the same
thing in my turn; but I hope-I earnestly hope, Jem-
that you have not got into any sort of entanglement with
this woman?”
?
Escott's clear blue eyes met his confidently.
CC
None whatever, John."
66
Thank Heaven for that, old fellow! I shouldn't feel
it so deeply in the case of any other man; but you have
such a kind heart, and are so good yourself, you scarcely
believe in the wickedness of other people. And you always
had a sneaking fondness for Mrs. Arlington.
""
،،
Yes," replied Escott, frankly, "I admire her, and I
like her, and I pity her excessively for this quarrel with
you. And I don't mind confessing to you, John, that at
one time I was inclined to go much further. But that is
all over now.
""
"What dispelled your fancy, Jem? Have you found out
her real character?'"
"I can see that, notwithstanding her beauty and clever-
ness, she is not a woman calculated to make a man happy.
But that was not exactly the reason that I changed my
mind concerning her. I think I mentioned to you once,
John, that I had experienced a great disappointment in
early life. I had the misfortune to fall in love with a mar-
ried woman, and nothing remained for me to do but to try
and forget her, and until lately I thought I had succeeded
pretty well; but some months ago-"
66
Halloo, Jem! Why, I declare you're blushing! What
happened some months ago?'
Well, I met her again, and she's a widow, and—”
CC
You're going to marry her! I congratulate you.
There's no love like the first love; and a woman you have
cared for so long must be a good woman.'
""
66
But, John, you are running on too fast! I am not
going to marry her-nothing of the sort.
Only, seeing her
252
WHY NOT?
again, and hearing her voice, changed all the current of my
thoughts; and I felt that I had deceived myself, and noth-
ing could make up to me for the rupture of that old
'dream."
CC
W
But why don't you marry this lady?" inquired Kerri-
son, in a disappointed tone.
Colonel Escott laughed.
"For several reasons. In the first place, I don't know
if she'd have me. In the second, I'm too poor to have the
cheek to ask her. Had I remained in the service it might
have been different; but my half pay is not a noble income
on which to offer to support a woman and half a dozen
children.
""
John whistled.
66
She has a family, then? That's a drawback.
“An insuperable one," said Escott.
John Kerrison was silent for some minutes. Then he
said, slowly:
"Should I die before you, Jem, you will find I have not
forgotten you, and perhaps-who knows?-it may come in
time to give you a few years' happiness with your widow."
The colonel looked infinitely distressed.
66
John, please don't talk to me like that. If it is the
case, tell me nothing about it. I know of course that one
of us must go before the other, but I sincerely hope it may
be myself."
""
66
"Yes-yes!" said Kerrison, pressing his hand, we
both wish that; we have no doubt of each other. But if
you should live to get my little legacy, Jem, take it with
confidence that you are injuring no one, and that it is
justly yours--the outcome of the money you half starved
yourself to lend me in the days gone by. Ah! Jem, can I
ever forget your goodness? It has bound me to you more
closely than to any other creature on this earth! And my
little Lily will be amply provided for! She will have more
than she will know how to spend! What is the use of
making money, if those we love are not to enjoy it with
us?"
"John, why are you talking of these things to-night?”
said Escott, anxiously.
"I am sure I don't know. I think it was your widow
put them into my head. She set me thinking of my own.
But we will go to bed now, Jem, for I am tired and wor-
WHY NOT?
253
ried, and want to sleep. Good-night, old fellow. Won't
you stay with us till to-morrow morning?""
"I think not," returned Escott, dubiously. "I am not
ten minutes' walk from home.
66
"Yes, do stay," urged his friend. It will seem like
old times, and I love to think you are in the house.”
"All right,” replied the colonel, cheerfully; "if it gives
you any pleasure, I will."
But he could not quite shake off the grave thoughts with
which Kerrison had infected him, and the remembrance
kept him awake for the best part of the night.
ވ
CHAPTER XLIV.
FAST ASLEEP.
JOHN KERRISON was, as he had told his friend, both
worried and wearied that night, and as he walked slowly
upstairs he felt unaccountably heavy at heart. Returning
to the house, which he had never entered yet without a
welcome from Mrs. Arlington, had recalled all the circum-
stances of her departure vividly to his mind, and given
him an uncomfortable sensation of having been deserted
and deceived.
ވ
As he entered his own room he found, to his surprise,
that his wife was still up, and reading by the light of a
shaded lamp.
66
66
Why are you not asleep, my dear?" he exclaimed.
Do you know that it is past one o'clock? You should
have been in bed two hours ago. You will suffer for this
to-morrow, Lily!""
"I could not sleep till I had seen you, John! I am so
miserable!"
"So miserable?
And what about?" he asked, in a
Everything. Coming home, and finding how Mrs.
Arlington is missed in the household, makes me feel so
guilty. The servants are all at sixes and sevens without her,
like a disturbed ant-hill.
CC
kindly voice.
66
That will soon right itself, my dear. Housekeepers
are as plentiful in London as blackberries in autumn. We
will send to a registry-office for another to-morrow.
CC
But she will not be able to help you with your literary
254
WHY NOT?
work as Mrs. Arlington has done, and I am afraid I am
not clever enough. And as the days go on you will miss
her terribly, and it is all my fault," said Lily, in a voice
bordering on tears.
"C
My dear girl, it is no such thing," replied her husband.
"Lola Arlington's dismissal is due to herself alone. What
object she could have in view by making us both unhappy
I can not tell, but it defeated itself. And she must have
known that it would have done so. ""
..
"
But if I had never married you-or-deceived you,
pesristed Lily, "she would not have had it in her power to
insult me as she has done."
"You are overtired, my dear, and you are taking a mor-
bid view of the matter, which I thought we had agreed to
lay upon the shelf. I won't allow you to discuss it any
more to-night. Go to bed like a good girl, or I shall have
you ill to-morrow.
""
She did as he desired her, but she could not rest. Some
premonition of coming evil seemed to haunt her pillow and
fill it with thorns.
ઃઃ
John!" she cried, when he had laid down beside her
and was dozing off. "John! my dear husband, tell me
one thing before you go to sleep. Say I haven't spoiled
your life by this miserable mistake-that you are not sorry
now that you ever married me at all.”
"My darling girl," he answered, drowsily, "how can I
say more than I have done? No-no-no! a thousand times
over. I would marry you again to-morrow if there was
any necessity for it.
But do let me go to sleep now, for I
am very tired and in want of rest.”
66
"But there is a difference in you. I can feel it, what-
ever you may say," sobbed Lily. You are sadder and
more silent than you used to be, as if something was weigh-
ing on your mind. If I could only see you as you were be-
fore; but I suppose that you will be never-never. Oh,
John, do say that you forgive me for it all."
da
She gave one or two gasping sobs as she ceased talking;
and Kerrison, thoroughly roused by this time, sat up in
bed, and laid his hand fondly upon her.
CC
My dearest wife, if you require another assurance from
me, you shall have it. But do believe I speak the truth
when I say I forgive you as Heaven forgives. If this were
1
WHY NOT?
255
the last hour of my life, I should say the same. I forgive
you from the bottom of my heart."
66
(6
Oh, you are so good to me," cried Lily, so kind, and
good, and generous, it makes it a thousand times worse
that I should have deceived you!"
•
"You never deceived me, love. It was my own choice
to be left in ignorance.
"If I could only make it up to you in ever so small a
degree," she continued, hysterically. "I know I am not
so clever and bright as-as-she was; but I could learn per-
haps, and I would be so patient. If you will only try me,
dear John-let me see if I can manage to copy your manu-
scripts, and answer your letters, as Mrs. Arlington used to
do-I will do all in my power to prevent your work suffer-
ing from her absence."
C
My dearest child," he exclaimed, embracing her, "if
it will make you happy, you shall do it, although I never
intended these dear hands to labor in my cause; and I shall
think I have a little angel seated in my library instead of
an amanuensis. The work will get on very slowly, I am
afraid, my Lily; for love-making and business do not go
well together.
>>
""
She smiled faintly, and looked up at him, and the rays
of the night-lamp fell upon her face.
66
Why, how you have been crying!" said John Kerri-
son. "You will have a dreadful headache to-morrow.
You must apply some remedy, Lily, before you sleep.
Where is your flask of eau-de-Cologne ?"
66
He got out of bed as he spoke, and turned up the lamp.
"I think I had better take a little sal-volatile," replied
Lily, whose bosom was still heaving with emotion. It
will relieve my head sooner than anything else. "
"Is this the sal-volatile ?" inquired Kerrison, touching
a vial on the mantel-piece.
"Oh, no! That is my sleeping-draught for neuralgia.
The sal-volatile is on the toilet-table. Ten drops, please,
John, in a wine-glass of water.
""
He looked at the bottle he held before he put it down
again. It was labeled, "The night-draught, to be taken
when required."
"Is this poison, Lily?" he said.
"My draught! Oh! dear, no! Why do you ask?”
•
256
WHY NOT?
**
"Because it's not safe to leave such things about, that's
all," he replied, as he walked to the toilet-table.
His wife swallowed her medicine obediently, and after a
fond embrace, and whispered assurance from her husband
that he loved her, laid her weary little head back on her
pillow, and was soon fast asleep. But John Kerrison could
not follow her example. She had roused him so thoroughly
from his first half-torpid slumber, that it seemed impossi-
ble for him to woo the fickle goddess with any prospect of
success again.
He tossed and tumbled feverishly, and tried to beguile
himself by a dozen methods into losing consciousness. But
he remained horribly wide awake, nevertheless; and his ac-
tive brain, never long at rest, began to work with hopeless
perseverance.
At last the dawn broke, and the night-lamp began to
throw out a sickly gleam as the rays of sunshine struggled
through the closed blinds. Kerrison realized that the day
was close at hand, and he should probably meet it in the
same condition of unrest as that in which he had laid down.
He left his couch, and paced up and down the room, hop-
ing that exercise might induce slumber. As he did so, his
eye fell upon the vial containing his wife's sleeping-
draught. He feared it would not be powerful enough to
do him any good, but at all events it could not make him
more wakeful than he was. And so he took the bottle in
his hand, and shaking it well, poured its contents into a
glass and swallowed them. Then he crept back to his bed
cautiously, for fear of waking his darling, and with one
more look at her dear features, lay down with his face to-
ward her, and went fast asleep.
CHAPTER XLV.
POISON.
COLONEL ESCOTT could not sleep that night. The ap-
parent hopelessness of a reconciliation taking place be-
tween the Kerrisons and Lola Arlington, no less than the
grave words his friend had uttered concerning himself,
combined to keep him awake until the small hours of the
morning. His affection for John Kerrison had in nowise
abated with their renewed intimacy. On the contrary, it
WHY NOT?
257
had increased and become strengthened. But in this in-
stance his friendship had a sore battle to fight with his
warm admiration of Mrs. Arlington.
He had only seen the best side of this woman's character
as yet, and to his mind it contrasted favorably with that of
Mrs. Kerrison. Lily was too cold and reserved for his
taste. He thought her manner indicated want of feeling,
and was quite ready to believe that (as Lola insinuated)
she had only married his old friend for his money; and yet
she must have the power greatly to influence him. For
when (thought Escott) had he ever known John to be re-
vengeful or unjust before? And who but his wife could
have induced him to turn so resolutely against Mrs. Arling-
ton?
diag
But here with the true contrariety of human nature-
the colonel inwardly acknowledged that somewhat of the
glamour thrown by his senses over the fair Lola had al-
ready faded away, and that, under any circumstances, he
never could have cared for her as he had once done for
Helen Glamoye. Whereupon his drowsy faculties centered
themselves upon his old flame, and he reviewed their last
meeting, recalling how she looked, and what she said on
that occasion, with sundry sentences in her letters since,
which seemed to betray that the past was not altogether
forgotten or unregretted by her. And Lily was certainly
very much like Helen personally. He remembered that he
had noticed the resemblance the first time they met in the
greenroom of the Meridian.
He wondered if they were alike in character as well as
feature; if Lily's nature possessed the same depth which
used to impress him in Helen's. The same purity of heart
and the sweet sympathy for the suffering of others. He
could imagine Lola Arlington to be everything that was
most dazzling and fascinating to the senses of men, but
never sympathetic or pure-minded. And so, jumbling the
three women up together in his mental vision—and rousing
now and then with a start-to find he had called Helen
Lily, and Lola Helen-Colonel Escott finally lost himself
in a slumber which lasted until past eight o'clock the fol-
lowing morning. At that time he started up suddenly
from a confused dream of fire, and shouting, and alarm,
to find that some one was rapping violently at his bedroom,
door, and calling to him, in no measured tones, to awake.
A
9
-258
WHY NOT?
1
As soon as he had completely recovered himself, Escott
recognized the voice of Kerrison's valet.
"What do you want with me, Marsden?" he demanded,
sitting up, and rubbing his eyes.
66
If you please, sir, will you come at once to my master?
He is not well.”
The colonel leaped from his bed as if he had been shot.
"Not well," he repeated, throwing open the door-
"not well ?""
He could not realize such a contingency; for John had
never, to his knowledge, had a day's sickness in his life.
But when he saw Marsden's face it frightened him. The
man looked as if he had seen a ghost.
"Come at once, sir, for Heaven's sake!" he ejaculated.
"Mr. Kerrison is taken very bad indeed!"
The colonel threw on his dressing-gown and slippers.
"When did it occur?" he demanded, hurriedly.
"I don't know, sir. My mistress found he was ill when
she awoke."
66
приманки
Have you sent for a doctor?”
"Yes, sir! Henry went for Doctor Rayne as soon as we
knew it, and he'll be here in another minute or so. But
the poor young mistress is alone, and she has asked for
you; try and keep her spirits up, sir," continued Marsden,
lowering his voice, confidentially; "for I've seen the mas-
ter, and I'm afraid there's something very serious the mat-
ter with him!”
Thoroughly alarmed by the valet's manner, Colonel Es-
cott proceeded at once to his friend's apartment. There
was no need to knock or ask for admittance; the door was
half open, and a cluster of female servants stood whisper-
ing together on the threshold. He pushed past them, and
entered the room. The first thing he saw was Lily, robed
in a white wrapper, standing by the bedside, and bending
anxiously over the prostrate figure of her husband.
As Escott appeared, she looked up at him with scared
and wide-open eyes.
Oh! Colonel Escott, do come here and look at John!”
she cried; what can be the matter with him? Has he
fainted, or is it a fit? Oh! when will the doctor come?"
The colonel walked up to his old friend's side, and pass-
ing his arm under his head, raised and turned it to the
light. Kerrison's eyes were fixed-his mouth was partly
WHY NOT?
259
open-and the fingers of his hands were clinched. Escott
felt eagerly for his heart and pulse; both were still and si-
lent. The terrible truth broke on him in a moment.
John was dead! He had not the slightest doubt of it.
But for Lily's sake he felt compelled to keep the convic-
tion to himself. He laid his friend's head reverently back
upon the pillow, and the cold perspiration stood on his fore-
head as he turned his pallid face toward the unconscious
widow.
"" but
“I am—afraid—he is—very ill," he stammered;
Doctor Rayne will be here directly. Marsden has sent for
him, and he will doubtless relieve him. Had you not bet-
ter go into the next room, Mrs. Kerrison? I will stay by
John till the doctor comes.
66
""
2
Oh, no!" cried Lily. "Do you think I would leave
him? When he becomes conscious he will miss me at once.
But what can we do? I have tried cold water and eau-de-
Cologne, and everything that is usual in such cases. Mars-
den suggested he should put him in a hot bath. ”
"No," replied Escott, shaking his head, mournfully.
"Do nothing till the doctor comes.
"
CC
""
But his hands and feet are so cold, Colonel Escott! I
think we should have hot-water bottles put to them.
"How long has he been in this condition?" said Escott,
without heeding her suggestion.
"I can not say. I found him so when I awaked. But
he seemed quite well last night. I had a headache, and
just before he went to sleep he got out of bed and mixed me a
dose of sal-volatile and water. He never said that he felt
ill. It seems so extraordinary that a man should faint.”
She kept her large, clear eyes fixed upon Escott with an
eager, questioning gaze in them as she spoke, but he would
not turn nor look at her. He felt as if his heart was break-
ing as he regarded the still, white face upon the pillow, and
thought that he should never hear John's cheery voice
calling him by the old familiar names again. He had seen
death in various shapes during his career-had come very
near it once or twice himself-and he knew he was not
mistaken in believing that his earthly communion with his
dearest friend was over for evermore.
As he was standing there, trying to compose his twitch-
ing features and steady his trembling voice, there was a lit-
260
WHY NOT?
tle bustle on the staircase, and Dr. Rayne, to the infinite
relief of all concerned, entered the room.
66
"Oh, doctor," exclaimed Lily, advancing to meet him,
my husband is so very ill! We can do nothing for him.
We think he must have fainted. Do bring him round as
soon as you can. It frightens me dreadfully to see him lic
like that!""
"Yes, yes, yes. We'll soon set him all right," replied
Dr. Rayne, with professional suavity, as he walked up to
the bedside. 66
Why, what can my friend Kerrison have
been thinking of to alarm you all like this? It is most in-
considerate of him!"
He took the prostrate figure's hand in his, but, as he
touched it, his face changed. Then he pulled back the
eyelid, and pressed his finger on the eyeball. Next, he
laid his ear upon the region of the heart, and listened. Fi-
nally, he raised his head again, and Escott, who had been
watching him narrowly all the while, read in the expres-
sion of his countenance the confirmation of his worst fears.
"When was he taken ill?" asked Dr. Rayne, in a very
quiet voice, of Lily.
(C
No one knows, doctor. I was just telling Colonel Es-
cott, when you arrived, that he seemed quite well the last
thing at night. But we retired late, and I did not wake
until eight o'clock this morning, and my husband was in
the same condition then as he is now. He has not moved
or spoken since.
""
Well, my dear young lady, I am going to ask you to
leave us for a few minutes, whilst I do what I can for him."
Oh, let me stay! I can not bear to leave him!"
66
.،
No. I must request you to go into the next room. I
will not keep you there a moment longer than is necessary;
and you shall have the first news of your husband's recov-
ery. At once, if you please, my dear madame. This is a
matter that will not brook delay.
Thus adjured, Lily rose hurriedly from the kneeling po-
sition she had assumed, and left the room without further
remonstrance.
"I suppose you know what this means?" said Dr. Rayne
to Colonel Escott, as soon as she was out of hearing.
“I am afraid I have guessed it," returned Escott, in a
husky voice. "You think that-that-he is dead.
29.
"I don't think it-I know it!" said the doctor.
"He
3
R
WHY NOT?
261
has been dead for four or five hours. It will be an awful
shock for that poor young creature in the next room.
"And for others beside her," replied Escott, struggling
hard with his emotion.
66
""
Ah, yes! you were great friends, I know. I sympa-
thize with you, colonel, but you must bear it like a man.
We must all go, sooner or later, remember; and it really
signifies very little which goes first. But this is certainly
terribly sudden."
"The cause-what is it?" asked Escott.
I
“That will be, of course, my business to discover. But,
I confess, it is puzzling to me just now. It looks like heart,
but I have strong reasons for not believing that it is.
have known Mr. Kerrison intimately for years, and I never
came across a healthier organization. I suppose, colonel,”
continued the doctor, in a lower key, that you are not
aware if our poor friend was at all troubled in his mind
lately-about money matters for example?''
66
66
ވ
66
Money!" exclaimed Escott. Why! he had more
than he knew what to do with. He was coining money
daily.
""
66 Ah! And you never heard him mention any other
anxiety? He had pretty equable spirits, I suppose. You
can't remember his complaining to you of anything or any-
body that was likely to have given him a disgust to the
world?"
"You
Good heavens!" exclaimed Escott, with horror.
don't mean me to understand that you accuse my dear
friend of taking his own life?"
"We never accuse any one, colonel," rejoined the doc-
tor; "but where we can not find a cause, we are bound to
search for a motive. I really can see no natural reason for
Mr. Kerrison's death. And I can see one or two symptoms
that point strongly to an unnatural one, brought on either
by error or design!"
"You think he died from—" commenced Escott, in an
awestruck tone.
"Poison!" said Dr. Rayne, briefly, finishing the sen-
tence for him.
“Good Heaven!"' cried the other, under his breath.
"Any way, there must be a post-mortem, for I can not
give a certificate of death," continued the doctor.
what was he in the habit of taking?"
66
Now,
262
WHY NOT?
66
"Nothing, that I know of," said the colonel. He
was the most abstemious of men in all things, and he hated
the very name of medicine.
""
66
"No composing draughts, or sedatives of any kind?""
persisted Dr. Rayne. They are in common use amongst
people who exercise their brains, you know.
"I have never heard him mention them. He always
said his only physic was a brandy and soda."
66
""
Well, I'll just take a look round the room before I go,
said the doctor, as he began to peer into every corner. In
the course of his researches he came across the empty vial
on the toilet-table.
"Halloo!" he exclaimed.
66
"What is this?" Then he
smelled it. The hydrate of chloral, I perceive, that I
prescribed for Mrs. Kerrison's attacks of neuralgia. But I
fancy it's been a little tampered with"-smelling it again.
"I must seal up this bottle in your presence, colonel, and
take it with me. I don't quite like the look of it. It's
not just what I ordered, nor what Mrs. Kerrison has been
in the habit of taking.
66
CC
""
"
But who could have tampered with it?" cried Escott.
Ah! my dear colonel; that is just what we have to find
out. Perhaps I am too cautious, and it may turn out all a
mistake; but it is best to be on the safe side. And now,
with regard to the poor young lady in the next room, shall
I break the news to her, or will you?"
"Oh! don't ask me to do it!" exclaimed Escott, as he
bent his head over the pillow and gave way to his long-sup-
pressed emotion.
Dr. Rayne went in search of Lily. He found her alone
-sitting white and dumb-with her eyes fixed upon the
opening door.
CC
Why have you been so long?" she gasped, as he ap-
peared.
RA
❤
"My dear Mrs. Kerrison-" he commenced, but the ex-
pression of his face told her the rest.
"He is dead!" she cried, bitterly.
left me! You need say no more.
""
"Unfortunately-" recommences the doctor.
"Let me go to him," said Lily, wildly, as she started to
her feet. "You have wasted the time! You have done
nothing! Let me try to revive him!"
She rushed into the next room as she spoke, but the
66
My husband has
WHY NOT?
263-
sight of Escott, bowed with grief over her husband's body,
convinced her of the truth.
CC
Ah!" she screamed, as she cast herself upon the corpse,
and strained her arms about it. 'John-John!—my dear-
est husband! Don't leave me!-don't leave me! I had no
friend in all the world but you!"
CHAPTER XLVI.
THERE WILL BE AN INQUEST.
It was on the evening of the same day that Colonel Es-
cott sorrowfully made his way to the rooms of which Lola
Arlington had temporary occupation.
The summer dusk had fallen by that time over the glories
of the August afternoon, and the world was seen through a
veil of pallid gray.
So did his world at that moment appear to James Escott.
Everything that had tinged the clouds of life with a silver
lining for him seemed to have flown with the soul of John
Kerrison. He was so stunned with the blow that had be-,
fallen him, that he could hardly realize that his dear old
friend had left him forever, and the marble form that lay
upon his bed was all that remained of him. But in his
heart he knew it to be true, and the terrible suspicions
breathed by Dr. Rayne made it still harder to be borne.
But, with the true unselfishness of Escott's nature, when
his own grief had somewhat spent itself, his thoughts re-
verted to Mrs. Arlington, and he began to wonder how she
would feel the new trouble that was before her, and
whether it was not his duty to break the news in person,
and prevent the shock of her hearing it through a stranger.
So, when the sun had set, and the friendly twilight
promised to hide the marks that grief had already set upon
his face, he stole forth from the shuttered house in Hyde
Park Gardens to seek her.
CC
"
Mrs. Arlington had taken up her abode in a couple of
rooms in George Street. She had a twofold reason for re-
maining thus close at hand.
Should John Kerrison regret, after awhile, their hasty
separation (as she fully believed he would), he need not go
far to find her; whilst if--in the mysterious decrees of
Providence-anything should at any time happen to poor,
264
WHY NOT?
dear Mrs. Kerrison, she would not have far to go to offer
her consolations.
And meanwhile there was the hapless colonel just over
the way, to be played with like a fish on a line until the
time came to draw him to land, or cast him away forever.
And so the woman waited, not without a few tremulous
fears, and much schooling of herself, to receive any news
that might be imparted to her suddenly, without changing
countenance, for the issue of her plans.
But she had never calculated, in all her scheming, on
the intelligence that was traveling fast to meet her now.
•
The day had been unusually warm, and she had made a
peregrination into the city on business, which she was un-
able to transact, and the contretemps had destroyed her
appetite, and upset her temper, and made her feel alto-
gether ill at ease. She had arrayed herself in a becoming
muslin dress, however, with a half conviction that Colonel
Escott would look in by and by; and a whole conviction
that if he did not, she should invade his chambers, and
persuade him to take her out somewhere to dine.
For the colonel was one of those old-fashioned gentlemen
who could not refuse to take a woman's hint for his assist-
ance, even if it robbed him of his last sovereign.
Lola was seated, therefore, at the open window, with a
French novel in her hand, as he knocked in a subdued
manner at the front door. For there is a telegraphy be-
tween our feelings and our actions, which will communi-
cate itself even to a knocker. Who can not distinguish the
lover's joyous, anticipatory rap, from the humble tap of
the poor relation, or the authoritative knock of the busi-
ness man?
·
C
Mrs. Arlington hardly recognized the signal of Escott's
arrival, it was so different from his usual mode of an-
nouncement; and when he walked into her room she gave
a little start of surprise.
"Dear me! Is that really you? Well, I thought,
somehow, you would be here this evening. Has it not been
dreadfully hot? I have eaten nothing all day-I have felt
so ill-and now I am positively famished! But what's
your news?
Have the Kerrisons returned?"
"Yes," said the colonel, gravely, "they have returned!"
Then Mrs. Arlington noticed the sadness of his expres-
sion, and added:
WHY NOT?
265
"Is anything the matter? You have a face as long as a
hatchet!"
He came nearer to her, and took her hand.
"Something very serious is the matter, Lola, and I have
come to break it to you.
You must summon up all your
courage, my poor girl," he continued, in a choking voice,
for it will be a terrible shock for you. It has nearly
broken my heart!"
66
Good gracious, colonel!
How you frighten me! Have
"
you lost all your money?"
،،
CC
I wish I had!" he cried, breaking down altogether, as
he snatched his hand away from hers to hide his face, if
it could only restore what is really gone. No, Lola, it is a
thousand times worse than money. It is my dearest friend
your friend-that-that—.”
66
Is his wife-il ?" demanded Lola, suddenly becoming
very pale.
"Ill! Of course she is, poor child; sick and ill with
her grief and her dismay. I never thought she would have
felt it so keenly-"
"Felt what?" cried Lola, as a cold fear crept up about.
her heart.
.66
ވ
"His death--John's death! Yes, my dear creature, you
may well look at me like that; but you had better know
the worst at once. He is gone!-our dear, kind friend!
He has left us forever!" and Escott buried his face again
in his hands.
But at this juncture Mrs. Arlington sprung from her
seat with a violence that forced him to look at her, and
her appearance filled him with alarm.
She seemed transformed with the horror of their loss.
Her rich complexion had paled to a greenish yellow-the
whites of her eyes were muddy and discolored-her lips
were livid. The only part of her face which seemed alive
were her distended eyes, which glowed like fiery coals. She
opened her mouth once or twice, as though she tried to
speak, but no sound issued from her trembling tongue.
The colonel thought she was going mad.
"Compose yourself, Lola!" he exclaimed. "It is
Heaven's will, and we must submit to it, and thank God
he died in no pain.
,,
The repetition of the news seemed to restore her powers
of speech.
.:
266
WHY NOT?
"No! no! no!" she cried, incoherently. "Don't tell
me it is he. You make a mistake! It is she-his wife—
who has killed herself. It can not-it can not be—Kerri-
>>
son.
،،
CC
Indeed, it is! But why should you think of Mrs. Ker-
rison, or talk of any one killing themselves? As far as we
know at present dear John died a natural death-although
so awfully sudden. But there," he continued, in a sooth-
ing voice, as he tried to take her damp hand again in his,
you don't know what you are talking about, poor child!
Sit down, and try to listen to me calmly. I am a clumsy
fellow at this sort of thing, and I have blurted out the
truth without sufficient preparation. Let me tell you the
sad story from the beginning, and then you will be better
able to realize the loss we have sustained."
66
But it is not true!" she repeated, in a horror-struck
tonė. 'It can not be Mr. Kerrison that-that-has taken
(C
it!"
W
"Taken what?" exclaimed the colonel, quickly.
"Good heavens! Is it possible that you know anything
about it, and can help us in this matter, Lola?"
His question brought her to herself.
66
"What are you speaking of? What did I say?" she de-
manded, hoarsely. Oh! how weak and foolish you must
think me! But I had a dream about her last night-a
fearfully vivid dream-which has haunted me all day-and
I thought she had poisoned herself with that dangerous
medicine against which I have so often cautioned her. But
it is, then, really he? Let me sit down again, colonel, for
I am unable to stand!"'
She staggered into a chair as she spoke, and cowered
there with her head in her hands.
"It is really he!" repeated Escott, mournfully. "I
was at the house last night to receive them when they came
home; and although our dear John was rather serious, ow-
ing to late events, he did not show the slightest sign of ill-
ness, but, after having persuaded me to pass the night
there, parted with me cheerfully, about one o'clock, to go
upstairs. This morning at eight I was roused from sleep
by the news of his illness, and when I went in to see him
he was quite dead, and had been so for hours. It is most
unaccountable and mysterious!"
WHY NOT?
267
'
They had a doctor, I suppose?" said Lola, in a low
voice.
Of course! Doctor Rayne was on the spot half an
hour after the discovery, but he could do nothing. Only
-strange to relate--considering what you said to me just
now-his opinion coincides with yours-and he thinks
there has been foul play somewhere!" replied the colonel,
in a low voice.
Mrs. Arlington became white as death.
"What did I say?" she repeated again. "I don't re-
member saying anything.
""
"The ex-
"How very strange!" pondered the colonel.
citement has been too much for you, I suppose; but it is a
wonderful coincidence-I mean about your dream. For,
do you know, all Doctor Rayne's suspicions are directed
toward that very bottle, the contents of which you say are
so dangerous. He thinks something has been added to the
original dose, and has taken the dregs home for analyza-
tion. There is to be a post-mortem examination of the body
to-morrow, and I am afraid it will be impossible to avoid
an inquest. I am sorry for it, for the sake of the poor girl
he has left behind him. It will increase her grief tenfold
to be made so public.
""
"Oh, she won't grieve long," said Mrs. Arlington, in a
hard voice.
"I think you are mistaken. She really seems heart-
broken to-day. I did not believe she had so much feeling
in her, or that she cared for poor John so much.
It was
with great difficulty that we could get her away from his
body, and she has neither spoken nor eaten since. Poor
child! It is a sad fate to be left a widow at her age,
especially the widow of so good and generous a man as
Kerrison. My heart bleeds for her!”
"She will soon console herself," remarked Lola, with
another covert sneer.
"I know you are at daggers drawn," replied Escott,
"but you misjudge her in this particular; her distress is
very genuine. It has almost made me forget my own in
my desire to comfort her.”
You don't seem to think much of what I must feel for
the loss of the best friend a woman ever had!'' sobbed Mrs.
Arlington; "what is her knowledge of him compared to
mine? What has she lost, compared to me? She is a
萋
​Boy
↓
?
268.
widow (it is true), but doubtless well-dowered and provided
for. Whilst I have lost a friend and patron, with whom I
have been associated for years. I shall never replace him,
colonel, never! I shall feel friendless now he is gone!"
“Ah! Lola, and don't you think I can feel for you? I
-who have also lost in him my dearest friend and com-
panion! You have heard how we were chums from boy-
hood, and how my highest anticipation in coming home
was to see my dear old John again. And here is one short
year over, and we are separated forever in this world. That
is the usual end of all earthly hopes and promises; and
when I have fully realized that he is gone, I shall feel as
friendless as yourself!"
"When-when is the funeral to be?" demanded Lola,
presently.
"This day week, I believe; but it is not finally settled.
If you wish to follow, I do not suppose that Mrs. Ker-
rison could have any objection.
"Oh!-no-no!" cried Lola, with a shudder; "I could
not! It would be too dreadful!"
""
WHY NOT?
(6
I hardly think that you would be able to control your
feelings sufficiently for the occasion. It will be a great
trial for all of us; he had such scores of friends. Well,
Lola, I will leave you now," said Escott, rising, “for I am
exhausted and tired myself, and I may be wanted at the
house. But I could not allow any one else to break this sad
news to you.
99
66
"Are you staying with Mrs. Kerrison, then?"
(C
Yes, she asked me to do so until after the funeral, and
arrange everything for her, and I could not refuse. After-
ward, I suppose, she will go away; but nothing is decided
yet.
>>
"Good-night, then," said Lola, listlessly.
Good-night, my dear girl. Don't give way more than
you can help. It does no good, remember, and it weakens
one's powers of endurance. I know I am a very bad sub-
stitute for him who is gone," continued Escott, with a sad
smile, “but as long as I live, I shall be your friend, Lola,
and you may count upon that."
"Thank you," she said, indifferently.
He shook her by the hand, and left the room; but when
he had got half-way down the stairs he returned, and looked
in at the door.
$
269
WHY NOT?
"By the way, Lola, poor dear John was talking to me
only last night, strangely enough, about the possibility of
his death, and mentioned that he had not forgotten me in
his will. I think it highly probable that he has not for-
gotten you either. Nothing, indeed, is more likely, con-
sidering the terms of intimacy you were on.
""
66
Oh! I hope not!-I hope not!" she said, in a stifled
•
voice.
“The will will be read, as is usual, directly after the
funeral. I suppose you will remain in these rooms till
then?"
"I don't know. I may go away to the country. I am
so wretched, I don't know what I shall do.”
"At all events, you will leave me your address?”
"Oh! yes-certainly. But go now, and let me wrestle
with this great trouble alone."
A great trouble it was to her, doubtless, and in more
senses than one.
As soon as Escott had taken his departure, and she had
leisure to weigh the probable consequences of what she
had done, and the value of the danger that surrounded her,
her real grief for John Kerrison's death was swallowed up
in her fear of detection.
A post-mortem examination! An inquest! The remains.
of the poisoned draught taken away to be analyzed! She
had never taken such possibilities into her consideration,
and they made her heart stop beating with terror. She
lost sight now of the safety of the means she had employed.
The impossibility of detecting the poison, on which Mme.
de Pellé had insisted, gave her no consolation. All she
thought of was, that suspicion had been excited, and must
inevitably track her down. And with this conviction came
a desire for the only chance of safety she saw before her,
and that lay in flight.
Before the morning dawned she had put her possessions
together, and pleading a sudden call to Ireland, on ac-
count of family bereavement, to her landlady, took her way
to the Minories to hide herself under the shelter of her
mother's roof.
It was the most foolish thing she could possibly have
done; but sinners are seldom clever enough to hide the sins
they have committed.
•
1
•
270
WHY NOT?
CHAPTER XLVII.
BID ME WELCOME.
COLONEL ESCOTT sat in his own chambers in a state of
bewildered surprise. The funeral was over now, and every-
thing that was mortal of John Kerrison was hidden away
from sight in Kensal Green Cemetery; yet the cause of his
sudden death was as great a mystery as ever.
The post-
mortem examination had revealed all the symptoms of in-
ternal poisoning without any of the poison itself. The
dregs of liquid left in the vial had proved equally unsatisfac-
tory. The coroner's inquest had resulted in the verdict,
Died from the administration of some noxious drug, but
by whom administered, or how, or when, it is impossible to
say.
""
Some people thought that John Kerrison had accident-
ally taken an overdose of hydrate of chloral. Others-and
they are not a few-believed the poison to have been drunk
intentionally; and if it was pointed out to them that the
deceased had lived a happy and prosperous life, and there
was no reason for him to be tired of his existence, they
shrugged their shoulders and replied, that other men had
committed suicide who had been surrounded, apparently,
by circumstances as pleasant.
Kerrison had much overtaxed his brain during the last
few years, and it was possible that it had given way under
the pressure.
Colonel Escott, his own familiar friend,
hardly knew what to think on the subject. His ideas tended
toward the latter opinion, for he had often seen Kerrison
harrassed and weary after a day's work; but it was a terri-
ble thought to him that he had taken his own life.
Indeed, the whole affair was so mysterious and confused
that he felt as if he should never be able to settle down
again. And not the least surprise to the colonel had been
the reading of the will. When Kerrison had hinted, the
night before his death, that he had not forgotten his chum
in it, and the bequest might come in useful in the event of
his marriage, Escott had never imagined that he could
have left him more than a few hundred pounds. What was
his astonishment, therefore, when the will was read, to find
WHY NOT?
271
that Kerrison's funded property consisted of eighty thousand
pounds, which was divided into two parts only, sixty thou-
sand for his widow, and twenty thousand for his dear friend
James Escott!
The colonel heard the words as in a dream. He had
never supposed John to be so wealthy, still less that he
should ever share the proceeds of his labor. Now, as he
sat and thought of him, and the affection which had sur-
vived the grave, the tears stood in his honest eyes. What
was it that poor John had said on that fatal evening about
the money coming in time to give him (Escott) a few
years' happiness with his old flame? Did he really mean
it, thought the colonel, and had he left it with that desigu?
The idea brought the first smile to his lips that had been
seen there since his friend died. It was certainly true that
the bequest had left him at liberty to do as he chose. He
was a rich man now in his humble estimation, and had the
right to ask whom he would to share his good fortune.
The colonel was still musing thus, half sadly, half pleas-
antly, when a tap sounded on his chamber door. When he
called out:
6 C Come in!"
The door swung open, and, to his astonishment, there
stood Esmé Fielding.
66
"what brings
66
"A couple of months leave!" replied Esmé, shaking
hands. The fact is, colonel, my mother sent me such
lugubrious accounts of her health, that I got quite fright-
ened; and when Sir James saw my anxiety, he very kindly
sent me back to look into the matter for myself.
""
"And you have been to Applescourt, then?""
By all the powers!" exclaimed Escott,
you home, boy?"
“I went straight there, and, although my poor mother is
not dying, she is sufficiently ill to justify her longing to see
me again. But, thank goodness! things are all right be-
tween us now; and she will be out of bed in a day or two."
What was your original quarrel with Mrs. Fielding
about, Esmé? I know it was some love-affair, but who was
the girl?"
.66
Fielding looked down confusedly, and tapped the carpet
with his cane.
"I can't tell you her name, colonel.”
272
WHY NOT?...
"All right, my boy! It's no concern of mine. But
have you settled matters about her between you?”
CC
.
Oh! as far as my mother is concerned, she would con-
sent now to my marrying anybody, so long as it kept me in
England. But her condonation comes too late. The girl
I cared for " (with a deep sigh) "is out of my reach."
(6 Married?"
""
"Yes; I am sorry to say she is.
"Well, my boy, you will feel the happier for having
made it up with your mother, any way.
Girls are all very
well, but they will never love you with so constant and for-
giving an affection as hers. When do you return to
Malta?''
"In about three weeks. And although London is
empty, I thought I should like to run up for a few days to
see you and-and-other friends.
"
CC
Ah, Esmé! you find us in sore trouble! Of course you
have heard all about it!"
66
Indeed I have not, sir! I perceive you are in mourn-
ing, but I am ignorant of the reason.
I didn't see a news-
paper between Malta and Applescourt; and, since my
arrival, I have been dividing my time between shooting and
my mother's sick bed.”
.
"Is it possible," exclaimed Escott, "that you have not
heard of poor dear Kerrison's death?"
Esmé Fielding started violently.
"Of Mr. Kerrison's-John Kerrison, the dramatist-
your old friend? Good Heavens, colonel, are you telling
me the truth?",
66
"I wish I were not, Esmé!" returned the other, in a
broken voice; but it is indeed true. He is gone, poor
fellow! He died suddenly about three weeks ago; and the
dreadful part of it is, the doctors suspect foul play.'
"
Young Fielding had become pale as ashes.
“Foul play!” he murmured, in a tone of horror.
"But who could have borne any grudge against him? So
good and kind-hearted a man as he appeared to be."
"And was,
" cried Escott, "the best and kindest-hearted
creature on the earth, and universally beloved. It is incredi-
ble that any one could have had the heart to harm him.
Some people think he destroyed himself; but I believe
neither theory. It seems that he drank a sedative draught
that had been prescribed for his wife, and I think it was
WHY NOT?
273
too much for him at that particular time. There are sea-
sons at which a man's constitution is less fitted to receive
poison than at others. Some such phase poor John may
have been passing through at that fatal moment.
"
66
Dead!" repeated Esmé, passing his hand through his
hair. "It is incredible! I can hardly believe it.
how does she bear it?"
And
66
Poor Lily! she is grieving sadly. I did not think she
had half so much feeling in her. She does not cry much.
Doctor Rayne says he wishes that she would; but she sits
all day alone, and scarcely eats or speaks. I wish I could
think of something to rouse her."
CC
time we meet,
You ought to send her away, colonel. "
"I want her to go. I urge it on her every
but she says that all she wants is to be left alone. She has
got it into her head that her husband was intentionally
poisoned by some one, and she wanders about the house try-
ing to find a clew to the murderer.
""
،،
CC
She will go mad if she is left alone like that," said
Esmé, excitedly. Indeed, colonel, you should make the
doctor insist upon her leaving. Could not she and Mrs.
Arlington go away to the seaside somewhere together?"
"Mrs. Arlington is not with her," replied Escott, curtly.
Where is she, then?"
66
CC
To tell you the truth, I don't know. She had some
difference with John shortly before his death, and had left
them when it occurred. She was then in lodgings in George
Street, but when I called there the other evening I heard
she had gone into the country. She told me she intended
doing so when last we met.
•
""
..
Does Mr. Kerrison's death make any difference to
her?'' demanded Esmé.
ވ
"No. Why do you ask?"
"It was only a passing thought. And so the fair Lola
has vanished and left no trace behind. Well, I don't think
Lily (I mean Mrs. Kerrison) will regret her much. There
was no love lost between them.”
"No.
They hated each other," said the colonel,
bluntly. "It was jealousy I suppose. Women never can
agree together long. But Mrs. Arlington was a good
friend to poor John, if Mrs. Kerrison could only have seen
it."
"Well, it is of no use discussing it now," remarked
ވ
\
274
WHY NOT?
Esmé, "for their paths are not likely to cross again. But
is there nothing you can do for Mrs. Kerrison, colonel?
Have you no nice lady-friend whom you could induce to
visit the poor girl in her distress? We men are so useless
at such times.
Escott's face brightened.
"A lady-friend! Of course I have. How clever of you
to think of it, Esmé! I know a lady-one of the sweetest
natures you ever saw-who is a widow herself, and I am
sure would do all she could to help this poor young creature
in her trouble. It is the happiest thought you ever had,
my boy! I will write to Helen this very day, and ask her
if she will be Lily's friend. She is a most capable little
woman, and a charming companion, sensible and un-
affected."
"Bevare of vidders, Samivel!"" quoted Esmé, laugh-
ing. The colonel reddened like a boy.
It's all very well to make a joke of it, young fellow,"
he answered, smiling, "but men of your age don't know
what a woman should be like. Any way, I will persuade
Mrs. Glamoye, if possible, to come up to London and take
this poor child away somewhere. Lily is rich enough to
defray all expenses. He has left her sixty thousand pounds
in the funds, as well as the house and furniture."
މ
"She will be quite a 'catch,'" said Esmé, sighing.
66
I hope she will never try to replace him," said the
colonel, indignantly.
But to that his companion answered nothing.
"How long do you remain in London?" continued Es-
cott, after a pause.
"A week, or a fortnight, I am not sure which," replied
Esmé. "My time is my own till I sail again."
ވ
މ
"I am sorry I can not offer to go anywhere with you,
but I have not the heart to enter into amusement yet. But
if I can promote yours, Esmé, I should like to do so.
""
And as he spoke the colonel put a check for a consider-
able amount in the young man's hand.
He glanced at it with astonishment.
66
But, my dear colonel! I can not take this," he re-
monstrated; "it is too much, really!"
"Don't say another word about it, my boy. He has left
me rich-Heaven bless him!-and I can afford to be a little
generous. Take it in his name, if not mine."
WHY NOT?
275
And Escott bent down his head, overcome with the sad
memories that rushed back upon him.
"Colonel," said Esmé, presently, "where does this lady
live, whose kind offices you wish to enlist on behalf of Mrs.
Kerrison?"
"At Cheltenham."
66
It strikes me you want change yourself, and instead of
writing the letter which you propose to do, you had much
better go down to Cheltenham, and persuade her by word
of mouth. You are more likely to succeed in person, and
the diversion will do you good.
""
The colonel looked up suddenly, brushing his hand across
his eyes as he did so.
66
Esmé, my dear boy, you are a perfect well of wisdom
to-day! You are right, a run down to Cheltenham will do
me all the good in the world; and we can explain matters
so much better in conversation. I will go this very after-
noon. Where is the time-table? Let me see, the three
o'clock train-that will suit me exactly, and land me in.
Cheltenham in time to see Helen to-night. I will write a
line to Lily to say I shall be out of town till to-morrow, and
that is all that will be necessary.
"P
"Let me take it to her!" exclaimed Esmé, eagerly,
“and if there is anything she requires done I can fill your
place until you return.'
66
I am not sure if she will see you,
" said Escott,
thoughtfully. However, you can but try; and if she
consents to an interview, it may cheer her up a little. She
is ready to be kind to any one whom he liked and approved
of."
After a few preparations, therefore, the colonel set off
for Cheltenham, leaving Esmé on the platform with the
letter for Lily in his pocket, and in good spirits, which he
vainly tried to conceal.
Helen Glamoye was seated at the tea-table, with her little
children round her, as the train which carried Escott to her
side steamed into the station.
How little she dreamed he was so near! She had been
thinking of him half the day, as she had done ever since
they parted (for women's hearts are far more faithful to
their unfortunate attachments than those of men); and she
had sighed a little as she sat down to her meal, with only
the children for company, to think how pleasant life would
****
276
WHY NOT?
be if she could always look forward to spending her even-
ings with "Jem." But she put the thought away reso-
lutely.
He had intimated to her once that he had formed an-
other attachment, and she had never had the courage to
ask him for an explanation of his words.
She was like a patient under the dentist's hands. She
believed that the wrench of final parting must come some
day, but she preferred to keep her eyes shut, and not
know the exact moment when the instrument was to be
applied.
And as she sat thus, musing on the past, through all the
cutting of bread and butter, and pouring out of milk and
water, a knock upon the door was followed by a hasty en-
trance, and the man she was dreaming of stood in their
very midst.
The children opened their eyes and mouths with aston-
ishment.
The mother put down the jug she was holding so care-
lessly that its contents ran over the table-cloth.
CC
Jem!" she ejaculated, in her surprise, whilst the scar-
let blood mantled over her cheeks and forehead.
Her heart was in her face. Even the colonel could not
fail to read it.
He came up to her and took her hand.
"Are you very much surprised to see me, Helen?"
66
You have startled me beyond measure.
I thought you
were a ghost!" she said, trying to laugh off her confusion.
"But whatever brings you to Cheltenham?"
""
ލ
"I have come to see you.
"It is very good of you," she replied, trembling.
"May I give you some tea? You find quite a nursery
party here. Had I known- But won't
But won't you sit down?"
Yes; when you have bidden me welcome, Helen.
"You are welcome, Jem-heartily welcome!
always were, you know, in the old days."
66
"But you had another way of showing it then, dear."
(C Had I?
You
How?"
"Like this," said the colonel, as he bent his head and
gravely kissed her on the lips.
Then Helen's heart began to beat to a happier measure
than it had known for years past, and she looked almost
young again as she blushed and raised her soft eyes to his,
WHY NOT?
1
17
2rry
before she turned away to busy herself with the teapot and
the bread and butter.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
66 HELP ME!"
THREE o'clock the following afternoon found Esmé
Fielding knocking for admittance at the door of Lily Ker-
rison's house.
The man who answered him took it upon himself to say
that his mistress could receive no one.
"Mrs. Kerrison is at home, sir, but she sees no visitors.
She is far from well, and the doctor has ordered her to keep
quite quiet. But if you like to leave a message I will de-
liver it to her.
""
Esmé Fielding drew out a card, and wrote on it hastily in
pencil:
I am in town only for a few days. Escott is away, and
asked me to see you. May I not come up for a minute?"
Take that at once to Mrs. Kerrison," he said to the
servant, "and bring me back her answer.
،،
In a little while the man returned, and simply saying,
"This way, sir,
way, sir," led the visitor upstairs.
Lily was in her boudoir at the back of the house. She
was robed in the deepest mourning, and her face was ex-
tremely pale.
As Esmé came up to her, and took her hand, he thought
she looked more ethereal and spirit-like than ever.
"
"How good it is of you to admit me," he said. "I
hardly dared to hope you would, although I should have
been grieved to leave England again without seeing you."
"What brought you home?" she said, in a half-reproach-
ful voice.
CC
My mother's illness! You know that we parted in
anger. She would not forgive me for trying to be inde-
pendent. But her love for me would not stand the separa-
tion. She became seriously ill, and I received letters both
from her and Colonel Escott that frightened me, so I got
two months' leave to come home and see how matters
stood."
"She is better?" said Lily, interrogatively.
"C
'Yes, thank you, she is decidedly better, and in a fair
way to get well again; and the explanation we have arrived
278
WHY NOT?
* 47, 7
at has tended in no small degree to ease her mind, and
assist her recovery. It is late to say it now, Lily (and I
dare say it is of no consequence to you to hear it), but I
should like to tell you that my mother sees the cruelty and
injustice of her behavior to you at last, and deeply regrets
it."
Lily's white face flushed for a moment.
"It is late, as you observe, Esmé. Nothing that Mrs.
Fielding can say, or do now, can have the power to affect
me. All the mischief she was capable of is over. But
what errand did Colonel Escott send you on?”
"I was nearly forgetting it!" exclaimed the young
man, as he produced the letters from his pocket. "He
was called away suddenly yesterday afternoon and thought
you might wonder what had become of him. So he
deputed me to give you this, and say how happy I shall be
if I can be of the slightest use in his absence.
"You are very good," replied Lily, gravely, "but I do
not think I shall want anything. The colonel will not be
away long, will he?"
66
Only until to-night, or to-morrow, I believe. He has
run down to Cheltenham to see an old friend.”
66
I don't know what I should have done without him in
all this dreadful trouble," continued Lily. "He has been
like as father to me. The kindest and best of friends.
He is the only person I care to see. I should miss him
terribly if he were away for long."
""
Ah! Lily, may I allude to that trouble? May I tell
you how truly and deeply I feel for you?" said Esmé, draw-
ing his chair closer to her. "I wanted to say it at first,
but I was so afraid you might misconstrue my meaning, or
doubt my sincerity. But it must be a terrible loss! Such
a good man as he was, and so attached to you! I never
denied his superiority, nor failed to acknowledge his good
qualities. Did I, Lily?"
CC
'How could you?" she replied, with the tears dropping
quickly on her mourning-robe. "Everybody saw how
much better he was than other people. He was a thousand
times too good for me, or you, or any of us! My only re-
gret is that I did not love him more. But then, how could
I have known? How could I have foreseen that he would
go so soon? I was always waiting and waiting for the love
to come; and now, it is all over forever!"
ވ
WHY NOT?
279
*C
My dearest girl," cried Esmé, "you did your duty to
him, and no one can do more. You have no reason to re-
proach yourself. Our feelings are not under our own con-
trol. I have good reason to know the truth of that!"
"C
66
I don't think I should have felt it so much," continued
Lily, if it had not been so awfully sudden! But not to
have time for a single look or word! To wake up from
one's own sleep and find him gone forever! Oh! it was
terrible!" she cried, with a shudder; "I shall never forget
it all my life long.
""
"It must have been a fearful shock, and I almost won-
der that you have borne it so well. I only heard of it yes-
terday, and it knocked me over for the moment, too. But
you will forget it in time, and then you will only look back
on what was pleasant in your life with him. It was all
peace and good-will, I know that."
66
ޑ
Yes, yes!" she answered;
"but there was a little cloud
between us at the last, Esmé. I don't know if I am wrong
to tell you, but it is so hard to have no one to confide in,
and I do not like to broach the subject to Colonel Escott.
He was so fond of poor John, and he would be sure to think
that every one who hurt him, ever so little, must have been
in the wrong.
""
ވ
"Lily," said Esmé, earnestly, "if you let anything
which occurred between us in the past stand in the way of
my being your friend now, you will make my punishment
harder than I can bear. Don't think that I shall take ad-
vantage of any confidence you may place in me by en-
croaching on your kindness or intruding myself on your
society. In another fortnight I shall be on my way back
to Malta, where I hope faithfully to fulfill the duties I have
undertaken. I undertook them on your counsel, Lily, and
in the hope of pleasing you; let me have the consolation of
thinking that, in doing so, I have won some little title to
be looked on as a friend.”
He took her hand as he spoke, and she did not with-
draw it.
6 C
I want a friend so much," she said, turning her wan
face to his. "I have such terrible doubts and suspicions
floating through my brain which no one believes but my-
self; and yet I feel that they are true, and that if I do not
prove them to be so some part of the guilt will attach itself
"
to me.
280
WHY NOT?
"What sort of suspicions, dear?"
"Did Colonel Escott tell you how my poor husband
died, and what they said about it at the inquest?''
"Yes; I believe he told me everything.
25
CC
He thinks, and so do the doctors, that John was mad,
and poisoned himself," continued Lily, in a low voice;
،،
but I am sure it is not true! Why should he have killed
himself when we were so happy? And yet-and yet-that
horrible woman ""
"What woman? Mrs. Arlington?"
66 Yes. Oh, Esmé! how often I have remembered your
last words to me, to beware of her. She was the cause of
the only unhappiness in my married life. She infused
doubt in my husband's breast concerning me, and by so
unworthy a means.
""
And thereupon Lily related the history of the melo-
drama, with the effect it had produced on herself, and the
explanation that had succeeded it.
76
Then John sent her away, and I think that bitter
words must have passed between them, for he was much
disturbed at their interview, and never seemed quite him-
self afterward. He was unhappy whilst we were down at
Brighton-so much so, that I begged him to take the
woman back again, but he refused. When we came home
Mrs. Arlington had left the house, and everything seemed
as usual.
But the first night John was restless, I suppose;
for in the morning we found he had drunk my morphia-
draught, and-and-he was dead.'
"But how could your draught have killed him?"
"That is what I say!"' cried Lily, eagerly; "and the
doctors took the vial home, and could find no poison in it.
So they said my poor husband must have taken something
else as well, and only drank the draught to make them
think it was an accident. But it is not true. I am sure of
it," she continued, firmly. "John was murdered. Some-
thing or other which he took had been tampered with de-
signedly to compass his death."
64
And you suspect-" commenced Esmé.
"Hush!" she exclaimed in a frightened voice, "I dare
not say whom I suspect, but you can guess. It would be
useless to hint such a thing to Colonel Escott, because he
is a great friend of hers, and thinks she is everything that
is good and true; but it is a comfort to tell some one. And
WHY NOT?
281
oh, Esmé, if you could help me in any way to find out the
truth how grateful I should be!"
I am not much of a detective, Lily, but I know those
who are.
I was speaking of Mrs. Arlington to Escott yes-
terday. It seems that she has left the neighborhood, and
he does not know where she is. That of itself looks sus-
picious to me. The question is how to get on her track.
66 And if you find her, how shall we discover if she knows
anything about it?”
""
،،
That is a question for future deliberation. It will be a
poser when it arises, for that woman is deep as Mephis-
topheles. I always disliked and mistrusted her. And her
jealousy and hatred of you were unbounded."
"Oh, how I wish I had the gift of second sight," sighed
Lily.
CC
My dear girl, you've hit it!'' exclaimed Esmé, quickly.
"I know the very person to help us. Now don't ridicule
my proposal till you hear my story. Some time ago, when
I was so miserable about you, Mr. Tucker, of Applescourt
(you remember old Tucker, the solicitor, don't you?) told
me of a very remarkable old negress called Rosita, who
possessed the gift of second sight, and had helped him to
clear up some mysterious cases, I pretended to pooh-pooh
the idea of such a thing at the time, but I kept the address
in my mind, and when I had an opportunity I called on her."
And did she tell you true?" demanded Lily, breath-
,
CC
lessly.
C6
66
Unfortunately she did," replied her companion, with
a sigh. She told me how and where I should meet you
again, and what you would say to me. However, that is
nothing to the purpose now. But I think if any one can
help us to find out the truth it will be Madame Rosita, and
you authorize me to do so I will go and question her to-
morrow. I shall not mention any names remember.
if
46
ވ
CC
'Oh, Esmé, how good of you," said Lily, with more
fervor than she had used to him before;
and whether you
succeed or not I shall be so grateful."
“I shall not call on you for any reward," returned the
young man, shaking his head. "All I want to see is your
mind set at rest, and I hope that Madame Rosita may de-
clare poor Kerrison's death to have been a natural one.
The doctors don't know everything, Lily, and there may
have been a cause for it that they have not found out.
ލ
މ
282
WHY NOT?
Any way, if he is still cognizant of earthly matters, it must
make him very unhappy to see you grieving like this. Have
you not been out of the house lately?"
“Never-since he died," she said.
"But, my dear girl, you will make yourself ill; and
what is the use of that! Why don't you leave London, and
go to the sea-side? It is intensely hot here, and under any
circumstances should not remain.
you
""
66
"Oh, what is the good of talking to me like that!" cried
the girl, bursting into tears. How can I go away all by
myself, with no one to look after me or speak to me? I
should miss him more than I do here. It would kill me!"
Have you no friend whom you could persuade to ac-
company you?”
CC
"None. I do not make friends easily. I had only one
real friend, and he has left me. All the rest are acquaint-
""
ances.
66 But you
will mope to death in this solitude!"
"All the better. I don't care whether I live or die! I
thought at one time that I had known the greatest grief of
which I was capable-in losing my faith in human nature.
But I find there is a greater-the remorse that comes for
not having cherished love enough. I shall never—never
get over it!'
At this juncture there was a double knock on the hall-
door. Esmé drew out his watch. It was five o'clock.
"I wonder if that is Colonel Escott?" he observed.
66
Don't tell him what we have been talking of!" ex-
claimed Lily, hastily drying her tears. "I can't speak to
him as I can to you.
""
It was the first time she had ever given him so strong a
proof of her renewed confidence in him, and the young
man's heart beat faster as he listened to it.
"If you please, ma'am," said a servant, presently, en-
tering the room, Colonel Escott is below with a lady, and
wishes to know if he can speak to you.
""
""
"With a lady?" repeated Lily, knitting her brows.
Who can she be? I don't want to see any strangers.
"I think I can tell you, Mrs. Kerrison," interposed
Esmé. She is an intimate friend of the colonel's
very charming person I believe-and he wants you to be-
come acquainted with her. Do let her come up!"
(6
"If you think I had better do so I will," she answered,
{
1
}
WHY NOT?
283
and in another minute the colonel and Mrs. Glamoye were
in the room.
Helen stood on no ceremony, but came straight up to Lily
and held out her arms.
"My poor girl!" she said, sweetly," Colonel Escott has
told me all about you, and I have come on purpose to ask
you to let me be your friend. I have had trouble enough
myself, Heaven knows, and I feel for you like a sister.
Don't send me away just yet. Let me stay and try to com-
fort you."
At the kind voice-the sweet, serious eyes-the extended
arms of Helen Glamoye-Lily broke down like a little
child, and falling on the stranger's bosoni, she cried bit-
terly. Then Helen bent over her with soothing words and
kisses, and the friendship which lasted for years was
cemented between them.
Come away, my boy," said the colonel, in a husky
voice, as he drew Esmé outside the room, "and leave them
together for awhile. We are out of place in such a scene.
Helen understands what to do with her. I knew she would
-Heaven bless her. She has the kindest heart and the
most sympathizing nature that ever made a woman like an
angel. Lily is all right now. She doesn't want you or me.
She's got Helen-and Helen is about the very best thing
she could have in this world.”
CHAPTER XLIX.
66
EUREKA!"
HAVING once received the commission at Lily Kerrison's
hands to find out all that he possibly could respecting her
husband's death, Esmé Fielding did not let the grass grow
under his feet. Indeed, so eager was he to achieve any-
thing that might atone for the past in Lily's eyes, that he
completely forgot what he had been told on a former occa-
sion—namely, that the old seeress never received any visit-
ors until the afternoon.
By eleven o'clock, therefore, he was dressed and ready to
set forth on his voyage of discovery; and Colonel Escott,
who had called to ask him to go down with him to Rich-
mond, became curious to learn what could possibly take
his fashionable godson out so early.
1+
284
✓
WHY NOT?
1
6 C
"I looked in at Hyde Park Gardens as I came," said the
colonel, who appeared uncommonly blithe and cheerful;
and the ladies are getting on so well together it seemed a
pity to disturb them. Helen-who ran down to speak to
me for a minute in the hall-told me that Lily had passed a
very fair night, and she had almost persuaded her to go
down to Eastbourne. I was sure that if any one could per-
suade her to do what is best for her, Helen would."
66
That is capital news, colonel! For Mrs. Kerrison will
never recover her spirits in that house And so you are
going to gallivant to Richmond?"
CC
If you will accompany me. I have hardly seen anything
of you, Esmé, since your return (owing to this sad busi-
ness), and I should like to have a talk with you before you
go back to Malta. So I thought we would run down and
have a quiet dinner together at the Castle.'
1
66
I'm sorry, sir, but I can not possibly join you to-day.
Business of the last importance detains me in town.'
66
What is your business?"
The young man looked down.
"I can't tell you that, colonel.'
Escott laughed. He thought he scented love in the air
everywhere.
"Ah? something connected with that old love-affair-
-eh, Esmé?"
"Perhaps it is, sir."
"And you won't trust me with the secret?"
"Not this morning; but I may have something to tell
you about it this evening. May I look in? What time
shall you be home from Richmond?"
"I shall not go there, my boy, without you. We will
put off our little dinner till another day. There was no
urgent necessity for it, only I feel-I don't know why-so
much lighter hearted, that I thought a little change would
do me good. But I shall remain at home now, so come in
when you like, Esmé; you know you are always welcome.
""
The consequence of which invitation was, that at three
o'clock that afternoon Esmé Fielding bounded into the
colonel's sitting-room with the glad cry on his lips:
“Eureka!”
"What!" exclaimed Escott, looking up at him through
his glasses (those sweet blue eyes which had seemed like
bits of heaven itself to Helen long ago had been compelled
WHY NOT?
285
to take to pince-nez now), "have you seen the lady? Is it
all settled so soon?”
At this question the young man colored, and looked
abashed.
CC
No, no! I was wrong, colonel. I had no right to use
that word on such an occasion; for, in reality, the intelli-
gence I bring you is very solemn. But I only meant it to
signify that I have succeeded in my search."
CC
The object of which, Esmé, I have still to learn."
CC
It is one which interests you, colonel, as much, if not
more, than it does myself. I know how deeply you were
attached to the fate Mr. Kerrison, and that any circum-
stance which throws a light upon the mystery of his death
must be of moment to you.
""
Escott became visibly excited. He threw down his book,
and grasped Esmé's hand.
<6
My dear boy! You don't mean to tell me you have dis-
covered a clew to it?"
"I think I have, and a very valuable one; so much so
that, before I came here, I placed the whole matter in the
hands of the police. But I am afraid the disclosure I have
to make will prove a great shock to you.
>>
Never mind-I must hear all," said the colonel, fever-
ishly.
66
މ
Well, then, to begin at the beginning, when you found
me with Mrs. Kerrison yesterday she had been telling me
the whole story, and imploring me to assist her in discover-
ing the truth. I found that (as you had already told me)
she was imbued with the idea that her husband had been
murdered, and her whole object is to find out the perpe-
trator of the deed. I did not know how to help her until
I suddenly remembered an old negro woman in the Docks,
who had told me some wonderful things last year, and I
thought she might, at all events, inform us, by means of
some of her magic, if our poor friend had died a natural
death or not.
""
"My dear Esmé, what utter nonsense! I thought you
were more sensible," ejaculated the colonel, with the sub-
lime contempt usually bestowed by the herd upon anything
which they do not understand.
CC
Never mind me, colonel. I had hit on the right thing
after all, as you will see. Lily appeared so anxious about
the matter, and so eager for me to visit Madame Rosita (aş
- 286
WHY NOT?
she is called) that I set off for her abode the first thing this
morning. That is why I could not accept your invitation
to Richmond.”
.
"All right, my boy-go on."
CC
When I arrived at the street where the woman lives I
dismissed my hansom and walked, for I wanted my visit to
be made as quietly as possible. It is a row of small houses,
all exactly alike, with steps leading up to the front doors,
and when you are on them no one can see you from the
windows. When I reached the number I was in search of
I went softly up the steps, and was about to knock at the
door, when my attention was arrested by voices in the front
parlor, the windows of which were wide open. It was im-
possible at first to help hearing what they said, and when I
had heard a few words, nothing would have induced me to
leave my position until I had heard all."
"But why, Esmé? You interest me strangely.
"Because I knew one of the voices, colonel, and it was
that of Mrs. Arlington."
The colonel started violently.
"Of Lola? Impossible! What should she be doing in
the Docks. You must be mistaken."
"I am not mistaken, colonel, though at first I was as
astonished as yourself, particularly as she was addressing
her companion as mother! This companion reproached
her for having played her cards so badly, and brought ruin
on herself and them, instead of making their fortune as she
might have done. Then Mrs. Arlington replied that it was
the fault of her mother for having given her the draught,
and of Maman Rosita for not having foreseen events bet-
ter. How could I tell,' she demanded, that he would
take the poison I had prepared for her?'
C
Colonel Escott started from his chair livid with horror.
"No!-no!” he exclaimed, "it was not Lola! It could
not have been! Don't tell me any more, Esmé, for I can
not bear it!""
And dropping back into his seat, he covered his face with
his hands.
29
""
"I prepared you for a shock, sir," replied Fielding,
passing his arm about the other's shoulder; and I can
assure you it is as true as I stand here. In fact, both the
women spoke so loudly and unadvisedly, that I felt they
could not be quite themselves. At first I was inclined to
66
WHY NOT?
287
knock at the door, and denounce Mrs. Arlington's crime to
her face, but on second thoughts I recognized the indiscre-
tion of such a proceeding. It would give her time to make
her escape, and evade the justice of the law. So, having
heard all I could, and taken down the conversation in my
note-book, I descended the steps as quietly as I had
mounted them, and walked down the street unobserved.
A few doors off I met a respectable-looking woman, who
lives at number twenty-six. I inquired of her. She quite
shuddered, as she replied: 'Oh! a dreadful lot, sir; there
was a black woman there as told fortunes, and sold medi-
cines and what not; but she died the day before yesterday,
and Madame Pellé and her fine daughter have been carry-
ing on dreadful since. I am sure they are quite a disgrace
to the neighborhood. Yesterday they came to blows." So
you see, my dear colonel, the fair Lola is not exactly all
we once thought her.”
CHAPTER L.
SOME DAY.'
THE colonel had not yet raised his head from the shelter
of his hands, and, as Esmé finished talking, he groaned
audibly.
CC
C
">
My boy, it is too dreadful to think of it! If poor dear
Kerrison was really made away with, all his friends would
wish to see his death avenged; but to think of that beauti-
ful woman being the cause of it! So charming and clever,
and devoted to him as she was! Oh! it must have been an
accident, and we could not prosecute her for it. It would
be impossible!"
(6
Why impossible!"' cried Esmé, eagerly; "Mr. Kerri-
son's goodness to her renders the crime all the more hei-
nous. I consider it our duty to prosecute her in the severest
manner!"'
"But she might be condemned, even if innocent, Esmé;
such mistakes have happened before; and think what a load
that would be to carry on our consciences for a life-time;
for I can not believe she meant to do it!"
"She meant to poison Lily; the draught was prepared
for her, so it comes to the same thing; I heard enough to
convince me of that," replied Esmé, and I considered it
my duty to communicate with the police at once.
>>
މ
288
WHY NOT?
"
CC
'You have handed her over to justice?" exclaimed the
colonel, starting up again.
66
"I have given her name and address at Scotland Yard,
and set a detective on her track," rejoined the young man,
coolly, and I sincerely hope that he may soon find some-
thing to complete the evidence. Why, colonel, one would
imagine you cared for her more than you did for poor
Kerrison!"
No, no, Esmé, you mustn't think that. John was my
best and dearest friend. If my own brother had murdered
him I would deliver him up to justice. But this you will
allow is terrible! A beautiful, delicate woman, and with
such a punishment before her! I can never stay to see it
carried out!"
66
Well, I have done my best for Lily's sake," said Esmé,
rising to leave," and I hope she will be better satisfied with
my success than you are.
""
"And I thought all the time you were employed in the
service of some sweetheart," observed Escott, in a melan-
choly voice.
(C
"And so I was," replied the young man, coloring.
The girl for whose sake I quarreled with my mother
was called Lily Prescott,' although you knew her only as
(
C
Lily Power.' And now you are in possession of my
secret.
66
66
CC
""
Lily Power!" repeated the colonel, indignantly.
And you dare to come around here, sir, when her dear
husband has not been in his grave a month! You ought to
be ashamed of yourself!"
66
Stop, colonel. Don't condemn me quite so hastily,"
replied Esmé. "There is nothing but an honorable friend-
ship between myself and Mrs. Kerrison now, and next week
I shall leave her to return to my duty. Don't grudge me the
slight service I have been able to render her during my stay.
But you will come back again and ask her to marry
you some day,'' grumbled the colonel. I know what you
(6
ور
young men are made of."
"Some day," repeated Esmé, with a glad light in his
eyes-"yes, perhaps, some day. And till then I shall
leave her in your care and that of Mrs. Glamoye. I sus-
pect something will happen 'some day' in that direction
also-eh, colonel? So don't be too hard upon me. And
now I will wish you good-afternoon. "

WHY NO]
Stop, Esmé. What was the address at which you say
you found that that unhappy woman? I should like to
have it in case of accidents.
CC
"Twenty-six Clachett Street, sir. It is a small street.
just this side of the docks. I shall see my detective to-
morrow, and will report progress to you. Good-bye.
>>
And Esmé went lightly down the stairs. But Colonel
Escott could not rest where he had left him. The young
man's intelligence had been a fearful blow to him, and the
more he thought of it the worse it seemed, until he felt that
at all risks he must save the creature he had once nearly
loved, from her impending fate. He pictured to himself
those glorious charms, on which he had so delighted to
dwell, dragged to a felon's cell-exposed to the gaze of a
deriding multitude in the prisoner's dock-and finally led
forth to undergo the most terrible execution ever devised
by man. Half maddened by the ideas his fancy conjured
up for him, Escott finally sprung from his seat, and clap-
ping his hat well over his eyes, called a hansom cab, and
drove hurriedly to the address young Fielding had left with
him.
CHAPTER LI.
66 SAVE ME!""
WHAT Esmé Fielding had said of Lola Arlington being
"not quite herself" was perfectly true. She had been
not quite herself" ever since the day that she heard of
John Kerrison's death.
In her low-minded, animal way, she had loved the man;
and to hear that her contemplated crime had recoiled on
her own head, by removing him instead of his wife, was a
terrible discovery; added to which she had all the pangs of
a guilty conscience to bear, and the daily dread of seeing
the officers of justice on her heels.
Was it a wonder that she sought oblivion in the first.
thing that came to hand?
Maman's death, which was very sudden, had also been a
shock to her nerves; and the continual taunts and re-
proaches of Mme. de Pellé, who, with both the bread-win-
ners of the family hors de combat, saw nothing but starva-
tion ahead of them, drove her to distraction.
As soon as the story of John Kerrison's mysterious death.
10
U
WHY NOT?
was a thing of the past, and her leaving England would
not attract notice, Lola meant to slip away and begin a new
life in one of the colonies.
Meanwhile she felt safe enough under her mother's roof.
No one of her old associates would dream of looking for
her there; and if they did, she was quite capable of conceal-
ing herself.
But she felt so secure, that she never took any precau-
tions, and sat in the little front parlor, day after day, with-
out a single fear of interruption.
What was her astonishment, therefore, on the occasion
in question, to see Colonel Escott suddenly enter the apart-
ment which she occupied?
His demand for admittance had been answered by Mme.
de Pellé; and so afraid was he of a denial, that he had
pushed past her without ceremony, and entered the parlor
before she was aware of his intention.
As Lola perceived who was her visitor, she rose from her
chair with a slight scream.
<< Don't be afraid of me!" cried the colonel.
"I come
to you as a friend-a true and sincere friend, only anxious
to serve you to the best of my ability. Do you think I
could have the heart to harm you?"
He came nearer to her as he spoke and took her hand in
his. He had forgotten everything at that moment, except-
ing that the delicate creature before him stood in danger of
hanging.
"I did not know what to think," she answered, sinking
back into her chair with a sigh of relief. But how did
you find out I was here?"
"I was told of your address by a person who tracked you
to this house, and overheard a conversation which places
you in the utmost peril. Are we alone?" he continued,
glancing round the room.
66
Yes, yes! you can say what you will. The person who
admitted you is in the kitchen. What do you mean by
peril ?",
ލ
"The danger of the law. I must speak to you plainly
because time is so precious. You know that the medical
men pronounced poor John to have died from poison.
From some words you dropped this morning, and which
were overheard by a friend of Mrs. Kerrison's, suspicion
seems to attach itself to you. It may be all a mistake-
*
WHY NOT?

for my own part I can not believe it—but there is danger
for you all the same, and I have come to warn you of it?'
During this explanation, Lola had grown deadly pale.
Her large eyes were starting from her head with apprehen-
sion, and as she tried to answer him her teeth chattered.
"It is all false," she said, with livid lips.
"Why, I
was not there. How could I have done it?"
،،
Escott read the signs of guilt in her countenance.
Lola!" he exclaimed, it is not for me to judge you. I
have not come here for a denial or confession of the fact,
but to try to save you from its consequences. The detect-
ives are already on your track. Your name and address
are handed in to Scotland Yard. To-morrow it may be
too late to avoid discovery. Trust yourself to me to-night,
and I may be able to help you to escape.
""
66
And who has taken the trouble to inform against me?"
she asked, scornfully.
"Esmé Fielding. He discovered by chance that you
were here, and had given the information to the authorities
before he consulted me."
**
1
މ
"Esmé Fielding! Her lover. She has been my foil
throughout this business. Oh, if she had but taken the
dranght instead of him!"
"Good heavens!" cried Escott, recoiling from her; "then
you are the murderess.”
» she
"I did not mean
No-no-no! Don't call me by that name,
screamed, throwing herself before him.
it for him. Upon my soul I didn't. I loved him dearly.
It is my retribution to know that he made such a terrible
mistake. But who could have guessed he would have drunk
his wife's medicine?''
}
"But you intended it for her. It is just as bad."
CC
،،
Yes, I intended it for her, and I would give it to her
now if I could-the false white cat!" cried Lola, viciously.
And after all, what great harm is there in it? Death is
an eternal sleep. What matter if we commence it a little
sooner or later? But not for him-not for that glorious
intellect just yet. Oh, I would die if I could bring him
back again to earth by dying.
""
66
But you see you can not," replied
Escott, mournfully.
You have done what can never be undone; and yet you
are in danger of dying all the same. Am I to save you
from it or not?"?
292
STA
WHY NOT?
→
"Oh! save me!- save me!" she sobbed, hysterically,
groveling before him. "I can not be hung! It is so ter-
rible! Look at my neck," she continued, turning up her
creamy throat to his gaze, feel how soft and tender it is.
Was it ever meant to be strangled with a rope?"
""
66
No, no, poor child! and it shall not be," said Escott,
soothingly. "Whatever your sins may have been, we will
leave them to Heaven, who will deal more mercifully with
them than man. But we must lose no time. How soon
can you pack your belongings?"
66
What are you going to do with me?"
CC
I want to put you on board a sailing vessel to-night,
bound for Australia. I have ascertained there is more than
one lying in the docks ready to start with dawn. It is
now seven o'clock," said the colonel, consulting his watch;
"if you will commence your preparations, I will go and
secure your passage, and return for you at nine. At that
hour we shall attract less attention than_now, and you must
remain in your cabin till you are well out at sea.
""
But I have so little money," whimpered Lola.
66 Do you think I would let you start for a new country
with an empty purse?" replied Escott, reproachfully. "I
shall take your passage, and supply you with the necessary
funds to keep yourself until you get employment out there.
It will be necessary for you to take another name. What
shall I call you?"
"But tell
66
Madame Lesselle," said Lola.
Anything.
me one thing before you go: Why are you so kind to me?”
"Because once I fancied that I loved you," replied the
colonel, simply.
The tears fell down Lola's cheeks.
-
"I thought so. And I might have married you, and I
refused. Oh! what a mistake I made! None of this
misery would have happened then. But why can not it be
now?” she said, raising her eyes to his. If you love
love me,
come out with me to Australia, and let us be happy there
together."
66
He drew back from her with a shudder.
now.
"You forget," he said, gently; "it would be impossible
His blood is on your hand! Besides, the desire has
passed away. So do not let us allude to it again. Now I will
go and make the necessary arrangements for your voyage."
And he went swiftly from her sight. At the time he had
**
WHY NOT?
293
43
mentioned he returned, and "Mme. Lesselle " and her
possessions were placed in a cab and driven to the docks.
C
He saw her down to her cabin on board the "Star of
Melbourne," and stood on the threshold to bid her farewell.
Good-bye, Lola. May Heaven bless and forgive you!"
You can say Heaven bless you' to me!" she exclaimed,
with open eyes.
Why not? The greater your sin, the greater your need
of His blessing. Try to believe in Him, my poor Lola, and
the heaven He has prepared for us, and we may yet meet
each other in a world of bliss.
66
""
Oh! you are a good man!" she cried.
"It is well I
never married you. You are far too good for me. And
how shall I thank you for saving me as you have done?"
"I need no thanks! I am not sure if I have done right
in helping you to evade the ends of justice, but it was an
irresistible temptation. Only make it right, poor child!
Let your future life be so much purer than the past, that
Heaven will justify me in the course I have taken for love
of you.
>"
She was weeping now as Lola Arlington had seldom wept
before.
66
66
"I wish," she sobbed, "that you would grant my last
request."
56
What is it? Tell me quickly, for the time is up, and I
must go."
CC
މ
66
That you would kiss me when we part.
""
Oh! Lola, do not ask me! I pity you from the bottom of
my soul, but I can not forget how much he was my friend.'
But if he can see us as you believe he can-would he
be angry?"
(C
Am
>>
"No; not angry, perhaps. But how can I give a kiss of
peace to one who was his enemy?"
"No! no! Escott, I was never that! It was all an error!
A fatal, miserable error, that will haunt me to my dying
day. And now I must lose you as well! I am banished to
a strange country, without a single friend even to remem-
ber in my dreams! Oh! let me go back!" she cried, strug-
gling with him; "give me up to the hangman and the gal-
lows. It is the fittest fate for me."
W
"Lola!-Lola! be reasonable. Do not render all my
efforts for you useless,” remonstrated the colonel, as he
placed her back upon the seat from which she had risen.
294
WHY NOT?
"Be patient. Remember, if you suffer, as (Heaven help
you!) I know you will, that you suffer justly; and think of
Him, who suffered for us all, that our sufferings might one
day cease.
""
She turned her glowing, lustrous eyes up whilst she list-
ened to his words, and they looked so like the eyes of some
animal dying in pain, that Escott was moved to stoop and
kiss her compassionately on the brow. There was no trea-
son to Helen in the act. He would not have entertained
any warmer feeling for this poor guilty creature for all the
world. But a solemn conviction came over him at that
moment that he was looking his last upon her. And be-
fore Lola Arlington realized the fact he had turned upon
his heel and was gone.
0
CHAPTER LII.
MAMAN'S PROPHECY.
THE honest, tender-hearted colonel took his way back to
the West End in a very melancholy frame of mind, and
sorely in need of comfort. He could not satisfy himself if
he had done right or wrong, and he yearned (as in the days
of old) to fly to Helen, and ask her to decide for him.
It was half past ten as he reached his own chambers.
The inmates of the house in Hyde Park Gardens could not
have retired to rest so soon; he would just look in to inquire
after Mrs. Kerrison, and ascertain if Esmé Fielding's news
had reached her ears. He was barely in time; Lily was
already in bed as he entered, and Mrs. Glamoye was gathering
up her working materials, preparatory to beating a retreat.
She looked up in pleased surprise to see him there so late.
Don't go for a minute, Helen; I want to hear the last
news of Lily," he pleaded.
((
"I think she is decidedly better. She came down to
breakfast for the first time this morning, and has promised
me to go to Eastbourne to-morrow. Her maid has been
packing her things all the afternoon. Don't you think I
have been a wonderful success?"
CC
I was sure you would be; but, of course, you go to East-
bourne with her?""
CC
Well, she has asked me to accompany her as her guest;
but I don't quite like accepting the invitation, particularly
as she is going to stay at an hotel."
*.
A
$
IV
propriate
1
247
ލ
295
WHY NOT?
"Nonsense, Helen! Lily is rich enough to entertain as
many guests as she chooses.
""
،،
Well, I shall go at least for a few days, until she is set-
tled; but I can not leave my poor babies for long!"
"I will go and fetch them for you, and establish them in
lodgings close at hand. Your presence is invaluable to
poor Lily at this period, and you must regard your visit to
her as a work of charity.
""
66 Then you must look after the babies for me!" she an-
swered, gayly.
"I will look after the babies and you too, if you will let
me," he replied.
Helen colored at this, and occupied herself with the ar-
rangement of her work-basket; though she stole more than
one glance at the colonel during the operation.
Presently she said:
You are worried
"What is the matter with you, Jem?
and anxious; I can see it in your face."
“You are right as usual, Nell; I have something to tell
you. Come near to me and listen!''
She obeyed him (as a woman always will obey the man
she loves), and sat quietly by his side, whilst he related to
her all that he had heard and done that day, and the meas-
ures he had adopted for saving Lola Arlington from an
open shame. He hid nothing from her, not even the kiss
he had pressed in farewell upon Lola's brow, and then he
looked full in her eyes, and waited for her verdict.
Tell me, Helen, have I done right or wrong?"
"I am hardly competent to judge, Jem. But I know
that I would not have had you act otherwise. What satis-
faction could it be to Lily-or any one-to know that that
poor creature was sent out of the world and beyond the
reach of repentance? It could not bring him back again.
No, no! You have done right to leave her to the mercies
of Heaven!"
"You have great faith in Him, Nell?"
"I hope so.
What would have become of me in my
great trouble, when my heart was nearly broken, if I had
not been able to trust in His promise of happiness beyond
the grave?""
66
My heart was nearly broken too," said the colonel,
quietly.
66
But," remarked Helen, rather timidly, as she played
296
WHY NOT?
with the strip of fancy-work in her hand-" but you have
been in love since then, Jem.'
"Never, Nell!"
"But you told me in your first letter (or at least you led
me to believe) that you were contemplating marriage.
"I was silly, my dear. We had been separated for so
long, and I so fully thought there was no chance of our re-
union, that I did imagine at one time I could console my-
self with another woman. You know it is hard for a man
to live alone forever, Nell! But it was all moonshine! I
knew that directly I saw your face again. There is only
one love that lasts in this world, and that is the first true
affection that we conceive. I suffered too much in my first
venture, Nell. I shall never love again. You need not be
afraid of that.”
"I know," said Helen, in a voice that sounded suspi-
ciously like tears, "that I was the cause of great misery to
you, Jem; but I couldn't help it."
But we can now
"We could neither of us help it then.
-eh, sweetheart?"
·
ވ
CC
'I don't understand," replied Mrs. Glamoye, menda-
ciously.
66
W
-
Well, then, I'll put it in plainer language. Will you
come to me and make my last days happy, Nell?”
66
Oh, Jem! How can you ask me such a question? Do
you remember the day we parted?"
"Don't remind me of it, dear. Even after this length
of time the memory of that parting cuts me like a knife.
A separation by death itself could not have given half the
pain.
99
"It was death!" sighed Mrs. Glamoye.
"Then let us try to forget it in a new life," replied the
colonel. "Come-my Nelly!-no more beating about the
bush! Will you be my wife, or will you not? I want the
matter settled at once.
""
Her only answer was to slip her hand in his.
Escott drew her nearer to him, until he had folded her in
his arms.
"What a long-long time it is since I held you thus!"
he murmured, as he laid his lips upon hers; "and what a
joy it is to feel that we may love each other now without
restraint! We must not put off the wedding-day, Nelly.
We are too old to be able to afford delay; and I shall count
WHY NOT?
297
I
A-
each minute now until I call you really mine. How long
will it take you to get ready?"""
"That is not the obstacle," replied Mrs. Glamoye, with
a low, happy laugh; "but what is to become of my charge
-Mrs. Kerrison? You know I must go down to East-
bourne and look after her.”
ލ
"Well, we will all go down to Eastbourne together,'
said the colonel, amidst a running fire of kisses," and per-
haps we may manage to get this little matter settled quietly
before we return to London. Has young Fielding been
here to-day, love?"
66
No, Jem; we have had no visitors."
(6
I am glad of it. He is waiting for the detectives' re-
port, and I want to see him before he receives it. It is of
no use upsetting Lily's mind with idle rumors.
""
"Much better try and persuade her to believe that poor
Kerrison died an accidental death.”
މ
"I will do my utmost to further it, Jem, if you will keep
Mr. Fielding's mouth shut.
"J
"I can manage that easily. To tell you a secret, Nell,
he is an old flame of Lily's; and I should not be surprised
if, when all this trouble is past, and he returns from Malta,
they make it up between them again.”
I hope they may," replied Helen, "for I want all the
world to be as happy as I am.
"I will see Esmé to-morrow, and represent to him how
much better it will be for Lily that this unfortunate busi-
ness should be allowed to die a natural death, instead of
being given an unenviable notoriety. She would not like
to be pointed at all her life as the widow of the man who
was murdered. Ah! poor dear John! my best and truest
friend! If he knows anything now, he knows it is not from
want of loyalty to his memory that I would leave his death
unavenged."
""
“I am sure he knows it," whispered Helen.
The colonel drew her to the window, and they stood look-
ing out upon the summer night together, and watching the
countless stars in the indigo-tinted sky.
"May Heaven watch over that unhappy woman," he said,
solemnly," and grant her repentance for her sin! I can
not help thinking of her, my darling, even in the midst of
my renewed happiness. It seems so terrible that we should
stand thus, closely infolded by each other's love, and she
230
WHY NOT?
should be out on the pathless ocean, friendless and alone,
with the haunting memory of her terrible crime!”
He bent down to kiss her again as he spoke, and she saw
that the tears were standing in his kind blue eyes.
Pray for her, my Helen!" he said.
and for me before you go to sleep to-night."
"C
66
Pray for her
*
*
*
*
*
ވ
*
And Lola Arlington, for her part, could not rest when
he had left her. The excitement of being discovered and
the necessity for immediate action had sustained her seem-
ing fortitude whilst they were together, but as soon as her
last friend had left her she became a prey to nervous terrors.
She was on board the "Star of Melbourne "it was true,
and with the dawn they would set sail for Sydney; but who
could tell what might happen before the dawn? Who knew
if the detectives-those terrible detectives who hunted down
their victims like blood-hounds-were not already on her
track, and drawing nearer to her hiding-place as the time
went on? She could not leave her cabin, but sat there,
alone and in the dark, crouched against a corner of the
berth, shivering with apprehension and fear.
Oh, how she wished the vessel would start at once! Why
must they drag out the long hours of darkness lying idle in
the docks when they might be out upon the boundless sea?
g
*
MAN
But even then would she be safe? She was such a re-
markable-looking woman, and she had had no time to as-
sume a disguise. Would not her description be posted at
every police-station-perhaps a reward be offered for her
apprehension and the news telegraphed to Australia be-
fore she touched the shore?
Lola had heard of such a thing as the extradition treaty,
and knew of the peril in which it placed a flying fugitive.
She wished now she had never been persuaded to step on
board ship. Colonel Escott was unwise to have asked her
to do so.
She would have been much safer on shore. Or
-if she had gone anywhere-it should have been to Amer-
ica, instead of a British settlement.
The unfortunate woman thought over these things until
she had driven herself into a frenzy of fear. Each sound
she heard overhead made her heart stand still. The coil-
ing of ropes, the songs of the seamen, the tramp of the
officer on watch, made her sick with terror. She could not
lie down, nor even sit still, but stood like a wild creature,
WHY NOT?
→
299
เ
Į
with distended eyes and bated breath, listening to the noises
she could not understand, and watching the closed doors.
During these waking hours what distorted visions passed
through her feverish brain! What proportions her crime
assumed! How vivid and certain seemed her coming pun-
ishment! What an awful gulf stretched out before her!
Each moment made her sin blacker, her detection more
imminent, her expiation more sure, until she had worked
herself up to a state of delirium.
Was it likely that Esmé Fielding would let her escape?
He, who would have heard the whole story from Lily Ker-
rison's lips, of the abortive attempt she had made to pull
down the stronghold of her domestic happiness. No! shẹ
knew his character too well. He had not Escott's gentle
nature. He would hunt her down like a sleuth-hound,
even if he had to cross to Australia himself to do it. Ah!
what was the use of her going there? It would be lost
trouble. She had far better end the agonizing suspense she
was in by delivering herself up to justice, then and there.
At last the morning dawned, and some officials connected
with the shipping came on board to perform their last
duties.
1
Lola heard their arrival, and listened with strained ears
to their fragmentary conversation. A word here and there
reached her, which seemed to refer to herself; and her half-
frenzied brain, misconceiving their intent, and making her
believe that they were the officers of justice who had discov-
ered her hiding-place, drove her beyond control.
In a moment-without thought or warning-without
even a cry-she had precipitated herself from the open
port, and sunk beneath the thick green waters of the dock.
An alarm of "Man overboard!" was given, as the heavy
splash was heard, and several seamen ran to the side to offer
assistance. But the fair body of Lola Arlington was already
sucked beneath the ship's bottom, and was not seen again
until it floated (as Maman Rosita had prophesied) with
staring, sightless eyes, and silent lips, upon the evening tide.
Even as the only man who had ever loved her commend-
ed her guilty soul to the prayers of his future wife, it was
returned into the hands of One more merciful and benefi-
cent than himself.
THE END.
*
$
ADVERTISEMENTS.
From NEW YORK SUN, Dec. 15, 1886.
EIGHT years ago Mr. James Pyle, a manufacturer of this city, began to
make a powder for use in washing dirty clothing. He had discovered a
chemical compound that would eradicate dirt without injuring the fabric that
was dirty. More than that, it would remove blood-stains from butchers'
clothing, ink from a printer's towel, and when applied to the head proved an
unequaled compound for a shampooing lotion. Experiments showed that as
a disinfecting detergent it was unequaled for use in bath-tubs and in hospitals
and asylums. More than that, when tried on jewelry it was found to clean
precious metals perfectly. There were plenty of soaps in the market, but
nothing at all like this. Naturally, there was some difficulty in finding a mar-
ket for a novel compound like this, and no great quantity was sold the first
year. It was kept before the public, however, and sold on its merits. The
growth of the sale is one of the wonders of the trade of New York. During
the past year nearly 15,000,000 packages of this compound, now familiarly
known the country over as Pearline, were sold. and the business demands the
attention of hosts of employées and the use of a big stack of brick buildings
that form one of the landmarks in Greenwich Street.
"It is not the quantity sold that alone indicates the value of the goods," a
grocer said yesterday. "Pyle originated a new idea, but in the short time it
has been before the public more than one hundred imitations have been
brought out, many of them by men of great wealth and good standing in the
community. Men do not imitate in that way a worthless article.”
ABANDON PHYSIC!
GLUTEN SUPPOSITORIES
CURE CONSTIPATION AND PILES.
50 Cents by Mail.
Circulars Free.
HEALTH FOOD CO.,
4th Avenue and 10th St., N. Y.
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- •
Works by the author of “A
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...
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787 Court Royal..
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8788882
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10
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234 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery.. 20
263 An Ishmaelite..
20
315 The Mistletoe Bough. Edited
by Miss Braddon.
434 Wyllard's Weird..
478 Diavola; or, Nobody's Daugh-
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478 Diavola; or, Nobody's Daugh-
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•••
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…………….
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497 The Lady's Mile.
498 Only a Clod..
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542 Fenton's Quest....
544 Cut by the County; or, Grace
Darnel
..
548 The Fatal Marriage, and The
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549
Dudley Carleon; or, The Broth-
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20
488 Joshua Haggard's Daughter.... 20
489 Rupert Godwin……….
495 Mount Royal...
496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss
M. E. Braddon...
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One Thing Needful; or, The Pen-
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6
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...
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552 Hostages to Fortune.
553 Birds of Prey.
551 Charlotte's Inheritance.
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557 To the Bitter End..
559 Taken at the Flood.
560 Asphodel.
20
561 Just as I am; or, A Living Lie 20
567 Dead Men's Shoes..
570 John Marchmont's Legacy.
618 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ-
mas, 1885. Edited by Miss M.
E. Braddon..
.. 20
20
20
20
20
10
10
222 2222222
19
20
20
840
881 Mohawks...
Works by Charlotte M. Braeme,
Author of “Dora Thorne.”
19 Her Mother's Sin…...
10
51 Dora Thorne..
20
20
D
54 A Broken Wedding-Ring....... 20
68 A Queen Amongst Women..... 10
69 Madolin's Lover.
73 Redeemed by Love.
76 Wife in Name Only
79 Wedded and Parted..
92 Lord Lynne's Choice...
148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms.. 10
190 Romance of a Black Veil.
220 Which Loved Him Best?.
10
10
10
10
20
20
20
20
2 22
20
20
20
ARRRRRAAAAARA
20
20
20 237 Repented at Leisure..
20
10 1249 Prince Charlie's Daughter".. 10
POCKET EDITION.
HI
**
Charlotte M. Braeme's Works
(CONTINUED).
250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di-
ana's Discipline...
254 The Wife's Secret, and Fair
but False..
283 The Sin of a Lifetime
287 At War With Herself.
288 From Gloom to Sunlight.
291 Love's Warfare..
292 A Golden Heart..
293 The Shadow of a Sin.
294 Hilda...
...
295 A Woman's War..
296 A Rose in Thorns..
297 Her Marriage Vow; or, Hilary's
Folly.
239 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride
from the Sea……….
··
••
··
*
•
853 A True Magdalen...
854 A Woman's Error.
...
··
··
• •
..
576 Her Martyrdom.
626 A Fair Mystery.
741 The Heiress of Hilldrop; or,
The Romance of a Young
Girl...
··
10
10
300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of
Love..
10
10
10
745 For Another's Sin; or, A Strug.
gle for Love….
792 Set in Diamonds..
821 The World Between Them...
Charlotte Broute's Works.
15 Jane Eyre.....
57 Shirley..
*
·
•
..
Rhoda Broughton's Works.
86 Belinda
101 Second Thoughts,
227 Nancy
645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains.
758 "Good-bye, Sweetheart!"
765 Not Wisely, But Too Wel
767 Joan..
•
A AAAAAAAAAA
10
•
10
10
10
10
10
10
10
10
··
303 Ingledew House, and More Bit-
ter than Death………….
304 In Cupid's Net..
305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen-
doline's Dream.
306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for
a Day....
10
...
...
10
307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other
Love...
10
20
Rosa Nouchette Carey's Works.
10 215 Not Like Other Girls.
20 396 Robert Ord's Atonement.
20
20
551 Barbara Heathcote's Trial..... 20
20 608 For Lilias.
20
308 Beyond Pardon...
411 A Bitter Atonement.
433 My Sister Kate..
459 A Woman's Temptation.
460 Under a Shadow..
465 The Earl's Atonement.
466 Between Two Loves..
467 A Struggle for a Ring
469 Lady Damer's Secret..
470 Evelyn's Folly...
471 Thrown on the World………
476 Between Two Sins.
516 Put Asunder; or, Lady Castle-
maine's Divorce...
10
10
ARRRRRRARAM 222
20
20
20
20
20
10
20
20
2 22222
20
20
20
768 Red as a Rose is She…..
769 Cometh Up as a Flower.
862 Betty's Visions..
...
Mary E. Bryan's Works.
731 The Bayou Bride..
857 Kildee; or, The Sphinx of the
Red House. 1st half..
282-882
E. Fairfax Byrrne's Works.
521 Entangled..
538 A Fair Country Maid........
857 Kildee; or, The Sphinx of the
Red House. 2d half...
Robert Buchanan's Works.
145" Storm-Beaten :" God and The
Man....
20
154 Annan Water..
25
181 The New Abelard.
10
398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan.... 10
646 The Master of the Mine
20
.
•
Lewis Carroll's Works.
462 Alice's Adventures in Wonder-
land. Illustrated by John
Tenniel....
Captain Fred Burnaby's Works.
375 A Ride to Khiva…….
384 On Horseback Through Asia
Minor.......
………..
52 The New Magdalen..
102 The Moonstone.....
167 Heart and Science.
20 168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens
20
20
and Collins...
175 Love's Random Shot, and Other
Wilkie Collins's Works.
20
20 508 The Girl at the Gate.
Stories...
233 "I Say No;" or, The Love-Let-
ter Answered..
20
and the Prophet.
20 623 My Lady's Money.
...
20
701 The Woman in White.
10 701 The Woman in White.
29 702 Man and Wife.
20 792 Man and Wife.
20 764 The Evil Genius..
20
20
10
Hall Caine's Works.
445 The Shadow of a Crime....
520 She's All the World to Me...... 10
20
2 2 2
•••
591 The Queen of Hearts.
613 The Ghost's Touch, and Percy
20
20
789 Through the
the Looking-Glass,
and What Alice Found There.
Illustrated by John Tenniel.. 20
20
Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron's Works.
595 A North Country Maid.
796 In a Grass Country..
1st half.
2d half.
…………
22 20
·20-
20
20
20:
20
20
10:
20
88 223 H288888
20.
10
20
10.
1st half 20
20
2d half 20
20
20
•
THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.
Best
Mabel Collins's Works.
749 Lord Vanecourt's Daughter.... 20
828 The Prettiest Woman in Warsaw 20
Hugh Conway's Works,
240 Called Back.
251 The Daughter of the Stars, and
Other Tales..
801 Dark Days.
302 The Blatchford Bequest.
502 Carriston's Gift....
Stories.
11 A Cardinal Sin.
804 Living or Dead..
830 Bound by a Spell.
J. Fenimore Cooper's Works.
60 The Last of the Mohicans......
63 The Spy.
809 The Pathfinder.
310 The Prairie.
···
525 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories 10
543 A Family Affair....
20
601 Slings and Arrows, and Other
•
[.] J
318 The Pioneers; or, The Sources
of the Susquehanna..
849 The Two Admirals.
359 The Water-Witch..
861 The Red Rover.
•
373 Wing and Wing.
378 Homeward Bound;
Chase...
• ·
....
•
414 Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to
Afloat and Ashore ")..
"L
431 The Monikins..
A AAARAR ARRA
123 The Sea Lions; or, The Lost
Sealers...
10
#24 Mercedes of Castile; or, The
Voyage to Cathay
• • ··
...
125 The Oak-Openings; or, The Bee-
Hunter.
10
10
10
10
10
20
20
20
2222 222AR 2 2 2 22 222 222 2 2
20
20
or, The
879 Home as Found. (Sequel to
Homeward Bound”)
"
... 20
180 Wyandotte; or, The Hutted
Knoll.
20
20
20
885 The Headsmau; or, The Ab-
baye des Vignerons.
894 The Bravo.....
397 Lionel Lincoln; or, The Leag-
uer of Boston.
400 The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish... 20
413 Afloat and Ashore.
20
20
20
415 The Ways of the Hour..
416 Jack Tier; or, The Florida Reef 20
419 The Chainbearer; or, The Little-
page Manuscripts..
420 Satanstoe; or, The Littlepage
Manuscripts...
421 The Redskins; or, Indian and
Injin. Being the conclusion
of the Littlepage Manuscripts 20
422 Precaution....
20
20
20
20
22 2 2 22
20
20
20
B. M. Croker's Works,
Georgiana M. Craik's Works.
150 Godfrey Helstone.........
G06 Mrs. Hollyer...
207 Pretty Miss Neville.
260 Proper Pride.
412 Some One Else.
20
•
May Crommelin's Works.
452 In the West Countrie..
619 Joy; or, The Light of Cold-
Home Ford...
647 Goblin Gold..
Alphonse Daudet's Works.
Jack.
534
574 The Nabob: A Story of Parisian
Life and Manners.
··
..
•
338 The Family Difficulty.
20 679 Where Two Ways Meet
...
Charles Dickens's Works.
20
20
10 The Old Curiosity Shop..
22 David Copperfield. Vol. I....
22 David Copperfield. Vol. II.. 20
24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. I. 20
24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. II...... 20
37 Nicholas Nickleby. First half. 20
37 Nicholas Nickleby. Second half 20
41 Oliver Twist.....
20
20
10
20
20
220208
77 A Tale of Two Cities.
84 Hard Times.
91 Barnaby Rudge. 1st half.
91 Barnaby Rudge. 2d half.
94 Little Dorrit. First half.
94 Little Dorrit. Second half.
106 Bleak House. First half...
106 Bleak House. Second half.... 20
107 Dombey and Son. 1st half
107 Dombey and Son.
20
20
2d half..... 20
108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and
Doctor Marigold..
10
•
20
20
10
of Every-day Life and Every-
day People..
220 20
10
131 Our Mutual Friend. (1st half). 20
131 Our Mutual Friend. (2d half).. 20
132 Master Humphrey's Clock..... 10
152 The Uncommercial Traveler... 20
168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens
and Collins...
22222288 20898 99 & 902 Q
20
169 The Haunted Man…….
437 Life and Adventures of Martin
Chuzzlewit. First half.
437 Life and Adventures of Martin
Chuzzlewit. Second half..... 20
439 Great Expectations..
440 Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings.
447 American Notes.
448 Pictures From Italy, and The
Mudfog Papers, &c..
454 The Mystery of Edwin Drood.. 20
456 Sketches by Boz.
Illustrative
10
10
20
20
20
20
676 A Child's History of England. 20
Sarah Doudney's Works.
F. Du Boisgobey's Works.
82 Sealed Lips.
201
101 The Coral Pin. 1st half.
104 The Coral Pin. 2d half..
20 264 Piédouche, a French Detective. 10
10
10
2822
20
20
20
POCKET *
EDITION.
}
F. Du Boisgobey's Works
(CONTINUED).
328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner.
First half...
328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner.
Second half..
"The Duchess's" Works.
2 Molly Bawn..
6 Portia
66
453 The Lottery Ticket..
475 The Prima Donna's Husband.. 20
522 Zig-Zag, the Clown; or, The
Steel Gauntlets....
20
523 The Consequences of a Duel. A
Parisian Romance.
20
648 The Angel of the Bells...
20
697 The Pretty Jailer. 1st half.... 20
697 The Pretty Jailer. 2d half..
2d half..... 20
699 The Sculptor's Daughter. 1st
half
20
699 The Sculptor's Daughter. 2d
half...
20
782 The Closed Door. 1st half.
20
2d half
782 The Closed Door.
851 The Cry of Blood.
851 The Cry of Blood.
14 Airy Fairy Lilian.
16 Phyllis...
25 Mrs. Geoffrey.
29 Beauty's Daughters.
30 Faith and Unfaith....
••
118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and
Eric Dering.
119 Monica, and A Rose Distill'd..
123 Sweet is True Love.
129 Rossmoyne..
134 The Witching Hour, and Other
...
··
··
•••
..
20
20 717 Beau Tancrede; or, The Mar-
riage Verdict...
Maria Edgeworth's Works.
708 Ormond………
20
788 The Absentee. An Irish Story. 20
Mrs. Annie Edwards's Works.
20
644 A Girton Girl.....
834 A Ballroom Repentance.
835 Vivian the Beauty.
836 A Point of Honor..
837 A Vagabond Heroine.
838 Ought We to Visit Her?.
839 Leah: A Woman of Fashion... 20
20
841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 10
1st half.. 20
2d half..... 20 842 A Blue-Stocking..
843 Archie Lovell.
844 Susan Fielding.
10
20
• ►
•
10
20
20
20
845 Philip Earnscliffe; or, The Mor-
als of May Fair..
20 846 Steven Lawrence.
20
First half. 20
10 846 Steven Lawrence. Second half 20
20 850 A Playwright's Daughter.....
.. 10
20
10
20
•
•
""
284 Doris
• • •
312 A Week's Amusement; or, A
Week in Killarney
342 The Baby, and One New Year's
Eve..
·
390 Mildred Trevanion..
404 In Durance Vile, and Other
Stories..
486 Dick's Sweetheart..
494 A Maiden All Forlorn, and Bar-
bara...
517 A Passive Crime, and Other
Stories
541"As It Fell Upon a Day.
733 Lady Branksniere.
771 A Mental Struggle..
785 The Jaunted Chamber
862 Ugly Barrington..
875 Lady Valworth's Diamonds...
·
• • •
•
·
and
•
••
Stories..
1836 That Last Rehearsal,'
Other Stories.
166 Moonshine and Marguerites.... 10 28 Janet's Repentance..
171 Fortune's Wheel, and Other
Stories...
*
••
+
•
Alexander Dumas's Works,
55 The Three Guardsmen.
75 Twenty Years After,....
-
2 222 2 22.2 2 22222
•
20
22-ARAR AAAA A AA AA
10
10
10
10
10
10
10
10
25
259 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. A
Sequel to "The Count of
Monte-Cristo "
262 The Count of
· Part I....
262 The Count of Monte-Cristo.
Part II..
Monte-Cristo.
10
20
AAARFAR
10
20
10 179 Little Make-Believe..
573 Love's Harvest....
20
………
George Eliot's Works,
10 607 Self-Doomed..
10 616 The Sacred Nugget.
657 Christmas Angel..
3 The Mill on the Floss...
31 Middlemarch. 1st half.
31 Middlemarch. 2d half..
34 Daniel Deronda.
1st half.
34 Daniel Deronda, 2d half.
36 Adam Bede..
42 Romola...
693 Felix Holt, the Radical……
707 Silas Maruer: The Weaver of
Raveloe....
762 Impressions of Theophrastus
Such....
B. L. Farjeon's Works.
▼
...
G. Manville Feun's Works,
193 The Rosery Folk..
10 558 Poverty Corner..
587 The Parson o' Dumford..
10 609 The Dark House…….
***
...
·
10
386 Led Astray; or,
10
Comtesse ""
20
··
• •
Octave Feuillet's Works,
66 The Romance of a Poor Young
Man....
…
..
··
·
••••
"La Petite
# Z
···
10
20
20
ལ
2228
20
20
20
22222222 AA
20
20
20
20
10
ARARA
10
20
10
20
10
Mrs. Forrester's Works.
80 June..
20
20 280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So-
20
3
ciety.
10
10
20
20
10
10
10
B
vi
THE SEASIDE LIBRARY,
Y
Mrs. Forrester's Works
(CONTINUED).
484 Although He Was a Lord, aud
Other Tales…………
715 I Have Lived and Loved.
T21 Dolores...
..
724 My Lord and My Lady
726 My Hero…..
727 Fair Women..
+
736 Roy and Viola..
740 Rhona.
729 Mignon..
732 From Olympus to Hades.
734 Viva.
314 Peril....……….
572 Healey...
744 Diana Carew; or, For a Wom-
an's Sake…..
883 Once Again………….
Jessie Fothergill's Works.
..
R. E. Francillon's Works.
A Fortune
135 A Great Heiress:
in Seven Checks..
319 Face to Face: A Fact in Seven
Fables...
222 The Sun-Maid..
555 Cara Roma...
Charles Gibbon's Works.
64 A Maiden Fair..
317 By Mead and Stream.....
•
•
614 No. 99....
680 Fast and Loose.
10
20
Arthur Griffiths's Works.
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
360 Ropes of Sand.
656 The Golden Flood. By R. E.
Francillon and Wm. Senior..
10
Emile Gaboriau's Works.
7 File No. 113...
12 Other People's Money
20 Within an Inch of His Life..
H. Rider Haggard's Works.
432 The Witch's Head.
753 King Solomon's Mines.
222 22
20
20
20
20
26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol I......
26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol. II………….. 20
33 The Clique of Gold...
10
...
38 The Widow Lerouge.
43 The Mystery of Orcival……..
144 Promises of Marriage..
20
20
20
20
20
10
10
20
James Grant's Works.
566 The Royal Highlanders; or,
The Black Watch in Egypt... 20
78: The Secret Dispatch.....
10
Miss Grant's Works.
20
20
10
200808080
10
2220
John B. Harwood's Works.
143 One False, Both Fair……
358 Within the Clasp.....
Mary Cecil Hay's Works.
2220
65 Back to the Old Home.
72 Old Myddelton's Money.
196 Hidden Perils..
197 For Her Dear Sake.
224 The Arundel Motto.
281 The Squire's Legacy
290 Nora's Love Test..
408 Lester's Secret.
678 Dorothy's Venture.
716 Victor and Vanquished……….
849 A Wicked Girl..
332 Judith Wynne..
506 Lady Lovelace..
··
··
·
Mrs. Cashel-Hoey's Works.
313 The Lover's Creed...
802 A Stern Chase....
Tighe Hopkins's Works,
509 Nell Haffenden..
714 "Twixt Love and Duty.
..
10
20 473 A Lost Son..
..
...
• ··
..
...
Theuss Hardy's Works.
139 The Roman Adventures of
a Milkmaid….
10
530 A Pair of Blue Eyes.
20
690 Far From the Madding Crowd. 20 663 Handy Andy.
791 The Mayor of Casterbridge.... 20 664 Rory O'More...
...
..
··
Vernon Lee's Works.
399 Miss Brown.
859 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century
Idyl. By Vernon Lee.
Prince of the 100 Soups. Edit-
ed by Vernon Lee..
The
Charles Lever's Works.
..
Works by the Author of "Judith
Wynne."
191 Harry Lorrequer..
›
...
212 Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dra-
goon. First half...
212 Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dra-
goon. Second half……….
243 Tom Burke of "Curs.
First
half..
243 Tom Burke of "Ours." Sec-
ond half.
Mary Linskill's Works.
··
20
20
Samuel Lover's Works.
22222222222
William H. G. Kingston's Works.
117 A Tale of the Shore and Ocean. 20
133 Peter the Whaler..
10
761 Will Weatherhelm.
20
763 The Midshipman, Marmaduke
Merry
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
220
222280
2222208
20
20
2 2 2 2 2
20
20
20
20
620 Between the Heather and the
Northern Sea.
20.
20
Mrs. E. Lynn Linton's Works.
122 Ione Stewart.
817 Stabbed in the Dark…..
20
399904
20
10
20
20
!
"
Sir E. Bulwer Lytton's Works.
Justin McCarthy's Works.
40 The Last Days of Pompeii...... 20
83 A Strange Story...
121 Maid of Athens.....
602 Camiola.
20
90 Ernest Maltravers...
20
130 The Last of the Barons. First
half..
685 England Under Gladstone.
1880-1885....
20
747 Our Sensation Novel,
Edited
...
130 The Last of the Barons. Sec-
ond half....
by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P.. 10
20 779 Doom! An Atlantic Episode... 10
20
•
162 Eugene Aram.
164 Leila; or, The Siege of Grenada 10
650 Alice; or, The Mysteries. (A Se-
quel to "Ernest Maltravers") 20
720 Paul Clifford .
20
•
··
George Macdonald's Works.
·
POCKET EDITION.
282 Donal Grant..
·
325 The Portent..
326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance
for Men and Women.
722 What's Mine's Mine..…………………….. 20
10
449 Peeress and Player....
689 The Heir Presumptive.
825 The Master Passion.
860 Her Lord and Master..
เ
E. Marlitt's Works.
652 The Lady with the Rubies……….. 20
858 Old Ma'm'selle's Secret...... 20
Florence Marryat's Works.
159 A Moment of Madness, and
Other Stories………..
10
183 Old
Contrairy, and Other
Stories...
208 The Ghost of Charlotte Cray,
and Other Stories...
10
10
444 The Heart of Jane Warner..
276 Under the Lilies and Roses.... 10
20
20
癱
​·
··
• L ·
..
""
...
•••
861 My Sister the Actress.
863 ** My Own Child."
864"No Intentions."
865 Written in Fire.
20
866 Miss Harrington's Husband... 20
20
867 The Girls of Feversham…..
868 Petronel...
869 The Poison of Asps..
870 Out of His Reckoning.
872 With Cupid's Eyes.
873 A Harvest of Wild Oats.
877 Facing the Footlights..
•
Captain Marryat's Works.
88 The Privateersman.
272 The Little Savage..
•
•
• U
438 Found Out………
535 Murder or Manslaughter?..
Helen B. Mathers's Works.
13 Eyre's Acquittal..
221 Comin' Thro' the Rye.
··
673 Story of a Sin
713 Cherry Ripe
795 Sam's Sweetheart.
798 The Fashion of this World.
109 My Lady Green Sleeves.
*
••• •
• • ·
20
•
267 Laurel Vane; or, The Girls'
Conspiracy..
268 Lady Gay's Pride; or, The
Miser's Treasure..
..
20 269 Lancaster's Choice.
10 316 Sworn to Silence; or, Aline
Rodney's Secret..
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
10
10
20
220
· "
20
10
Mrs, Alex. McVeigh Miller's
Works.
...
Jean Middlemas's Works.
155 Lady Muriel's Secret.
539 Silvermead…….
•
Alan Muir's Works.
172 "Golden Girls".
346 Tumbledown Farm.
674 First Person Singular
691 Valentine Strange..
695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and
Deace
698 A Life's Atonement..
737 Aunt Rachel...
826 Cynic Fortune.
호
​184 Thirlby Hall.
277 A Man of His Word.
355 That Terrible Man.
500 Adrian Vidal.
20 824 Her Own Doing.
10
10
10
20
20
20
10
20 537 Piccadilly
Miss Mulock's Works.
11 John Halifax, Gentleman...... 20
245 Miss Tommy, and In a House-
Boat...
•
10
S08 King Arthur. Not a Love Story 20
•
W. E. Norris's Works.
❤
David Christie Murray's Works.
58 By the Gate of the Sea
195 "The Way of the World"
320 A Bit of Human Nature….
661 Rainbow Gold……….
•
•
··
848 My Friend Jim……...
871 A Bachelor's Blunder.
vii
•
20
20
20
•
29
•
20
20
20
20
22208
Laurence Oliphant's Works.
47 Altiora Peto..
20
10
Works by the author of "My
Ducats and My Daughter.”
376 The Crime of Christmas Day. 10
596 My Ducats and My Daughter... 20
ER=R22 222R
10
20
10
20
20
20
20
20
10
20
RAARAAR
20
10
10
20
10
10
20
20
10
viii
THE SEASIDE LIBRARY,
Mrs. Oliphant's Works.
45 A Little Pilgrim.
177 Salem Chapel..
205 The Minister's Wife.
321 The Prodigals, and Their In-
heritance...
of
337 Memoirs and Resolutions
Adam Graeme of Mossgray,
including some Chronicles of
the Borough of Fendie.....
345 Madam.
20
351 The House on the Moor.
357 John.
→
410 Old Lady Mary.
527 The Days of My Life.
528 At His Gates..
605 Ombra.
645 Oliver's Bride
568 The Perpetual Curate
569 Harry Muir..
603 Agnes. 1st half
603 Agnes. 2d half
604 Innocent. 1st half.
604 Innocent. 2d half.
•
370 Lucy Crofton.
• S
371 Margaret Maitland.
• ··
377 Magdalen Hepburn: A Story of
the Scottish Reformation.... 20
402 Lilliesleaf; or, Passages in the
Life of Mrs Margaret Mait-
land of Sunnyside.
--
239 Signa.
433 A Rainy June.
639 Othmar...
671 Don Gesualdo..
672 In Maremma.
672 In Maremma.
874 A House Party.
ጉ •
“Ouida's " Works.
• -
336 Philistia.
611 Babylon.
10
20
655 The Open Door, and The Portrait 10 |
687 A Country Gentleman...
703 A House Divided Against Itself 20
710 The Greatest Heiress in England 20
827 Effie Ogilvie...
20
880 The Son of His Father.
20
...
•
• • A
• · •
James Payn's Works.
48 Thicker Than Water..
186 The Canon's Ward…….
343 The Talk of the Town.
577 In Peril and Privation.
589 The Luck of the Darrells.
823 The Heir of the Ages.....
First half.
Second half.
•
•
Cecil Power's Works.
•
10
20
30
10
·
222222 2
10
20
A
Miss Jane Porter's Works.
660 The Scottish Chiefs. 1st half.. 20
660 The Scottish Chiefs. 2d half.. 20
696 Thaddeus of Warsaw....
20
Mrs. Campbell Praed's Works.
428 Zéro: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 10
477 Affinities.
10
20
811 The Head Station.....
Eleanor C. Price's Works.
173 The Foreigners..
331 Gerald…….
Charles Reade's Works.
46 Very Hard Cash.
98 A Woman-Hater..
206 The Picture, and Jack of All
··
Trades..
210 Readiana: Comments on Cur-
rent Events...
+4
·
····
252 A Sinless Secret...
446 Dame Durden..
598 Corinna."
A Study
617 Like Dian's Kiss..
20
10
20
20
20
20
20
20
Mrs. J. H. Riddell's Works.
71 A Struggle for Fame
20 593 Berna Boyle....
20
20
"Rita's" Works.
•
213 A Terrible Temptation.
214 Put Yourself in His Place.
216 Foul Play...
..20
231 Griffith Gaunt; or, Jealousy... 20
232 Love and Money; or, A Perilous
Secret
.. ¿
235 "It is Never Too Late to
Mend." A Matter-of-Fact Ro-
mance..
•
F. W. Robinson's Works.
20
10 743 Jack's Courtship.
10 592 A Strange Voyage.
20 682 In the Middle Watch.
Stories..
20
20 257 Beyond Recall.
20
812 No Saint..
10
20
20
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•
•
•
•
•
1 *
•
4 Under Two Flags.....
20
9 Wanda, Countess von Szalras.. 20
116 Moths
20
128 Afternoon and Other Sketches. 10
226 Friendship
W. Clark Russell's Works.
20
228 Princess Napraxine..
20
85 A Sea Queen...
238 Pascarel...
20
109 Little Loo..
20
180 Round the Galley Fire.
10 209 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate.. 10
20 223 A Sailor's Sweetheart.
N
+ D
1st half...
743 Jack's Courtship. 2d half……..
•
་,
Sea
Sir Walter Scott's Works.
6.
Adeline Sergeant's Works.
157 Milly's Hero..
217 The Man She Cared For.
261 A Fair Maid...
455 Lazarus in London.
20
. 20
590 The Courting of Mary Smith... 20
22208
•
22 - AR222 -
28 Ivanhoe ..
201 The Monastery.
202 The Abbot. (Sequel to
"The
Monastery")
| 353 The Black Dwarf, and A Le-
gend of Montrose..
→
20
20
10
10
20
20
10
20
223
20
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22 8 220S
20
362 The Bride of Lammermoor…….…. 20
20 363 The Surgeon's Daughter...
20 864 Castle Dangerous...
10
10
4ŕ.
1
Sir Walter Scott's Works
(CONTINUED).
391 The Heart of Mid-Lothian....
392 Peveril of the Peak…….
393 The Pirate……….
401 Waverley.
417 The Fair Maid of Perth; or, St.
Valentine's Day..
418 St. Ronan's Well..
463 Redgauntlet.
A Tale of the
Eighteenth Century.
507 Chronicles of the Canongate,
and Other Stories.
·
• •
POCKET EDITION.
•
..
William Sime's Works.
429 Boulderstone; or, New Men and
Old Populations..
580 The Red Route..
597 Haco the Dreamer.
649 Cradle and Spade....
•
•••
Hawley Smart's Works.
348 From Post to Finish. A Racing
Romance.
367 Tie and Trick.
550 Struck Down.
847 Bad to Beat..
*
Frank E. Smedley's Works.
333 Frank Fairlegh; or, Scenes
from the Life of a Private
Pupil...
T. W. Speight's Works.
150 For Himself Alone..
653 A Barren Title
..
562 Lewis Arundel; or, The Rail-
road of Life…………..
832 Kidnapped.
855 The Dynamiter.
856 New Arabian Nights.
O
•
Eugene Sue's Works.
270 The Wandering Jew.
270 The Wandering Jew.
271 The Mysteries of Paris.
271 The Mysteries of Paris.
Julian Sturgis's Works.
405 My Friends and I. Edited by
Julian Sturgis...
694 John Maidment
...
-
...
George Temple's Works.
599 Lancelot Ward, M.P…….
642 Britta....
Robert Louis Stevenson's Works.
680 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and
Mr. Hyde...
704 Prince Otto..
20
20
20
20
20
20
20
G
10
464 The Newcomes. Part II.
670 The Rose and the Ring. Illus-
trated....
10
20
10
20
20
20
10
10
2280
20
Part I... 20
Part II.. 20
Part I. 20
Part II. 20
10
20
William M. Thackeray's Works.
27 Vanity Fair.
20
165 The History of Henry Esmond. 20
.464 The Newcomes. Part I.
10
10
+
20
20
10
Works by the Author of "The
Two Miss Flemings."
637 What's His Offence?..
780 Rare Pale Margaret.
784 The Two Miss Flemings.
831 Pomegranate Seed.
141 She Loved Him!...
142 Jenifer....
565 No Medium.
Annie Thomas's Works.
Anthony Trollope's Works.
32 The Land Leaguers.
93 Anthony Trollope's Autobiog-
raphy
298 Mitchelhurst Place.
586"For Percival"
10
10
Part I...
20 578 Mathias Sandorf.
20
Part II...
20 578 Mathias Sandorf.
Part III...
*
►
•
700 Ralph the Heir. 1st half...
700 Ralph the Heir. 2d half.
775 The Three Clerks..
+
147 Rachel Ray.
200 An Old Man's Love.
531 The Prime Minister.
531 The Prime Minister.
621 The Warden.....
622 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil... 10
667 The Golden Lion of Granpere.. 20
20
Margaret Veley's Works.
••••
Jules Verne's Works.
87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at
Fifteen....
11
20
20
10-
•
1st half.. 20
2d half... 20
..
..
J..
10
10 100 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. 20
368 The Southern Star; or, the Dia-
751 Great Voyages and Great Navi-
gators. Second half...
F. Warden's Works.
192 At the World's Mercy
248 The House on the Marsh.
ix
286 Deldee; or, The Iron Hand..
482 A Vagrant Wife....
556 A Prince of Darkness
820 Doris's Fortune.
20
20
20
20
10
20
10
•
R 22-22==8282
20
mond Land.
395 The Archipelago on Fire...... 10
578 Mathias Sandorf.
Illustrated.
Illustrated.
Illustrated.
Af
10
ه
20
20
200
10
10
659 The Waif of the "Cynthia ". 20
751 Great Voyages and Great Navi-
gators. First half.
22 27 ÷ ÷ 98 2 20
20
833 Ticket No. “9672.' First half.. 10
20
10.
L. B. Walford's Works.
10
241 The Baby's Grandmother...
256 Mr. Smith: A Part of His Life, 20
258 Cousins..
20
10
658 The History of a Week……
10
20
10
.. 10
20
996882
20
10
pš mazie a
€
William Ware's Works.
709 Zenobia; or, The Fall of Pal-
myra. 1st half...
709 Zenobia; or, The Fall of Pal-
myra. 2d half
760 Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third
Century
818 Pluck.
876 Mignon's Secret.
THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.
• •
··
...
E. Werner's Works.
327 Raymond's Atonement......... 20
540 At a High Price...
20
G.J. Whyte-Melville's Works.
409 Roy's Wife....
451 Market Harborough, and Inside
the Bar...
John Strange Winter's Works.
492 Mignon; or, Bootles' Baby. Il-
lustrated
600 Houp-La. Illustrated..
638 In Quarters with the 25th (The
Black Horse) Dragoons...... 10
688 A Man of Honor. Illustrated.. 10
746 Cavalry Life; or, Sketches and
Stories in Barracks and Out.. 20
813 Army Society. Life in a Gar-
rison Town………
Photograph
739 The Caged Lion..
742 Love and Life..
❤ ..
Mrs. Henry Wood's Works.
8 East Lynne.
255 The Mystery
277 The Surgeon's Daughters.
508 The Unholy Wish
513 Helen Whitney's Wedding, and
Other Tales...
514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, and
Other Tales.
610 The Story of Dorothy Grape,
and Other Tales...
**
-
•
·
*
Charlotte M. Yonge's Works.
247 The Armourer's Prentices...
275 The Three Brides..
535 Henrietta's Wish; or, Domi-
•
*
**
**
•
783 Chantry House..
790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or, The
White and Black Ribaumont.
First half...
•
790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or, The
White and Black Ribaumont.
Second half..
800 Hopes and Fears; or, Scenes
from the Life of a Spinster.
Second half………….
2 2 2
800 Hopes and Fears; or, Scenes
from the Life of a Spinster.
First half...
20
20
20
20
20
10
10
neering..
10
563 The Two Sides of the Shield.... 20 203
640 Nuttie's Father.
20
20 | 218
665 The Dove in the Eagle's Nest..
666 My Young Alcides: A Faded
10
10
10
10
10
10
10
10
20
20
20
20
10
115 Diamond Cut Diamond.
Adolphus Trollope..
120 Tom Brown's School Days at
Rugby. Thomas Hughes... 20..
127 Adrian Bright. Mrs. Caddy 20
149 The Captain's Daughter. From
... •
10
the Russian of Pushkin...... 10.
151 The Ducie Diamonds. C. Blath-
erwick...
156"For a Dream's Sake.' Mrs.
Herbert Martin..
158 The Starling.
leod, D.D...
20
Norman Mac-
10.
160 Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tytler 10
161 The Lady of Lyons. Founded
on the Play of that title by
20
Lord Lytton.
20 163 Winifred Power.
10
rell...
10
** • · •
20
10
20
Miscellaneous.
53 The Story of Ida. Francesca.. 10
61 Charlotte Temple, Mrs. Row.
son..
10
Amelia B.
99 Barbara's History.
Edwards...
20
103 Rose Fleming. Dora Russell.. 10
105 A Noble Wife. John Saunders 20
111 The Little School-master Mark.
J. H. Shorthouse.
10
112 The Waters of Marah,
Hill..
20
•
113 Mrs. Carr's Companion. M. G.
Wightwick.
114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J.
Eiloart...
20
20
·
ぶ
​""
...
John
·
T.
170 A Great Treason.
pus.
174 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge.
176 An April Day. Philippa Prit-
tie Jephsou.
178 More Leaves from the Journal
of a Life in the Highlands.
Queen Victoria..
* **
Joyce Dar-
་;
Mary Hop-
Kingsley.
274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse,
Princess of Great Britain and
Ireland. Biographical Sketch
and Letters
..
20 279 Little Goldie: A Story of Wom-
an's Love. Mrs. Sumner Hay.
den..
10
20
182 The Millionaire..
185 Dita. Lady Margaret Majendie 10
187 The Midnight Sun. Fredrika
Bremer.
198 A Husband's Story
···
10
John Bull and His Island. Max
O'Rell...
Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James.. 20
219 Lady Clare: or, The Master of
the Forges. Georges Ohnet 10
242 The Two Orphans. D'Ennery. 10
253 The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer.. 10
266 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas.
10
و او
285 The Gambler's Wife.
289 John Bull's Neighbor in Her
True Light. A"Brutal Sax-
on"
10
+
20
30
20
10
10
10
10
20
20
10
POCKET EDITION.
>
fake and
_T*
Miscellaneous-Continued.
!
311 Two Years Before the Mast. R.
H. Dana, Jr…………
323 A Willful Maid.
329 The Polish Jew.
}
I
330 May Blossom; or, Between Two
Loves. Margaret Lee..
334 A Marriage of Convenience.
Harriett Jay.
(Translated
from the French by Caroline
A. Merighi.) Erckmann-Chat--
rian
335 The White Witch..
340 Under Which King? Compton
Reade.
341 Madolin Rivers; or, The Little
Beauty of Red Oak Seminary.
Laura Jean Libbey...
347 As Avon Flows. Henry Scott
Vince.
350 Diana of the Crossways. George
Meredith..
•**•
..
đ
+ •
20
20
10
352 At Any Cost. Edward Garrett. 10
354 The Lottery of Life. A Story
of New York Twenty Years
Ago. John Brougham………….. 20
355 The Princess Dagomar of Po-
•
381 The Red Cardinal.
Elliot....
22290
land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10
356 A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20
365 George Christy; or, The Fort-
unes of a Minstrel. Tony
Pastor....
20
366 The Mysterious
20
Hunter; or,
The Man of Death. Capt. L.
C. Carleton.
369 Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum-
phry Ward..
...
10
20
382 Three Sisters. Elsa D'Esterre-
Keeling..
383 Introduced to Society. Hamil-
ton Aïdé..
Char-
387 The Secret of the Cliffs.
lotte French………..
389 Ichabod. A Portrait.
Bertha
Thomas
403 An English Squire. C. R. Cole-
ridge ……….
400 The Merchant's Clerk. Samuel
2 22 2
10
10
··
374 The Dead Man's Secret. Dr.
Jupiter Paeon.
20
Frances
10
20
•
20
2 220
20
458 A Week of Passion; or, The
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar-
ton the Younger. Edward
Jenkins...
20
443 Tho Bachelor of the Albany... 10
457 The Russians at the Gates of
Herat. Charles Marvin...... 10
•
468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad,
of a Sewing-Girl. Charlotte
M. Stanley.
10
474 Serapis. An Historical Novel.
George Ebers..
20
1
479 Louisa. Katharine S. Macquoid 20
483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By
author of "A Golden Bar "... 10
485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren
Cobban.
491 Society in London. A Foreign
Resident...
504
505
510
493 Colonel Enderby's Wife. Lucas
Malet...
•••
501 Mr. Butler's Ward. F. Mabel
Robinson....
Curly: An Actor's Story. John
Coleman....
The Society of London.
Paul Vasili.
Count
A Mad Love. Author of ** Lover
and Lord"
***
512 The Waters of Hercules.
518 The Hidden Sin..
519 James Gordon's Wife..
526 Madame De Presnel. E. Fran-
D
··
·
575 The Finger of Fate. Captain
Mayne Reid..
641
643
Teniple
612 My Wife's Niece. By the author
of "Dr. Edith Romney "
624 Primus in Indis. M. J. Colqu-
Warren.
10
20
407 Tylney Hall. Thomas Hood... 20
426 Venus's Doves. Ida Ashworth
Taylor.
430 A Bitter Reckoning. Author
of "By Crooked Paths"
.... 10
435 Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg
Častle. George Taylor.. 20
436 Stella. Fanny Lewald.
20
441 A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. 20 654
442 Ranthorpe. George Henry
Lewes..
662
C
The Mystery of Allan Grale.
Isabella Fyvie Mayo.
668 Half-Way. An Auglo-French
Romance...
houn..
628 Wedded Hands. By the author
of "My Lady's Folly "
634 The Unforeseen. Alice O'Han-
lon...
**
ces Poynter…….
532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20
533 Hazel Kirke.
Marie Walsh.... 20
536 Dissolving Views. Mrs. Andrew
Lang
10
··
545 Vida's Story. By the author of
"Guilty Without Crime" 10
546 Mrs. Keith's Crime. A Novel.. 10 ·
571 Paul Crew's Story. Alice Co-
myns Carr...
20
The Rabbi's Spell. Stuart C.
Cumberland……
The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey
Crayon, Gent.
Washington
Irving...
"Us." An Old-fashioned Story.
Mrs. Molesworth…..
** = = = 22A PRÁR REQ
...
10
10
10
583 Victory Deane. Cecil Griffith.. 20
20 584 Mixed Motives.
599 Lancelot Ward, M.P. George
10
10
20
20
10
10
10
20
581 The Betrothed. (I Promessi
Sposi.) Allessandro Manzoni 20
582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. Mrs.
J. H. Needell...
28
20
2 2 2 2 2 H UND 2 2 2
10.
20
20
10
10
20
16
20
20
+
10
20
10
20
27
xij
THE SEASIDE LIBRARY,
•
Miscellaneous-Continued.
669 The Philosophy of Whist.
William Pole
20
675 Mrs. Dymond. Miss Thackeray 20
681 A Singer's Story. May Laffan. 10
683 The Bachelor Vicar of New-
forth. Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe. 20
681 Last Days at Apswich..
692 The Mikado, and Other Comic
Operas. Written by W. S.
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur
Sullivan
705 The Woman I Loved, and the
Woman Who Loved Me. Isa
Blagden,
706 A Crimson Stain. Annie Brad-
shaw...
10
712 For Maimie's Sake.
Graut
20
Allen
718 Unfairly Won. Mrs. Power
O'Donoghue
719 Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.
Lord Byron..
20
10
723 Mauleverer's Millions. T. We-
myss Reid..
20
725 My Ten Years' Imprisonment.
Silvio Pellico...
10
10
20
...
Spender
738 In the Golden Days.
Lyall..
•
730 The Autobiography of Benja-
min Franklin..
735 Until the Day Breaks.
Emily
Edna
By the
750 An Old Story of My Farming
Days. Fritz Reuter. 1st half
750 An Old Story of My Farming
Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half
752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories.
Juliana Horatia Ewing
754 How to be Happy Though Mar-
ried. By a Graduate in the
University of Matrimony..
755 Margery Daw.
756 The Strange Adventures of Cap-
tain Dangerous. A Narrative
in Plain English. Attempted
by George Augustus Sala.... 20
►
748 Hurrish: A Study.
Hon. Emily Lawless..
#
•
O. Box 3751.
10 770 The Castle of Otranto. Hor-
ace Walpole.
773 The Mark of Cain. Andrew
Lang..
20 774 The Life and Travels of Mungo
Park..
776 Père Goriot. Honoré De Bal-
zac
10
2 2 2 2 2 A
20
20
20
757 Love's Martyr. Laurence Alma
Tadema
10
759 In Shallow Waters. Annie Ar
mitt...
20
766 No. XIII; or, The Story of the
Lost Vestal. Emma Mar-
shall.
20
10
10
10
10
20
786
20
777 The Voyages and Travels of
of Sir John Maundeville, Kt.. 10
778 Society's Verdict. By the au-
thor of "My Marriage ".
Ethel Mildmay's Follies. By au-
thor of "Petite's Romance". 20
793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon.
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of
Beaconsfield. First half....
793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt Hon.
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of
Beaconsfield. Second half... 20
801 She Stoops to Conquer, and
The Good-Natured Man. Oli-
ver Goldsmith..
20
10
12.
803 Major Frank. A. L. G. Bos-
boom-Toussaint.
028990
...
10
807 If Love Be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20
809 Witness My Hand. By author
of "Lady Gwendolen's Tryst " 10
810 The Secret of Her Life. Ed-
ward Jenkins..
20
816 Rogues and Vagabonds. By
George R. Sims, author of
"'Ostler Joe"..
20
822 A Passion Flower. A Novel.... 20
852 Under Five Lakes. M. Quad.. 20
20 879 The Touchstone of Peril. A
20
Novel of Anglo-Indian Life,
With Scenes During the Mu-
tiny. By R. E. Forrest....... 20
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669 Pole on Whist
432 THE WITCH'S HEAD. By
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888 Treasure Island. Robert Louis
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889 An Inland Voyage. By Robert
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20 913 The Silent Shore. By John
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915 That Other Person. By Mrs.
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The Golden Hope. By W. Clark
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890 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ-
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20
891 Vera Nevill; or, Poor Wisdom's
Chance. By Mrs. H. Lovett
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10
10
·
892 That Winter Night; or, Love's
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893 Love's Conflict. By Florence
Marryat. First half.
20
893 Love's Conflict. By Florence
Marryat. Second half....... 20
894 Doctor Cupid. By Rhoda
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895 A Star and a Heart. By Flor-
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896 The Guilty River. By Wilkie.
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897 Ange. By Florence Marryat... 20
898 Bulldog and Butterfly, and Julia
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899 A Little Stepson. By Florence
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900 By Woman's Wit. By Mrs. Al-
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20
..
901 A Lucky Disappointment. By
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902 A Poor Gentleman. By Mrs.
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916
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By
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Braeme, author of
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Thorne." Second half..
20
923 At War With Herself. By Char-
lotte M. Braeme, author of
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edition)....
20
10
925 The Outsider. Hawley Smart.. 20
930 Uncle Max. By Rosa Nouchette
Carey
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20 932 Queenie's Whim. Rosa Nou-
chette Carey. First half..... 20
932 Queenie's Whim. Rosa Nou-
chette Carey. Second half.. 20
934 Wooed aud Married. By Rosa
908 A Willful Young Woman
Nouchette Carey. 1st half... 20
934 Wooed and Married. By Rosa
Nouchette Carey. 2d half... 20
935 Borderland. Jessie Fothergill. 20
20 936 Nellie's Memories. By Rosa
Nouchette Carey. 1st half.. 20
936 Nellie's Memories. By Rosa
Nouchette Carey. 2d half... 20
937 Cashel Byron's Profession. By
20
George Bernard Shaw..
20
911 Golden Bells: A Peal in Seven 938 Cranford. By Mrs. Gaskell.... 20
Changes. By R. E. Francillon 20 939 Why Not? Florence Marryat.. 20
909 The Nine of Hearts. By B. L.
Farjeon..
910 She: A History of Adventure.
By H. Rider Haggard.....
28 28 ÷ 2 2 2 2 2 2
10
903 Phyllida. By Florence Marryat 20
904 The Holy Rose. By Walter Be-
sant...
10
905 The Fair-Haired Alda. By Flor-
ence Marryat....
906 The World Went Very Well
Then. By Walter Besant.... 20
907 The Bright Star of Life. By B.
L. Farjeon..
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are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, on.
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„Die Deutsche Library “
66...
Nachfolgende Werke sind in der Deutschen Library" erschienen:
39 Der Doppelgänger von L.
Schücking..
40 Die weisse Frau von Greifen-
stein von E. Fels....
41 Hans und Grete von Fr. Spiel-
hagen...
42 Mein Onkel Don Juan von H.
Hopfen..
43 Markus König v. Gustav Frey-
tag..
1 Der Kaiser von Prof. G. Ebers 20
2 Die Somosierra von R. Wald-
müller.
3 Das Geheimniss der alten Mam-
sell. Roman von E. Marlitt.
4 Quisisana von Fr. Spielhagen 10
5 Gartenlauben - Blüthen von E.
Werner.
6 Die Hand der Nemesis von E.
A. König.
12 Goldelse von E. Marlitt.
13 Vater und Sohn von F. Lewald
14 Die Würger von Paris von C.
Vacano....
15 Der Diamantschleifer von Ro-
senthal-Bonin...
16 Ingo und Ingraban von Gustav
Freytag
•
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7 Amtmann's Magd v. E. Marlitt 20
8 Vineta von E. Werner.
9 Auf der Rümmingsburg von M.
Widdern..
10 Das Haus Hillel von Max Ring
11 Glückauf! von E. Werner...
20 Gelebt und gelitten von H. Wa-
chenhusen..
21 Die Eichhofs von M. von Rei-
chenbach.
•
A o 2 222 AR-RA 2 A 202 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 202 2 2
22 Kiuder der Welt von P. Heyse.
Erste Hälfte……….
22 Kinder der Welt von P. Heyse.
Zweite Hälfte..
23 Barfüssele von Berthold Auer-
bach...
10
24 Das Nest der Zaunkönige von
G. Freytag.
10
33 Der Heiduck von Hans Wa-
chenhusen..
34 Die Sturmhexe von Gräfin M.
Keyserling.
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35 Das Kind Bajazzo's von E. A.
König..
20
20
20
10
20
17 Eine Frage von Georg Ebers..
18 Im Paradiese von Paul Heyse 20
19 In beiden Hemisphären von
Sutro....
10
20
10
20
10
10
20
10
20
20
10
20
25 Frühlingsboten von E. Werner
26 Zelle No. 7 von Pierre Zacone
27 Die junge Frau v. H. Wachen-
husen...
28 Buchenheim von Th. v. Varn-
büler...
29 Auf der Bahn des Verbrechens
v. Ewald A. König..
30 Brigitta von Berth. Auerbach.. 10
31 Im Schillingshof v. E. Marlitt 20
32 Gesprengte Fesseln v. E. Wer-
ner..
10
20
20
10
10
20
10
20
2 22 2
36 Die Brüder vom deutschen
Hause von Gustav Freytag.. 20
37 Der Wilddieb v. F. Gerstäcker 10
38 Die Verlobte von Rob. Wald-
müller....
20
(1)
48 Bischof und König von Mariam
Tenger und Der Piratenkö-
nig von M. Jokai……….
44 Die schönen Amerikanerinnen
von Fr. Spielhagen.
10
45 Das grosse Loos v. A. König.. 20
46 Zur Ehre Gottes von Sacher
und Ultimo v. F. Spielhagen 10
47 Die Geschwister von Gustav
Freytag...
••
Barnow...
58 Versunkene Welten von Wilh.
Jensen...
59 Die Wohnungssucher von A.
von Winterfeld....
10
20
10
10
49 Reichsgräfin Gisela v. Marlitt 20
50 Bewegte Zeiten v.Leon Alexan-
drowitsch.
51 Um Ehre und Leben von E. A.
König..
52 Aus einer kleinen Stadt v. Gu-
stav Freytag
53 Hildegard von Ernst v. Waldow 10
54 Dame Orange von Hans Wa-
2 2 2 2
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chenhusen..
55 Johannisnacht von M. Schmidt 10
20
56 Angela von Fr. Spielhagen... 20
57 Falsche Wege von J. v. Brun-
A2 A 2 20 202 2 2 2 2
10
20
10
60 Eine Million von E. A. König 20
61 Das Skelet von F. Spielhagen
und Das Frölenhaus von Ĝu-
stav zu Putlitz..
20
10
62 Soll und Haben v. G. Freytag.
Erste Hälfte....
62 Soll und Haben v. G. Freytag.
Zweite Hälfte..
63 Schloss Grünwald von Char-
lotte Fielt..
64 Zwei Kreuzherren von Lucian
Herbert.....
65 Die Erlebnisse einer Schutzlo-
sen v. Kath. Sutro-Schücking 10
66 Das Haideprinzesschen von E.
Marlitt..
67 Die Geyer-Wally von Wilh. von
Hillern.
68 Idealisten von A. Reinow
69 Am Altar von E. Werner………...
70 Der König der Luft von A. v.
Winterfeld....
71 Moschko von Parma v. Karl E.
Franzos...
2 2 2 2 2 2 2 ARA 2 A
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20
20
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10
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72 Schuld und Sühne von Ewald
A. König...
20
20
20
74 Geheimnisse einer kleinen
Stadt von A. von Winterfeld 10
75 Das Landhaus am Rhein von
B. Auerbach. Erste Hälfte.. 20
75 Das Landhaus am Rhein von
B. Auerbach. Zweite Hälfte 20
76 Clara Vere von Friedrich Spiel-
hagen..
77 Die Frau Bürgermeisterin von
G. Ebers..
78 Aus eigener Kraft von Wilh.
v. Hillern.
79 Ein Kampf um's Recht von K.
Franzos.
80 Prinzessin Schnee von Marie
DIE DEUTSCHE LIBRARY.
73 In Reih' und Glied v. F. Spiel-
hagen. Erste Hälfte..
73 In Reih' und Glied v. F. Spiel-
hagen. Zweite Hälfte..
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85 Ein Vierteljahrhundert von B.
Young.
86 Thüringer Erzählungen von E.
Marlitt.
87 Der Erbe von Mortella von A.
Dom...
...
2 2 2 2 2 ARAR
...
10
14.
20
20
20
88 Vom armen egyptischen Mann
v. Hans Wachenhusen....
89 Der goldene Schatz aus dem
dreissigjährigen Krieg v. E.
A. König..
20
90 Das Fräulein von St. Ama-
ranthe von R. von Gottschall 10
91 Der Fürst von Montenegro v.
A. Winterfeld...
...
92 Um ein Herz von E Falk..
93 Uarda von Georg Ebers..
94 In der zwölften Stunde von
Fried. Spielhagen und Ebbe
und Fluth von M. Widdern...
95 Die von Hohenstein von Fr.
Spielhagen. Erste Hälfte.
95 Die von Hohenstein von Fr.
Spielhagen. Zweite Hälfte.
96 Deutsch und Slavisch v. Lucian
Herbert....
97 Im Hause des Commerzien-
Raths von Marlitt....
98 Helene von H. Wachenhusen
und Die Prinzessin von Por-
tugal v. A. Meissner.
99 Aspasia von Robert Hammer-
ling..
100 Ekkehard v. Victor v. Scheffel
101 Ein Kampf um Rom v. F.Dahn.
Erste Hälfte….
10
20
10
20
10
110 Das Spukehaus von A. v. Win-
terfeld...
111 Die Erben des Wahnsinns von
T. Marx,..
10
Widdern.
112 Der Ulan von Joh. van Dewall
10 113. Um hohen Preis v. E. Werner 20
81 Die zweite Frau von E. Marlitt 20 114 Schwarzwälder Dorfgeschich-
82 Benvenuto von Fanny Lewald 10
ten von B. Auerbach. Erste
83 Pessimisten von F. von Stengel
Hälfte...
84 Die Hofdame der Erzherzogin
von F. von Witzleben-Wen-
delstein..
20
22280
10
10
20
20
10
20
101 Ein Kampf um Rom v.F.Dahn,
Zweite Hälfte....
102 Spinoza von Berth. Auerbach. 20
103 Von der Erde zum Mond von
J. Verne..
104 Der Todesgruss der Legionen
von G. Samarow.
105 Reise um den Mond von Julius
Verne...
10
106 Fürst und Musiker von Max
Ring.
• •
..
107 Nena Sahib v. J. Retcliffe. Er-
ster Band....
107 Nena Sahib von J. Retcliffe.
Zweiter Band.
107 Nena Sahib von J. Retcliffe.
Dritter Band..
108 Reise nach dem Mittelpunkte
der Erde von Julius Verne 10
109 Die silberne Hochzeit von S.
Kohn...
Marg Moment i porg wenk
-
114 Schwarzwälder Dorfgeschich-
ten v. B. Auerbach. Zweite
Hälfte..
115 Reise um die Erde von Julius
Verne...
20 130
20 131
116 Cäsars Ende von S. J. R.
(Schluss von 104).
117 Auf Capri von Carl Detlef..
118 Severa von E. Hartner.
119 Eiu Arzt der Seele von Wilh.
v. Hillern..
120 Die Livergnas von Hermann
Willfried..
121 Zwanzigtausend Meilen un-
term Meer von J. Verne....
122 Mutter und Sohn von August
Godin..
(2)
...
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123 Das Haus des Fabrikanten v.
Samarow..
124 Bruderpflicht und Liebe von
Schücking.
Hahn....
10 129 Bakchen und Thyrsosträger
vou A. Niemann…….
Roman von L.
Getrennt. Roman von E.Polko
Alte Ketten.
Schücking.
20 132 Ueber die Wolken v. Wilhelm
Jensen....
20 133 Das Gold des Orion von H.
Rosenthal-Bonin.....
134 Um den Halbmond von Sama-
row. Erste Hälfte..
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125 Die Römerfahrt der Epigonen
v. G. Samarow, Erste Hälfte 20
125 Die Römerfahrt der Epigonen
126
v. G. Samarow. Zweite Hälfte 20
Porkeles und Porkelessa von
J Scherr... . .
127
Ein Friedensstörer von Victor
Blüthgen und Der heimliche
Gast von R. Byr.
128 Schöne Frauer v. R. Edmund
10
20
10
10
2 2 2 2 2
20
10
20
10
20
10
10
20
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DIE DEUTSCHE LIBRARY.
134 Um den Halbmond von Sama-
row. Zweite Hälfte...
135 Troubadour - Novellen von P.
Heyse....
136 Der Schweden-Schatz von H.
Wachenhusen..
137 Die Bettlerin vom Pont des
Arts und Das Bild des Kaisers
von Wilh. Hauff.
138 Modelle. Hist. Roman von A. v.
Winterfeld..
139 Der Krieg um die Haube von
Stefanie Keyser.
110 Numa Roumestan v. Alphonse
Daudet...
141 Spätsommer. Novelle von C.
von Sydow und Engelid, No-
velle v. Balduin Möllhausen 10
142 Bartolomäus von Brusehaver
u. Musma Cussalin. Novellen
von L. Ziemssien..
143 Ein gemeuchelter Dichter. Ko-
mischer Roman von A. von
Winterfeld. Erste Hälfte...
143 Ein gemeuchelter Dichter. Ko-
mischer Roman von A. von
Winterfeld. Zweite Hälfte..
144 Ein Wort. Neuer Romau von
G. Ebers..
145 Novellen von Paul Heyse..
146 Adam Homo in Versen v. Pa-
ludan-Müller..
147 Ihr einziger Bruder von W.
Heimburg,..
148 Ophelia. Roman von H. von
Lankenau..
149 Nemesis v. Helene v. Hülsen
150 Felicitas. Histor. Roman von
F. Dahn..
151 Die Claudier. Roman v. Ernst
Eckstein.
152 Eine Verlorene von Leopold
Kompert....
153 Luginsland. Roman von Otto
Roquette.
154 Im Baune der Musen von W.
Heimburg....
155 Die Schwester v. L. Schücking
156 Die Colonie von Friedrich Ger-
stäcker..
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10
20
10
20
P. O. Box 3751.
10
20
10
20
160 Eine Mutter v. Friedrich Ger-
stäcker.
161 Friedhofsblume von W. von
Hillern..
162 Nach der ersten Liebe von K.
Frenzel....
20
10
20
103 Gebannt u. erlöst v. E. Werner 20
161 Uhlenhans. Roman von Fried.
Spielhagen...
165 Klytia. Histor. Roman von G.
Taylor.
168 Die Saxoborussen von Sama-
row. Erste Hälfte..
20
166 Mayo. Erzählung v. P. Lindau 10
167 Die Herrin von Ibichstein von
F. Henkel…………
168 Die Saxoborussen von Sama-
row. Zweite Hälfte...
169 Serapis. Histor. Roman v. G.
Ebers..
170 Ein Gottesurtheil. Roman von
E. Werner…….
171 Die Kreuzfahrer. Roman von
Felix Dahn.
172 Der Erbe von Weidenhof von
F. Pelzeln.
173 Die Reise nach dem Schicksal
v. Franzos.
174 Villa Schönow. Roman v. W.
Raabe...
175
Das Vermächtniss v. Eckstein.
Erste Hälfte..
175 Das Vermächtniss v. Eckstein.
20
20
10
20
10
20
177 Die Nihilisten von Joh. Scherr 10
10178 Die Frau mit den Karfunkel-
steinen von E. Marlitt...
179 Jetta. Von George Taylor..
10
180 Die Stieftochter. Von J. Smith 20
20
181 An der Heilquelle. Von Fried..
Spielbagen.
10
182 Was der Todtenkopf erzählt,
von Jokai...
20
10
10
20
157 Deutsche Liebe. Roman v. M.
Müller.
158 Die Rose von Delhi von Fels
Erste Hälfte.
10
20
158 Die Rose von Delhi von Fels.
Zweite Hälfte.
159 Debora. Roman von W. Müller 10
20
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•
Zweite Hälfte.
••
176 Herr und Frau Bewer von P.
Lindau
von Paul Heyse..
185 Ehre, Roman v. O. Schubin.
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George Munro, Herausgeber,
22 2 2 2 2
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183 Der Zigeunerbaron, von Jokai 10
184 Himmlische u. irdische Liebe,
å å 90 222 2 2 202 - 2 2 2
186 Violanta, Roman v. E. Eckstein 20°
187 Nemi, Erzählung von H. Wa-
chenhusen....
188
Strandgut, von Joh. v. Dewall.
Erste Hälfte...
188
Strandgut, von Joh. v. Dewall.
Zweite Hälfte……….
189 Homo sum, Roman von Georg
Ebers..
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REV. T. DEWITT TALMAGE, D.D.
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MISS CORSON is the best American writer on cooking. All of her recipes
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