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AMBITION

JUDITH

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THE

AMBITION

OF JUDITH

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THE

AMBITION OF JUDITH

OLIVE BIRRELL

AUTHOR OF

1 ANTHONY LANGSYDE ’ ‘ BEHIND THE MAGIC MIRROR ’

ETC.

LONDON

SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 WATERLOO PLACE

1898

THE

AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER I

Judith’s home was in the ugly street of an ugly town
in the north of England. Until she reached the age
of twenty-one ugliness was her constant portion. She
drank it in, as more favoured children drink in beauty,
and the misfortune was that, little by little, that
craving after loveliness which most human beings
are born with died a natural death in her heart.

On the door-plate of her father’s house the name
‘ Adolf Hermann ’ was engraved, and, immediately
below, these words, ‘ Professor of the Pianoforte and
Violin.’ Hermann was only a nom de guerre, adopted
when its owner came out at London concerts, lest his
real name, Isaac Benjamin, should prejudice a British
public. He was a forlorn-looking man when his
youngest daughter first consciously made his ac¬
quaintance, but in early life some fascination must

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

have belonged to him, or he could never have per¬
suaded pretty Flora Maxwell to run away from her
comfortable home and become his bride. They had
four children—Victor, who went out to the Cape,
where he prospered in a small way, and married a
Scotchwoman; Bertha, who followed her mother’s
example by marrying early and choosing a very poor
man for her husband ; Ludovic ; and Judith.

These two came like afterthoughts when the others
were already schoolboy and schoolgirl. They received
a meagre education, because such prosperity as
poor Hermann ever had was at an end before their
eyes saw the light in Cambridge Street, Bivington.
Mrs. Hermann had struggled hard to bring Bertha up
‘ like a lady,’ which made the disappointment of her
marriage more severe. Perhaps this was the reason
why she never tried to train or educate Judith. Her
spirit was crushed and her heart broken. ‘ We must
bring our minds to our circumstances,’ she sometimes
said; ‘ no use in teaching girls ideas above their
stations.’

The only time Judith saw her mother cry was
when Victor sailed for the Cape. He had always been
her darling. Even the sound of his footsteps re¬
minded her of those happy days when Hope fluttered
in the air, just over her head, and his father and she

ABC

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THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

were still lovers. The babies of later years seemed
like step-children in comparison. Yet Ludovic was a
handsome boy, and a very good-natured one.

The acquaintances of the family never considered
Judith handsome. She had dusky red hair, which
shone like molten gold in the sunshine, and red hair
was not the fashion in Rivington. They sometimes
said that if it were not for her eyes Judy Hermann
would be positively ugly. Judy, they called her,
marvelling, no doubt, that her parents should have
chosen such an objectionable name. The little girl's
eyes deserved the praise they received, being large
and well set, and of a beautiful hazel colour. Her
temper was not her strong point. It could scarcely
have been described as a Christian temper, though it
was the means of giving her a lifelong friend.

She happened to be staring out of the window
(Judy was much too fond of doing this), and spied a
herd of boys on their way home from school.

‘ There’s Lulu, talking to that Slater boy,’ she
said. ‘ I wish he wouldn’t. I hate all the Slaters.’

‘ Do come away from the window,’ objected
Bertha. ‘ It is unladylike to be seen there.’

‘ I am not a lady,’ replied Judy, promptly. ‘ Oh !
see that little pig of a Slater. He is actually fighting
with another boy, a very little one. It is Aubrey

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Crewe, the drawing-master’s son. He has knocked
him down, and now he has pulled him up again and
set him with his back against the wall. Why doesn’t
Lulu do something? They are all standing round,
looking on. See! Aubrey’s face is covered with mud,
and he is as white as a sheet. I declare I will go
myself!

The front door was open and Judy halfway down
the street before her sister knew what had happened.

‘ Oh, you coward! ’ she cried, as she approached
the scene of action. ‘ Slater, you horrid, disgusting
boy!’

‘Miss Judy,’ expostulated Slater, ‘this is not a
time for you to interfere. I am giving him a lesson.’

‘ And I mean to give you a lesson,’ cried Judy,
springing on her foe, and taking him so completely
unawares that he actually fell prostrate, and lay in
the mud as Aubrey had done a minute before.

‘ How do you like that ? ’ she cried exulting. ‘ I
heard what you were trying to make Crewe say.
Now say it yourself—“ I am an ass.” ’

Slater tried to leap up, but she put her little
white hand inside his collar and choked him, so that
he fell backwards once more. ‘ Help me, you fellows,’
he gasped, but no one stirred; that moral cowardice,
which characterises the male species, keeping them

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

inactive now, as it had done in Aubrey’s case a few
seconds before.

‘ Say “ I am an ass,” ’ commanded Judy, ‘ or I
will hold you till one of the masters comes by.’

Slater did not wish to die by suffocation in the
grasp of a girl. He actually choked out the declara¬
tion she wished for, and then staggered to his feet,
looking rather sick.

‘ I will be even with you to-morrow, Crewe,’ he
said ; ‘ and as for you, Judy Hermann, I don’t hurt
you because you are a girl, but I will take
means-’

‘Oh, don’t say anything rash,’ said Judy; ‘and
remember, if you touch Crewe again I will send the
story to the newspapers. Yes, I will! I know Mr.
Smith, the editor of the Evening Planet. He lodges
in our house, and I will ask him to put it in, in large
type, and give all the names, and tell every one you
were knocked down by a girl, and had to say “ I am
an ass ” because you fought with a boy half your size.
There now ! ’

The crowd of boys stared aghast. This would be
an awful piece of revenge on Judy’s part, and yet not
impossible, for Smith did lodge with the Hermanns, and
they could not feel sure that the tale of the editorship
was a falsehood. The affair ended in Slater walking

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

away alone and the rest dispersing gradually, until
Ludovic, Aubrey, and Judy were left by themselves.
Ludovic’s sense of dignity was outraged, and for some
seconds he really could not speak to his sister.
Aubrey also felt ashamed. If a girl could knock
Slater down, why had not he done so ? Finally,
Ludovic broke silence:—

‘ Judy,’ he said, ‘ you are more like a demon than
a girl. I wonder what every one will say. You flew
at Slater and knocked him down when he wasn’t
looking, and then you tried to choke him. That
wasn’t fair. Girls are such sneaks.’

‘ I couldn’t help it,’ said Judy. ‘ I am not strong
enough to fight fair; and if you don’t like my way of
doing things, why didn’t you do something yourself ? ’
Aubrey liked the sound of his champion’s voice
much better when she talked to Ludovic than when
she dictated terms to Slater. He liked her brown
eyes too, and her red hair, hanging in a picturesque
but very untidy pigtail down her back. She turned
to him next.

‘ And you, little new boy, remember next time not
to give in easily. You should have kicked Slater
when he held you, and told him he was a brute and a
wretch, and anything you could think of.’

Aubrey had been leading a dog’s life since his

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

admission into the Rivington College, three weeks
before, because his father had the misfortune to teach
drawing in the same place. He was a bird of strange
feather—thin, delicate, and poor. Vulgarity revolted
him ; bad language made him blush. On those rare
occasions when he was roused to self-defence, his
only method of fighting was to strike with open
hands. The boys called him a sneak because he
spoke politely to the masters, and a booby because
he tried to save a starved cat one of them was
stoning in the street. It is astonishing how miser¬
able a child can be at eleven years old, and how
quickly his spirits rebound with the first gleam of
hope. That morning, before trudging off to school,
Aubrey had wished himself dead. Now, in spite of
natural shame at owing his deliverance to a girl, he
desired that life might be prolonged until he had
seen Judy again.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTEB II

The next time the children met each other was also
in the street. Judy was coming back from her
dancing lesson ; Aubrey had been on an errand to
the ‘ Art ’ shop, where lead pencils were sold, and
drawing-paper and lithographed studies of rural
scenes for beginners to copy.

‘ Tell me how you like school now ? ’ demanded
Judy. ‘ Ludovic says the boys will soon leave off teas¬
ing you. They tease every one at first. It is a pity
you don’t know how to fight. Always double your
fists when you hit any one. I don’t, but I am a girl.’

* Oh, teasing doesn’t matter much,’ said Aubrey,
‘ and they are beginning to tire of it already. But I
hate the school, and I hate Bivington—this part of it,
I mean ; the river’s splendid, only, of course, no one
lives where they can see the river.’

‘ What’s the matter with Bivington ? ’

‘ The streets are so ugly, and there are public-
houses at all the corners.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Not quite all,' said Judy, trying to be impartial.

‘ Look in front of you ! ’

Judy looked, and beheld a large gin-palace with a
dirty white swan (life size) hanging over the entrance
as a sign. Disagreeable women were trailing in and
out; a starved cat picked up some fish-bones from
the gutter; while three wretched children sat on the
curb-stone, patiently waiting, their eyes fixed on the
ugly swing door through which their mother had
passed. It was a loathsome scene, squalor, vice, and
suffering being represented in almost equal pro¬
portions; but so deadened by custom were Judy’s
senses that she scarcely recognised any cause of
offence.

‘ You are a very strange boy. I can’t under¬
stand. All towns are ugly, but people must go on
living in towns. Where did you live before coming
here ? ’

‘ In Italy. Sometimes in towns, more often in
the country.’

‘ Are there no poor people in Italy ? Most of the
streets near our house are poor streets where poor
people live, so they must be ugly.’

i Italy is full of poor people, but they don’t look
as these do. When I heard of poverty I thought of
white cottages with vines growing over them. I

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

never thought of black streets and filthy corners like
these. Oh ! ’

He gave a sigh of disgust, as if his surroundings
made him sick; and Judy decided he was quite the
queerest boy she had ever met.

‘ I wonder whether it would comfort you to see
me dance/ she said reflectively. ‘ Madame Hortense
sends her little girl to my father to learn music, and
gives me dancing lessons in exchange. There’s a
whole class of us, but I dance the best. She says I
am a born dancer.’

Aubrey’s face expressed interest and admiration,
but he was more bashful than she, and did not know
how to reply.

‘ Come to our house this evening and you will see
me dance,’ continued Judy. ‘ I shall be practising
while Ludovic learns his lessons. Bertha plays the
piano for me. When we have both finished we play
cards and dominoes. Have you a sister ? ’

‘ No.’

‘ What a pity ! If you had she would help you
to bear things. But, never mind ! Come and see
us as often as you like. Ludovic will be kind to
you if I ask him. There. Mind you come. Good¬
bye ! ’

Aubrey remembered this conversation years after-

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

wards when the world said Judy was as hard as a
stone, and had no heart worth speaking of. The
sudden softening of voice as she asked, ‘ Have you a
sister ? ’ stayed in his memory, associated sadly
enough with her love for another person. She sym¬
pathised with his lonely state a very little, but it was
Ludovic of whom she thought in putting that question.
He was the source and fountain of love to her. Other
children had mothers who doted upon them. Some
blessed creatures asserted that both their parents
could be counted on for sympathy and kindness.
She had only her brother. It was related of Judy
that, seeing a little girl look unhappy once in the
dancing class, she went up to her and whispered,
4 Is it your brother you are sorry for ? 5

Aubrey understood then and always that Ludovic
came first in her affections, leaving every other
mortal a long way behind. It was a blessing to be
grateful for, that she should adopt him as a kind
of half-brother, and be able to feel an interest in
his affairs. Before long the three children, though
widely dissimilar in tastes and habits, had become
close allies. Judy never read anything in those days,
wise or foolish. Ludovic chiefly confined his atten¬
tion to some old volumes of Punch, which had come to
his father in lieu of a money debt. Aubrey devoured

12 THE AMBITION OF .) EDITH

books as a hungry giant might have devoured
armies of soldiers. His imagination by degrees came
to his aid, helping him to escape from the sordid
vulgar streets into a world where all was beautiful.
Nature never fails to provide these compensations.
If the loathsome swan over the gin-palace caused him
agony which harder children could not understand,
neither could they understand the exquisite joy he
felt on spring mornings when white fleecy clouds
chased each other across the sky. On black days it
w T as easy to leave actual facts behind, and call up
visions of an enchanted land, where Judy and he
shared heart-stirring adventures. In this world of
fancy he always rescued Judy from her foes, but in
Rivington things usually turned out the other way.
Poor little red-haired Judith, who developed each
year a more passionate love of pleasure and of money
which buys the means of pleasure, had still some
elements of nobility in her nature.

One afternoon, when childhood was already slipping
from them, the two boys and she went for a long walk
into the suburbs of the town, to get ideas, Aubrey
said, for pictures. They were all three somewhat
vexed because the eldest of Bertha’s children, a boy
in petticoats, named by his uncle and aunt the ‘Imp,’
would persist in following. When they perched on

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH 13

the top of a railway bank to rest, this small treasure
ran off in search of daisies, and was soon seen on the
rails beneath, just where trains might be expected to
pass. Judy hurried to the rescue, and Aubrey went
slowly after her, his head full of a design he had just
conceived for a large historical painting, ‘ The Execu¬
tion of Mary Queen of Scots.’

They were all standing on the track of the railway,
Aubrey and Judy close together, the Imp still at some
distance, when the whistle of a train was heard.
‘ Run, Judy, run ! ’ cried Aubrey, and made straight
for the bank. It seemed as if some force behind
compelled him to run, as if his desire for safety were
absolutely uncontrollable, like the first cry of a baby
on entering the world. But the strange thing was
that Judy felt no such impulse to save her life. The
very moment he cried ‘ Run ’ she turned away from
the bank, and dashed down the line to save that
foolish Imp. She reached him, caught his frock,
and pulled him to one side where the rails curved,
leaving wider space. A second after, the London
express rushed past and disappeared in the dis¬
tance like a comet with a red star at the end of its
tail, making the ground shake with the swiftness of
transit.

Judy had a headache wdien they went home that

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

evening, but she kissed the Imp more affectionately
than was her wont, and liked him better for the rest
of his life. Aubrey felt crushed and bewildered.

‘ I couldn’t help running,’ he said to Judy. ‘ Some¬
thing forced me. I think I lost my senses. I saw
the engine, and I simply had to run.’

For a long time afterwards his self-esteem was
wounded. He asked himself whether he should act
like a coward in a shipwreck or a fire, and trample
women down to save his own skin, as he had heard of
others doing. Then he wondered why Judy did not
feel that overmastering savage horrid desire to escape
death at all costs. Of one thing he was sure, if she
had felt it, she must have yielded. The explanation
could only be, that she had not felt it. But by what
law of magic was she exempt ? At this point his
reasoning stopped.

As regards outward circumstances the children’s
lives were much on a par. Aubrey’s mother was a
tired, forlorn, domestic drudge like Mrs. Hermann.
He learnt to shiver by anticipation when a postman’s
knock disturbed their dark house. When he carried
an envelope to his parents, he looked nervously to see
if the paper which fell out contained those terrible
words, ‘ account rendered.’ If it did, he knew there
would be misery and tears.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Mr. Smith, the Hermanns’ lodger, was also a
friend of theirs, and used to come sometimes to smoke
a pipe in that empty room which went by the name
of the studio. He was a big, jovial man, with a loud
voice, not easily crushed by disappointment. One
evening Aubrey opened the studio door and over¬
heard a scrap of conversation. His father happened
to be speaking.

‘ I used to think,’ he said, ‘ that it was lack of
opportunity which kept me back. I used to say that
if my people had sent me to Paris to study I could
have reached my goal in life. Now I know that’s not
true. Genius triumphs over hindrances. It is like
murder; it will out. I failed because I had none ;
not a single spark. I have no original ideas. Ho
you mark me ? No ideas. I am only fit to be a
copyist, and that’s as good as saying I am a fool who
had better never have handled a brush.’

‘ Tuts,’ said Smith, ‘ you earn your living by
brushes and paints. Where’s the harm in that, I
should like to know ? The secret of happiness is to be
content with what fortune brings. We start off in
the morning in search of something. We don’t find
it. What then ? Shall we break our hearts and cry
for the moon ? No. Take the second best and pre¬
tend it is as good as the first. I meant to write plays,

1G THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

and I edit a halfpenny newspaper instead. On the
whole I think I prefer the newspaper.’

Aubrey tried to steal away unobserved, but
they heard him, and Smith stretched out his huge
hand.

‘ Come here and tell us what you mean to do with
your life. It lies in front of you. What are your
ambitions ? ’

‘I mean to paint pictures,’ whispered Aubrey,
‘the very best I can. Beautiful ones! Not only
landscape, but faces of men and women. I don’t
mind being poor. I don’t care if no one ever looks at
my pictures. I shall paint them just for myself.
Then I shall be perfectly happy.’

Crewe gave an impatient groan.

‘ I can’t help it, father,’ said Aubrey. ‘ I was
born like that, and, you know, it was you who taught
me to draw.’

‘ I had better have taught you to make chairs,’
said his father, angrily. ‘ Look at him, Smith!
There's an arm for a boy of thirteen. He is like a
plant trying to grow in the dark. Bun downstairs,
and don’t talk such nonsense any more.’

Smith stayed to supper that night, and did his
best to be entertaining, telling such extraordinary
stories that even Mrs. Crewe was compelled to laugh.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

He poured water into a wineglass which had held
claret, and gave it to Aubrey to carouse with.

‘ Drink to your own health, my boy,’ he said, ‘ and
never let despair seize hold of you. “ Lose heart,
lose all,” that’s my motto. No one knows what good
luck to-morrow may bring. Have you emptied your
glass ? Now shut your eyes and wish.’

‘ I have wished,’ cried Aubrey, in a twinkling.

‘ Already ? Well, I undertake to guess your wish.
A box of paints ! ’

‘ How could you possibly know ? ’

‘ 1 made a shot at a venture, and now I will make
another. To-morrow, you will get what you want.’

‘ Don't raise his hopes too high,’ said the anxious
mother. ‘ Aubrey, dear, Mr. Smith is only joking.
Wishes never come true in that easy way.’

But this one did, for the next day Aubrey received
a perfectly new box of water-colours, four or five
brushes, and some reams of drawing-paper.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER III

Years passed, which brought changes into the
children’s lives; most of them melancholy changes.
Judy grew tall, but remained the best dancer at
Madame Hortense’s Christmas parties. The Riving-
ton clerks and small tradesmen, among whom her lot
was cast, were forced to recognise that she had
something uncommon about her. ‘ How queer that
such a plain red-haired girl should turn out pretty ! ’
they said. As she walked along the streets, her
small head poised gracefully on her slender white
throat, men used to turn aside to give a second
glance, and strangers asked who she was. ‘ Is her
hair bright or dark ? ’ they wanted to know, but the
answer was never forthcoming. Sometimes it was a
dusky colour, often it looked like a shower of gold.
Her short upper lip, and nose just a little turned up,
gave piquancy to her appearance, her feet and hands
really compelled admiration.

Ludovic was still her only love, though Aubrey

TIIE AMBITION OF JUDITH

and she remained good friends. His parents died
within six months of each other, and the poor boy
had to go to a merchant’s office to earn his living (a
very meagre one), while his evenings and few holiday
afternoons were spent in the School of Art. This
sort of life might have gone on till he was grey¬
haired, had not the Evening Planet come to the
rescue. That paper prospered so well as to astonish
everybody. Mr. Smith became very rich, fat, and
important; his broad face used to glisten with satis¬
faction when he talked of his paper and the sacrifices
he had made on its behalf. A confirmed bachelor,
he liked to harangue parents on their duties to their
children, quoting Ibsen sometimes, but much more
frequently himself. ‘As I said, last week,’ he would
begin, and people felt compelled to listen, because the
speaker was so big, and had such supreme self-con¬
fidence. Mr. Smith was not a man to take snubs.

One day he announced his intention of sending
Aubrey to Paris as an art student. It then appeared
that an old friend of his, Paul Rochefort, was now
a person of some consequence in the art world, and
had written giving full instructions and advice as to
the best way of educating his protege .

‘ I can’t do anything big myself,’ said Smith, * so
the next best thing is to discover some one who can,

20 THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

and give him a chance. That’s always my principle
in life. Take the next best. And now, young Sir,
are you willing to go ? If you grind on here, yon
are sure of a living, a precious small one, but still a
living. I can’t guarantee that you won’t starve after
your education is finished. I will see you get plenty
of frogs and radishes till then.’

Aubrey’s eyes flashed.

4 1 will go,’ he cried; ‘ I am immensely obliged to
you, and I sha’n’t starve while I have hands and eyes.
There’s always drudgery to be had, even if original
work fails.’

‘ That’s right! ’ cried Smith. 4 That’s the right
spirit! Try for the best, and if it slips through
your fingers take the second best, only don’t let the
world see you crying.’

So Aubrey disappeared, and the house in Cam¬
bridge Street missed him a good deal. The winter
which completed Judith’s twenty-first year, the same
which saw his Paris life begin, was melancholy in
more ways than one. Bertha’s husband failed disas¬
trously in business, and, after much family discus¬
sion, it was decided he should join Victor at the
Cape, leaving his wife and children to board with her
parents during his absence.

‘What lives we shall have!’ said Judith to

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Ludovic, one afternoon in January, when the change
had just been accomplished. ‘ I don’t mind the Imp,
but Georgie squalls all day, and Beatrice is a little
spoilt vixen. I do hate children ! ’

‘ It is rather sickening,’ said poor Ludovic, who
was now twenty-three, a clerk, like Aubrey, but with¬
out a passion for art to make some hours in each
day beautiful. He was beginning to despair of the
future, and would have gone abroad long ago, had
not the parting with his sister barred the way.

‘ There’s one plan by which we might escape,’
said Judith. ‘ If Bertha stays and keeps house, why
shouldn’t you and I go away ? Madame Hortense
spoke to me about it again. Her brother-in-law can
find me work in London. Doesn’t it seem a pity to
lose a second chance ? ’

Ludovic made no reply. Three years before, the
question of a stage life for Judith had been raised,
and her father, rousing himself to unaccustomed
action, had set his face against it.

£ I am twenty-one,’ said Judith. ‘Late, but not
too late in my case. I have been in training ever
since I was six years old. This time I am determined
to choose my own destiny. . . . ’

Bash words ! A double knock crashing against
the front door drowned their conclusion.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Who is this ? ’ exclaimed both brother and
sister. ‘ A carriage and footman.’

Judith hid behind one of the curtains and peeped.

‘ An old lady,’ she said. ‘ Such a queer one—
her face might have been cut out of wax, it is so
yellow and sharp. She looks like a witch and an
empress both in one. Her sables are worth praying
for. Who can she be ? ’

‘ I wish she had not come just now,’ said Ludovic.

He was highly impressionable, and this unex¬
pected visit at the very moment when his sister spoke
so confidently of choosing her own destiny gave his
nerves a shock. It almost seemed as if the Higher
Power which controls human affairs had been
offended and had suddenly intervened. Judy, always
practical, concerned herself only with the earthly
side of the question.

‘ Will Jane go to the door ? ’ she asked. ‘ Suppose
the Imp hears the knock and runs ! ’

This was what happened. Excited by the rare
event of a double knock, the Imp, who usually re¬
fused to render domestic assistance, deserted his
favourite pastime of knuckle-bones, and ran to admit
the visitor.

‘ Yes; Grandmamma was at home, but was upstairs
mending stockings. She would come down in a

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

minute, if the lady would follow him to the drawing¬
room, where he would soon get Jane to light the tire.
Ludovic and Judy heard the sound of steps as the
lady’s velvet mantle followed the Imp’s disgraceful
liolland pinafore down the dark passage into the icily
cold drawing-room.

‘ You must make this room decent, Judy,’ said
Ludovic, ‘ and bring her here. That drawing-room
won’t be warm before midnight, and it is only four
o’clock now.’

Judy flung a muslin curtain over a basket of plain
needlework, pushed chairs into their places, swept up
crumbs from the carpet, and poked the tire into a blaze.
A room which is used as day-nursery, dining-room,
and sewing-room cannot assume a cultivated appear¬
ance in ten seconds. This one did not. The Imp
rushed in as she was at work.

‘ Lady Winter—that’s what she says her name
is; Grandmamma’s sister.’

Judy and her brother exchanged glances.

They knew that the only one of Mrs. Hermann’s
family who had not completely cast her off when she
married was her eldest sister, Lady Winter, but she
had lived in Bombay until her husband’s death, and
since then, by slow degrees, the correspondence had
dropped.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Run and tell Grandmamma,’ cried Judy, white
with despair. ‘ Could anything be worse ? Jane
must be washing odds and ends in the back kitchen.
The steps were not even clean. And the drawing¬
room curtains ! Oh, Lu, what will she think of us ? ’
The unwelcome guest thought at that moment
that she was bitterly cold. The gilt clock beneath its
shivering glass case had stopped at twenty minutes
to two. She wondered when the hre had last been
lit. The muslin curtains looked like ladies after a
ball, and shook, moreover, gently to and fro, showing
that the windows admitted a torrent of draught. In
the centre of the room stood a round table with
illustrated books laid on it, at regular intervals.

‘ This is worse than I expected,’ she said mentally.
‘ Much worse. Flora has sunk to her level.’

It was a theory of hers that people rose or sank
to their natural level, no matter what the force of
circumstances might be. She waited ten minutes,
then the door opened, and a tall, slender young woman,

dressed neatly in black, with wonderful dark-red hair,
came in.

My mother has asked me to apologise for having
detained you so long. She is recovering from a
severe headache.’

‘ You are-? ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

4 Judith, her daughter. Will you come into the
next room ? There is a fire in it.’

Lady Winter was glad to hear the word fire, and
amazed at her niece’s dignity. How strange to meet
this beautiful creature in such bare surroundings, and
how splendidly she did the duties of hostess ! Not a
syllable of apology, no fussiness, no jerking move¬
ments, no little forced laughs. She might have been
born in the purple. Ludovic, tall, gaunt, and hand¬
some, appeared next, and Lady Winter actually forgot
to notice how badly cut his coat was. He looked
much too imposing to be carelessly criticised. As he
placed a stool for his aunt’s feet she actually found
herself apologising, and saying, 4 Oh, never mind ;
don’t take such trouble.’ When at last Mrs. Hermann
crept into the room, the sisters met, with a mutual
start of amazement.

4 You have been ill, Rose,’ said Mrs. Hermann
tremulously.

4 I am ill,’ replied Lady Winter, 4 and so, my poor
Flora, are you.’

While she spoke, the painful incongruity between
their Christian names and their faded wrinkled faces
must have struck her, for she added quickly,- 4 My
name sounds unfamiliar. People should try, when
christening their girls, to choose names which will not

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

be ludicrous in old age. Fidelia (Constance’s daughter
who lives with me) always says Aunt Winter, and I
have not a single intimate friend left to call me
Bose.’

‘ I am usually called Mother, 5 said Mrs. Hermann,
coming close to the fire and seating herself on the
threadbare sofa, while Judith slipped out to make
tea.

‘Your daughter is beautiful,’ said Lady Winter,
directly the door closed.

* Beautiful! Oh dear, we have never thought so.
Ludovic is handsome, and very like our father. Do
you see the likeness ? ’

‘I do.’

‘ Victor is like our family too. My girls both
resemble the other side of the house. But tell me
about yourself. You wrote last from Kiverscourt,
where you meant to settle down, after all your jour¬
neys. Clive’s education was finished, and you and
he were hoping to make a home together, until he
married.’

Lady Winter’s face changed. She actually gasped
for breath, and paused a perceptible time before saying,
in a low voice: ‘ But I did not settle; I began to
wander again. I visited old friends in Bombay, and
stayed some months in Madeira. I went to America

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

ancl the West Indies. I am doomed to be restless.
The longer I live, the more firmly I believe in Fate.
There is no such thing as free agency.’

‘ And Clive ? ’

Lady Winter put up her hands with an appealing
gesture, as if in pain.

‘ Don’t ask me ! I am not. even sure if he is alive.
We parted in some coldness. There was a trouble.
That is all I can say.’

Mrs. Hermann cried silently for some moments.
Her tears always stayed near the surface. One
thought of Victor opened the flood-gates, hut she felt
sorry for her sister too—her rich sister, who proved
to be more unhappy even than she.

‘ I came back to River scour t three months ago,’
continued Lady Winter, ‘ and there I mean to remain.
Just at present I am paying a visit of a week at
Nunthorpe Abbey, and drove over at once to see you.
I want to ask more about your children. Where has
Judith been educated ? Not at a boarding-school, I
hope.’

‘ She has not been educated anywhere,’ said her
mother. ‘ Oh, I have had a terrible fight to bring
them up. Boys must be educated, but girls can get
on by picking up scraps here and there.’

* What a delusion ! ’ cried Lady Winter. ‘ You

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

are deeply to blame, Flora. Of course, you should
have written to me, and stated your difficulties.’

‘ I felt ashamed. And where would have been the
use ? Judith must not learn ideas above her station.’

‘ That depends upon what you call her station.
She is my niece.’

The familiar exercise of lecturing Flora was so
exhilarating to Lady Winter that her spirits rose, and
she looked and spoke as she used to do, in days long
since past.

‘ It is shocking that such a beautiful girl should
have grown up without training. Constance has done
very foolishly by her family too. She married a second
time, you know, and her eldest daughter lives with
me. But the arrangement is not happy. I cannot
understand the prejudices of these modern young-
women. Now, I dare say Judith spends her days
among her own friends, or in visiting the poor, and
neglects you ? ’

‘ In visiting the poor ! ’ cried Mrs. Hermann.
‘ She needn’t go far if she wanted to do that; but
Judith would never dream of such a thing. She is
wonderfully useful. I am sure it amazes me the
amount of work she gets through. But her tastes
are all for frivolity. And lately some idea of coming
out on the stage has laid hold of her. She is an

THE AMBITION OE JUDITH

exquisite dancer. Three years ago her father refused
his permission, but now she is of age, and, I believe,
means to decide the question for herself.’

‘ Flora,’ exclaimed Lady Winter, quite awful in
her compressed indignation, ‘ you really have been
deeply to blame ! ’

Mrs. Hermann burst into tears a second time,
just as the door opened to admit Judith and the
tea-tray.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER IY

4 Your mother tells me you are shockingly ignorant,
Judith,’ said Lady Winter, by way of opening the
conversation pleasantly. ‘ What can you do ? ’

‘ I can read,’ said Judith slowly, as if counting
her accomplishments, ‘and I write—rather badly. I
can sew—a little, and I know that twice two make
four.’

‘ She doesn’t know nine times,’ cried the Imp, who
had followed a plate of muffins into the room. ‘ She
only says up to five times. That’s not enough.’

4 Who is that child ? ’ asked the terrible old lady,
looking fixedly at him.

4 Bertha’s eldest boy. She has two others.
Philip, run and tell your brother and sister to
come-’

4 Not on my account,’ said Lady Winter, turning
again to Judith, and continuing her examination.

4 Can you play and sing ? ’

‘ Not a note.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Mrs. Hermann, on hearing this astonishing false¬
hood, turned pale, and ejaculated ‘ Oh /’ but Judith
gave a side glance to beg for silence, and Lady
Winter observed none of the byplay.

‘ That is odd, when your father is a musician by
profession. You have been very idle ; but you hold
yourself well, and your mother says you are a good
dancer. Of course you speak no language but your
own ? ’

‘ And that very imperfectly,’ remarked Judith.
‘ I am fluent enough, but I don’t know my parts of
speech, and I never learnt the rules of grammar. In
fact, I am ignorant of everything it concerns a young
woman to know.’

She rose up and began to attend to her mother’s
empty teacup, bestowing a pat and a piece of cake on
the Imp as she passed him. Lady Winter seemed
buried in thought.

‘ I think, Flora, it might do the girl good to visit
me,’ she said at last. ‘ For a week or two at first,
just to let me see how she gets on with Fidelia, and
what improvement she makes generally. Then, if I
found there was progress, she could stay six months,
or even a year. I should engage a staff of masters,
and make arrangements for a course of regular study.
By the way, I suppose your children were brought up

32 THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

as Christians? But of course they were. You
would never neglect anything so obvious.’

‘ I may as well tell you at once,’ said Judith, in a
low voice, ‘ that I am not a Christian. And I decline
your invitation. I don’t choose to be educated at
your expense, or to receive the very smallest favour
from you. 1

‘ Judith ! ’ cried Mrs. Hermann, in great distress.
‘ How can you speak so rudely in return for your
aunt’s kindness ? ’

‘Kindness!’ cried Judith. ‘Oh, don’t use the
word. Some gifts hurt just like a blow in the face.
I don’t wish to offend you, Lady Winter. You are
my mother’s sister, and perhaps you don’t understand
how wounding it is to be patronised. But I know
that we can never like each other. You have no real
sympathy with us. You came here to find fault, to
show your superiority, not to share our burdens.
Help given in that way becomes an insult.’

‘ Judith ! ’ cried Mrs. Hermann a second time.

‘ For pity’s sake be quiet! ’

‘ Never mind, Flora,’ said Lady Winter. ‘ There’s
no use in trying to befriend young people. I have
learnt my lesson.’

‘ There would have been use twenty years ago,’
said Judith. ‘ If you had come when I was a little

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

child you might have helped me. But you have left
us alone till the saddest part of our lives is over.
You knew Mother was poor and in bad health, and
hunted down by poverty, and yet you never felt
driven here by the longing to see her. You wrote
patronising letters, scolding her for things she could
not help. You sent advice she wasn’t able to act
upon, and presents which were of no use to us at all.
And now, when we are grown up, for some reason I
can’t understand, you come to call, and find that she
hasn’t been able to pay for education, and insult her
and me by questions and implied blame. I am
ignorant, and I wish to be ignorant. I am not a
Christian, and I never mean to become one. There’s
no need to discuss things any more.’

‘ Am I to understand,’ said Lady Winter, ‘ that
you have adopted your father’s religion ? ’

‘ My father’s people object to Christians as much
as you object to Jews,’ said Judith. 4 That may strike
you as odd, but it is true. They cut him and his
children off a long time ago. We are outside all
religions, Ludovic and I. Bertha might suit you
better, for she has gone over to the stronger side.
She professes herself a convert.’

Lady Winter had looked troubled while Judith
was alluding to their early struggles, and the poverty

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

which had dragged them down. Her thin yellow
hands kept clasping and unclasping each other ner¬
vously. Mrs. Hermann was too terrified to move.
The Imp, who could see no opportunity of distinguish¬
ing himself, had slipped away ten minutes before to
the kitchen. Judith, still wonderfully quiet, began to
collect the empty tea-cups, and put a cushion behind
her mother’s back.

At last Lady Winter rose, with an immense effort,
and turned to Mrs. Hermann. Her face had changed
during the last few minutes. It wore now an expres¬
sion of acute suffering, which seemed out of accord
with those waxen, statuesque features, and was made
doubly pathetic by force of contrast. Either she
cared more for her sister’s family than at first
appeared, or else some terrible memories of the past
had been evoked by Judith’s indignant words.

‘ I am old, Flora,’ she said, ‘ seventy-one yester¬
day, and in weak health. My nerves have had
several severe shocks to bear. These scenes tax all
that is left of my strength. Perhaps I have been to
blame as regards you. I ought to have known your
children earlier. But the years slipped by like water,
and my own anxieties ate me up. As to you, Judith,
I have only two things to say—When I was a girl, it
was never considered the duty of the young to point

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

out their sins and transgressions to the old. We may
have seen them. We never spoke of them, or if we
did, it was under our breath. These ideas are out of
date now. You have given me your frank opinion,
and I know that I seem to you a very cruel woman,
who came here only to poke and pry.’

‘ No, no,’ interrupted Mrs. Hermann, ‘ Judith did
not mean that.’

‘ Yes, she did mean exactly that. And, on the
whole, the new system has its advantages. Better
give open expression to a grievance than nurse bitter
thoughts in the mind, to come out in hatred after we
old ones are dead. You have said all you felt about
me, my dear niece, so perhaps you will have a kind
word for me when I am in my coffin. That time is
not far off. But I must add something more. I have
been young, and remember it, so I can understand
your position. Y r ou have never been old, so it is
impossible for you to understand mine. Youth and
age never meet on equal terms. Good-bye.’

But Judith could not take the hand which was
held out.

‘ Oh, do forgive me ! ’ she said. ‘ I never meant to
hurt you so terribly.’

‘ I should be unreasonable if I were terribly hurt,’
replied Lady Winter. ‘ I have all my life, perhaps,

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

been too autocratic. When I see young creatures
doing their best to make themselves wretched, I can¬
not rid myself of a desire to seize hold of them and
prevent it. The fact is, I am always positive my own
way is best. But this failing we share between us,
and it is surely much more excusable in me than in
you.’

Horrid remorse laid hold of Judith, as if she had
struck a lame person or pushed a blind one into the
gutter.

* I did not understand,’ she cried. ‘ Let me come
and stay with you; I should like to. I can learn a
few things, perhaps. At all events you will see I am
not a savage or a vixen. I shall never forgive myself
unless you do.’

* To-morrow—I will write to-morrow,’ said Lady
Winter. ‘ I must go now. I am very tired. The
carriage is at the door, I think. It is a long drive
to the Abbey. Good-bye, Flora. No, we needn’t kiss
each other as if I were starting for the North Pole. I
shall write to-morrow.’

* What happened ? ’ said Judith, directly the
carriage had driven off. ‘ Did she say I might go to
stay with her or not ? Have I hurt her too much ?
Oh, do tell me what it all means! ’

‘ Something has gone wrong with Clive,’ said Mrs.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Hermann. ‘ She never cared for any one while he
was there. She was thinking of him all the time.
But you behaved shockingly, Judith. I can’t tell you
how I feel about it. I would have given all I possess
to prevent her coming if I had known you would
speak as you did. Now she is offended for life, and I
have lost the only one of my family who has said a
kind word to me for years.’

Mrs. Hermann’s predictions were not fulfilled.
The next day’s post brought a letter from Lady
Winter—

* My Dear Niece,— I am going home on Satur¬
day. After what passed yesterday afternoon I shall
not ask you to pay me a visit, but if you are still of
the same mind you were then, and think you would
care to come, I shall be very glad to take you with
me. Three weeks will show whether we are going to
like each other.

‘ Yours very sincerely,

‘ Rose Winter.’

‘ Of course you must accept,’ cried Mrs. Hermann,
Bertha, and Ludovic, all in one breath. Even the
Imp, not knowing what he was assenting to, chimed
in, ‘ Yes, she must accept.’

So Judith’s fate was sealed, amid family acclama¬
tion.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER Y

It was late in the afternoon of the twentieth of January
when Judith first made acquaintance with her new
home. The day had been full of surprises, but she
was a being who took surprises calmly, and never
allowed any one to guess that her previous life had
not prepared her for them. Riverscourt was the
greatest surprise of all. It was an ancient, weather¬
beaten house, one part of which had witnessed the civil
wars, while another part was comparatively modern.
Judith liked the modern part best. She thought the
leafless trees and smooth velvet lawns in front of the
drawing-room windows very depressing. The soft
blue haze over the distance where smoke was going
up from cottage chimneys, and the delicate outline of
hills could be seen, failed to impress her. There
can be no doubt her tastes were Philistine. Inside
the house she received a positive shock. Dark cur¬
tains, faded carpets, furniture which had known its
best days ! What could everybody be dreaming of ?

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I suppose it is because Aunt Winter only rents this
house that such shabby things are allowed to stay here.’

She made this remark one day to Fidelia, who
bestowed on her a curious inquiring look, as if she
had been a hitherto undiscovered animal, and said,

‘ Oh, don’t you know old things are best ? ’

‘ I didn’t know it,’ replied Judith. ‘ They never
seem so to me. Explain.’

‘ It would take too long,’ said Fidelia, dreamily.

‘ But if old things are best, why not send for new
tables and chairs from Maple’s, and every year they
would grow more valuable.’

‘ No, no, they never could be valuable.’

‘ Why not ? ’

Fidelia remained dumb.

She herself perplexed her cousin quite as much
as the carpets. All the way to Piiverscourt Judith
had been picturing the meeting which must shortly
take place, wondering, rather anxiously, whether her
own shabby frocks and general absence of style
would cause offence or give occasion to merriment.
She supposed Fidelia would receive them in the hall,
and look her over from head to foot, as if pricing
each . article she had on. Madame Hortense never
failed to do that when welcoming a new pupil. But
it was otherwise everything happened.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Lady Winter and she arrived before any one ex¬
pected them, to judge by appearances. They had
tea, and were on the point of going upstairs, when
the drawing-room door opened, and a tall very thin
young woman came in, carrying a cord bag. Her
face was pale, her hands red and frost-bitten, her
eyes had a peculiar fixity of expression.

‘I am sorry I was not at home, Aunt Winter,’
she said, and then Judith noticed her dress was of
the coarsest black serge, made as plainly as possible,'
though worn with extreme neatness. A black bonnet
and waterproof cloak completed her costume.

‘ Don’t apologise,’ said Lady Winter. ‘ I never
expected to see you sooner. Here is your cousin.’

Fidelia gave Judith one of her strange dreamy
looks, and Judith responded with a glance of shocked
pity.

‘ She is wonderfully handsome,’ thought Fidelia.

‘ Aunt Winter will make her as worldly as herself,
unless I get an influence for good.’

‘ She looks as if sixpence would pay for everything
she has on,’ thought Judith; * and her hands are
actually covered with chilblains. Yet, she must have
plenty of money. What does it all mean ? ’

This question recurred frequently, and never
found a satisfactory answer. Other heads, more ex-

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

perienced than Judith’s, found Fidelia hard to under¬
stand. Most of her acquaintances held opposite
opinions. One said she reminded him of the Inqui¬
sition. Another wrote to her twice a day, and kept
her photograph on the dressing-table. Two or three
stood every Sunday, in fine weather or wet, outside
the church door for the pleasure of shaking hands
with her as she came out, while some more, hardly
less intimate, asserted that the touch of her fingers
chilled them to the vitals. Discussions about her
character had been known to keep people up till two
in the morning, and then they separated without
coming to a decision. The poor at River scour t had
no doubts. They thought she was a saint, who
earned heaven by reason of her good works to them.
It must be said they showed great willingness to
assist her in winning merit.

By degrees all strangeness wore off, and Judith
became completely at home in her surroundings,
even the servants ceasing to have any terrors for her.
The life she lived was not an exciting one. Their
most frequent visitor was a nephew of Lady Winter’s
husband, the curate in charge of the parish. Judith,
not being learned in such matters, only apprehended
by slow degrees that the rector was permanently
absent, for reasons not mentioned to his flock. He

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

was never missed. Herbert Winter and Fidelia to¬
gether could have done the work of five parishes
instead of one, and scarcely been exhausted. Their
energy surpassed that of any human beings Judith
had seen or heard of. Most people want to rest
sometimes. They never rested. From early morning
till late at night their hands and feet were constantly
in movement, and when nothing more could be done
at Riverscourt they turned their attention to Deep-
dell, the adjoining village. After one long look at
the new comer, Herbert never showed the least
interest in her. He was a slight spare man, with
sharp features, thin hair, and a remarkably sweet
rich voice.

Another friend who came to see Lady Winter was
Denis Field, the owner of River scourt, and an old
college chum of Herbert’s. It was he who once
said that Fidelia reminded him of the ‘ Inquisition.’
Judith liked him very much, because he was good-
natured, tolerably handsome, and averse to serious
conversation. She regarded him with extra com¬
placency on account of his wealth, which, in her eyes,
seemed magnificent. Until then, life had never in¬
troduced her to a man who owned so many houses
that he was puzzled which to live in.

Besides Herbert Winter and Denis Field, her new

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

acquaintance included a quiet lady of uncertain age,
named Miss Felkin. This poor creature acted as
chaperone to Fidelia, reader to Lady Winter, and
chorus in general society. She was very obliging, and
gave the impression of being an unselfish person, who
felt deeply interested in every event, however small,
that happened in the family. Judith pitied her
enormously, and wondered she had not taken poison
years ago.

Lady Winter showed active kindness to the bird
of strange feather. She sent for new dresses from
London, new shoes, new hats, new gloves, a new
umbrella. Worldly minded Judith, who had never
possessed a complete set of new garments before, was
half out of her senses with joy. Sometimes, in the
course of her twenty-one years, she had been able to
buy a nice dress, but then her shoes had failed to do
it credit, or, if the shoes were all they ought to be, her
pocket-handkerchiefs were in holes. Contrive as best
she might, one part of her dress always blushed to
own the other. Now, for the first time in her recollec¬
tion, she was apparelled suitably from the crown of
her head to the sole of her foot, and the circumstance
justified glee.

One evening stayed in her memory as particularly
blissful. A box had arrived from London, and, alone

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

in her room, dispensing with the help of a maid, she
arranged her beautiful hair, put on a pair of shoes
which might have been made for Cinderella, and then
robed herself in a gown of shimmering cream-coloured
silk. When all was finished, she stood in front of an
old-fashioned cheval glass, and gave a cry of astonish¬
ment. Could that lovely girl really be herself, Judy
Hermann ? There is a story somewhere of a French
woman, who said that the consciousness of having
on a perfectly fitting dress gave her an inward peace
and deep satisfaction which religion was powerless to
impart. Judith shared her feelings in that moment
of supreme self-approval. Then, being on the whole
a nice girl, and not devoid of gratitude, she put out
the candles which had assisted at this function and
went to thank her aunt. Lady Winter surveyed her
with languid admiration.

‘ You look very beautiful,’ she said, ‘ but there is
no particular need to tell you so, for I see you know
it already.’

‘ I wanted to thank you,’ began Judith.

4 Oh, don’t do that now ! Wait ten years.’

Judith went upstairs, thinking about this speech,
and passed Fidelia, who gazed in surprise.

‘ I had forgotten Mr. Field’s ball,’ she said. ‘ You
are going, of course. You need a pearl necklace.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Yes, I do. I have a string of imitation pearls,
but it is horrid wearing shams.’

‘ Oh, do you feel like that ? ’ replied Fidelia. ‘ I
should not mind. Jewels seem to me very evil things;
I had rather wear paste, which cost comparatively
little. My own pearls I sold years ago, or you should
have them.’

‘ You sold your pearls ? ’

‘ Yes, to give to the poor.’

‘ Was not that a pity ? You may need them some
day.’

‘ Never ! ’ said Fidelia. ‘ The whole idea of
decorating ourselves is selfish. We were born with
so much, while others have nothing at all, cruelly
little. I feel forced to give away from my abundance.’

‘ But I was not born with abundance,’ said Judith.
‘ I am one of the poor.’

‘ You were never hungry,’ observed Fidelia, ‘ or
cold, or ragged.’

‘ I have shivered with cold often, and I was gener¬
ally ragged. Hungry ? No. There was always
bread and treacle to be had.’

Fidelia was too serious to laugh.

‘ That is not real poverty,’ she said. ‘ By the
poor, I mean those whose natural instincts are
crushed.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘Then you are the poorest of all/ said Judith.
‘ What’s the use of adding to the numbers of the
restricted ones by making yourself unhappy ? There
is surely no sense in that. If you were a Roman
Catholic, I should understand, for of course we know
they approve of being miserable. But as things
are-’

‘ It is very strange to hear you speak in this way/
said Fidelia gently. ‘ I can scarcely forgive the Re¬
formation for having introduced schism. If we all
belonged to one fold, such bewilderment as yours
would be impossible. The ignorant and unlearned
are forced now to discover religion for themselves;
each one begins from the very beginning. Before
saying “ The sun shines,” we must define the theory
of light. This is what the Reformation has brought
us to.’

‘ I don’t follow,’ said Judith. ‘ What is the Refor¬
mation ? I never heard of it.’

Fidelia blushed a little. It was not her way
to argue, and, besides, Judith’s ignorance was too
appalling. She could scarcely believe it was sin¬
cere.

A few hours later, in an interval between dances,
Mr. Field rallied his companion on her exceeding
thoughtfulness.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘I was thinking about Fidelia/ replied Judith.
‘ Is she a saint, or a little bit out of her mind ? It
must be one thing or the other.’

‘ A mixture of both ? ’

‘No, no; saints are always in their right
minds.’

‘ She is odd,’ said Mr. Field; ‘ Fidelia is

undoubtedly odd. Don’t think too much about
her.’

‘ But she keeps thinking of me. I meet her eyes
fastened on me with such a strange searching look.
And this evening she said my ignorance was due to
the Reformation.’

‘ That’s a good idea,’ said Mr. Field, chuckling.
‘ The Reformation is welcome to my shortcomings.
I haven’t time to read and discuss. It is the labour
of years to tell one’s right hand from one’s left in
these matters. Yes, it is all the fault of that priggish
Reformation.’

‘ But I want to know what the Reformation was,’
said Judith. ‘ I can’t get any one to tell me.’

‘ Oh, you remember how it all came about ? ’

‘No; that’s just what I don’t know. I never
heard of it.’

‘ Never heard of the Reformation ? Oh, Miss
Judith, you must have heard of it.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ But I have not,’ said Judith, pouting. ‘ Should
I ask if I knew ? I want you to tell me.’

‘ I don’t think I can, just now,’ said Mr. Field.
‘ It is such a vast subject. The Reformation—let me
see ! Ask Herbert to tell you. He knows.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTEE VI

At the end of three weeks Judith reminded Lady
Winter that the limit of her visit had come.

'I had better go home now,’ she said.

‘ Do you hate me too much to stay ? ’ asked her
aunt.

‘ No ; I like you more every week.’

‘ Then wait till I tell you I don’t need you any
more, or until your mother telegraphs for you.’

Judith waited three weeks longer. No one had
grown weary of her company in that time. The
house was now full of young people, for all the fami¬
lies in the neighbourhood sent deputations to call
on Lady Winter’s new niece. They asked her to
luncheon parties, and dinner parties, and balls, and
talked of lawn tennis and boating which should be in
the summer.

‘ Who is she ? ’ every one asked. ‘ Why do they
call her Miss Hermann ? She’s not a German, that’s
easy to see.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ She’s perfectly uneducated,’ said some of the
mothers.

‘ But she’s awfully nice,’ replied all the sons.

Judith turned into that marvellous creature, ‘ a
Social Success.’ Her red hair was like Henry of
Navarre’s white plume—wherever it went victory
followed. One great charm was her absence of
affectation. An unaffected beauty is as rare as a
black tulip. Then she w T as kind to less favoured
girls; never trying to steal triumphs from them,
or to show off her own gifts and graces at their
expense.

‘ Oh, I am not in good voice,’ she would tell
people. ‘ I should squall like a peacock if I attempted
that ballad. Ask Miss Vernon; perhaps she will be
good-natured and sing for you.’

When every one laughed at a bon mot of hers, she
cried : ‘ I am not responsible. It was Doris who said
that first. Ask her what she meant by it.’

And the blushing Doris had to defend some jest
which Judith had certainly suggested, if not actually
clothed in words.

At home she was just as good-natured as in
society. Meek Miss Felkin protested at first when
Judith took her letters to the post-box in the hall, and
executed commissions for her in the village.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ My dear/ she would say, 4 remember your
position.’

Judith only laughed. She sat with Lady Winter
to let the companion go out walking. She read
novels and essays aloud by the hour; she made tea
better than any one in the house, and, while doing
these things and fifty more besides, gave the impres¬
sion of being wholly bent upon her own amusement.
It was most mysterious.

* I want to dress your hair differently/ she said
one day to Miss Felkin. ‘ You would look ever so
much prettier if you wore it turned back from your
forehead and waved.’

‘ Pretty ! Oh, my dear ! ’ cried Miss Felkin. ‘I
never could look pretty. It wouldn’t become me.
And who would care to see me with my hair turned
back ? ’

4 1 should.’

4 But Lady Winter ? ’

4 She will be delighted. Let me try. No one as
young as you should wear a cap.’

That evening Miss Felkin came down blushing
like a girl, her whole appearance having undergone
some marvellous change. Even Fidelia saw 4 some¬
thing ’ had happened, but could not discover what it

E 2

was.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘Yon look very well to-day,’ said Lady Winter.
‘I think Riverscourt suits yon. A mild, relaxing
climate is evidently what you require.’

‘ Do you hear that, you foolish dear ? ’ whispered
Judith. ‘ There’s a compliment for me. Now, put
on that old-maidish cap again, if you dare.’

At the end of six weeks desperate longing to see
Ludovic laid hold of his sister’s heart.

‘ I must go home, Aunt Winter,’ she said. ‘ I
can’t exist without him any longer.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ said Lady Winter. ‘Young
men don’t want their sisters hanging round.’

‘ Oh, he’s not that kind,’ said Judith. ‘ He and I
mean always to live together.’

V\fhenever Judy made rash speeches about the
future, some stronger power seemed resolved to inter¬
fere. The words had scarcely left her mouth before
a servant came in carrying a tray with a letter.

‘ What’s the matter ? ’ asked Lady Winter.

‘ He is going,’ replied Judith, in a very low voice,
‘Imdovic—to Buenos Ayres. Oh, I ought never to
have left home.’

‘ Let me see,’ said her aunt; but the words were
clear enough. Ludovic had received an offer of a
clerkship in Buenos Ayres, with a fairly good salary,
and meant to sail in three weeks.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

* It had to come, Judy,’ he said; ‘ I couldn’t have
dragged on at home much longer. Now, don’t break
your dear heart, thinking you could have prevented
this by staying in Rivington. Life has been grisly
without you, but I was fretting a little before you
went. I tried not to let you see how much. In five
years I shall come back. Perhaps before then you
might come out and join me.’

‘ I shall go out with him,’ said Judith.

‘ Nonsense,’ cried her aunt. ‘ You shall do
nothing of the kind. He would be made miserable
by anxiety. Go out with him ! What a mad idea ! ’

‘ I could take care of him.’

‘ No, you couldn’t. Young men have their own
ways of managing. He speaks of living with three
others—Englishmen, like himself. And it is per¬
fectly true that when he comes back his position will
have gone up, and he will be able to command his
own affairs. He has plenty of energy, and a fund of
good sense.’

‘ But I must go home at once,’ said Judith. ‘This
very minute ! His things ought to be packed and
put in order, and I want to talk to him, to say a
hundred things.’

She did go, though not that very minute, having
first promised to return to Riverscourt as soon as his

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

ship sailed. They all felt they could not spare her a
day longer than necessary.

Three weeks of long-drawn-out parting! Who
can describe them ? Lady Winter sent twenty pounds
for the outfit, and Judith added to this sum from her
own savings. Much as she loved money, she loved
Ludovic more. Her joy in her own good fortune was
now sadly tarnished. When her brother met her at
the station, dressed in his shabby overcoat, she felt
annoyed with her own sealskin jacket and sable muff.

‘ You are a Grand-Duchess now, Judith,’ he said,
touching her sleeve affectionately; and tears rushed
to her eyes.

‘ I thought it would be so nice coming home and
showing you my pretty dresses, and the presents I
had for you; but it is not as I expected, at all.’

‘ Things never are, are they ? ’ said Ludovic.

‘ I have money to get you all you need. Aunt
Winter sent twenty pounds, and I have ten more of
my own.’

‘ I thought she hated me,’ said Ludovic, while the
faint shadow of a smile passed over his face. * She
looked as if she did. It is wonderful she should take
any trouble to dress me up. As for your ten pounds,
you dear old Judy, I will put them in a bag and tie
them round my neck and keep them in remembrance

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

of you. They are much too nice to spend, those ten
pounds.’

Judith went with him to choose his coats and
hats, and was very particular about the quality of his
shirts. Every detail passed under her inspection,
while Mrs. Hermann walked helplessly about the house,
and Bertha attended to the cooking of the meals, and
the children. His handkerchiefs she marked herself,
embroidering the letters L. H. with exquisite neat¬
ness. Sometimes, in the midst of her work, the idea
that five years must pass before they saw each other
again caused her to drop her needle and scissors, and
hide her face on the table, in agony too deep for tears.
How can love be kept alive during years of absence ?
She thought of many plans, and discarded them all.
To defy the law of change is a task as hopeless as
reining back the ocean. Mrs. Partington, with her
traditional mop, was not more feeble than Judith.

The last night came, and she packed the box, des¬
tined for his cabin, in that comfortless attic where
they had slept as children.

‘ Poor old Aubrey,’ said Ludovic.

‘ I am glad he is not here,’ replied Judith. ‘ I
must have you to myself this last evening.’

‘ But you will write and tell him everything.’

‘ Oh yes. I will write. I shall be glad to talk to

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

some one who knows you and cares for the past.
Never mind him now.’

A box fell on the floor, and Ludovic picked it up.

‘ What’s this ? Something green and cloudy.’

‘ It is moss agate. Mr. Field gave it to me. I
am putting it in because you will need a place for
postage stamps.’

‘ But, if it was his present ? ’

‘ That doesn’t signify ; he won’t care. I will tell
him, if you like, and ask him not to be offended.
They all gave me presents on my birthday; this
was his.’

4 Bo you care for none of them ? ’ asked Ludovic.

‘ Not a scrap. If you w T ere with me and happy
(not fretting), I shouldn’t mind if every one else were
drowned.’

‘I wish it could be different,’ said her brother,
with a sigh. ‘ I shall want to choke your lover when

he comes, but still-you will suffer so terribly,

and I shall know I have been cruel and-’

‘ Tou couldn’t help wanting to go,’ cried Judith ;
and then she burst into tears, a weakness she had
never allowed herself till that moment, and cried
bitterly, with her arms round Ludovic’s neck and her
lace squeezed against his shoulder. Afterwards she
"wondered if slave women used to feel like this when

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

their best beloveds were divided from them, or the
sisters of soldiers and sailors, who say ‘ Good-bye ’
scarcely hoping to meet again on earth. It seemed
to her that no later joy could compensate such
anguish.

All was over at last; the ship beyond the harbour
bar, and one poor little half-broken heart left to pick
up crumbs of consolation as best it might.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER VII

It was a very quiet Judith who came back to Rivers-
court, so quiet that her friends there regretted the
change. More than any one, Lady Winter regretted
it, and, in order to make a diversion, she took the
unusual step of going to London for the months of
May and June.

‘ Girls ought to see something of the world,’ she
said. ‘ Fidelia loves to bury herself in the country,
but that’s no reason Judith should.’

Judith agreed with these ideas. She wanted to
make the world’s acquaintance, if only for the
pleasure of saying that it was not so attractive as
she expected.

‘ Remember, I shall wish you to carry on your
studies,’ continued Lady Winter. ‘ A lady shall
come to talk French with you. It is extraordinary
not to know French. And you really must attend
some Shakespeare classes.’

Judith thought it her duty to utter a protest, but

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH 59

again her own opinion coincided with her aunt’s.
She felt mortified when French was quoted, making
her ignorance conspicuous. One day Mr. Field com¬
plained that he had no ‘ sang-froid ’ (a great mistake
of his, he had plenty), and Judith innocently en¬
quired, ‘What’s that?’ ‘ Oh, Miss Judith,’ he said,
you know.’ But this time he did not advise her to
ask Herbert, as he had done when the Reformation
was under discussion.

It was perplexing, also, when people spoke of
Hamlet and Ophelia as if they were characters who
lived in the next street, taking for granted that she
had known and loved them for years. Miss Felkin
accompanied her to the Lyceum when she went to
see this play, and her tears were so abundant that
the poor companion felt terrified, never dreaming the
story was entirely new. This lack of learning at all
events saved Judith from the sins of the pedantic
ones, and when she did discover literature her eager¬
ness was comical.

‘ Tell me about Australia,’ she said once to Mr.
Field. ‘ Is the moon really so brilliant that people can
read small print all night long ? Pisistratus says so.’

‘ Who said so ? ’ asked Mr. Field, thinking her
mind had gone astray, till he discovered she was
referring to the novel of ‘ The Caxtons.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I have found such a beautiful poem,’ she told
him on another occasion. ‘ I wonder the whole world
doesn’t talk of it. People talk of such silly poems,
but no one speaks of this. I read it in an album
somewhere. It is called “ Isabella, or the Pot of
Basil.” Have you heard of it ? ’

‘ Yes; I think I have heard of it,’ said Mr. Field,
whose ignorance of poetry was scarcely less con¬
spicuous than her own.

‘ Well, isn’t it beautiful ? ’ I read it aloud to
Miss Felkin, while she was making pot-pourri. Why
doesn’t every one talk about it ? ’

‘ Oh, that is Keats, you know,’ replied Mr. Field.

‘ People don’t exactly talk about Keats; but I wish
you would let me come and listen while you read it,
and Miss Felkin makes pot-pourri. That would be a
treat to remember.’

‘ Oh, I will,’ said Judith. ‘ I love that poem.’

Lady Winter encouraged Mr. Field’s visits, which
grew more and more frequent. He used to complain
that modern young ladies were too clever for him —a
fact scarcely to be wondered at, as he never read any¬
thing but the Standard and the Sporting Times.

Judith’s ignorance kept his own company, and
saved his self-respect. Several times he noticed that
letters came for her with the Paris postmark. Once

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

a pen-and-ink drawing fell out of the envelope, a
wonderfully pretty drawing too.

‘An old friend of mine lias sent me this,’ said
Judy. ‘A sketch of the inside of his room. He is
studying art in Paris.’

‘And he wants you to see what his room is
like ? ’

‘ Naturally. We have been a sort of sister and
brother for years—not real ones —make-believes.’

‘ But you take an interest in him ? ’

‘ Well, of course ! ’ cried Judith; and she told Mr.
Field as much as she herself knew about Aubrey,
until his heart felt rather constricted.

‘ Does Lady Winter know you correspond ? ’ he
said. ‘ It seems to me-’

‘ Oh, she wouldn’t mind.’

‘ But is it fair ? Think of the poor fellow him¬
self. He is no doubt madly in love.’

‘ He isn’t anything so absurd,’ said Judith. ‘ He
knows such things are impossible. He is too poor.’

Mr. Field was very deeply in love himself, but a
slight shudder passed over him when his beautiful
lady betrayed her love of money so obviously.

‘Poverty is not a vice,’ he remarked.

‘It is a bar on marriage,’ said Judith. ‘You
don’t know what it means. I do.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ We can all guess what it means.’

‘ Impossible. Guessing is of no use.’

‘ It means economy and self-denial.’

‘ It means reckless imprudence. When people
are really poor do you think they save ? Not a bit.
There is no motive, when the whole comes to ten
shillings perhaps at the end of ten years.’

‘ Well, saving may be difficult, but I know poverty
means hardship which can be bravely borne.’

‘It means a horrid little house,’ said Judith,
‘ where you can tell each time a meal is cooked. It
means draggle-tailed maids-of-all-work, soiled white
curtains, shabby oilcloth in the passage, mud, omni¬
buses, and degradation.’

‘ Then you would never marry a poor man, how¬
ever much you loved him ? ’

‘ I never should let myself love him. Aubrey
knows that. So our friendship is safe.’

‘ Poor dog ! ’ said Field, compassionately. ‘ I
hope he quite understands that he must never
aspire further.’

Judith’s outspoken appreciation of physical com¬
fort shocked his taste. On his way home he thought
of Fidelia, and her rapt expression and worn-out
garments seemed for the moment perfectly beautiful.
After a while he tried to make excuses for Judith.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

She had no doubt suffered terribly, and her sincerity
atoned for much. A few days later she gave him
still stronger testimony to her truthfulness. They
met at a garden party, and wandered off by themselves,
listening to the music of a brass band at pleasurable
distance.

‘ How picturesque those Hindu women look among
a crowd of Christians like ourselves ! ’ said Field.

‘ I am not a Christian/ observed Judith.

‘Don’t do yourself injustice,’ replied her com¬
panion. ‘ You are a better Christian than most, I
am sure.’

‘ I am not a Christian at all,’ said Judith, turning
her great brown eyes full on his face. ‘ I have never
been christened, only you needn’t tell Fidelia.’

‘ That’s unusual, isn’t it ? ’ remarked Field. ‘ You
are not a Quaker, surely ? ’

And he laughed.

‘ My father is a Jew,’ said Judith. ‘ At least he
was once. Hermann is not his real name. He only
assumed it when he played first at concerts.’

‘ There’s not much in a name,’ said Field, trying
to speak carelessly.

‘ I don’t know about that. My own family name
is not so pretty as Hermann. You wouldn’t like it if
you heard it.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘But as you have not kept your father’s religion,
you might as well adopt your mother’s,’ urged Field.
‘There’s no difficulty.’

‘ There would be in my case,’ replied Judith. ‘ I
couldn’t unless I believed it. My sister did as you
advise. She was christened, confirmed, and married,
all in one fortnight. I had rather choose a stake and
a tar barrel than perjure myself in that way.’

‘ What were you saying to Denis about a stake
and a tar barrel ? ’ asked Lady Winter. ‘ I saw him
laugh.’

‘ I was telling him I cannot believe the Christian
religion,’ said Judith.

‘ Then he did right to laugh,’ replied her aunt.
‘You are sometimes very foolish, Judith. Talk about
subjects you understand.’

Lady Winter was a clever woman, but in this
instance her cleverness was at fault.

Fear of making themselves ridiculous keeps many
young creatures within the bounds their guardians
assign to them. It had no effect at all upon Judith.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER VIII

Very soon after the family returned to Riverscourt
Mr. Field disappeared for a few days—a circumstance
which annoyed Lady Winter more than it ought to
have done.

‘ I hope you have not been trifling with him,’ she
said severely to her niece. ‘ Your behaviour is too
flighty—cold one morning, hot the next. How can
you expect any one to bear with you ? ’

Judith, for once in her life, had no retort ready,
and therefore said nothing. The truth was that
Denis had already asked her to marry him, and she
had replied by the strange request that he should
go away from home for a week or a fortnight.

* I can’t think while he is here,’ she said to
Fidelia, who, oddly enough, had possessed her confi¬
dence on this subject from the beginning. ‘ Of course,

I know I must say Yes ; that’s a foregone conclu¬
sion. But I want to bewail my fate—like Jephthah’s
daughter—among the mountains, for a few days first.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITII

‘ If you feel like that,’ said Fidelia, ‘ you ought by
no means to say yes.’

It makes no difference whom I promise to marry,’
replied Judith. ‘I should hate him, whoever he
was, when the day came round. I believe my
vocation is to be a nun.’

‘ If you think so,’ said Fidelia, ‘ for Heaven’s
sake don’t strangle the impulse.’

‘ But when the time came to renounce the world,
I should love it more than ever,’ continued Judith.
£ Oh, there’s no use complaining. He’s sensible
enough, I am sure, and kind, though at times he
bores me. Aunt Winter says people don’t bore each
other after marriage as they do before. They can
talk about the kitchen coals, I suppose, or settle the
colour of the window curtains.’

When Denis came back from this compulsory
pilgrimage his cause suffered another shock. Lady
Winter’s health was failing.

‘ I can’t think of anything while she is ill,’ said
Judith. ‘ Wait a little longer.’

He waited several months. Lady Winter grew
worse instead of better, fading visibly, though slowly,
before every one’s eyes, and never uttering a word of
complaint. Her chief longing was for a letter which
did not come. She spoke of it, in her disturbed

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

sleep, and looked hungrily at the postman, as he
walked up the drive. When a heap of envelopes was
brought to her, the result of his visit, she glanced
at the addresses, then tossed them away unread.
Judith knew what this meant well enough. Her
aunt and she possessed a common bond. They each
wished for foreign letters, and only one handwriting
could satisfy them. Any other was false coin. But
while many came from Ludovic, Clive remained
silent.

4 He is dead,’ said Lady Winter, quite suddenly,
one day to her niece.

‘ I think he may feel ashamed to write,’ replied
Judith.

She did not ask to whom the pronoun referred,
though her cousin’s name had never been mentioned
since the day she came to Riverscourt.

‘ That’s not possible,’ said her aunt, ‘ not pos¬
sible. If I thought he were living and did not write
to me, my heart would break. I have suffered a
great deal—I must have done, since I can bring
myself to wish he were dead. Ten years of silence !
-Judith ? ’

‘ Yes, dear ! ’

‘ He wanted to marry a girl of no family. Her
father died of delirium tremens. She had grown up

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

like a weed. Her brothers were coarse, half-educated
men. It was perfectly shocking. She married some
one else ; a country surgeon, I believe. Then trouble
came between us.’

‘ I understand.’

‘ He thought I acted a double part, that I
manoeuvred. It was to save him from misery; but
men in love are unreasonable. It is hard that they
should turn against those who have cared for them
from the beginning. I was tossed aside like an old
glove when he gave his heart to this child. Yet I did
all for the best.’

During these melancholy days, and others which
followed, Judith rarely left the house for more than
an hour at a time. If the invalid awoke and found
her gone, she was subject to accessions of terror.
Miss Felkin proved useful, and Catford, the maid ;
but no one equalled Judith. One evening her aunt
called her to the sofa.

‘ I have had a dream,’ she said, ‘ that greatly
comforts me. I thought he came in, carrying a
white lily. He used to be fond of flowers. I said,
“ Oh, where did you get that ? This is not the
season for lilies.” And voices behind, such voices !
sang “ These are they in dazzling whiteness Now I
know he is beyond the reach of trouble. I needn’t

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

fear he is suffering want, or too much hurt with me
to send a message. Oh, I have done him great injus¬
tice ! When I see him I shall ask his forgiveness.
Judith, I am right, am I not, in believing he is dead?
You agree with me, that he is dead ? ’

* Yes, you are right,’ said Judith. 4 He is beyond
trouble, and he has left off being hurt with you any
more.’

From that time, Lady Winter never relinquished
the idea that death explained the mysterious silence
of her son. She often spoke of him, but with great
cheerfulness, going back to the old days before dis¬
cord had arisen between them, and saying that his
presence was constantly about her.

‘ Isn’t it wonderful the way death brings our
friends near us ? ’ she said once. 4 An ocean may
have divided us before, but afterwards, we might all
be in the same room.’

‘I have no experience,’ said Judith. ‘I don’t
know.’

4 Some day you will know,’ replied her aunt, in
the gentle tone which had now become habitual to

her.

These things struck Judith as very strange, in
the light of later events. November went by, sadly
enough, and December began. Christmas was within

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

sight, making Fidelia’s duties more arduous even
than usual. It is possible that she felt a few jealous
pangs at being excluded from the sick-room, where
Judith, the new comer, was indispensable, but her
sweetness of temper and strong principle kept such
feelings under control. Her character never showed
in better light than during these w r eeks of anxiety.
Catford was occasionally irritable, and even the meek
Felkin had moments of vexation, when an untrained
girl satisfied the doctors better than she; but it
seemed impossible for Fidelia ever to remember her
own existence.

On the second of December, when Judith came
back from a ride with Denis, a stout, middle-aged
man passed her in the hall, casting a look of much
interest in her direction as he did so. Visitors were
unfrequent at that hour, and this one puzzled her.
Admiration she now expected, but his glance ex¬
pressed quite a different sort of feeling : immense
respect being the chief element in it. Two days
later, Fidelia detained her after dinner-

‘ Can you spare me a few minutes ? ’

‘ Oh, as many as you like. I always leave Miss
Felkin and Catford to settle the room for the night.’

‘ We are very uneasy, Herbert and 1, about Aunt
Winter. Do you know she has made a new will ? ’

TPIE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I never thought of that ! Was the dark man,
whom I passed in the hall last Thursday, a
lawyer ? ’

‘ Yes. Mr. Severn. He has been asking Herbert
whether we see any sign of mental derangement.’

‘ None whatever. Her mind is as clear as pos¬
sible. She insists that Clive is dead; but I believe
the wish is father to the thought. She has forced
herself to believe it.’

‘ My own impression ! ’ said Fidelia, with the air
of one who was devoutly thankful.

‘ What is the new will ? ’ asked inexperienced
Judith.

‘ Do you suppose Mr. Severn would repeat ? ’ cried
Fidelia. ‘ Why, of course not; he only questioned
Herbert about a conviction he finds rooted in her
mind, that Clive is dead. He asked if we have any
positive proof that this conviction is sound. We
have heard rumours again and again that Clive died
five years ago. His own lawyer cannot trace him.
Letters are lying at his bank now which he has never
sent for.’

‘ He must be dead,' said Judith.

7 #

Fidelia looked doubtful.

‘ His affairs were in confusion, his investments
had failed, his creditors were pressing. There were

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

no reasons why he should write, and a great many
which made it better he should keep away.’

‘ But what will happen ? ’ asked Judith. ‘ I don’t
think I understand.’

‘ You know she has absolute disposal of her for¬
tune,’ said Fidelia, in a low voice. ‘ Clive was only
eighteen months old when his father died. Some of
the money became his, as soon as he was twenty-one,
but a very small portion of the whole. Unless Aunt
Winter married a second time, she was given power
to dispose of the rest as she liked.’

‘ Then what will she do with it ? ’ asked Judith.

Fidelia turned pale, and, struck by anew idea, her
cousin cried—‘ Oh, I see ! ’

‘ You must not say that,’ said Fidelia. ‘ It would
be improper. We have no right to imagine things.
The question now relates to the state of her mind.
When Mr. Severn told her Clive might be still living,
she became very much hurt, and reminded him she
had power to do as she pleased, and would take all
responsibility upon herself.’

Judith stood still, with the appearance of thinking
deeply. Not very long ago her aunt had said, quite
suddenly, a propos, as it seemed, of nothing, ‘ What
would you do if, one day, you were rather rich ? ’ and
she had answered quickly, ‘ Oh, I should bring Lu

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

home.’ Lady Winter had replied by saying, ‘ Tuts,
tuts ; ’ but evidently the idea did not displease her, as
she showed by making Judith a present of twenty
pounds, and telling her to enclose it to Ludovic in her
next letter. Another day some mention was made
of Fidelia, and Judith said, ‘ She is very good,
but we don’t understand each other,’ at which
Lady Winter exclaimed, ‘ No, and you never will;
but I hope there may always be sisterly affection
between you. I have taken care not to sow the
dragon’s teeth. You and she are made equal in
every respect.’

These sayings, and others of a like nature, had
passed over Judith at the time without leaving a
deep impression. She thought her aunt only re¬
ferred to presents of jewellery, but now, after hearing
what Fidelia had to communicate, a new set of ideas
rushed into her mind, causing tremendous tumult
there.

‘ If you and I should ever inherit much money,’
said Fidelia, gravely,‘it will be a terrible responsi¬
bility. Wealth is only given to hold in trust for
others.’

‘ Are we not two of the people for whom we hold
it in trust?’ asked Judith.

‘ I cannot be satisfied with that argument,’ said

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

her cousin; ‘ I never could. No; we ought to sur¬
render everything , even ourselves.’

‘But I want so many things,’ said Judith, in a
timid voice, ‘ and not wicked things. You see I am
not like you. I have had scarcely any pleasures.’

Whenever the thought that she might one day
be rich passed through her mind, a flash of joy fol¬
lowed. She wished she did not feel so strangely
excited.

‘ I suppose I am tired, continued Fidelia, ‘ for at
this moment I feel a desperate desire to live like
other people. Why is it, that I, alone among all
those I know, am cursed with this impulse to struggle
after Perfection ? ’

‘ You do look shockingly tired,’ said Judith. ‘I
wish you would rest.’

‘ Oh, it will be bed-time in an hour ; the clock
struck nine, didn’t it ? ’

‘ That’s always the way, ’ cried Judith. ‘ Herbert
and you work till you are worn out, and can
scarcely stand ; then you crawl to bed, and begin
the same weary round at six o’clock next morning.
It is not right that human beings should live so; it
is not natural.’

‘ No, it is not natural,’ said Fidelia, ‘ but we
are sent here to conquer nature. Sometimes mortal

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

weakness feels tempted to give in. Lately, I have
felt as if I must scream, so tremendous is the effort
to repress self. I am always shivering, not with
hunger or cold. If for one year I could let my
instincts have their way—read hooks, see pictures,
live in golden sunshine, and turn my eyes from
poverty and vice and ugliness—how blessed it would
be ! But this is the wailing of a coward.’

She had risen from her seat, and was walking up
and down the long room, twisting her hands together,
while Judith, who had never imagined, till this
moment, that such moods existed for the calm
Fidelia, looked on in great anxiety.

‘ I used to think life very desolate,’ she said, ‘ but
it wasn’t my own choice that made it so. I had not
turned the key on myself though I did live in prison.
And there was always Ludovic.’

‘ Your soul only admits of one idea,’ said Fidelia,
reproachfully.

‘ Well, he represented love,' said Judith ; ‘ and, if
love is in one’s life, it is impossible to feel starved.
Horribly cross, and jealous, and spiteful—yes—I have
been all three; but when he came in, I wanted to keep
things going somehow, for his sake, and he was such
a dear, he was easily pleased. I polished his boots
often, when we had a tiresome servant, or no servant

TOE AMBITION OF JUDITH

of any kind whatever; lie never found out. Once he
said, “That girl of yours does boots exquisitely,” and it
was I! He would have been angry if he had known.
Of course I never let him know.’

‘ You polished his boots ? ’ cried Fidelia. ‘ You ,
who are so dainty ? ’

‘ I am not dainty when I love any one,’ said
Judith, pirouetting on one foot. ‘It is love that
makes the world go round. Of course it is ! ’

Directly the words left her mouth she wished them
recalled, for her cousin started as if a gun had been
fired at her ear.

‘ You are right,’ she said, ‘ it is love we need; but
not such love as yours, Judith.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER IX

Lady Winter bad two more interviews with Mr.
Severn during the month of December, astonishing
him by the clearness of her perceptions. Only on one
point she obstinately refused to hear argument—
Clive’s name must never be mentioned among the
living. ‘ You believe my son is alive,’ she said to the
lawyer ; ‘ I have a conviction he is dead. But one fact
is certain, and admits of no disputing: I have a right
to do as I like with my own.’

On the tenth of February she had a paralytic
seizure, and began to decline rapidly. Her life
flickered like the flame of a dying candle in its
socket; sometimes seeming as strong as ever, some¬
times sinking to such a condition of feebleness it could
scarcely be recognised as life at all. Next she took
cold, no one could imagine how ; a sharp attack of
congestion of the lungs exhausted her strength, and,
though remedies were effectual and she recovered, it
was evident to all that the King of Terrors was now

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

fast approaching. The sadness of these days was
increased to Judith by the presence of her Aunt
Constance, who travelled post haste from Monte Carlo,
directly she heard Lady Winter’s illness was certain
to prove fatal. Her hard eyes fastened on Judith with
a look of aversion the very moment they saw each
other.

‘ You never told me that girl was here ! ’ she said
to Fidelia ; who replied, ‘ Of course I thought you
knew ! She has been very useful.’

Mrs. Stafford seemed determined to turn her
niece’s presence to good account, sending her on
errands in a manner which Judith hotly resented, and
treating her exactly as if she had been the typical
‘ poor relation.’ Once she handed two letters over her
shoulder saying, ‘ Take those to the post.’ ‘ Yes,’
replied Judith, ‘ I will, when you ask me to do so
like a lady.’ From that time there was open war
between them.

One especial drop of bitterness to Judith lay in the
fact that neither her Aunt Winter nor Fidelia took her
part against Mrs. Stafford, as she considered they
ought to have done. On the contrary, the invalid
tried, in various small ways, to hide from her sister
that Judith had become her chief friend on earth,
always speaking to her with formality when Constance

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

happened to be present. Once she said, in a trembling
voice, ‘ Let Catford come now, dearest. I should like
her best this evening.’ Judith felt amazed, but the
next moment Mrs. Stafford’s voice was audible in the
next room, and she knew the sensitive ears of the sick
person must have caught the sound of approaching
steps before any one else had been aware of them.

Judith’s heart was sorely wounded. She did not
know, then, that extreme weakness makes dying
people shrink even from the beginning of an argu¬
ment. Lady Winter often shut her eyes when her
sister came in, and feigned sleep in order to avoid
conversation.

‘ Keep her out of the room,’ she said several times ;
and Catford, Miss Felkin, and Judith all did their
best, but were generally baffled by Mrs. Stafford’s
persistent ingenuity. When, at last, she succeeded in
forcing an entrance, they used to feel hurt because
Lady Winter never defended their conduct in having-
tried to prevent her coming.

‘ Aunt Winter used to be so different,’ Judith said
to Miss Felkin. ‘ I thought I had never seen any one
so honest and brave. Very often she was imperious,
but that didn’t signify. She liked showing Herbert
Winter how fond she was of me. Does illness always
change people in this way ? ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘My clear, you must be patient,’ replied Miss
Felkin. 4 Lady Winter needs every atom of her
strength to die with; she has none left for discus¬
sion. Yes, illness always changes people; at least,
mortal illness does. We must be prepared for it.
Her heart is yours all the time. I see her eyes
following you wistfully, but she dare not risk a scene
with Mrs. Stafford.’

One afternoon in March, Judith went to the library,
which Fidelia used as a parish work-room, in order to
take a message. As she opened the door she heard
Mrs. Stafford say, ‘ You will keep talking of that
insufferable girl. What has she to do with Clive ? ’
Judith went forward quickly, and her aunt, with a look
of vexation, rose from her chair, slipping a thin
foreign letter into her pocket meanwhile.

‘ I must talk to you another time, Fidelia,’ she
said, ‘ when we can get a moment to ourselves. We
seem liable to these interruptions.’

Judith perceived that Mrs. Stafford was crosser
than usual. She felt certain that her temper must
have been roused by the foreign letter, so hastily con¬
cealed, and also that those mysterious words, ‘What
has she to do with Clive ? ’ were spoken in the same
connection. Her clever wits put two and two together,
and, shooting an arrow at a venture, with the hope of

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

causing annoyance, she asked coolly, ‘ Is it possible
that you have just received news of Clive ? ’

Fidelia became the colour of paper. Mrs. Staf¬
ford cleared her throat twice before answering. If
disdain could have crushed Judith, she must have
fallen, ground to powder, at her feet.

‘ I think family matters had better be left to our¬
selves,’ she said. ‘ But I will satisfy your curiosity
so far—this letter is not from Clive.’

‘ What does all this mean ? ’ asked Judith, di¬
rectly the door had closed behind her aunt. ‘ Yon
never, by any chance, deceive. Tell me, Fidelia, has
any news come from Clive ? ’

‘You must be told everything now,’ said Fidelia,
sadly. ‘Your own ill-regulated temper has brought
this trouble upon you. The letter was not from him,
but it tells us he is living. Colonel Stafford has seen
a man at Monte Carlo, who spoke to him six weeks
ago in Texas.’

Judith sprang a few paces backwards, like a child
who, having thrown down a squib, is terrified at the
result of its ow T n action. In a second she realised
what Clive’s return might mean for herself.

‘ You must not tell Aunt Winter suddenly,’ in¬
terposed Fidelia. ‘ There is a great deal to think
about first.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ But he is alive,’ said Judith, unable to take in
more than one idea.

‘He has changed his name,’ said her cousin. ‘He
calls himself Wentworth. W r e discover, now, that he
made a miserable marriage nine and a half years
ago. His wife is intemperate. He deserted her, but
he is afraid to come home lest she should find him
out and cause scandal.’

‘ How are we to tell Aunt Winter ? ’

‘ Ah ! There’s the point.’

‘ But she must be told ? ’

Fidelia made no answer, only looked at Judith
with her strange eyes.

‘ Do you mean that you-’

‘ We are beginning to think it may be our duty
to keep back this news. It cannot bring real conso¬
lation, and yet it will mean-’

At this point Fidelia suddenly stopped. Judith’s
head turned round and round. She thought she
heard a voice saying, ‘ It means a fortune lost .’

‘We must tell her,’ she cried, and her own voice
sounded strange in her ears.

‘ Let us set things in order before our minds,’
said Fidelia. ‘This matter does not concern our¬
selves alone ; if it did, our course would be clear.
It will affect the welfare of children yet unborn.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Perhaps—who can say ?—it may be our duty to let
Aunt Winter die in ignorance of the truth. By
some strange intervention of Providence, an idea
has taken root in her mind, which has given her
comfort and caused her to do what, in the interest
of others, she should have done long before. It
cannot be the will of God that such wealth as hers
should be left at the disposal of an utterly unprin¬
cipled man.’

‘ He may have improved since you knew him ? ’

‘ The accounts we had to-day show very clearly
that he is just what he always was. No experiences
change Clive. From the very first he had an affec¬
tion for low company; it used to seem incompre¬
hensible in his mother’s son.’

* But I don’t understand; how has he lived all
this time ? ’

‘ Oh, he has ways and means. He knew that if
he came back his wife would trace him, and the
scenes with his mother would be intolerable. He
knows exactly how things stand. There must be
some one in England who keeps him informed as to
the condition of her health, and the people who come
to the house. My mother imagines it is one of the
servants. If so, he may hear any day of Mr.
Severn’s visits, and then, I feel sure, he will write.’

THE AMBITION OE JUDITH

‘ How strange he has not written before ! ’ said
Judith. ‘ It is all so puzzling to me.’

‘ He never dreamt that his mother would alter
her will,’ said Fidelia. ‘ Neither would she have
done so, but for this delusion that he is dead. Oh,
liow T I wish you had not forced yourself into the
secret ! I could have charged my conscience with
the decision—I, with Herbert to counsel me—and
you need never have been burdened. This matter
is too difficult for you ; it involves great risks. We
must do what will help on the cause of righteousness,
and try to forget everything which might hold us

back.’

‘All this bewilders me,’ cried Judith. ‘I can’t
understand ! If it is really a servant who writes to
him, he may be frightened, and come any moment.’

‘ That is true,’ said Fidelia, ‘ in which case we
shall have nothing to decide. But meantime-

‘ Meantime,’ thought Judith, and remembered the
life which was ebbing so fast away.

‘ I want to act without thinking about myself,’
continued Fidelia : ‘ selfish thoughts mislead.’

‘ Oh, don’t talk like that! ’ exclaimed Judith.
‘ Say we keep the truth hidden because we want so
dreadfully to have the money. Don’t say God wants
us to do it, because He doesn’t; of course He doesn’t.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITII

If He did, He would be as dishonest as we are—you
and I.’

‘ You never grasp ideas, Judith,’ said Fidelia.

‘ You believe in nothing.’

‘ I believe it is better to do right than wrong,’ said
Judith. ‘ That’s all I ever did or could believe. If we
hide the truth now we shall have done wickedness, and
some day we shall be judged for it. I think I sha’n’t
care— at all events, I shall have had my life ; the
rest doesn’t signify.’

‘ Y T ou don’t mean what you say,’ replied Fidelia.

‘ It would be too shocking if you did. We must not
rely for guidance on our own undisciplined natures;
we must listen to direction—Herbert can advise us
both.’

‘ If you really and truly believe in direction,’ said
Judith; ‘do you know whereto get it ? Mr. Rain-
thorpe is a clergyman, and much older and wiser than
Herbert. Go to him with this story, and see what he
says.’

‘ Impossible ! We are not in sympathy.’

‘ Is he too honest ? I saw him this morning. He
looks good, not strong, perhaps, but good. I seem to
know what sort of direction his would be.’

‘ I think it is a pity to bring in another person,’
said Fidelia ; ‘ but God forbid that I should hinder any

THE AMBITION OF JUDITII

soul from seeking help. Go to Mr. Rainthorpe, if
you wish, only-’

‘ Do you really suppose I was serious ? ’ cried
Judith. ‘ Why, I know already what I ought to do ;
and to-morrow I will do it—perhaps to-night. When
I go back I will say, “ Clive is in America; we have
heard from some one who spoke to him six weeks
ago.” The truth may break her heart; hut truth
belongs to God, and He must take the responsibility.’

4 Are you so sure ? ’ said Fidelia. ‘ This particular
truth seems as if it owed its existence to the devil.
I don’t mean the fact of poor Clive being still in the
world; I mean that he should still—after years of
probation—remain as incurably selfish as at first.’

1 Then I am lost in confusion,’ said Judith, ‘ and
don’t feel certain of anything at all. I only know that
I am wrapped up in flames! ’

‘ Let me set things before you again,’ said Fidelia.
‘ Clive is an unprincipled man ; of that there can be
no doubt. And he is a cruel one. He has let his
mother live in burning anxiety for years, when a word
from him would have allayed it. There may have
been reasons why the world should suppose him dead,
and leave off looking for him; but no reasons could
apply to her. She would have kept his secret. Now
he will return to claim her money. And she is weak

TIIE AMBITION OF JUDITH

with illness. She will put it all without reserve into
his hands. Think of the misery to our poor people !
Riverscourt is safe with Denis. But we have Deep-
dell to consider. You know nothing of our work there.
It is a miserable place—no church, no school, fit to
be called such ; cottages where human beings ought
not to live. We have been making plans for the
future, thinking of the multitude of things we could
do. Now, in a moment, all is changed. Oh, it is a
sinful law which makes over so many souls into the
power of one human being, let his character be what
it may. And this misfortune we can prevent by
keeping silence.’

‘ And we shall be rich,’ said Judith. ‘ Does Mrs.
Stafford know that Aunt Winter means to leave me
equal with you ? No, I am sure she does not. How
angry she will be ! The girl she scorned, an heiress
like her own daughter. Money is worth everything
else in the world. Why ? Because it brings them all
in its train—Love—Joy—Happiness ; how strange
they should follow gold sovereigns ! ’

Fidelia shuddered. She did not like her cousin
in these wild moods. A creature of law herself, such
ungovernable impulses offended her sense of decency.

‘ I should be good if I had money,’ said Judith.
‘ The virtuous woman in Proverbs would be nothing

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

to me. Only I shouldn’t be prudent, as good people
usually are. I should be very kind to every one, and
shower presents upon them. 'I should help Aubrey—
dear Aubrey! Perhaps I might even marry him
when I was rich. And Lu—I should give him—— I
should send-’

But here, to Fidelia’s amazement, she checked
herself, and turned pale.

* I should send for Lu, did I say ? Yes, of course.
And if he refused to come ? ’

‘You are not well, Judith,’ said her cousin ; ‘the
shock has been too much for you.’

‘ Oh, I am well,’ said Judith, speaking now in a
wholly altered voice, and letting her words drag like
a sleep-walker’s. ‘ Only I wish we could see each
other, just for half an hour ; that I might ask his
advice. But I know beforehand what he would say :
“ Don't do it, Judy; all the money in the world is not
worth a sin.” “ But it is to bring you home, Lu ; it is
to bring you home.” Oh, what will become of me ! ’

She hid her face in her hands and burst into an
agony of tears. Fidelia went to the window and
gazed absently at the leafless trees and lawn slightly
sugared with snow.

‘ I wish I had never heard of the money,’ con¬
tinued Judith. ‘I wish the idea of being rich had
never come into my head. It has stayed there, all

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

these weary days and nights, when every one said I
was so wonderfully kind. And I was kind—I meant
to be kind. I have felt so sorry for her, because she
was alone and in pain, and her money cou]d not do
anything more for her. Have I been half a devil all
this time, when I seemed so good ? Oh, help me !
Do help me ! ’

The cry for help was addressed to no one in par¬
ticular. It was wrung from her lips by extremity of
anguish.

‘ Try to forget the money,’ said Fidelia, gently.
‘ Perpetual dwelling upon personal motives has a
tendency to darken the judgment. Think of the great
issues which are involved in the matter ; think of
the poor creatures in Deepdell; think of the power
for evil which a single word from us may place in the
hands of Clive. I don’t want you to be persuaded
against your conscience. I only want to help you
into the right path.’

Judith did not hear. She had flung herself on
the floor, and was pressing her head against the
window seat. The battle was very unequal. On one
side crowds of hidden impulses, laws of life which she
had never disputed, motives which had swayed her
actions ever since she could remember. On the other,
only a dread of displeasing Ludovic. And the money
would bring him home.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTEE X

The cousins met next morning at nine o’clock, hav¬
ing each passed a sleepless night. They were always
alone at this hour, Mrs. Stafford breakfasting in her
own room by preference. Judith ate nothing, and
pushed away her home letters unopened. It was
evident the secret was still on her heart. Fidelia,
who had been to church, looked even more deathly
than usual. The pretence of a meal ended, they
stood for a few minutes in silence on the hearth-rug;
then Judith turned round, with questioning eyes.

‘ I have talked to Herbert,’ said Fidelia. ‘ I laid
the whole case before him, and his advice is to wait a
few days. If our information is true we shall hear
from Clive himself before long. It would be cruel, in
Aunt Winter’s present state, to tell her suddenly that
he is alive and has not written. She consoles herself
by imagining he is dead. When he writes or sends a
message it will be time enough to tell her; our duty
will then be clear. Let us wait five or six days.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ And perhaps before then-’

‘ We are in God’s hands,’ said Fidelia.

Judith turned impatiently aside.

‘ Do you know what all this means ? Herbert
and you are a couple of cowards, letting “ I dare
not ” wait upon “ I would.” That is the sum of the
whole matter.’

The day dragged on. About five o’clock Judith
w 7 ent dow 7 n the drive to meet the postman, who some¬
times at this hour brought letters from abroad. Her
hope was not disappointed. He gave her a thin,
foreign envelope, but when she looked at the writing
terrible fear seized her, for it w T as not Ludovic’s. She
tore the cover open, shaking from head to foot.
Happily the first words were reassuring as to her
brother’s safetv. The letter did not come from Buenos
Ayres at all.

‘ Dear Miss Hermann,— I hope that, before now,
you have heard of the existence of your cousin Clive.
He has heard of you, and is glad to have an oppor¬
tunity of thanking you for all the kindness you have
showm at Biverscourt. A circumstance, which I will
not enter into, has made it impossible for me to come
home. This will soon be changed. Meanwhile I
shall be gratified if you will give my mother the

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

letter I enclose. If, by evil chance, it arrives too late,
burn immediately, unopened. There are reasons
why I judge it best to address her through you ;
but these will keep until we see each other. I hope
Mrs. Stafford stays at a safe distance, and that my
sweet cousin, Fidelia, is occupied with the poor. The
less you see of either of them the better. If they
describe me as a stage devil, with horns and a tail,
you can believe half; if Herbert and Fidelia are as
intimate as they used to be, take care to act with
discretion. Separately they can be despised ; together
they become dangerous. The partnership of a Knave
and a Fool has perils for honest men.

‘ Clive Vy 7 inter.’

Judith read this letter by the waning light of the
afternoon, cold chills of disappointment making her
heart beat more slowly than usual as she did so.
They had now no shadow of excuse for doubting
Clive’s existence. He was alive, and would soon be
with them. She was too restless and ill at ease to
think in the open air. The least movement among
the leaves proved harassing, and the flowers of the
laurestinus seemed to look at her like the faces of
forsaken outraged friends. They were favourites of
Aubrey’s. The Christmas before leaving for Paris he

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

had painted some on a card, and sent them to her,
with a few lines of his own composing. Aubrey’s
verse was not equal to his draughtsmanship, but served
for Christmas cards. Judith tied from the laures-
tinus, and the pale cold blue of the March sky, into
the vast empty dining-room.

That morning, in spite of all her indignant words,
she had felt glad to be urged to wait. Waiting meant
time gained. Now Herbert and Fidelia (cowards as
she called them in her heart) would never have
courage to keep up their policy of silence. They
would read that letter with white, set lips, and give
up all they hoped for in abject submission. Had not
Fidelia said, ‘ Our duty will then be clear ? ’

‘ Not a bit clearer than it was yesterday,’ thought
Judith. ‘ We knew Clive was living then. There’s
nothing in the letter to comfort his mother; but
they will say it makes all the difference. They wish
what they have not courage to do.’

Then she checked herself, and glanced round the
room, for, inadvertently, some of her thoughts had
been uttered half aloud.

‘ Where are you, Judith ? ’ asked Fidelia’s voice.
‘ Oh, in the dark ! I have been searching in your
room, in the garden, in all sorts of places. I never
supposed you were here.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Suddenly, as she came in, Judith crushed a piece
of paper and hid it in her dress.

4 Aunt Winter has been asking for you,’ said her
cousin. ‘ She seems unusually well this evening.’

«JA -J/. vl/. slA «J/_

*7t* 7F vF vF vt' “7F

‘Where have you lingered, Judith?’ said the
weak voice, anxiously. ‘ I sent half an hour ago.
Some one has changed the position of the furniture
without my knowledge—the sofa stands against the
opposite wall.’

‘ We did that some time since; it is more con¬
venient there.’

‘ But I don’t like changes I have not been asked
about, and now I want to have the black cabinet
opened. You will find a few of my mother’s letters
in it, tied up with green. Take them out and burn
them while I watch you.’

Judith did as she was desired, and then came to
the side of the bed. This sudden display of vitality
in the invalid filled her with astonishment.

‘ Is there anything else I can do for you ? ’ she
asked.

‘ No; not just now. Sit here and talk a little
while. It is strange how my mind runs on the past
this evening—the far-off past—about which I don’t
often think; my mother uppermost all the time.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

How odd, if an old woman like me, on the edge of
the grave, began crying for her mother ! Yet I never
needed her as much as I do now.’

‘ You were only sixteen when she left you,’ said
Judith ; whose quick tact told her that Lady Winter
wished for an excuse to talk about the subject of
which her thoughts were full.

‘ Yes ; barely sixteen. People said I was heart¬
less then ; but, if so, I made up for it afterwards. I
missed her when I married, and when my boy was
born, and when my husband died, and every day of
my life since. I miss her now, though I dare say you
think I am foolish to talk in this way.’

'No, dear; I understand.’

‘ Did any one call this afternoon ? ’

‘ Only Herbert.’

‘ I had an idea, in the course of the afternoon,
that the house was crowded with people—just a
sick person’s dreams, I suppose. I imagined I heard
footsteps moving about, and carriages driving up, and
once I could have felt sure that some important dis¬
cussion was going on; the air seemed heavy with
great matters. These are strange fancies—why do
you sigh so often, Judith ? ’

‘ Did I sigh ? ’

‘ Yes, most wearily.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I was thinking, and my thoughts made me
sad.’

‘ Tell me what they were. I feel able to listen
and talk so well this evening.’

Judith turned pale. If she said ‘ Clive has
written,’ what would happen then ? Would she be
glad or sorry, this dying woman, whose eyes were
turned so hopefully towards the invisible world, where
she trusted to see her son ? Perhaps sorry. Then,
in a little while, she would send for Mr. Severn, and
tear up the document which made no mention of
Clive. This very evening it could be done.

From the hall, where Fidelia was practising Gre¬
gorian music, the deep swelling notes of the organ
floated up to them, and, after a few minutes, the
sound disturbed Lady Winter.

‘ I don’t like those melancholy chants,’ she said.
‘ Ask her to leave off playing. No ; let Catford take
the message. I want you to stay with me. By-and-
bye I should like to hear the Lord’s Prayer, and
then, perhaps, you will bid me good night—only, look
in again, just before you lie down.’

They sat in silence, until Lady Winter put out
her hand and gently touched Judith, who knew an
ordeal lay in front of her. Somehow or other she
must force herself to repeat the words of the Lord’s

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Prayer. There was no use hesitating; it simply had
to be done.

‘ Why do you wait ? ’ asked her aunt. ‘ I only
asked for the Lord’s Prayer. You understood me,
didn’t you ? ’

‘ Yes, I understood. I will try.’

Her lips moved, but no sound came from them.
It was extraordinary. Nervousness must quite have
paralysed her faculties. Yet, when she rose and ex¬
claimed in despair, ‘ I will ask Fidelia to come,’ her
voice was natural enough.

‘ Did you ask for me ? ’ said Fidelia, who came in
at that moment.

‘ Yes, Aunt Winter wished for the Lord’s Prayer.
I can’t remember it.’

Without a sign of surprise, Fidelia knelt down
and repeated the prayer. Judith felt as if she had
never heard it before, so intense was the light now
flashed upon its meaning. When her cousin said,
in the conventional voice appropriate to such occa¬
sions, ‘ Deliver us from evil,’ she with difficulty sup¬
pressed a faint shriek. Yet, at the end, she dared
not say ‘ Amen.’

‘I am sure you are still very unhappy,’ whispered
Fidelia, on bidding her good-night, in the passage outside
their rooms. ‘Would it not be of use to see Herbert ? ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I tell you I hate him, and I hate you, and
I hate myself,’ cried Judith. ‘ No; I shall not see
him.’

‘ If you could repeat the prayer we have just
said five or six times,’ urged Fidelia.

‘ Would not once be enough ? ’ said Judith, as she
closed the door of her room.

When Fidelia came back from early church next
morning her fears were excited by seeing signs of
trouble among the servants. They told her their
mistress had been suddenly taken ill, and a mes¬
senger had gone for the doctor.

‘ Is it another seizure ? ’ she asked.

But no answer appeared forthcoming, so, with
some timidity, she went upstairs and ventured into
the sick-room. Judith, who was kneeling beside the
bed, turned round quickly, raising her hand with a.
gesture which commanded silence. Her awe-struck
expression stayed in her cousin’s memory, never to
be forgotten. Mrs. Stafford soon came hurrying in,
Miss Felkin and Catford were already there, and
before long the doctor also joined them. But the
hand of the dying woman lay in Judith’s. To her
she had turned her face in the first shock of sudden
calamity, half an hour before, and towards her she
continued to look, blindly, when the light of the eyes

THE AMBITION OF .TUDITII

was already darkened. It seemed as if the room
contained only those two.

Gradually the breathing became faint. There
was a pause, one sobbing sigh, and then profound
stillness. Fidelia knew the end had come when she
saw Judith’s head fall forwards on the pillow.

100

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTEB XI

Lady Winter was laid to rest in Biverscourt Church¬
yard, one bleak March morning. Numbers of duties
fell to Fidelia’s share, as Judith shut herself up in
her room, refusing to come out or see any of the
family. She knew that General Winter, her uncle
Colin’s last remaining brother, an old man of
seventy-five, had joined the circle. Colonel Stafford
was also in the house, and another relation, younger
and more sprightly than either of these, Lancelot
Wood, the son of Sir Colin’s sister, an author of
notoriety. The will was an immense subject of
interest, but also of cutting disappointment. Herbert
and Lancelot received five thousand each; Mrs. Staf-
ford, two thousand, with some valuable lace and a
Dresden china dinner service. Six thousand went
in gifts to hospitals and in small legacies, and the
rest was divided between Fidelia Beresford and
Judith Hermann, burdened only with the necessity
of paying an annuity of a hundred guineas to Miss

101

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Felkin. The Staffords were loud in their wail when
they heard what a meagre portion had been assigned
them.

‘ Only two thousand ! ’ said the Colonel. ‘ Why, it
is less than the companion has. And those two
girls going off with a hundred thousand between
them. I never heard of a more scandalous arrange¬
ment.’

‘Rose must have lost her self-control,’ said his
wife, ‘ and all he] 1 powers of judgment. The Hermann
girl completely mastered her. To think of such an
underbred, common creature being equal with my
daughter ! Why, wealth to her will be only a mis¬
fortune.’

* And we could have done so much with it,’ said
Lancelot, completing the sentence in an undertone.

‘Yes,’ said General Winter, who overheard him,

‘ the Staffords show very bad taste. At the same
time, 1 confess I don't understand things; in fact, T
may as well own, I fail to grasp their meaning-
altogether. There’s no mention of me in the will
from first to last. One likes to be remembered at
these times. I don’t need money, thank God; but
a book, or a picture, or a piece of plate just some
trifle—to show I was not forgotten. It was a singular
oversight of my sister-in-law’s.’

102

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I suppose you have left her some important keep¬
sakes,’ remarked Lancelot.

‘ No, I have not,’ said the General. ‘ The idea
never once occurred to me. She didn’t often write,
or remind me of her existence, and she had every
mortal thing she could possibly need, five times over.
Why should I leave her anything ? ’

‘ Oh, no reason at all,’ said Lancelot.

‘ I take your meaning, Sir,’ replied his uncle.
‘ When there is anything you can teach me it seems
as if the time had come for me to quit the world.
One would like to do so with some shred of dignity.
And now, instead of discussing trivialities, it would be
better if we thought of Clive. Rumour says he died
five years ago, but positive proof has never been forth¬
coming. If he is alive there will be trouble here
before long. He won’t sit down quietly under a blow
like this.’

‘ He must be dead,’ said Lancelot.

‘ How do you know that ? His wife believes him
to be still alive. She had the audacity to write me a
begging letter. It seems he made over to her a sum
of money five years ago, on condition of being un¬
molested. She has lately left England and gone to
relations of hers in Guernsey. Clive stayed abroad
to avoid her. This news may bring him home.’

THE AMBITION OE JUDITH

103

‘I shall go soon,’ observed Lancelot, uneasily.

‘ No reason whatever to keep me. Only I want to see
Miss Hermann. People say she is handsome ; a red-
haired beauty. I dote on red hair ! Where in the
world is she ? ’

The question had been asked many times before
Judith made her appearance. It was not until the
morning of the Staffords’ leave-taking, when their
boxes were already in the hall, and they themselves
were standing equipped for the journey, that she
came slowly downstairs and walked into the library.
Herbert and Fidelia were amazed at the alteration
which had taken place in her appearance during the
last ten days. They felt as if they suddenly realised
her beauty for the first time, and those in the room,
who had never seen her before, received a positive
shock of surprise. Her cheeks had lost their round¬
ness, but this only seemed to bring out more dis¬
tinctly the fine moulding of her features and the
beautiful curving line from ear to chin. Her eyes
looked larger, her expression was hard, almost defiant,
and she bent her head, in answer to greetings, as if
she were a Queen and every one else a subject, who
must keep the distance prescribed.

* Why, she’s the most beautiful woman in the
world,’ whispered the impressionable Lancelot, all in

104

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

a flutter and a fuss. ‘ There is positively nothing to
wish different. What a complexion ! What wonder¬
ful eyes ! And her hair ! How do the lines go ?

Hair in heaps lay heavily
Over a pale brow spirit pure.

But she doesn’t look spiritual. I shouldn't wonder
if she had a devil of a temper. You never told me to
expect anything so marvellous.’

‘ I never saw her before,’ said Herbert.

His words were almost literally true. He always
looked at women’s faces as little as possible, and his
first glance at Judith had failed to impress him. It
was difficult to believe that this pale, proud creature
was the ignorant unsophisticated girl whom Fidelia
and he had discussed, criticised, and now and then
condescendingly approved. Meanwhile Fidelia shrank
from her cousin, with feelings which bordered on
terror. All the tales she had heard of possession by
evil spirits and demoniac agency flew to her mind,
refusing to be driven away. This was not the Judith
whom she had known, but another.

The Staffords disappeared, followed shortly by
Lancelot. General Winter remained, and was useful
in reading letters, telling Fidelia the initials of cousins
for whom presents were designed, and also in helping

THE AMBITION OF JUIMTH

105

Herbert, who was sole executor. Judith stayed a
great deal in her own room, and on those rare occa¬
sions when she did come downstairs remained obsti¬
nately silent. A fortnight had passed in this way,
enlivened only by visits from Denis, when the peace
of the household was suddenly disturbed.

One evening, after dinner, the entire family
collected in the drawing-room. The General fell
asleep in his easy chair, Herbert and Fidelia dis¬
cussed parish matters in low voices, while Lancelot,
who had invented some plausible reason for coming-
down to Biverscourt, from Saturday till Monday, to
look at Judith, was trying to make her look at him;
no easy matter. She had lately developed a passion
for needlework, which served her in good stead this
evening, as it enabled her to bend over an embroidery
frame and avert her eyes from his face.

All at once a noise of arrival was heard outside,
wheels grating on the gravel, and a bell loudly rung.
The General started up in his chair, saying, ‘ Who’s
that ? Who’s that ? Some one for me ? ’ Herbert
and Fidelia checked their conversation, Judith let
her heavy frame slip to the floor. Five minutes after¬
wards the butler threw open the door, announcing
‘ Mr. Clive Winter.’

‘ Clive,’ repeated his uncle, uncertain if he were

106

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

awake or still dreaming. ‘ God bless my soul! Is it
Clive ? ’

* Clive! ’ echoed Herbert, making two steps forward.
‘ When did you reach England? Why haven’t you
written ? You take us by surprise.’

‘So it seems,’ said Clive. l l might be the ghost
you hoped I was, you all look so terrified. Cheer
up, Uncle Eoderick. Where is Fidelia hiding ? Is
this the only welcome you have for me ? ’

‘ We are glad to see you,’ said Herbert. ‘ Come
to the fire and let me help you to take off your coat.
The wind is keen, but it is warm indoors.’

Judith, who remained at the other end of the
room, saw that her cousin was a strongly built man,
above the medium height, with dark brown hair,
very thick and disposed to curl, a complexion much
tanned by the sun, and restless, uneasy eyes. Judging
from their expression alone most people would have
supposed he had just done something to be ashamed
of, but, oddly enough, his mouth, which was delicate
and refined, seemed determined to give his eyes the
lie, and tell another history.

‘ Your cousin, Judith,’ said Herbert, trying to be
master of the ceremonies.

Clive bent his head, with a furtive glance in her
direction.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

107

‘ Take this chair,’ continued Herbert, putting one
out officiously.

‘ Don’t excite yourself,’ said Clive, patting him on
the shoulder. ‘ I can attend to my own comfort.
You are getting middle-aged, Herbert. You fuss
more than is seemly. * There-sit down.’

He pushed his cousin into the chair destined tor
himself, and remained standing.

‘ When did you reach England ? ’ asked General
Winter.

‘ Yesterday. I waited in London twenty-four
hours, because I had the child with me. He can’t
travel fast.’

‘ You have a child ? ’

‘ Yes ; he is here now. I gave him to one of the
maids. I couldn’t leave him behind in an hotel.’

‘ God bless my soul,’ repeated the General.

‘ Now,’ continued Clive, his face darkening, ‘ I
want some questions answered. I know already that
I have come too late.’

‘ Ten years too late,’ said Fidelia’s quiet voice.

‘ I sent a letter before me,’ he went on, paying her
no attention—‘ a letter to Miss Hermann, enclosing
one for my mother.’

Judith had been waiting for this moment, already,
as it seemed, half a lifetime.

108

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ You did ; I received the letters.’

‘ And you gave one to my mother ? ’

‘ No.’

‘ She never saw it ? Am I to understand that
you kept back the letter ? ’

Every one waited. Herbert and Fidelia—who
heard of this correspondence for the first time—looked
alarmed. General Winter stared, beneath his heavy
white eyebrows, at Judith’s face. She hesitated
scarcely an instant, then said, in a distinct voice,
‘ It came too late.’

‘ You never mentioned this,’ said Fidelia. ‘ I
heard of no letter—did it come that last morn¬
ing ? ’

She had a distinct recollection of coming down¬
stairs a few minutes after her aunt’s spirit had passed
away, and seeing the letters lying in a heap on the
sideboard, instead of being placed beside her own
plate and Judith’s on the breakfast table. Her cousin
had instantly seized and divided them. The circum¬
stance seemed very natural at the time, as the ser¬
vants were all preoccupied. Heath breaks every rule,
and throws the most conventional household into
temporary disarrangement.

* Hid the letter come while my aunt was actually
dying ? ’ asked Herbert. £ That was strangely sad.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

109

She died at half-past eight in the morning, Clive, just
after the early celebration.’

‘ I am waiting for my cousin’s answer,’ observed
Clive.

‘Yes,’ said Judith, ‘ it happened in that way.’

For a second the room seemed to turn round.
Her sense of shame was so overpowering she won¬
dered it did not reveal itself in her countenance, and
proclaim her a liar before them all. That stage in
evil had been reached when it becomes well-nigh
impossible to turn back. How could she confess that
the letter had been in the house fifteen hours before
her aunt died ? What would they say ? What would
they think ? Easier to go on deceiving for ever than
to tell the truth now.

Yet there were heavy risks involved in keeping
silence. An inquiry at the village post-office might
elicit facts. She remembered, with relief, that foreign
letters came too often for her to excite comment, and
most likely no one had observed the mark. If the
worst should come to the worst, it would only be the
word of the letter-carrier against her own.

Clive turned his face to the fire and digested this
information as best he might.

‘ I was too long in writing,’ he said at last. ‘ But
each day I hoped to be able to start myself. Things

110

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

have gone badly with me. I came directly I was
free.’

< It has all been unfortunate,’ said his uncle ;
‘ most unfortunate. My poor boy, you have painful
news to hear.’

Clive shot another of his sidelong glances. He
rarely looked any one straight in the face.

‘ I have heard the news already, I was told in
London. And Severn drove up with me from the
station just now. I wired to him to meet me.’

‘ I may as well say at once,’ said Herbert, ‘ that
I don’t intend to profit by this will. The whole of
my five thousand is yours, my dear Clive—on one
condition only—which need not be spoken of at this
moment.’

‘ Bravo, Herbert ! ’ said his cousin. ‘ You are not
changed, I see ; just the same conscientious fool you
always were. Thank you; I will take those five
thousand pounds.’

‘ On one condition,’ repeated Herbert.

‘ Oh, hang conditions ! ’ said Clive. ‘ Now, to the
kernel of the matter. Ho you people—knaves and
fools included— all think seriously that I am going to
rest content and leave things as they are ? ’

‘ I am afraid,’ said General Winter, ‘ that you
will be obliged to leave things as they are. I say

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

111

afraid , because, from my heart, I am sorry for you,
and I hope some amicable arrangement may be come
to. But the case, as it stands, admits of no dis¬
puting. Your mother was of sound mind when she
made her will. Severn and the Doctor both testify
to that. The only circumstance which looks strange
is the fact that she asserted positively you were dead.
But after ten years’ silence she was justified in form¬
ing that opinion, and many reports-’

‘ Ten years’ silence ? ' interrupted Clive. ‘ Oh,
don’t exaggerate my sins ! I wrote to my mother
twice during that time. Once, I admit, the letter
was given to a very shady character to post (I
couldn’t help myself; I was ill just then), and he
very likely forgot all about his duties. Perhaps he
stole the money I gave for the stamps. In any case,
I believe the letter was lost. But the second time I
had an answer.’

* An answer ? ’ exclaimed Fidelia.

‘From your mother, my sweet cousin,’ replied
Clive. ‘ You know probably what sort of answer it
would be. She said she was deputed to write, as her
sister was too ill to do so herself. The post-mark was
Naples.’

‘ It is true that Aunt Winter had a terrible ill¬
ness at Naples, two and a half years ago,’ said

112

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Fidelia. ‘ Her life hung on a thread, and the physi¬
cians dreaded agitation of any sort whatever.’

‘Exactly,’ said Clive. ‘But I should like to
suppose my letter had reached her, for I believe I
was more affectionate than usual when I wrote it.
Some of the facts it contained no doubt were dis¬
tressing, and at first I thought she was too much
offended with them to care to answer. I waited
weeks and weeks, but no notice was taken of me or
my misfortunes. So it came to pass that, the next
time I wrote, I directed the envelope not to herself,
who might be in the hands of unprincipled per¬
sons, but to Miss Hermann, of whom report spoke
honourably.’

A terrible silence followed these disclosures.
Fidelia sat with her eyes on the ground. Herbert
and his uncle tried to look at the opposite wall.
Judith sickened and turned faint; she was not alone
in her transgression. Some one shared the guilt
with her, and that some one was the person she
detested more than any other. Mrs. Stafford and
she were henceforth linked by a horrible bond.

‘ It may be true,’ continued Clive, ‘ that I shall
lose my case, if I dispute the will. But I warn you
all, that I am resolved to fight. At least, I shall
have the satisfaction of showing you up in your true

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

113

colours. When this fancy that I was dead caught
hold of my mother, did any of you send out to search
for proofs ? The evidence of my existence was not
far to seek, if you had honestly looked ; it lay very
near your own door. One of my letters was sup¬
pressed—who knows if the second one were not
also ? 5

‘ That’s an insinuation you have no right to
make,’ said Herbert, quickly.

‘ No one has accused you, my good hoy,’ said
Clive. ‘ We know who is the leading spirit here.’

Fidelia rose and came across the room, looking
more livid than usual.

4 1 have borne with a great many insults,’ she
said. ‘ I can bear no more. It was my purpose to
recompense you for the disappointment you have suf¬
fered. Your insolence makes this impossible. Were
I now to give up part of my legacy the world could
only say that I did so to escape investigation. Under¬
stand, then, that I mean to keep the money your
mother has left me, and I challenge you to prove
that I have acted dishonourably.’

‘Good,’ pronounced Clive. ‘What does Miss
Hermann say ? Is she anxious to court inquiry ? ’

His sarcastic tone brought the blood into Judith’s
face.

114

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I have nothing to be ashamed of,’ she said, with
distinct emphasis.

After that she knew the path of retreat was
closed, and that her steps went straight in the
direction of infamy. As Clive looked towards her
his eyes caught side of Wood, and he broke imme¬
diately into a wild laugh.

‘ What, you there ! ’ he exclaimed. ‘ You don’t
usually lie as low as you have done this evening.
No need to be chicken-hearted. You are the only
person to whom I don’t grudge some of my father’s
money ; you need it so desperately. There, come
out and speak for yourself. Don’t hide like a rabbit
behind the piano. Look at him, Uncle Roderick.
These saints have hoodie-doodled me out of my
inheritance, because they think I am a fiend incar¬
nate, and the result is that Lancelot, whose record
I would blush to own, has gone off with a slice.
Don’t be alarmed, Lancelot; I won’t tell tales. Be¬
sides, they wouldn’t believe me. Haven’t you pub¬
lished a volume of Poems in praise of the Virgin ?
That’s enough to whitewash the devil’s reputation
here. Only I had rather have my conscience than
yours—many thousand times rather.’

General Winter rose from the chair in which he
had been sitting, and laid his hand on Clive’s arm.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

115

‘This altercation had better cease,’he said. ‘It
becomes ignoble. My counsel, Clive, is to take
Herbert’s offer (which is just and generous, and
what I should have expected from him), and let the
past sleep. You have a son, who will live, I hope, to
cherish his father’s name. Don’t let him grow up
under the shadow of a great scandal. If you come
before the public with your wrongs, you must be
prepared for the story of your life being dragged into
the light of day; unless I greatly mistake, there are
persons living who will take care it is so dragged. For
the sake of your child rest contented at present, and
when my will comes to be opened you will find I
have not forgotten you.’

Clive’s face changed. Those who looked saw a
heavy cloud steal over it. Perhaps he had been
acting a part up to this moment, secretly conscious
that he dare not press his claim, yet willing to
deceive his cousins if, by so doing, he could frighten
them into surrender. Perhaps the facts Severn had
told him required time to be fully grasped, and the
General’s words suddenly brought their meaning
home. What he meant to say in reply no one ever
knew, for a child’s voice was heard in the hall, and
a curious halting step, not like a child’s. Then the
door was opened, and a little boy, about six years old,

116

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

with a pale olive-coloured face and large black eyes,
came in.

‘ Father,’ he said, ‘ we are too late, you and I
We ought to have come a great many years ago.’

The tones in which he spoke had a rich pene¬
trating sweetness, quite peculiar, and not easily for¬
gotten.

‘ You are right,’ said Clive. ‘ You are always
right, Rosny.’

‘Because Tip is dead,’ the child went on. ‘ Poor
Tip ! He died one hard winter, and is buried beneath
an ash-tree in the woods. I shall never see Tip.
Isn’t that a pity, Father ? ’

‘ Yes, I am sorry. I should like to have shown
you Tip. But there are other dogs in the world for
you to play with.’

‘ Not one whom I know so well,’ replied Rosny.

He had reached his father by this time, and, hold¬
ing him tightly, turned round to look at the new
relations.

‘ Come and talk to me,’ said Herbert, stretching
out his hand. ‘ I can tell you stories of Tip and
Coco, the New Forest pony. Is he a friend of yours
too ? ’

Rosny shook his head, quite declining the in¬
vitation.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

117

‘ The poor child is tired,’ said Fidelia. ‘ Come
with me, little man, and I will see about some supper
for you,’

But he shook his head again, and they saw tears
beginning to gather.

‘ The journey was too much,’ suggested Herbert.

‘ He always knows what to do,’ said Clive, and, as
if to bring out the hidden point of his words, Rosny,
who had caught sight of General Winter, suddenly
went forward, and laid one hand gently on his knee.

‘ You have a very intelligent little son, Clive,’
said the old man ; ‘ but what is this ? Has he hurt
himself ? He walks as if he were lame.’

‘It is nothing,’ exclaimed Clive, ‘nothing at all,
I assure you. The muscles on one side are weak, for
the present. But when he is older they will come
right. You are not always going to be lame, are you,
Rosny ? ’

He stooped over him while saying this, and
kissed his cheek a great many times. Herbert and
Lancelot both came to the conclusion that Rosny’s
mother was not the wife on whose account Clive had
avoided his native land for so many years. They
also thought it probable that she was Spanish or
Portuguese: the child’s appearance suggesting a
mixture of foreign blood. General Winter may have

118

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

known more than either of them, but his expression
was very friendly as he looked into the great tired
eyes of the little traveller.

‘ He is well grown,’ continued Clive, ‘ and not too
slender for his age—five and a half.’

‘ Six in four days,’ said Rosny.

‘ Well, six, then. But his colour is good, and, in
short, I am not uneasy about him. He was a deli¬
cate baby, and did not do much till he had begun his
third year. Now he makes up for lost time.’

Every one present, except General Winter, was
too deeply engrossed with personal matters to observe
the tone of bitter anxiety with which Clive defended
his little boy.

‘You should be careful,’ said the General: ‘ long-
journeys are not good for such young brains. Get
him to bed as quickly as you can.’

‘ I am not sleepy,’ cried Rosny, ‘ bed is a dull
place; let me stay here. I want to know about
the bullets.’

He lowered his voice to a whisper in saying the
last words.

‘ What bullets ? ’

‘ Father said when you came home from India
you had five bullets inside you, and they took them
all out except one.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

119

‘ That’s true; and if your father can tell me
exactly where the last one is I shall be very much
obliged to him.’

‘I mean to be a soldier,’ said Rosny, still speak¬
ing in a whisper. ‘ All my friends are soldiers. I
mean the fancy friends I talk to when I talk to my¬
self. One of them is more than a hundred years old,
the youngest is sixty. They have fought a great
many battles, and have bullets inside them, and stars
on their coats. I know their names and their faces,
and-’

‘ Why don’t you have young friends,’ asked the
General, ‘ as young as yourself ? ’

‘ I like them to be old. If they were young they
couldn’t have fought so many battles. I am old too,
when I talk to them ; I am always old when I dream.
And talking to fancy friends is the same almost as
dreaming, isn’t it ? ’

Rosny held General Winter by his coat and
looked eagerly at him, as if fearing he might vanish
into air. The sight of a grey-haired soldier, alive
and breathing, was a marvel evidently too great to
be believed.

‘ The child dreams waking and sleeping,’ said
Clive. ‘ And yet I don’t think he will be a soldier,
for all this talk. He couldn’t go to sleep one night,

120

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

because he had killed a fly by accident. A lost cat
brings him to tears. In fact, though I blush to own
it, he is a born sentimentalist.’

Fidelia, who considered it necessary that the sins
of the fathers should be visited on the children,
observed Clive’s son with genuine surprise, mingled
perhaps with disapprobation. Weak and unhealthy he
undoubtedly was, a circumstance which might point
to hereditary punishment; but his expression revealed
a nature touched to fine issues, and his head was
nobly shaped. Many sons of saints would have com¬
pared unfavourably with him.

‘ Listen, Eosny,’ continued his father. ‘ I want
you to sit by the fire in the hall and watch the clock.
When the hands have moved ten minutes, you must
come and tell me. Do you understand ? ’

‘ I don’t want to leave yon,' whispered Eosny to
the General.

‘ Ah, but I have reasons,’ said Clive.

The child slipped from his friend’s knee and went
out of the room, with his usual halting step. For a
second or two after he had gone no one said a word.
General Winter broke the silence first.

* Fidelia,’ he began, ‘you now know more of your
cousin’s circumstances than you did an hour ago.
The little boy is my brother Colin’s only grandson,

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

121

his last representative. Will yon pass over the dis¬
courteous treatment you have received, and treat him
generously ? ’

Fidelia’s mouth contracted ; all the obstinacy of
her nature had been evoked. ‘ I cannot feel sure of
the child’s lawful claims,’ she said. A deep blush
accentuated the meaning of her words.

‘ Good God, this is too much ! ’ said Clive. ‘ My
son shall never stoop to pick up a farthing of your
ill-gotten gains. Keep the money you have perjured
yourself to win. You think you are doing God ser¬
vice in robbing me that you may endow His church.

It may be true ; perhaps He is on the side of knaves.
But, if so, let me be damned in the company of honest
men.’

Judith came a few steps forward, and then moved
back. Her heart was beating wildly. She wished to
say, ‘ Take my share of the money, Clive; it is
yours and Rosny’s. I abhor the way in which
Fidelia is acting. We have no right to a fortune
which would never have been ours had the whole
truth come to the light in time.’ But shame kept
her silent. Could she add hypocrisy to her other
sins, and claim virtue at the expense of a woman far
less guilty than she ? Lancelot also hesitated, shield¬
ing himself behind the larger offenders.

122

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

*1 have only to say, as I said before,’ broke in
Herbert, ‘ that all I have to relinquish is yours,
Clive, on condition that the will is not disputed. I
don’t know what your further plans may be, but if at
any time you want to send Rosny home for educa¬
tion, I shall be glad to act as his guardian. He is
the worst sufferer by all that has taken place, and
you do right in acknowledging openly the claim he
has upon you.’

‘ Many thanks for your approval,’ said Clive. ‘ I
am deeply obliged. Understand, once for all, that I
am immensely fond of my son, and not an atom
ashamed of the circumstances which gave him to me.
The habit of preaching, Herbert, is a fatal one ; cure
it as fast as you can.’

Herbert had scarcely swallowed his anger, and
the reply which rose to his lips, before Rosny came
back.

‘ Your ten minutes are nearly over, Father,’ he
said, ‘and I am rather tired. The hall’s so dark ;
there are places I am afraid to look at. Riverscourt
is different from what I had fancied. Let us go back
to the ship.’

His pale little face seemed paler and smaller than
ever, and its anxious expression was painful to watch.
A child may sometimes look unhappy for a few

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

123

moments without injury to itself or others, but to
see one devoured by anxiety is an experience which
ought to make us angry with ourselves and the
world.

‘ We shall go back to-morrow,’ said Clive, lifting
him up. ‘ Come, I will carry you to bed.’

Kosny’s head sank on his father’s shoulder. He
was completely tired out.

‘ Good-bye, Uncle Roderick,’ continued Clive.
‘ Good-bye, Herbert. You have behaved like the
gentleman you are; that I freely own. If I accept
your offer it is on account of my son. Were he not
to be thought of I would toss my reputation to the
winds and have the comfort of pulling some sancti¬
fied hypocrites down to social ruin with me.’

As he shut the door behind him Judith fell faint¬
ing to the ground.

124

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER XII

While Judith had been living at Riverscourt, Aubrey
was working hard in Paris. The news of her increase
of fortune came to him through a paragraph in the
Evening Planet, heavily underlined and posted by
Smith. When he knew his old friend was an heiress
his heart sank not a little. Her letters up to this
time had been kind, and even affectionate, but never
confiding. It is true Judith possessed no skill in cor¬
respondence. She might take a pen between her
fingers, but it always refused to become the vehicle
of her thoughts. In consequence, she was one of
those people who must be seen frequently if friend¬
ship is to last. During her visit to London Aubrey
received two beautiful photographs—one of herself
alone, one in which she was represented as reading
to Lady Winter—and these kept the fire of love
burning far more effectually than her commonplace
letters.

After Lady Winter’s death she ceased to write

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

125

altogether, and the second piece of news came, like
the first, through Smith.

‘ They tell me,’ he wrote, ‘ that Miss Judith Her¬
mann is making a sad rumpus because her brother
won’t cancel his engagement and come home to live
on an allowance from her. The young fellow would
be a fool if he did. I am informed that there was
danger of a law-suit, when this will of Lady Winter’s
became known. Her son is not dead, as was sup¬
posed. I understand, on good authority, that the
principal legatees each paid ten thousand down to
pacify him and avoid lawyers’ fees, the rest paying
in proportion, so he has netted a round sum. Some
say thirty thousand, others forty. However, as I
am not in possession of figures, I have hesitated to
speak of it through the press, only inserting a para¬
graph dubiously worded.’

Not long after came another letter.

‘ Miss Judith is going to live in London, with a
certain Miss Felkin as companion. She has refused
one offer of marriage already. They say the gentle-
mam proposed, and was half accepted, before her
Aunt’s death, when she was a penniless, uneducated
girl. Uneducated she is likely to remain, but the
other fault is cured ; so, naturally enough, he is angry
that she should say “ Yes,” then, and go back upon
her word now. Women are heartless jades.’

126

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

On the whole, Aubrey was pleased with this intel¬
ligence, and wrote to Judith more openly than he
had done for weeks. The letter received no reply.
In the summer following her change of fortune he
made a short visit to Kivington, but very little con¬
solation was forthcoming there. The house in Cam¬
bridge Street stood empty, the Hermanns having
moved to much more comfortable quarters, where,
however, poor Adolf had quickly succumbed to in¬
fluenza. Bertha and her mother still clung together,
and told Aubrey the Imp was a comfort to them.
Ludovic had risen rapidly in the opinion of the firm
which sent him out, and they both were of opinion
that he did right in declining a share of Judith’s
money.

‘ Lu was always so independent,’ said Mrs. Her¬
man ; ‘ as a child he never would accept my hand
over crossings.’

‘And Judith is only getting possession of this
fortune gradually,’ added Bertha. ‘As yet she is
even a little hampered for ready money. A large
estate can’t be wound up quickly. Then, who knows
what the next turn of events may be? Ludovic has
acted wisely.’

‘ Where is Judith, now ? ’ asked Aubrey, in a con¬
strained voice.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

127

‘ She is in Switzerland with Miss Felkin, and may
go on to Italy. Her nerves were exhausted hy Lady
Winter’s illness. She can’t sleep, it seems, and likes
to be constantly travelling.’

‘ She wouldn’t marry Mr. Field,’ said Mrs. Her¬
mann, laying her hand on Aubrey’s sleeve. ‘ Though
he is a nice man, and so much in love. But Judith is
not a scrap worldly. She will wait for the right man
and the suitable offer.’

Poor Mrs. Hermann felt early romance revive,
now that poverty no longer held her in its iron grasp.
She hoped Judith would marry Aubrey after all,
because he had once been poor, and never would
despise the family or snub them w T hen they came in
his w r ay.

He went back to Paris very much duller and
sadder than when he started on his holiday; and so
finished, under many disadvantages, the second year
of his study there. Smith had reason to be satisfied
with the progress his protege had made, for by this
time Aubrey could support himself. He illustrated
children’s hooks, sent home sketches for the Planet,
and scorned no work, however humble, if it brought
honest remuneration and did not hinder the main
purpose of his life.

The following spring, just after the anniversary

128

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

of Lady Winter’s death, he came to London, with
two pictures which were ready for exhibition, and
made inquiry after Judith. She had taken a fur¬
nished house for the season, and answered him kindly
enough, when he proposed calling upon her. Hitherto
he had always associated every one of the name of
Hermann with a happy-go-lucky method of existence,
but, on being shown into Judith’s drawing-room to
wait, his ideas received a shock and were forced to
readjust themselves.

On the walls hung beautiful copies of Italian
pictures, a brass effigy of an abbess sitting in a
chair—evidently part of the spoil of a sacked convent
or desecrated church—-caught his eye, and even the
curtain covering the door was a piece of ancient
tapestry, with exquisitely blended colours. A book,
bound in olive-green calf, lay open on a small mother-
of-pearl table, but when he ventured to glance at the
title page he saw, to his amazement, that it was a
copy of Dante. Could it be possible that Judith had
joined the ranks of the educated, and become a
student of Italian ? As he looked and wondered, a
light step came on the carpet behind him, and sud¬
denly her mischievous eyes, dancing with fun, were
raised to his.

‘ Are you astonished ? Did you think you had

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

129

called at the wrong house ? No, it is mine—that little
volume which has taken away your breath.’

She was very beautiful—more beautiful by far
than memory had told him. Either he had forgotten
or else she had changed. Well, that was likely
enough; two years and six months had passed since
they last saw each other.

‘I am not surprised now,’ he said; ‘nothing you
can do would surprise me.’

‘ There’s a well-turned compliment,’ replied
.Judith; ‘a charming compliment. Only I don’t
want you to utter sweet and false phrases. I should
be better pleased if you laughed, and said, “ Oh, you
ridiculous Judith, do you think your brains can re¬
ceive the meaning of Dante ? ” Why did you let the
old brown copy at home sleep unopened on the attic
shelf ? ’

‘ It was a very uninviting copy,’ said Aubrey. ‘ I
often took it up and threw it down again. I can’t
read Italian well now; I have had no time to learn.’

‘Last winter,’ continued Judith, ‘Miss Felkin
and I spent three months in Italy. We went to Rome
and Florence and Siena and Perugia, and ever so
many other places, and saw lovely pictures and
statues and churches, till my head and heart and
brain seemed too small to take in all the loveliness

130

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

there was. Then I discovered the depths of my
ignorance, and I sent for books and began to read
and study and ask questions. And I ended by find¬
ing out that a wonderful world exists, into which I
might have gone long ago, if I had only understood
how to open the door. You knew all about it, Aubrey.
I remember little things you used to say which
prove that you knew. And that is why Rivington
ugliness and stupidity never ate into your soul as
they ate into mine. You seemed to suffer more, but
your suffering was only on the surface. In a single
moment you knew how to escape to a region where
everything was interesting. Isn’t that true ? ’

‘ Partly true. I read more than you, and I could
paint.’

4 Do you remember one perfectly odious day,
when we were coming back from St. John’s Market
(imagine the audacity of naming a market after
St. John !), and a dirty Irish woman sold you some
daffodils and pale-green leaves for twopence ? You
carried them home and put them in a vase and
painted them. Were you not happy then ? When
you had finished the picture you wrote underneath,
“ Daffodils, with the green world they live in.” And
Lu and I were so ignorant, we supposed the lines
were as much your own as the picture.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITII

131

‘ That was a mistake! ’ said Aubrey, breaking into
a laugh.

‘ Yes ; but see how happy you could make your¬
self in the midst of vulgarity and coarseness. Wher¬
ever you went, some shape of beauty moved away the
pall. I remember, chiefly, that mud lay seven inches
thick in the streets that afternoon, and the shops in
the London Load were selling off horrid hats and
bonnets with flaming artificial roses. You only saw
your daffodils.’

‘ Well, you have escaped from poor old Rivington
now! ’

‘ Yes, yes ; I don’t know why I am saying all
this—perhaps to excuse myself. Those sordid years
have left their mark.’

‘ Do you know a great many people ? Do you
visit, and go about much ? ’

‘ Oh yes. Some of the Riverscourt set are in
town now. And General Winter is here. He doesn’t
like me, but I go to his house because of his daughter
Violet. His wife was a great heiress, but she is dead,
and he lives alone with his daughter. Some day I
will tell you about her-’

‘ Is it not a fancy of yours about General Winter ?
He couldn’t possibly dislike you.’

‘No, it is true; it is not a fancy. Ever so many

132

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

people dislike me. They think I am hard and selfish,
and calculating, and have no soul worth calling such.
I am horrid sometimes, Aubrey. They are nearer
the truth than you would believe. Only just for this
half-hour alone with you, I want to go back and be
my old self again. Directly I heard your voice I
remembered Lu and our walks and talks, and adven¬
tures, and it was like a breath of something sweet.’

‘ Dear old Lu,’ said Aubrey. ‘ When does he come
home ? ’

‘ I am going to Buenos Ayres in the autumn,
because he thinks he cannot come yet. I wanted to
go last autumn, but there were business matters to
settle, and I waited. Oh, wasn’t it hard that he re¬
fused to come back ? He said he couldn’t, though he
longed to see me more than he knew how to put on
paper. He is just as loving as ever, but no one
believes it. How odd people are ! They always look
incredulous when love between a brother and sister is
spoken of. If a woman loves a red-faced screaming
baby, all the world understands, or pretends to. And
if a girl drowns herself because of some stupid man
she wants to marry, they understand that too. But
our love, Ludovic’s and mine, no living creature can
see the point of.’

‘ I see the point,’ said Aubrey, ‘ but sometimes I

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

133

have a pang, not of jealousy, but of hunger, when I
hear you speak about him.’

‘ Ah, don't begin to talk in that way! ’ cried
Judith, putting up her hand. ‘ It would spoil every¬
thing. Now tell me about your pictures and your
plans for the future. How is the “ Planet ” ? Tell
me about yourself, Aubrey.’

He was willing enough. His eyes shone as they
used to do when he was thirteen, and the whole
story of his work, his adventures, his hopes, his fears,
came rushing out in a torrent of eager speech.

‘ If I might paint your portrait,’ he said at last;
‘ that is my ambition.’

‘ The worst is, I do so dislike being looked at,‘
said Judith, with a shiver. ‘When any one looks at
me for half a minute I want to turn away.’

‘ But I needn’t stare into your eyes,’ suggested
Aubrey. ‘ Let me try.’

‘ If you promise to paint me in the character of
the real Judith, with the head of Ilolofernes, I should
consent. I studied Allori’s Judith in the Uffizi, and
Botticelli’s exquisite one, stepping so lightly along,
with blue eyes and a blue dress, and the maid coming
behind. Yes; let me sit for Judith, and take Emma
in the character of maid (Emma is dear old Felkin),
and I almost think I shall like being stared at. I

134

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

can give yon the whole benefit of my eyes then—

see ? ’

She looked him straight in the face, and he was
the first to turn away.

‘ That wasn’t you,’ he said. ‘ It is not necessary
to act the part so tremendously.’

* But those are my conditions. Unless I am the
historical Judith, I won’t let you paint me. And the
head of the murdered man—it must come in some¬
where—very gaunt and grey, and sad.’

She laughed while saying this, and went across
the room to bring a morocco case.

‘ I want you to dine here to-night. You will see
Miss Felkin, and some other people as well. I have
made her happy; I give her a hundred a year, and
she has a hundred under the will, so she is very
charitable, and sends presents to her nephews and
nieces, and cousins of the fifty-first degree. She gives
subscriptions as well, with her name in full—Miss
Emma Jane Felkin. She thrives like an old olive-
tree, and looks every bit as grey and soft, and sweet-
Mother is happy, too, though she likes best to stay in
Rivington with Bertha. I begged and prayed her to
live with me. A great many people are happier
because I have two thousand a year. It isn’t much,
after all. If I were a man who wanted to drink good

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

135

wine, and keep horses, it would seem a mere pittance.
But with no expensive tastes, and no house and no
tenants, I get on reasonably well.’

She laughed a second time, a hard, forced laugh,
without an atom of mirth in it, and opened the mo¬
rocco case.

‘ Tell me,’ said Aubrey, ‘ if you are happy your¬
self. Of course I knew you would make others
happy.’

‘ How can I help being happy ? ’ cried Judith.
‘ There is such pleasure in surrounding oneself with
beautiful things. All these pictures I brought from
Italy. Oh, if you had seen the frights which were
hanging up when I took the house ! And then I
have such lovely jewels—I didn’t buy those; two
thousand a year won’t get everything—Aunt Winter
left them to me. It is my nature to be fond of colour,
especially in precious stones. Now and then, when I
am dull, I take out my emeralds, and some beautiful
sapphires set with diamonds, and enjoy them all by
myself, just like a baby. Oh yes, it is worth every¬
thing to be tolerably rich.’

‘ There must come an end to such enjoyment,’
said Aubrey. ‘ Even a millionaire can only wear one
coat at a time, and eat one dinner every day.’

‘I know that’s true in theory,’ said Judith, ‘but

136

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

I haven’t realised its truth yet, as regards myself.
The pleasures money brings seem inexhaustible, when
youth and health and good looks keep it company.
One must have all three; and knowledge too; for
wealth, coupled with ignorance, becomes vulgar. That
is why I tried to read and learn, and ask questions
from people who knew more than I.’

‘ Is that the reason you study Dante ? ’ said
Aubrey, looking at the little green volume.

‘ Yes,’ replied Judith, quite simply.

‘ Is it the only reason ? ’

‘ Well, I can’t honestly say I enjoy reading him
very much as yet.’

They both laughed, but Aubrey felt rather sick
while doing so.

‘ I see you are shocked,’ continued Judith. ‘ You
and I are made very differently. I covet success for
those I love best. I should like them all to succeed,
and be praised, and talked of, and taste the sweetness
of life noiv. What’s the use of being famous, when
their bodies have crumbled to dust and they neither
know nor care ? Do you suppose Millet is glad that
his pictures sell for huge prices, and are admired all
over Europe ? He is beyond the reach of such glad¬
ness. While he lived his children cried for bread, and
his wife looked like a starved animal.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

137

‘He would have been more wretched still,’ broke
in Aubrey, ‘ if he had seen commonplace pictures,
with his name attached to them, hanging on the walls
of some bourgeois home. That ignominy would have
broken his heart. Riches and success are not things
which fill a man’s soul. They are well enough, if
they come as the reward of Genius.’

‘ Of course I should like the genius too,’ said
Judith. ‘ My appetite, I confess, is enormous. But,
honestly, Aubrey, do you not wish for riches and
success—you, who know what it is to be very poor ?
I never attend to the things Denis and Violet say,
because they know nothing at all about it. They
have been wrapped in luxury ever since they opened
their eyes. But you were differently brought up.
Remember your dreary home and the difficulty there
was in paying the taxes and the weekly bills. Oh, I
hate to think of it. Many artisans’ children, in fact,
all of them, are better off than we were.’

‘ Yes ; it was all detestable,’ said Aubrey, 6 and I
am not in love with poverty; certainly not with
genteel poverty, in the back streets of an English
town. But there are some things worse. A man
may be poor and keep his self-respect. If we think
too much about riches, we might end by being willing
to receive them as the price of shame.’

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THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘Well, well,’ said Judith, impatiently, ‘let us
speak of more cheerful matters. Look at the cameos
I have in this case. I bought them in Borne. The
pin is for you; the ring I am taking to Ludovic.’

‘ You shouldn’t give me such a beautiful present,’
said Aubrey, looking at her wistfully.

‘ For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne.
Don’t say you mean to refuse the poor little thing
when I chose it on purpose for you. Let me fasten
it in your scarf myself. There ! Now do smile and
look happy. You look as if I disappointed you, as if
you were ready to shed tears. Bemember life goes
by like a flash of lightning. We shall soon be
divided ; so, for the short, short moment we are
together, let us be kind to each other and extract all
the enjoyment from existence we can. Are you sorry
I have learnt to know the value of this beautiful
world ? ’

‘ No ; I am not sorry,’ said Aubrey.

But he went away with a heart as heavy as a
stone, and left one still heavier behind him.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

139

CHAPTER XIII

One day, in the early part of July, Fidelia came to
call on Judith. The cousins had scarcely seen each
other since they parted at Riverscourt, two or three
weeks after Clive’s sudden appearance. It was only
natural that some important changes should be found
in each of them, but Judith, who was a keen observer,
considered that Fidelia had altered more than any
outward circumstances could explain. She looked as
unworldly as ever, but her face showed an amazing
cheerfulness, and her voice had lost its peculiar tone
of sanctity.

‘ What has happened ? ’ asked Judith. ‘ You are
no longer Fidelia.’

‘ Ho you see a difference ? ’

‘ Why, yes ; you don’t look repressed any more,
and your voice is fuller, more natural. You used to
speak from the back of your throat. What has
happened ? Ho tell me—quick ! I am burning to
know.’

140

THE AMBITION OF JUDITII

4 I think I am happier than I was when we lived
together.’

4 You think you are ; I am sure of it. Are you
going to be married to some one very nice, some one
with fifteen thousand a year, who will insist on
making you comfortable, and taking you to all sorts
of delightful places ? ’

4 No, no; your head runs on marriage and
money. I have changed my faith—that is the reason
I am happy.’

4 Is that all ? ’ said Judith, in a tone of disappoint¬
ment. 4 1 hoped you were going to tell me some inte¬
resting news. Changed your faith ! What did you
do that for ? ’

4 Because I couldn’t help it. Oh, Judith, I have
shaken off such a load—I feel like a bird set free
from a narrow cage! When I see the sky I am
forced to sing; the whole world looks different.
How did I manage to carry my chains so long and
so submissively ? ’

4 Do you mean you have gone over to the Roman
Church ? ’

4 No, not that; I am free, I belong to no
Church. All those dogmas and observances, which
enveloped me like grave-clothes, have fallen away.
I am free Judith. But of course you cannot

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

141

understand the rapture. You never lived behind
prison bars.’

‘ I am confused,’ said Judith. ‘ I don’t know how
to picture you without dogmas and observances.
They were you.'

‘ No, no; I had a life outside all the time I
appeared most slavish. Secretly my soul was con¬
sumed by doubt; I fasted and prayed; I punished
myself by every device I could think of; but still the
doubts clung. One day I sent to the library for
Newman’s great work on the “ Development of Chris¬
tian Doctrine.” It is said to be one that makes Roman
Catholics. I wished to be made a Roman Catholic,
and to escape into a Church where the mind must
sleep, because all right of private judgment is for¬
bidden. But Mudie sent by mistake a book of
Francis Newman’s “ Phases of Faith.” When I read
the title I hesitated. Then I thought, “ Shall 1 refuse
from sheer terror to read what may be said on the
other side of the question ? If I recoil, is it not a
sign that I hold my faith by a single thread ? Honest
conviction dreads no argument.” So I opened the
book and began. It put my inmost thoughts into
language ; before I had read half I knew that the
creeds in which I had tried to believe were null and
void. Will you think me mad if I tell you I rushed

142

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

into the garden and kissed the pear blossom, and put
my arms round the trunk of the beech-tree on the
lawn, as if I had been a child of four years old ?
All my faith in dogma had gone, and left me a free
creature.’

‘ Sic transit,’ said Judith.

‘ How can you laugh ? But you never suffered as
I have done.’

‘ I have read “ Phases of Faith,” though. I came
across it in the sails a manger of an hotel at Turin.
I didn’t notice the author’s name. I only remember
he took off first one article of belief and then another,
as if he were slowly undressing, until he left himself
in a state of nakedness—not trailing clouds of glory
either. I must be an utter heathen, for I was forced
to follow him to the very middle of the process
before we stood on equal ground. He began with
more mental garments than I. But at the end-’

‘ Were you not convinced ? ’

‘ No ; I am not sure that I was. I thought he
made religion too much a matter of intellect. It
seems to me that there is something behind and
beyond everything which he doesn’t even begin to ex¬
plain. Of course it is a long time since I read the
book, but I remember thinking, when I put it down,
that the life of Christ was very mysterious, and the

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

143

Gospels quite as perplexing as they had been before I
began.’

4 Strange!’ said Fidelia. 4 As I tell you, I felt
emancipated, and have never known a tremor of doubt
since.’

4 A tremor of faith, you mean,’ said Judith.
4 Are you going to enjoy yourself at last, and live like
other people ? ’

4 1 still mean to work for the good of humanity.
I can do it with more hope and courage than before.
It was never an act of virtue on my part to renounce
the world ; the world renounced me. An ugly woman
such as I am is not tempted to frivolity.’

‘Well, you are truthful,’ said Judith, 4 and more
than truthful. You might have had quite half a
dozen admirers if you had chosen to be agreeable.
Very few women are wholly destitute of charm, and
you most certainly are not one of them.’

4 But I have no desire to be admired or sought
after,’ said Fidelia, reddening a little at the distinct¬
ness with which Judith limited the number of pos¬
sible admirers to six. 4 My hope now is to make
congenial friends, and work in a healthy atmosphere
for healthy purposes. My former aims were dis¬
gustingly selfish. I was always being told to aim at
a high place in heaven. How self-conscious such

144

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

ideas make people! A manufactured saint is a
detestable prig ; just a cheap Birmingham imitation
of the real thing.’

‘ Then you don’t regret your past beliefs at all ? ’

‘ Not a single one.’

‘ I always thought your ideas mistaken/ said
Judith. ‘ You seemed (to my ignorant eyes) to prac¬
tise religion as my father used to say bad teachers
made their pupils practise music—giving them diffi¬
cult pieces, all technique and execution, instead of
teaching them to love beautiful sound in the very
simplest form possible. You never loved God,
Fidelia. Surely that must be the first step in
religion ? ’

‘ I was told not to trust emotion,’ said Fidelia ;

‘ to begin by the exercise of duty, and look to the
other as the reward. But it is a new subject for you
to discuss.’

‘ Oh yes ; I am an outsider. Tell me what you
think of all that happened at Biverscourt. Do you
still say it was w T ell Clive lost the money ? ’

‘I do ; and one great burden has left my con¬
science. Now and then I fancied I had influenced
you too much, and made you take a particular course
against your convictions. But now it strikes me
otherwise. Clive is better without the charge of a

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

145

fortune; and we were entitled, in the larger interests
of humanity, to act as we did. Eight and wrong
cannot be mapped out by hard-and-fast lines. They
are not concrete things, as I used to imagine ; they
are changeable quantities. The religion of the future
will be purely the religion of service. We must do
what is best for the larger number of our fellow-
creatures, disregarding all conventional laws.’

‘ Well, well,’ said Judith, ‘ I don’t follow all this
very clearly, though I see the drift. But Eosny—
you cannot be shocked any more because he was
born without benefit of clergy ? ’

‘ I am not shocked. Still, as the child of an
unprincipled parent, it might be a misfortune if
he inherited much. I shall not lose sight of him
when Clive dies, and that must be soon.’

‘Why do you say so — have you heard any¬
thing ? ’

‘ He is very ill; he went back to America after
we saw him, and returned in a dying state. The
Winters have asked him to their house in Bourne¬
mouth. Herbert thinks he cannot recover.’

‘ You do take things coolly,’ said Judith, who had
perceptibly changed colour. ‘ I can’t speak of any
one’s death until it has happened. What does
Herbert say to your new ideas ? ’

146

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ We need not enter into that,’ said Fidelia,
wincing. ‘ He stays at Kiverscourt, and works on the
old lines.’

‘ Just one question more. Did no one influence
you except Francis Newman—no man, I mean ? ’

* How can you ask such a thing ? Of course not!
Judith, you are quite hopelessly shallow and flip¬
pant.’

‘ But it is the law 7 of life,’ said Judith. ‘ Did not
even Saint Teresa get John of the Cross to help her ?
And didn’t Harriet Martineau get Mr. Harrison—
no, Atkinson—to join with her in writing a book
full of shocking ideas ? Ever since Creation men
and women have influenced each other. When their
thoughts combine something seems to evolve which
would otherwise never have existence or a name.
Are you sure no friend has been influencing you,
now ? ’

4 Quite sure ; I have spoken to no living soul,
except Herbert ’

4 And he couldn’t influence a cat! Well, I must
believe, then, that the Cardinal’s brother is respon¬
sible for all. You are a very remarkable woman,
Fidelia. I don’t care what you say about being
ugly. You might have founded a sect, or formed a
salon, or done almost anything you liked.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

147

‘ You have changed as much as I,’ remarked
Fidelia. ‘ Have you been to school, Judith ? ’

‘ You observe my acquaintance with books ? ’ said
Judith. ‘ Oh yes, I quote now with the best. Denis
says I am losing originality. He frightened me to
such an extent that I abstained from reading for six
weeks, lest my mind should become loaded with other
people’s thoughts. At the end of that time I per¬
ceived I was bankrupt of ideas, so I sent for the
“ Encyclopaedia Britannica,” and went steadily
through.’

‘ Denis ! Is he in town ? ’

‘ We quarrelled yesterday,’ said Judith ; ‘p er li a P s
he has gone. He says I have no heart, that I play
him false, and all manner of things. I am going to
a dance to-night, and I rather hope he won’t be there ;
I enjoy myself more without him. Oh, Fidelia, you
do miss a world of joy in not dancing. I forget every
single one of my cares when I begin to dance ; there’s
rapture in it—I feel almost religious at a ball.’

‘ You have added smoking to your accomplish¬
ments, I see,’ said Fidelia, touching a box of
cigarettes.

‘ Yes; but I don’t care about it. I have too much
energy to be fond of lazy pleasures. Felkin says I
am the only fashionable lady she ever saw or heard

148

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

of who was fond of early rising. Fancy being called
a fashionable lady ! Poor old Felkin ! ’

‘ I meant to say so much,’ continued Fidelia, ‘ but
it seems impossible ever to be serious in your com¬
pany. I have a plan for my life, which I thought we
might have talked over together. I am so anxious to
help others who may be suffering as I did.’

‘ I always connect those four words with you,’ said
Judith- ‘ “ I am so anxious .” You say them, and
then your forehead knits. Well, go on ; never mind
my rudeness. It is only me ! ’

‘ When I remember what a burden the habit of
self-examination had become,’ continued Fidelia, ‘ how
every action, even the most minute, was looked into and
criticised, how I questioned myself about my motives,
about my hidden impulses, until nothing was left to
Nature, I wonder I did not go mad. There may be
many others toiling at their work, cased in the same
suit of chain armour.’

* Not very many,’ said Judith; ‘ I judge by what
I see.’

‘ I have thought a great deal,’ said her cousin.
‘ That book I spoke of helped to break down opinions
which were undermined by secret doubt before ; but I
have gone much further since reading it. I ought to
try to teach others.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

149

‘ For pity’s sake don’t attempt such a thing ! ’
cried Judith. ‘ This idea of teaching is in danger of
becoming a mania. Remember you taught all day
long, while I was with you, and now you say it was
mistaken teaching. Doesn’t it ever occur to you that
your present views may be mistaken too ? ’

‘ I am sure they are not,’ said Fidelia, turning
pale.

‘ You were just as sure before.’

‘ I have told you that while I seemed sure my
soul was tormented by doubts.’

‘ So it will be again.’

‘ You are very discouraging,’ said Fidelia ; ‘ I can’t
bring myself to despair in that way. Ever since I
was a child this duty of helping others has weighed
upon me. At least you will allow that I ought to
speak to those whom my former teaching has misled.
There is Lancelot.’

‘He has not enough religion to fill a cream jug,’
said Judith. ‘ Why talk to him ? ’

‘ Oh, you misunderstand his character; he is
full of religious instincts. Every Easter he comes
to confession, and you know, of course, those
exquisite hymns he wrote—the one to his Guardian
Angel, and-’

‘ Oh, don’t! ’ cried Judith, with a face of disgust.

150 THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ He is welcome to confess his sins, as long as I am
out of hearing; but I hate even to hear his hymns
mentioned. It amazes me that Herbert and you
can see the matter differently. Herbert used to
speak of him with a sort of sentimental sympathy,
as if his troubles deserved compassion. He is the
sort of man I loathe.’

‘ He does deserve compassion,’ said Fidelia, in a
low voice. ‘ I want to have a long talk with him;
there are things on my mind I feel impelled to say.’

‘ Tell him to keep the Ten Commandments,’ said
Judith, ‘or as many as he can without putting too
great a strain upon his feelings. I don’t believe in
religion which doesn’t result in goodness ; that is
the only sure and certain test. Oh dear, what am
I saying ? ’

‘ Have you hurt yourself ? ’ asked Fidelia,
anxiously. ‘ You look so white. Your face has
changed all in a moment. Can I do anything for
you ? ’

‘ No, no, nothing ; I am not ill, only, as I spoke,

it suddenly flashed across my mind that-

that-’

‘ Yes,’ said Fidelia, waiting for the end of the
sentence.

‘ That I may end in the circle of hell where the

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

151

hypocrites are. What need have I to pi ate about
goodness ? Now is your opportunity, Fidelia;

preach to me.’

But Fidelia said nothing at all.

152

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER XIY

Judith went to the ball and danced to her heart’s
content. She felt strangely exhilarated in conse¬
quence of that conversation with Fidelia. About
midnight Denis presented himself, asking for a
waltz, and, though she knew her conduct would
be blamed by those who understood their position,
she conceded his request, giving him, in the end,
not one dance, but many.

‘ I feel so excited to-night,’ she said. ‘ I might
be Cinderella, when her godmother sent her to the
ball, or the Sleeping Beauty, when she opened her
eyes after a thousand years. This afternoon Fidelia
and I had a long talk.’

‘ Talks with Fidelia are not usually exciting.’

‘ This one was. Only imagine ! she has given
up her faith.’

‘ Never! ’

‘ Yes, she has.’

‘ Well, of all wonders,’ began Denis, and stopped.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

153

‘ Fidelia is nothing if not honest,’ said Judith.
‘ She says openly that her opinions were mistaken,
and that her prayers were poured into space.’

‘ But I can’t imagine why this should excite you.
It sounds rather sad to me.’

‘ Oh, I hardly know why. For one thing,
Fidelia’s serious face and shabby dresses were a
continual reproach. And then I think I am glad
that she agrees with me, there’s no use in discussing
theological ideas about right and wrong, we must
each do what is best, at the moment, and look no
further. It is a pity she should have wasted her
energy for the best years of her life. Nuns in their
convents, fakirs in India, devotees half the world
over—what are they doing ? Trying to make ropes
out of sea sand.’

4 1 hate to hear of people turning against things
they once believed,’ said Denis. * If they are forced
to do it they ought to be humble, and lie low for a
couple of years at the very least. Don’t speak of
Fidelia. Give me one more dance.’

‘ This must be the last, then. I shall go when it
is ended.’

‘ Tell me if you still mean to visit your brother
in the autumn ? ’

‘ I am counting the hours till I can start.’

154

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Shall you never love any one but him ? It
seems rather dangerous ; he will marry and forsake
you.’

4 Oh, I dare say ; I can wait till he does.’

‘ What has become of the artist friend—is he
in Paris ? ’

‘ No ; in London. But don’t let us spend our
time in talking. Listen to the music. I want to
dance.’

Denis was no reader of Bobert Browning, else
some lines from ‘ The Last Bide Together ’ might
have recurred to his memory. They flew round the
room, Judith half carried out of herself by pure joy
of movement, he saying, in thought, ‘ I shall be
alone this time to-morrow, but the present moment
is worth all.’

Many compliments fell to Judith’s share that
evening. She was named by one after another as
the most beautiful girl present, and those who
did not know the truth envied Denis his good
fortune. At half-past three, not in the least tired,
she drove home alone, for the lady who gave the ball
was an intimate friend of hers, and Miss Felkin
had been excused the office of chaperone. Even
in the carriage her feet moved, as if to music.

On the hall table a letter was lying, directed in

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

155

Bertha’s scrambling, half-legible writing. Judith
felt in no humour for a letter from her sister just
then, so she took it upstairs unopened, telling
herself that to-morrow would be time enough to
read about the children’s lessons and the cooking-
done by the new kitchen range.

Miss Felkin was asleep, so was the maid,
Judith being considerate to her servants ; but some
cocoa had been placed beside an etna in her bed¬
room, and everything looked cosy and sleep-inviting.
The ball dress could soon be tossed on a sofa in an
adjoining room, to lie there until Suzanne came at
seven o’clock and folded it away. Judith’s window
opened on a large garden. She stood beside it for
some minutes, watching the soft light of morning
touch every tree and shrub with delicate fairy fingers.
Then, by natural context, her thoughts went to
South America and the descriptions Ludovic had
given of maidenhair growing wild by the carriage
road, and flowers of brilliant colouring, luxuriant to
excess.

After all, it might be better to read what Bertha
said, and make sure they were all well before going
to sleep. A single sheet of paper came out of the
envelope. Bertha’s effusions usually covered two,
and she had a senseless habit of crossing her letters

156

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

as if notepaper were not cheap. What possessed
her to write so few words now ?

‘ Dear Judith,— Can you come home for a day or
two ? Mother wants to see you. She is not quite
so well as usual, and we have rather anxious news
from Buenos Ayres.

‘ Your affectionate, Bertha Watts.’

Judith’s heart gave a wild leap ; she knew what
those carefully studied sentences meant. Her mother
would never ask her to come to Rivington on account
of an illness of her own. It was already long past
four o’clock. She must dress and go like lightning
to the station. Only, when did the first train start—
and how could she possibly decipher Bradshaw with
her head in confusion, and her soul on fire ? Oh,
why had she not looked at the letter before dis¬
missing her carriage ?

‘ Miss Felkin, quick, wake—I have a summons ;
I must go home at once.’

‘ You cannot, my dear,’ said Miss Felkin, startled
out of a profound sleep. ‘ It is the very middle of the
night.’

‘ No, no; it is early morning. I am going up to
call Suzanne ; she must find a cab or send for the
carriage.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

157

‘ There are no cabs about just now, and it will
take long enough to rouse the men in the mews.
They are some way off, remember.’

‘ Then I shall go on foot.’

‘Let me look at a railway guide first. The
earliest train is five-thirty—you have lost that. The
next is ten-thirty.’

‘ Oh, it is not possible ! So many hours ! ’

‘ My dear, what good can be done by hurrying ?
If they had needed you at once they would have
telegraphed. Wait, dear, wait; you must wait,
there is no help for it. Look at the list of trains
with your own eyes.’

Judith walked up and down the room, while every
moment seemed like twelve. Her white face and
distracted eyes settled on Miss Felkin’s memory,
haunting it for many a week.

‘ They should have told me the whole truth,’ she
kept repeating; ‘ it is suspense I cannot endure.’

‘ Perhaps they don’t know very much them¬
selves.’

‘ Oh, that’s horrible ; because, if they don’t know,
I shall live in agony for days ! This is cruel—this
is eternal punishment. But they must know some¬
thing they have not said—“ rather anxious news ”—
and they keep the news back ; they don’t say what it

158

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

is, so they must know—do you see, they must know
it is certain that they do.’

4 When you reach home the anxiety may be
past.’

‘ It may be, it may be; but I am terribly afraid.’

‘ You must try to trust in God, my dear,’ said
Miss Felkin.

From her lips the advice did not sound hackneyed.
She had lived through shocking catastrophes, and
knew well enough that our homes stand on the top
of volcanoes, which, at any moment, may shoot out
fire and sweep us all into ruin.

‘ I can’t,’ said Judith. ‘And this waiting is the
worst of all. If I had only opened Bertha’s letter
last night! ’

‘ It would not have made the least difference,’
said Miss Felkin; ‘ I am sure it would not.’

She was right; there was no need to chafe at
delay, for the blow Judith dreaded had already fallen,
and all that was mortal of her brother lay beneath
the soil of the new world.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

159

CHAPTEE XV

Aubrey was one of those people whom fortune never
smiles on for long at a time. It was emphatically true
in his case that Happiness showed herself the tickle
friend who paid casual visits, while Sorrow planted
herself by his bedside and brought out her knitting-
needles. He sold two of his pictures for prices which
exceeded all hope, came to Rivington, very much
cheered, to tell Smith of his success, caught influenza
on the journey, and lay ill in his friend’s house for
five long weeks. When at last strength showed
signs of returning, he sent for writing materials
and began a letter.

4 Nonsense,’ said his host, who happened to
pounce upon him at the wrong moment. ‘ Put
that pen away. You may draw if you choose, but
writing I do object to. Why, you can’t write!
Those scrawls look as if a spider had dipped its
legs in the ink and run across the paper.’

* Onlv one letter.’

160 THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Miss Hermann,’ said Smith, coolly glancing at
the envelope. ‘ She is not in London—she is here,
at her mother’s.’

< Then I can see her ? ’

‘Not so fast; get well first.’

‘ I shall do that more quickly when I have seen

her.’

‘This won’t do,’ said Smith uneasily. ‘You
must know the truth sooner or later. They had
unpleasant news from Buenos Ayres.’

‘ Lu—is he ill ? *

‘ He is dead; yellow fever.’

Aubrey turned even paler than he had been a
moment before.

‘ The old story,’ continued Smith, ‘ as old as
the hills. They don’t know what sort of nursing
he had ; that’s the worst feature in the case. And
of course the funeral was rushed—all over the
evening of the day he died. These things won t
bear thinking of. The mother is calm enough.
Judith lost her senses, I am told, and screamed in
delirium for two nights. Women never realise the
course of events won’t stop for them. What do
they expect, I should like to know ? ’

< I must go and see them,’ said Aubrey, raising
himself with difficulty.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

161

‘ Steady/ said Smith, ‘ there’s no need to carry
influenza to them just yet; wait till you have a
clean bill of health.’

He knew Aubrey’s affection for Judith, and it
vexed him, because, in his opinion, she was a girl
who would never care about any one, unless the
world’s verdict agreed with her own. Aubrey’s ap¬
pearance at that time betrayed the poverty of his
up-bringing. He was pale and thin, and had a
trick of blushing before he spoke. His shoulders
also should have been an inch broader. Smith’s
pride in his friend did not blind him to these
disadvantages, but his generous heart burned with
anger at the thought of Judith observing them and
bestowing adverse criticism. His hope was. that she
would soon marry a rich barbarian, with no ideas,
and plenty of impudence. Then, and not till then,
would his fears be set at rest. So he made one
excuse after another to prevent a meeting, until
Aubrey took the matter in his own hands, and
insisted on going to the Hermanns’ house, though
still scarcely able to walk.

Mrs. Hermann was quietly sad, Bertha much
taken up with her children. Everything looked the
same as when he was there last, except that the
oilcloth in the passage was beginning to be shabby,

162

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

and the Imp, who liked gardening, had planted a
Virginia creeper outside the drawing-room window.

‘ Judith is in the little breakfast-room,’ said
Mrs. Hermann. ‘ I shall be so glad if you will
go and see her.’

‘ But she must be asked first,’ said Aubrey.
‘ Let me wait until you have told her I am here.’

Mrs. Hermann and Bertha exchanged significant
glances, and without daring to say another word,
or ask another question, he followed one of them
down a narrow passage to the door of the breakfast-
room. Judith was sitting in a deck chair, with
her hands lying clasped on her knee. Beautiful
flowers filled the air with sweetness ; rich embroidery
silks were piled on a table beside her; books and
photographs had been placed where she must almost
of necessity see them—loving hands had made that
commonplace room as attractive as a fairy bower,
yet she noticed and cared for nothing.

‘ Here is Aubrey, my dear,’ said Mrs. Hermann,
in tones of forced cheerfulness.

Judith raised her eyes and sighed heavily, but
did not speak.

‘He has come on purpose to sit with you,’
continued her mother. ‘ You may like a talk by
yourselves. I will go to the children.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

163

Oh, the silence of the room after Mrs. Hermann
had gone ! Aubrey fancied he could hear even the
rose-leaves falling, so intense was the stillness.
Judith never changed her attitude, never spoke,
never looked at him. When, with some timidity,
he ventured on stealing a glance at her face, he
found it pitifully altered. Grief had almost robbed
her of loveliness. At last the clock on the chimney-
piece struck three, and she shivered from head to
foot.

‘ It was at three o’clock he died,’ she said, and
fell once more into silence.

‘My dearest,’ whispered Aubrey, ‘ speak to me.
I have been here half an hour, and you have never
uttered a word until now.’

‘ I ought to have been with him ; I should have
been, but for the money. It was the money kept
me here. Did you know that ? The cursed, cursed
money! ’

* My poor Judith,’ cried Aubrey. ‘ Tell me all
about it; all you can. I am burning to hear. He
is my brother, you know, as well as yours.’

‘ He is your brother ? ’

‘ Can death change what has been ? Memory is
possession, and brings hope.’

‘ No ; not hope.’

M 2

164

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Then once more that awful silence resumed its
reign. Aubrey did not say another word, on]y came
closer and laid his hand, wasted with illness, on her
knee. The years which had divided them vanished
from his memory; so did Denis. It seemed to him
as if they must have belonged to each other from the
first; as if they had come into existence for no other
purpose than mutual love. After five minutes she
spoke:

‘ You sit in the dark very patiently. It is a great
test of friendship to sit with some one in the dark.’

‘ Look up ! The room is brilliant with sunshine.’

‘ That’s strange. I fancied we were quite in the
dark. Oh yes, I see the sun now.’

< Judith, my beloved, you must rouse yourself.
Don’t think—talk to me ; I need consolation terribly,
and he is beyond the reach of pain.’

4 How do you know ? We know nothing. I used
to be glad to know nothing. Only the night before
that letter came I was glad. Now I am dying because
I do not know. It is so strange—such an awful
separation. Not a word, not a sound—oh, why can¬
not I make him hear ? ’

* What do you want to say to him, dearest ? ’

‘ A world of things ! I want to tell him how sorry
I am I was not there. I want to say- Oh, foolish

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

165

things, Aubrey—just love and sympathy, and foolish
things. And I shall never talk to him, wisely or
foolishly, again.’

‘ Tell me about it,’ said Aubrey ; ‘ that is, if you
can.’

‘ He was so badly nursed,’ whispered Judith,
‘ they did not take alarm soon enough. He came
in at dinner time and complained of a racking head¬
ache. He said he felt desperately sick. Frank
Hewett was there, one of the men who lived with
him, but he had no experience; he didn’t send for a
doctor. Lu was alone all night, and early in the
morning he wandered to Hewett’s room, half delirious.
He thought he was being hunted about by people who
disliked him, but then a flash of reason must have
come and told him he was going to die, for he said,
“ I should so like to have seen Judy again.” That is
all we know; not a word more.’

Her voice ceased with a little sob.

‘ Look at me,’ said Aubrey—‘ lift your dear eyes
and look at me, just once. Ah, that’s right ! I want
you to listen to something I have to say—something
about Lu.’

Judith’s face was so thin that her eyes seemed
unnaturally large. They fastened on Aubrey now,
with a gaze of intense eagerness.

166

THE AMBITION OF JUDITPI

4 You may be making him very unhappy. Re¬
member the picture your mind always sees of his
desolate room in Buenos Ayres is a picture out of
the past; he is not there any longer. It is danger¬
ous to brood over things that are done with, lest, in
doing so, we lose knowledge of what is happening at
the present moment. Can we think of something he
would like us to do for him noiv ? ’

Judith made an effort to raise herself, but was
obliged from weakness to fall back.

4 I want to explain,’ she said, 4 to tell him my
heart is breaking because I was not there.’

4 Perhaps that is already explained.’

‘ Do you mean that he knows my thoughts ? ’

4 Have you not said that we can tell nothing—only
guess and look into darkness ? ’

4 But he may know; it is conceivable. And
there’s a secret on my conscience — one that no
human being has ever heard.’

‘ Can you tell it to me ? ’

4 Not for worlds ! You would think I had done
wrong; so would Lu. It has tortured me often. It
relates to the money.’

4 Is there no one you can confide in ? ’

4 If I were resolved, I might tell one person ; the
one it concerns most. But the consequences would

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

167

be very cruel—they would reach out far, and cause
quarrelling and tumult, and perhaps a scandal in the
face of the world.’

‘ I cannot judge without knowing all. I wish I
could help you.’

‘ No one can help me; I am alone ; it is my
punishment.’

‘ Try and sleep; you are tired. Let me get a
pillow for you, and then shut your eyes and sleep.’

‘ No; I am not tired. You think my mind has
gone astray ? I wish it had ! Often I say to myself,
“ If it were all a dream.” But it is real enough. I
could convince you in six words, and you would be
too much shocked to know what to say.’

‘ I should love you and take your part, and defend
you, if need were, against the world.’

‘ I am not afraid of the world. I should have
told long ago, only I couldn’t endure the thought of
what Lu would feel. And now perhaps he knows.’

Aubrey still doubted if her words were rational.
He was glad to have roused her from melancholy,
but dreaded lest nerve depression should assume
another and perhaps more dangerous form. With
some difficulty, and a little help from him, she suc¬
ceeded in rising, and put up her hand to push back
the hair from her temples.

168

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

4 How weak and strange I feel! I scarcely know
how to stand. Isn’t it sad, Aubrey, that Lu, whom
every one loved and made much of, should have died
alone, while I was in London. I was in the theatre
at the time he died, and never knew he needed me.
Just think of that! But I mustn’t let my thoughts
go wandering back, lest I forget what there is to do.
Perhaps, if I do it, I shall lose this horrid weight on
my brain, and be able to cry a little. Oh, I do so
want to cry ! I can’t shed a single tear. But, Aubrey,
if I do what I am thinking of, there will be quarrel¬
ling and confusion, and every one will blame every

one else, and they will say- Well, I needn’t care

what they say, Lu is not here. It would have broken
his heart to know such things were said of his sister.’

‘ Are you sure you must do this ? ’ said Aubrey,
wistfully. 4 Cannot I undertake every responsibility
for you ? ’

4 No, no ; not possible. Only I can undo what I
have done. Perhaps, when it is over, I shall feel
myself again. I am tormented by a dreadful feeling
I can scarcely explain—almost as if I were changed
into another person—a wicked creature, whom Lu
cannot love. But no penance will bring him back,
or take away my remorse for having left him alone
to die. 44 Cannot you bring again my blessed

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

169

yesterday? ” Who said that—some unhappy woman,
as unhappy as I ? ’

‘ Have you not one word for me ? ’ cried Aubrey.
‘ Don’t you care about leaving me alone ? ’

‘Poor Aubrey!” said Judith. ‘How tired you
look ! I didn’t see your face till this moment. You
have been ill ? ’

‘ For five weeks.’

‘ And I never heard ! I have been lost in terrible
thoughts; grief has made me selfish. The last
thing I remember hearing about you was the success
of your pictures, and I wrote to say how glad I was.
Did you get the letter ? ’

‘ l r es ; I had the letter.’

‘ And since then you have been ill ; I am so
sorry. When I come back we can have another talk,
and it must not be about myself. It must be about
you ; don’t let me be selfish.’

‘ Where are you going ? ’ asked Aubrey, with a shoot
of fear.

‘ To Bournemouth. I shall not stay long ; in
four or five days everything will be done, and I can
come back. I shall live in Bivington for the rest
of my life—-probably in this house.’ She glanced
around her with a nervous shudder.

‘ Are you sure you will be able to do as you say ? ’

170

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Yes; I am sure. It is true that twice before I
made plans and was thwarted, but this time there’s
no doubt of succeeding. Tell me what day of the
week it is ? ’

‘ Tuesday.’

‘ Then on Monday, at the very latest, I shall come
back. Only I shall be poor ; my fortune will have
gone.’

‘ Thank God.’

‘ You think that will be something to thank Him
for ? Well, so do I.’

She put out both her hands to take his, with a
look which reminded him of the little Judy of long
ago.

‘ Something you said has helped me very much.
You told me Lu was not in that desolate room at
Buenos Ayres any more. It is strange. I have a
picture of the room in my mind. Until you came I
saw it always in front of me. I had a queer feeling
that he was always there : always dying. But of course
it is over. He is living somewhere else. I feel sure
he is, and if I keep thinking of the past I may lose
an opportunity of helping him in the present—of
doing the only thing which can reunite us; we are
divided till I have done it. How wonderful I didn’t
see that before ! ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

171

‘ You were so ill and unhappy ’ said Aubrey, ‘ and
you are ill now. Be very careful, dearest. You
terrify me when you speak of taking long journeys.’

‘ I shall be better as soon as I begin to
move,’ said Judith. ‘If I sit quietly the misery will
come back. I mustn’t think, I must act. Oh,
Aubrey, you have been wonderfully good to me, I
shall never forget it ! ’

‘ Love doesn’t keep accounts,’ said Aubrey. ‘ I
have not been good, I have done what it impelled me
to do.’

‘ Why should you love me ? ’ asked Judith.
‘ There’s the mystery. Look at my face ; it is not
pretty any more. I might be a middle-aged woman ;
all sorts of lines have come round my mouth and on
my forehead, and my high spirits have gone. I am
a dull companion. My money is soon going. There
is nothing left to attract.’

‘ I always hated your money,’ said Aubrey,
‘ because it divided us. And though it broke my
heart to see you unhappy, I can’t help feeling that
there is a rich sweetness in any condition which
makes you need my help. As for beauty, I like your
face now more than I ever did before.’

Judith gazed at him with wonder. She had
always supposed that her influence depended solely

172

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

upon her beauty and reckless spirits. It was hard to
believe that one should exist who clung to her when
physical charm and mental vigour were alike in
danger of being wrecked.

‘You are different from other men,’ she said.
‘ You love as women do. It is cruel you should
have to suffer in this way. I bring trouble on every
one who cares for me. Why do you care for me ?
Wouldn’t it be wiser to forget that such a creature
lives ? ’

‘ Wiser, perhaps; but impossible.’

‘ You will know soon that I have been unworthy of
love, and then your affection will be killed.’

‘ Never.’

‘ We shall see,’ said Judith, with a heavy sigh.
‘ I couldn’t be surprised if it were. But whatever
happens I shall be glad to remember that you came
here to-day and saved me.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

173

CHAPTER XVI

It was late in the afternoon of a hot August day
when Judith reached General Winter’s house in
Bournemouth. She had gone through a great deal
of opposition before starting on this journey, and her
friends only yielded at last because they thought it
would be dangerous to thwart her wishes while she
was so ill. At all events, action and movement were
safer than the deadly stillness of those weeks in
Rivington after the fatal news had come.

Violet Winter, the General’s only unmarried
daughter, was a little delicate creature, with a face
which never seemed to grow old, though her years
could not have been less than fifty, and delicate
health had been her portion ever since she was born.
Her reception of Judith was very affectionate. She
had too much tact to show the least surprise at this
sudden visit, which seemed like a freak caused by
mental distress. Every one knew what Ludovic’s
death must mean to his sister.

174

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I hope you have good rooms at your hotel,’ she
said. ‘ Is Miss Felkin with you? ’

‘ Yes, she is. I only intend to stay till to¬
morrow, so the rooms don’t greatly signify. I have
come on purpose to see Clive. Of course I know he
is ill, but I need not be with him more than ten
minutes. There is something of importance I wish
to say.’

Violet already felt shocked at the havoc which
grief and anxiety had wrought in Judith’s appear¬
ance, but it was not until she heard her speak
that the full extent of the change became manifest.
Her voice, which used to be rich, was now so weak,
hollow, and nerveless as to sound like that of a
stranger.

‘ May I see him ? ’ she asked, observing that
Miss Winter looked grave.

‘ He is very ill,’ said Violet, emphasizing the
adjective. ‘I had better tell you the truth. He
has only a few weeks to live, and when your letter
came, speaking of a visit, my father and I both
decided it would be dangerous to let you talk to him.
But Kosny overheard our conversation, and went to
the invalid’s room with the news. This altered
everything. Clive says he wishes to see you, and
we have no choice in the matter.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

175

‘ I shall not hurt him,’ said Judith. ‘ He will
be glad to hear the little I have to say. But it
may be better that I should understand his exact
condition ? ’

For the first time Violet recognised the practical
Judith of former days, and answered without
reserve.

‘ He is dying of consumption; but just now his
trouble is increased by water on the chest. Don’t
' let him speak a word more than needful.’

‘ I will take care,’ said Judith. ‘ I promise not
to stay more than ten minutes ; but I should like to
be quite alone with him.’

Then she was left by herself, and waited, for
what seemed an interminable time, while Violet
went upstairs. At last came the summons.

• •«•••••

The sick-room was wonderfully still. One win¬
dow had been left open, and the sea could be heard
breaking on the shore a quarter of a mile away.
Clive was raised up in bed on a bank of pillows,
and breathed with great difficulty. He looked
inquiringly at his cousin, but left her to begin con¬
versation.

‘ I have come to tell you something of import¬
ance,’ she said, ‘ something which I hope will not

176

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

excite you, or wake recollections that are painful.
That letter to Aunt Winter-’

She stopped, adding, after a silence of half a
minute : ‘ There was time to have given it if—if I
had chosen.’

Two red patches of colour flew into Clive’s pale
cheeks, but he said not a syllable.

‘ I want to give back the money I received,’
continued Judith. ‘ If you will allow me to keep
a little for my mother’s use as long as she lives,
I shall be glad. Two hundred a year is enough,
and, of course, it must return to you on her death.
I shall explain to the others—Fidelia, and Lancelot,
and the rest. What they may do I cannot tell.
That is a question for themselves My part is clear.
I return the whole legacy.'

She spoke rapidly, taking care not to look at
Clive, and feeling her shame increase with each word,
until, at last, surprised by his persistent silence, she
ventured on a glance, only to become aware that
he was not observing her in the least. His eyes
were gazing, as it seemed, into remote distances.

‘ Have I made myself clear ? ’ she asked. ‘ You
have understood ? ’

He nodded; then said, with a huge effort : ‘ The
money is of no use to me.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

177

‘ But it is yours. I possess no claim, no real
claim; it is every bit yours. Your mother would
have left it to you if she had known you were
living.’

He shook his head. ‘ I don’t want it.’

The words were quite distinct, though uttered
with enormous difficulty.

‘ There is Rosny,’ exclaimed Judith.

Clive fought hard for breath, until suddenly relief
came.

‘ Ah! ’ he said, his colour returning. ‘ That’s
right! For the moment I have air. Rosny doesn’t
need more money. He is to live with Violet; he
will do very well.’

‘ But it is yours; I cannot possibly keep it.
You must, indeed, take it back.’

‘ If it were a great estate, I should think so.
This is just enough to go to the devil with, and no
more. Rosny is clever. He can work; and he
will have a fine start. Uncle Roderick has promised
to educate him, and to leave him something besides.
I have a little to leave ; he will get between seven
and eight hundred a year.’

Judith remained dumb.

‘ I don’t want Rosny to be ruined,’ the choking
voice went on. ‘ I was ruined just in that way. I

178

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

had no chance—plenty of money, no home, no
responsibility. He is safe here ; Violet loves him.
She’s the right kind of woman for a boy. Of course
he will go to school in time, and her brothers will
advise her if she needs advice. She loves him, that’s
the chief point.’

A fit of coughing cut short further words, and
when it was ended he lay exhausted on his pillows.

‘ I had better go,’ said Judith. ‘I have done no
good. Only I wanted to tell you, and get rid of
the money.’

‘ Not by giving it to me. I had rather be

without. But you were right to confess, though I

cannot say I am surprised; I felt pretty sure things

hadn’t been square. It is all over now. A surgeon

is coming from London to-morrow, and I shall get rid

of this weight on my chest. Would you open the
window an inch wider ? ’

Judith did as she was asked.

‘ What time is it ? ’

‘ Half-past six.’

‘ Ah, the night’s coming on. When I dread
night, I wish I were a beggar sleeping on straw, or
a prisoner in a cell, if only I could breathe without
pain. Give me a mouthful of air ; don’t offer me
money—it isn’t worth while.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

179

Tears rushed into Judith’s eyes and choked her
voice.

‘ Oh, how I wish there was anything I could do
for you ! I am so sorry, so ashamed.’

‘ No one can do much,’ said Clive. ‘ This man
from London may help me a little. It can’t
last long. I have been a great fool. If I had
my life to live over again I should work it out
differently.’

He had managed to pull himself up on his right
arm, and his eyes, covered with a dim haze, met
hers beseechingly.

‘ There is something I can do,’ she said ; ‘ tell
me—what is it ? ’

His expression gave her new courage. Perhaps
he had suddenly remembered some purpose to which
the money could be applied, and she might rid her¬
self of the burden. But these hopes proved vain.
His thoughts were entirely taken up with the physical
needs of the moment.

* There’s a wine-glass on the table beside you.
Could you hold it for me ? ’

When she did this he swallowed two small mouth¬
fuls with immense difficulty, then fell heavily on the
bank of pillows.

‘ I cannot bear to tease you,’ faltered Judith, with

N 2

180

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

a sob in her voice, 4 but this money hangs like a
weight round my neck. Do, please, take it from me.
If Eosny is not to inherit, surely you can think of
some other way ? ’

‘ I can’t carry it where I am going,’ said Clive,
staring into vacancy.

‘ Then bequeath it to a friend. Is there no one
who would be better for it ? ’

‘I haven’t time,’ he whispered, ‘nor strength.
Besides, I don’t know a single soul who deserves it
from me. Violet has plenty. There are hospitals ;
but you can give charity as well as I. I am tired.
This must do, I think.’

Judith put her hand gently on the bed-coverings
in token of leave-taking, and he understood and
looked up at her.

‘ It was more than half my fault, so don’t waste
time repenting. I can’t complain of my mother not
having read, that letter, because, in the first place, it
came several years too late, and in the second it
wouldn’t have pleased her. She and I were too
unlike ever to agree.’

‘But she loved you,’ said Judith, impelled by
honesty.

‘Yes, as long as she didn’t see me,’ replied Clive,
‘ That was the worst of it. We both loved each

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

181

other, only, whenever we met, we seemed forced to
nag and quarrel. Well, it is over now.’

A warning rap sounded at the door ; ten minutes
had gone. Judith knew there must be no fuss, no
agitation, no lingering on the threshold, and went
quickly away. As she passed out the nurse came
in, and Clive’s voice was immediately heard, saying
anxiously : ‘ Could you change my position ? I want
to get back again. I am tired of being raised up like
this.’

Then, for the first time, Judith realised the
absolute folly of offering fifty thousand pounds to a
man who would gladly have given every sovereign he
owned for a single hour’s relief from pain.

182

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTEB XYII

General Winter was in the drawing-room when
Judith went downstairs, and greeted her with his
customary coldness, softened somewhat, on this occa¬
sion, by the fact of her recent sorrow. Eosny, pale
and large-eyed as usual, was playing with a number
of toy soldiers in a recess near one of the windows.

‘ How have you found Clive ? ’ said Yiolet. ‘ Not
coughing much, I hope ? ’

* He is very ill,’ said Judith. ‘ I don’t think I
was prepared for the change, though you tried to
prepare me. And he has refused the request I came
to make. I wanted to give back the money I received
through his mother’s will.’

‘ I beg your pardon,’ said the General, thinking
he had heard wrongly. ‘ Am I to understand you
offered Clive money ? ’

‘ I offered to return my whole legacy,’ said Judith,

‘ only asking for an annuity of two hundred q>ounds
for my mother. I feel sure Aunt Winter would have

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

183

wished her to have that; but he declines to receive
any portion of the money, either for Rosny or him¬
self.’

‘ He has done right,’ said the General, glancing at
his daughter ; ‘ Rosny is well provided for.’

Rosny, hearing his own name, left his soldiers
and came to his uncle’s knee.

‘ Go to your play, little man,’ said the General,
stroking his head. ‘ Don’t leave your army un¬
protected ! Who knows what may happen ? ’

Rosny gave Judith an uneasy, questioning look,
as if she were the enemy he most feared, before
returning to his toys. Judith held out her hand to
Violet, anxious only to end the visit. She made sure
that Clive would tell them of her falseness, and ex¬
plain the whole occurrence directly she had gone,
therefore the sooner this interview was over the
better for every one. Those hard lines in General
Winter’s face did not invite a longer stay. The
truth was, that he suspected her honesty from
the first, and, as he could not help showing his
suspicion, a terrible consciousness of guilt used to
come over her whenever they met, making her
manner harder and more flippant with him than
with any other person. In consequence he had
formed the lowest opinion of her character, and

184

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

it annoyed him that she and his daughter should
even be on terms of ordinary friendliness.

‘ Why need you hurry away ? ’ said Violet, gently.

‘ I hoped you would dine with us. At all events,
come to my room for a few minutes and rest.’

Violet was such a loving creature that her very
lightest touch seemed like a kiss.

‘I must go,’ said Judith; ‘I have tried to do
what seemed right, but you see I have not succeeded.
There is no use in lingering.’

Alone with Violet she would certainly, in that
hour of bitter humiliation, have given utterance to
some of the thoughts burning at her heart; but the
sight of General Winter compelled her to keep silence.
He represented the scorn of the world—the disgust of
all honourable men and women—for a girl who had
lied and deceived in order to get a legacy of fifty
thousand pounds.

‘ I will walk as far as the hotel with you,’ said
Violet. ‘ Wait five minutes while my cloak is
brought.’

‘ My dear, you have walked already further than
usual to-day,’ interposed her father. ‘ The carriage
can take Miss Hermann to the hotel.’

‘ I had rather go alone,’ said Judith, turning very
pale. ‘ The distance is a trifle.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

185

She bent her head to the General, who rang the
bell and held the door open, with some commonplace
words of leave-taking, when Eosny suddenly came
forward.

‘ Here is a shell I picked up on the shore,’ he
said, ‘the largest of all my shells. Would you like to
have it ? ’

‘ I shall like it immensely,’ said Judith, feeling
as if the gift were in some mysterious way a cup of
cold water.

‘ Perhaps I can find you a few more,’ added
Eosny. ‘ That one is partly pink. Do you like
pink shells best ? If you do, I will look for them.’

He went back to his corner, and no one but Violet
guessed the reason of this rapid change of behaviour
to a visitor who at first had roused his apprehension.
She knew he had seen tears in Judith’s eyes.

‘ Do you suppose Miss Hermann really offered to
make Clive a present of her fortune ? ’ said the
General to his daughter, as soon as the front door
closed.

‘ I am sure she did,’ said Violet.

‘ It is remarkably strange, then. What can all
this mean ? ’

‘ I think,’ said Violet, speaking in a very low
voice, and glancing at Eosny, ‘ that it means she has

186

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

been suffering from agony of conscience. You
thought things looked very doubtful at the time, and
no other explanation can account for such a step.
Her whole fortune ! ’

‘Perhaps she first made sure Clive wouldn’t
accept the present, and then suggested it to win good
opinions and reinstate herself with us all. If so, she
is a very clever young woman, who has overshot her
mark.’

‘ You do not believe in the possibility of a soul’s
tragedy ? ’ said Violet reproachfully.

‘No, my dear,’ said the General. ‘I should say,
judging from the experience of seventy-six years,
that those are very uncommon. Most people’s souls
are too light, or too small, or too doughy to suffer
tragedies, and I distrust every word that girl sajs.
She is handsome, but somehow her good looks are
no advantage to her. I did not like several things
Herbert told me, and the way she treated Denis w 7 as
disgraceful. Waiting for a higher offer, I suppose,
before she closed with his.’

‘ She looked shockingly sad to-day,’ said Violet.
‘Her brother’s death has been a terrible grief.’

‘ I don’t accuse her of being without natural

feeling,’ remarked the General, ‘but- oh, well,

I don’t happen to like her, that’s all.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

187

The next morning Judith rose up, after a sleep¬
less, miserable night, and frightened Miss Felkin by
saying she meant to go back to London immediately.
Tired as she was, there could be no rest for her in
the neighbourhood of the Winters’. So resolute did
she show herself that contradiction was impossible,
and everything was prepared for the return journey.
Just as they were ready to start a messenger came
bringing a letter. It was directed in Violet’s hand¬
writing, and Judith, who had looked for no com¬
munication, opened it with terrible sinkings of the
heart. She soon saw her correspondent was Clive, to
whom Violet only acted as amanuensis :

4 My Dear Cousin,— I hope you will not repeat a
word of our conversation yesterday. I never shall.
Words cost me a great deal now—too much to be
at the pain of saying unnecessary ones.

4 Clive Winter.’

In a few lines Violet explained that he had
insisted on dictating the note before his operation,
though she entreated him to wait. 4 Suppose I die,’
he had said. 4 But there is more for him to suffer,’
wrote Violet. 4 The end will not be yet.’ Then she
expressed her deep sympathy for Judith, and her

188

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

hope that they might meet before long, and ‘be
friends,’ as children say, with one another.

‘ What has happened ? ’ cried Miss Felkin. ‘ You
are ill! Let me open the window.’

‘ I am a little faint,’ said Judith, ‘ that’s all.
And perhaps you are right, I had better not travel
to-day. If I could go upstairs and rest, quite alone,
it might be wisest.’

Miss Felkin was only too thankful to postpone
their journey. She made the necessary arrange¬
ments, and before long Judith found herself alone,
just as she wished to be, in a little dark, quiet room.
Once again her destiny had been decided by forces
beyond her control. Her fortune was still her own,
in consequence of the determined refusal of a dying
man to accept it, either for himself or his heir. Her
reputation remained as before; suspicion might, in¬
deed, lurk in the minds of a few, but in the sight of
the world her character showed without stain.

No doubt her nerves were disordered. Instead
of rejoicing at this deliverance, she could not divest
herself of a feeling that in some strange way the
money was alive while linked to her, and would work
more mischief yet, unless she destroyed its existence
by shaking herself free.

‘ It was the money kept me from Ludovic,’ were

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

189

her first words, when, at the end of an hour, Miss
Felkin returned to see how she was getting on.

‘ Oh, my dear, try to forget.’

‘ I can’t; I am forced to think of it all the time.
I never can be at rest until I have cast off the burden
of that money.’

‘ These are fancies—the fancies of a sick person.
You will see everything differently when you are
well. Money brings power to do good. But it is
easily disposed of. You could give it away in your
lifetime.’

‘ I could try,’ said Judith, starting up in feverish
haste ; ‘ but what is the good ? I shall be prevented—
mark my words—I shall be prevented. That money
is mine ; it will stick to me, and I shall never be
allowed to get rid of it, until I die.’

190

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER XVIII

‘ It is so incredibly selfish of Judith,’ said Bertha.

‘ She lives wrapped up in herself. How much
happier her life might be if she now and then gave
a thought to my children ! And they are so affec¬
tionate ! Only to-day George said, “ Why did Aunt
Judy forget to send me a present on my birthday ? ”
His eyes were full of tears. He has a loving heart—
that child.’

‘ I think, my dear,’ said Mrs. Hermann, ‘ that
you should remind George his Aunt was very good
to him while she was well and happy. Now she is
ill, and it becomes his turn to take thought for her,
and not expect presents until she feels able to drive
about again.’

‘ Such a trifling exertion ! ’ said Bertha. ‘ But I
see how it is. My children must look to strangers
for kindness. And then the more serious matter,
that Judith should refuse—actually refuse —to send
money for my husband’s return voyage, when her

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

191

fortune is so large she cannot spend a quarter of
it! Just think of the incongruity. An unmarried
woman, with no one in the world to consider but
herself, and an income of two thousand pounds ;
while I, who have three children and a husband, can
scarcely make ends meet. Oh, how selfish she is ! ’

Mrs. Hermann bent over her sewing to hide her
crimson cheeks. In her work-box lay a letter from
Victor, advising her to counsel Judith on no account
whatever to further her brother-in-law’s return home.

4 He only wants to idle about and sponge on the
heiress of the family,’ wrote Victor. ‘If he cannot
pay his own passage back, what good will he be to
Bertha or the children ? ;

4 You might say something, mother,’ cried Bertha.
* Y T ou always seem to take part with Judith.’

4 I often wish,’ said Mrs. Hermann, 4 that Judith
would marry and have children of her own. Then
her money would cease to be a source of envy and
contention.’

4 It is not kind to say that,’ said Bertha ; 4 1 am
never envious. And can I help being anxious that
my poor children should have some chances in life ?
Lately you have grudged everything I did for
them.’

Mrs. Hermann cried at this remark, and then

192

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

tried to conceal her tears, because she did not wish
the Imp to see them, or to know that grown-up
people quarrelled, occasionally, just like little ones.
After a while the two unhappy women made peace,
retracted hasty words, and kissed each other.

‘ You shouldn’t speak as if we were poor,’ said
Mrs. Hermann. ‘ I can recall the day when five
hundred a year would have seemed great wealth to
both of us.’

‘ Compare it with two thousand ! ’ said Bertha.

‘ With fifteen hundred, my dear. This gift to me
makes Judith’s income less.’

‘ Well, with fifteen hundred. Every one thinks
Judith ought to make a better provision for us. Here
are the boys needing education, and their father im¬
ploring me to send money to bring him home. He
can’t believe I am not able to do as he asks—“ With
so much money in the family,” he says.’

‘ But the money is not in the family,’ said Mrs.
Hermann; ‘it belongs to Judith. And, remember,
she has sent remittances for the children’s education,
quite apart from the allowance she makes me. We
must have had seven hundred last year, if all were
added up.’

‘Well, you may be sure she has not missed it,’
said Bertha. ‘ When you see her, state my case

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

L 93

strongly. Say I shall die of heart-break unless some¬
thing is done to help me.’

‘ Judith wrote this morning,’ said Mrs. Hermann;
‘ she wishes me to go at once to London, on im¬
portant business. I cannot imagine what it may be.
Miss Felkin adds in a private note that I must pre¬
pare to feel astonished.’

‘ I believe she is going to marry,’ cried Bertha,
changing colour. ‘ That is the explanation, you may
depend. Well, when everything’s said, I comfort
myself by thinking I had rather have my lot than
hers.’

‘ Surely that is a selfish thing to do,’ thought the
Imp, with a pang.

He was fond of his mother, and liked to con¬
sider her perfect, but this speech jarred on his sense
of righteousness.

The following day Mrs. Hermann set off on her
journey, much disquieted as to the probable effect of
a talk with Judith, whom she had not seen for more
than six weeks. It was a relief to find Miss Felkin
in attendance at the station, and learn that her
daughter’s mental condition was at all events no
worse than when she left Piivington. Judith met them
on the stairs of the hotel which was now her resting-
place, looking wonderfully pale, and dressed in black

194

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

from head to foot, without a single ornament. The
bedroom she had chosen for her mother was large
and comfortable ; a great contrast to her own.

4 Shall you mind dining downstairs ? ’ she asked.

4 We always do—there are separate tables.’

‘I don’t mind anything,’ said Mrs. Hermann, to
whom the prospect of seeing a table d’hote was at
first rather amusing.

When, half an hour later, she followed her
daughter into the crowded dining-room and saw her
winding her way, past many observers, to their
own corner, matters assumed a different aspect. The
absence of colour and jewellery only showed Judith’s
beauty to more striking advantage, and several eyes
clearly expressed their approval.

4 Isn’t this hotel life a little trying ? ’ said Mrs.
Hermann ; c it is so public. I feel as if I were under
a burning glass.’

4 Oh, I never notice any one,’ replied Judith. ‘ I
have given up the house I had, because it was
expensive.’

4 But you might have private lodgings.’

4 1 should tire of Miss Felkin,’ whispered Judith,
as if confessing a guilty secret. 4 1 tire of every one.
Tetes-a-tete are shocking things. She amuses herself
by looking at the different groups and inventing

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

195

stories about them. When I know she is happy, I
am absolved from effort. Here she comes. Speak of
something else.’

Miss Felkin’s modest little figure glided into the
room, and Mrs. Hermann remarked that whereas
Judith knew no one, the companion had already
several acquaintances who greeted her with smiles
and nods. After dinner it became evident that
Judith did not allow herself a private sitting-room,
for a fire was burning in her mother’s bedroom, and
there they adjourned for a talk.

4 My dear child,’ said Mrs. Hermann, ‘ is it wise
to treat yourself as if you were of no consequence ?
Miss Felkin is a good creature, but even the best
people are better for being treated according to their
position. As a rule, they feel more secure and com¬
fortable when that is so. The other plan suggests
caprice.’

‘Vou mean that she has the largest room,’ said
Judith. ‘ I make that arrangement because the one
who sleeps in the principal room must share it
with boxes. I object to the company of leather
boxes.’

Mrs. Hermann recognised some evasion, and said
no more.

‘ I heard from Victor last week,’ continued Judith.

196 THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Oh, how thankful I am!’ cried her mother.
‘ Now the responsibility is taken from me.’

‘I want to ask one or two questions,’ said Judith.
‘ Don’t look so distressed. They are very simple ones.
Does James Watts harass Bertha for money? That
is the first question. And the second is this : Do you
pay the children’s school fees out of your own purse ? ’

‘I can’t help it,’ said Mrs. Hermann; ‘poor
Bertha is worried to death. The last time you sent
a cheque she needed some money for her husband,
and of course—well, I couldn’t see her in trouble,
and not do my utmost to put things straight.’

< But you promised me that the income I provided
was to be spent on yourself alone. I did not dare to
make it larger, because I knew James Watts would
annoy you if he thought there was any to spare.
When you had only five hundred a year, it seemed to
me, decency would keep him silent.’

‘He is so poor! ’ said Mrs. Hermann.

‘ I have sent Bertha a cheque every month. Is it
possible that all has gone to her worthless husband—
and that you have educated and clothed the children
from the very first ? ’

Mrs. Hermann made no reply, and Judith, after
waiting in vain for the assurance she wished, rose
hastily from her chair.

THE AMBITION OF .JUDITH

197

‘ While I thought I was helping you I have been
keeping James Watts in idleness, it seems. Do you
think I can make the discovery and not feel hurt ? ’

Mrs. Hermann looked piteously at her daughter.

‘ You would have acted as I have done in my
place,’ she said. ‘ It was to keep the peace. Bertha
has been very sensitive lately. She takes offence at
the merest trifles. I can’t blame her. But I have
gone through a great deal. It is not only Ludovic’s
death which has made me look so ill and old. Some¬
times I scarcely know what I am saying. And a
dispute seems too terrible to bear. I really hoped
you wouldn’t mind what I did with the money,
Judith. It never struck me you would be so
vexed.’

‘I am not vexed,’ cried Judith, putting her arms
round her mother’s neck. ‘ I am only disappointed
to find I did not know how to make you happy.
Now listen to my proposal. I want you to take
my whole fortune, every farthing of it, and go out to
Victor. He will help and advise as to the way it
should be spent and . . . .’

‘ Not for worlds ! ’ said Mrs. Hermann. * Oh, my
dear, don’t speak of such a thing. I should be
worried to death. I can’t understand money. I
never could. Consider my position. I am an old

198

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

woman. I only wish to end my days quietly. If
you, with all your natural business capacity and
strong will, cannot keep James Watts in his place,
how do you expect me to do it ? He would hang
upon me like a leech, and poor Bertha would take his
part, and Victor might get angry. Victor is angry
already. His last letter hurt me a good deal. He
says I have changed to him.’

‘ Is that the reason of your altered looks ? ’ said
Judith, quickly. ‘Now I understand everything.’

‘ It hurt me,’ said Mrs. Hermann. ‘ I confess it
hurt me. But there’s no use in talking.’

‘ How sickening the whole matter becomes ! ’ said
Judith, after a pause. ‘I shall dispose of my
property before I die. There are charities crying for
money, and I can tie up a sum for each of the
children, Victor’s and Bertha’s, and give you still as
much as you care to have.’

‘ You are not in earnest,’ said her mother: * you
cannot be. Think of all the quarrelling, if the money
were distributed now. James would be angry because
nothing was left to him, and make Bertha more
miserable than ever. Even Victor would not like an
arrangement which provided for his sons and brought
him and his wife no benefit. Oh, keep the money,
and marry as soon as you can! Directly you have

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

199

children of your own no one can look for another
sovereign, except as a matter of pure gratuitous
kindness. To be the only rich person in a poor
family is to live the life of a dog ! ’

‘ It is indeed,’ said Judith, with a reckless little
laugh. ‘ And the pity of it is that I am not rich,
as the world counts riches. People quarrel over six¬
pences just as fiercely as if they were bank-notes.
Doesn’t it seem ghastly to lose our souls for such
absurd remuneration ? If some great stake were
involved one might feel less despicable. But, great
or small, what signifies, when the end is the same—
ruin.'

‘1 don’t understand you,’ said Mrs. Hermann,
nervously.

* Fifty thousand pounds! ’ continued Judith.
‘ Was it worth the trouble ? I never cared much for
Bertha, and her husband is personally odious to me.
But I love you, though, and I like the Imp a little.
So I was forced to help Bertha in order to help you.
And now she hates me, and her husband reviles me,
and you are unhappy, and the poor little Imp I
expect does not live in clover ; and I—well, I am the
most wretched creature at this moment in London.
That’s the end of the whole dismal story.’

‘ You terrify me,’ said Mrs. Hermann. ‘ I wish

200

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

I had not repeated a syllable. But Victor wrote to
you himself.’

‘ Of course he did. My wretchedness is not
caused by anything you have told me. Oh no, I
am responsible for all. Unless, indeed, I am re¬
sponsible for nothing, and we are puppets in the
hands of Destiny. Do you remember the day Aunt
Winter called on us ? She might have been one
of the Fates herself, with her waxen features and
mysterious eyes. Her eyes always seemed to look
over people’s heads, as if she saw something no one
else could see just behind them. I simply had to go
with her. It was a foregone conclusion. And Lu
had to go to South America. Every circumstance
was inevitable. Is life always like that—horribly
inevitable ? ’

4 Perhaps it is,’ said Mrs. Hermann. * I know
when they were cross with me for marrying your
poor father I felt I had very little choice in the
matter. Everything that happened seemed to give
me a push, and always in the same direction, towards
marriage, and marriage with him. But there is no
use in talking. We are here, and must make the
best of such circumstances as we have.’

‘ And that is the only important point,’ cried
Judith. ‘You have put it in a nutshell. My cir-

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

201

cumstances under some one else’s management might
have grown into quite a different story; a very
improving one, no blots or scratchings out, and not
even the suspicion of a tragedy. Bo I am responsible
after all, and need not quarrel with the Fates.’

‘ I cannot see why you blame yourself,’ said her
mother. ‘Up to this time you have been perfect.
Mr. Smith thinks you manage your responsibilities
so well. He owns he was surprised.’

4 What would he say if I washed my hands quite
clean and endowed several hospitals with my money ? ’

‘ You don’t mean it! ’ said Mrs. Hermann, looking-
terrified.

4 What harm would it do ? ’

4 They have all behaved very badly; at least
James has. And Bertha may have vexed you. But
such a terrible punishment as this. Y 7 ou cannot
really mean to do it, Judith. The world would say
you were mad.’

4 The world must say what it pleases.’

‘But not now. You don’t mean you would give
your fortune away now ? ’

‘ As soon as the forms can be run through. I
shall reserve only an annuity for you. My first idea
was to place the whole in your hands, but you refuse
to accept it, and on second thoughts I feel sure you

202

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

do right to refuse. The money would cause you
nothing but wretchedness.’

There was a brief silence. Mrs. Hermann rose
and walked to the window, pretending to gaze out.
When she came back to Judith her face looked very
drawn and grey. A conviction that her daughter’s
mind was unhinged had taken fast hold of her during
those minutes, and the troubles of which she had
complained so recently now seemed unworthy of
notice; mere pin-pricks in face of this great
calamity.

‘ My dear child,’ she said in a low voice, ‘ don’t
suppose I want to interfere in your affairs, or to
change your plans for any selfish motive of my own.
Only let me beg you to postpone your decision for a
year.’

‘ I cannot. I am on fire till it is over and done.
Besides, next year things will be just as they are
now.’

‘ Not quite. The children will be twelve months
older. James may have found work. Bertha will
have had time to grow reconciled to the idea of
living as she did before. And you, my Judith, may
have discovered that your Aunt’s money is necessary
for your own comfort as well as theirs. How do
you think you can exist without it ? ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

203

‘ That is a question for myself to decide.’

4 In a year,’ added her mother, ‘ I may be dead,
beyond the reach of angry words. If you love me,
Judith, wait twelve months from to-day.’

‘ This is the sixth of October,’ said Judith. ‘ I
promise to wait. Before the time is over I may
have found a refuge for you as well as for myself.
You would come and live with me, wouldn’t
you ? If I ever contrive a home where things are
paid for honestly, you will promise to share it ?
Then you would not hear the angry words.
We might be happy together in a quiet, wintry
way. Do say you will come. It cuts me to
the heart to see you unhappy. Do promise to
come.’

‘Yes; I promise to come. Now lie down, dear
child, and try to rest.’

‘ There are two things more I must tell you.
Miss Felkin is going to leave me. She has her
legacy, and can make herself perfectly comfortable
with a sister in Brighton.’

‘ Have you heard of a companion to fill her
place ?’

‘ I don’t need a companion. I have arranged
to spend next winter in Florence.’

‘ Alone ! It is out of the question.’

204

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ It is what I mean to do, though, and there are
no difficulties. I have friends there, who would see
after me if I were ill. But I shall not be ill. Make
your mind easy, dear mother ; and now let us go
back to Miss Felkin.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

205

CHAPTER XIX

Judith carried her point, and went to Florence
unattended, in spite of the opposition of all her
friends. They little guessed that the money for her
expenses was procured by the sale of Lady Winter’s
jewels. These had been given to her several weeks
before her aunt died, so she considered them lawfully
her own, and felt glad when the sum they realised
proved large. Her chief motive in going to Florence
was to see a professional singer named Madame
Hart, whose acquaintance she had made accidentally
in the course of travels with Miss Felkin. This lady
was now in delicate health, but her interest in
teaching continued long after her public career
closed, and she responded readily to Judith’s request
for weekly lessons. It happened that Hermann and
she had been thrown together for a short time, just
when his fortunes were at their highest, so she knew
the family tradition, and was by no means surprised
that one of his children should wish to study music.

206

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

* I want to have a profession ; to feel that I coulcl
support myself and give my mother a home, even if
my money were suddenly to melt aw T ay,’ explained
Judith. ‘ Once I thought of the stage. I might
have danced instead of singing, if they had seen fit
to allow me. It is too late for that career now.’

Madame Hart nodded with sympathy. She be¬
lieved that the artist nature cannot be restrained;
that sooner or later it breaks the chain parental
cowardice winds round it, and chooses voluntarily the
path of self-denial and joy. With these ideas, it
never struck her as the least bit odd that an heiress
like Judith should find existence dull, and hunger for
the full expression of her faculties. Nevertheless, as
days went by, even her enthusiasm was forced to
admit that Hermann’s daughter could never hope to
win any real success as a singer.

‘ I might give lessons,’ Judith suggested timidly.

‘ Oh yes, you could give lessons and sing in
drawing-rooms. Your voice is excellent within its
range, but then the range is small. What a mercy
you can enjoy your gift, without feeling the dire
necessity of earning daily bread press upon you at
every turn ! ’

The day Judith heard this verdict she climbed
up to San Miniato and tried to conquer her dis-

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

207

appointment and sense of affront by looking at the
long range of Apennines in the evening light.
Madame Hart had deferred giving judgment, not
because her own mind was doubtful, but because her
pupil seemed enjoying the lessons, and she never
dreamt they were undertaken except for enjoyment.
March w r as nearly over, and five months of the year
of waiting had gone.

Circumstances were all against her, but Judith’s
nature was much too practical to take discourage¬
ment heavily. She remembered how often her
father had missed pleasures which came in his way,
because he persisted in pining for the unattainable,
and resolved, if she could, to bear the strokes of fate
in stronger fashion. She and Mr. Smith were at
one as regards the wisdom of taking the second best
cheerfully when the first best is beyond reach. To
live in England, while giving music lessons, would
probably prove impossible, because people might
consider her a dangerous person, eccentric almost
to the verge of madness. Her thoughts now centred
round Vienna, where Madame Hart had connections
who would recommend her. Surely she could earn
enough to keep herself in daily bread, and shelter
her mother when existence under Bertha’s roof
became intolerable. Mrs. Hermann’s annuity ought

208

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

to make her comfortable as long as life lasted, but
Judith had a suspicion it would be consumed in
paying bills for James Watts or his children. If
this proved true, her own earnings must be relied
upon for everything.

When tired of thought, she took Aubrey's last
letter from her pocket and read it several times.
His affection never swerved. He spoke happily
about his work, and said he hoped to come to
Florence in April, as he ‘ hungered and thirsted ’
to see her. Judith scarcely knew whether this tidings
gave her pleasure or pain. All at once her solitude
was invaded by two girls who sat down on the same
seat, and she had scarcely time to put Aubrey’s
letter away before one exclaimed : —

‘ Oh, Constance, there is the man we used to
see at Cannes. He is so distinguished-looking, I
am sure he must he “ somebody.” *

‘ Very likely only an actor,’ said Constance.

4 Then I wish I could see him act,’ returned the
girl.

Judith cast a glance at the object of these remarks,
and beheld the pale closely shaven face of Lancelot
Wood. Their acquaintance had come to an untimely
end the winter before, because, rightly or wrongly, she
conceived the idea that her fortune was tempting him

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

209

to make her an offer. Just now, she would gladly
have spared some of her fast-vanishing money to
escape notice, but unluckily he caught sight of her,
and followed as she walked quickly down hill in the
direction of home.

‘ Well met! Florence is a place where it isn’t
good to be alone.’

4 Not as far as I am concerned,’ said Judith, can¬
didly. 4 I came here on purpose to be alone.’

4 You are never very kind to me, are you ? That
pleasant little speech stings my ears.’

* Truth is best,’ replied Judith. ‘Iam not glad
to see you. Why should I pretend to be ? ’

4 At all events, try to endure my company for five
minutes. I am bored to extinction ; cross, ill, jaded.
It would be a virtuous act to cheer me up.’

4 What have you been doing ? ’

4 Spending five weeks with the Staffords at
Cannes.’

4 Oh yes; I heard they were there ; Fidelia has
been with them, surely.’

4 Fidelia made one of the party.’

4 It was remarkably ill-assorted.’

4 Don’t say that. There’s no need to say such
things.’

4 But I am only speaking the truth.

210

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ No doubt, you have a terrible habit of speaking
the truth. Tell falsehoods for a change.’

* You stayed five weeks, then, at Cannes ? ’

4 I did-and came here to recruit.’

4 He must be very deeply in debt,’ thought Judith,
4 to “ sorn ” on such uncongenial people for five whole
weeks.’

4 Miss Hermann.’

‘ Yes.’

‘ I am not sure that I can bear to tell you what I
must tell you. I could still less bear that you should
hear it from some one else’s lips.’

4 1 am waiting to hear,’ said Judith, when the
pause he made at the end of this sentence had lasted
fully three minutes.

4 Will you believe me when I say I am going to
marry-’

4 Of course I shall.’

4 You didn’t let me finish. To marry-’

4 Who ? ’

4 Fidelia.’

4 01i, it is not possible! ’ cried Judith, turning the
colour of paper. 4 You are inventing a tale to frighten
me. Quick ! say it is not true. Say it is a bad joke.
I will forgive you ; only speak quickly.’

4 1 cannot; it is true.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

211

‘ But what are you doing this for ? Lancelot-

speak! ’

Wood had grown as pale as herself, and the next
utterance was long in coming.

‘ I don’t know. I am a predestined fool, but I
never dreamt of what I now see. My eyes must have
been blinded.’

‘ Fidelia wanted to be a friend to you,’ said Judith.
‘ Oh, poor Fidelia ! ’

At these words, so unlike those he expected,
Lancelot struck his foot on the ground and gave
a wild laugh.

‘ Poor Fidelia ! Well, perhaps you are right. She
is to be pitied. But I imagined you were on the brink
of expressing some pity for me.’

‘ Why should I pity you?’ said Judith, with biting
contempt. ‘ You proposed to her of your owm free
will, I suppose.’

‘ I suppose I did.’

‘ Then what right have you to expect pity ? If
you regret the engagement, break it off. That has
been done before now, and men have survived the
infamy.’

‘ I am not sure that I wish to break it off. You
surprised me by the way in which you received the
news, and inadvertently-’

212

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ You gave me a glimpse into your heart.’

‘ Precisely.’

4 When was this engagement entered upon ? ’

4 Three weeks ago.’

Judith walked slowly on, and he kept pace.

‘ I couldn’t have believed this of Fidelia,’ she said
at last. ‘ It is not a bit like her-’

‘Don’t insult me again,’ said Lancelot, angrily.
‘ I have borne enough.’

‘ Oh, I meant nothing. My opinion doesn’t
matter.’

‘ That is so like you ! You stick a sword deep
down into a man’s heart, and then tell him it doesn’t
matter.’

‘ I am ready to congratulate, if you give me
leave.’

‘ No, I had rather not be congratulated.’

They went a little farther, and then Judith
stopped-

‘ Good-bye. We had better separate.’

‘ I am not ready to go yet,’ said Lancelot. ‘ I am
in burning pain. I was driven to do what I have
done. You ought to understand.’

‘ No honest man need be driven into marrying for
money. Women are sometimes. God help them ! ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

213

‘ How dare you say poverty was my motive ? You
insult me more than I can bear.’

‘ I feel sure it was. Deny the charge if you can.
What else could induce you to take a step which is
regretted already ? ’

‘ I was a fool,’ repeated Lancelot. ‘ A predestined
fool. And life has been against me, at every corner
hampered and hindered, until I scarcely know my
right hand from my left. You, yourself, are to blame
for what I have done.’

Judith shivered and stared at him.

‘ Why do you think so ? What can my share be
in your misconduct ? ’

‘ You drove me mad with contemptuous refusals
and disdain. You fought against every attempt I
made to be friends with you.’

‘ Is that all you charge me with ? I can sleep
quietly beneath the accusation. Yes, I persistently
shook you off, and I did right.’

‘ Then, don’t call me a scoundrel for letting
myself grow desperate. Here, our roads part. I will
relieve you of my company.’

Judith bent her head and continued her way, but
he stood still, looking after her. In another second
she heard her name spoken.

214

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Miss Hermann ! Do you know that Clive is
dead ? ’

He had attained his purpose. She stood still,
and turned her eyes full on his face.

4 1 have not heard a word. When did it
happen?’

‘ Two weeks ago. He has lingered on and on.
Such horrors I never knew could exist before. Now,
I feel sure they are always existing. Some poor
devils must be expiring in hospitals while we talk. I
had bad dreams for several nights after reading the
letter from Violet.’

Judith shivered once or twice, though the after¬
noon was warm.

‘ Clive’s wife still goes on. Nothing kills those
who ought to die. Lucky for us, all the same, that
she was alive, when he heard of his mother’s will.
He would certainly have fought, if he had not been
afraid of bringing her down upon him.’

‘ That will do. I have heard enough.’

‘ One other word.’

‘ No, no. I beg you will leave me.’

‘ But you are ill—faint. This twilight hour is
unwholesome. I will come as far as the foot of the
hill and find a carriage.’

‘ I had much rather be alone, and I assure you I

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

215

am perfectly well. It would annoy me beyond
measure if you took the least trouble on my account.
Besides, it is unnecessary.’

Lancelot dared not venture farther, but long
after her slender figure had disappeared he stood
still, gazing in the direction she had taken.

216

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTEE XX

While Judith was struggling to tear off the poisoned
garment in which her own hands had entangled
her, Fidelia’s course had proved comparatively smooth.
Mrs. Stafford, weary of her daughter’s whims, in¬
sisted, after Lady Winter’s death, that she should
‘ live like other people,’ a phrase which may bear
many meanings.

‘ I could never be happy if I spent my days in
shopping and receiving callers,’ Fidelia used to reply.
‘ I must feel I am doing real work ; work which will
endure.’

It was with this aim that she cultivated the
acquaintance of Lancelot, who happened just then to
he in that state of idleness for which Satan always
provides mischief. His circumstances were un¬
doubtedly sad. He had tried a great many outlets
for energy, and partially succeeded, partially failed
in all. Life is very disconsolate to a man of thirty-

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

217

six, who has not yet found his metier, and has only
money enough to pay for necessities. His early
career had given grounds for hope. Both at school
and college he was considered precociously clever, and
the atmosphere of youth adhered to him for a long
time after leaving the university. When his books,
poems, and essaj^s were praised, people used to add,
‘ And then he is so very young,' after the fashion
George Eliot has described with such piquancy.

Unhappily for himself, this promise of rare ability
never came to fulfilment. His productions always
remained those of a clever boy, immature and un¬
certain, though lightened by flashes of wit. He
grew painfully conscious that his good looks were on
the wane, that his hair was getting thin on the top
and splashed with grey at the tips, that younger
men w T ere pushing forward who classed him among
antiquities. Youth is so audacious, so blatant, so
stupidly blind to the fact that it will become Old Age
before it has time to look round.

By degrees he lost elasticity under the burden of
disappointment, growing each year more indolent,
both in body and mind. There seemed no use in
continuing to write, when his drawers were full of
rejected manuscript. After leaving Oxford, he had
eaten his dinners and been called to the Bar, but it

218

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

was too late now to begin to practise. He would
have liked to represent some of his countrymen in
Parliament, but lack of money checked this aspira¬
tion. At last a deadly sickness settled down upon
him ; the sickness of Nothing to Do. He loathed
the sight of his club, of the newspapers, of the food
which was for ever the same, no new joint or bird
being invented, of the faces of his fellow-pilgrims
more than all. When Fidelia wrote inviting him to
dine with the Staffords and herself, he went, from
sheer vacuity, and, wonderful to relate, found his
spirits exhilarated.

Even while she was a devotee he had never
disliked Fidelia. It was impossible to dislike any
one who listened to his conversation with so
much interest. Once at R-iverscourt she reminded
him of a remark he had made quite three weeks
previously. This settled the question. Fidelia
henceforward, in his opinion, was an uncommonly
intelligent woman, not devoid of personal charm.
When they met after her change of views, he
naturally thought her more agreeable than before.
The peculiar attraction which had always belonged
to her still existed, though she now talked like
other people, and w r ent freely into the world. No
one ever discovered the exact cause of her attrac¬
tiveness. Some asserted her eyes drew them to

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

219

her; others said the fascination belonged to her
voice. A few imagined they discovered it in the
faculty she possessed of giving her whole undivided
attention to the person she was speaking with.
Never, by any chance in her busiest days, did
Fidelia convey the impression of ‘ hurry.’

Whatever its origin may have been, this power
of influencing others existed, and had to be taken
into account even by those who could not endure her.
During the last six months, instead of diminishing,
it had greatly increased. There was a strange
gentleness now in her manner, a wistful expression
on her face. Lancelot actually plunged into confi¬
dences, as soon as they were alone, and confessed
that his state of mind bordered on suicidal.
Fidelia did not preach to him or smile with the
air of a superior being. She said, ‘ Oh, you must
on no account lose hope. We know what you
have accomplished in the past, and shall never
cease expecting greater things in the future. All
people with creative minds pass through periods of
dulness. You need change, that’s all.’

‘But time is rushing,’ he replied. ‘And I
despair of the age we live in. It is a thoroughly
vulgar age. If a book or a poem is good, no one
cares to read more than half. The rest they leave

220

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

for another day. If it is bad, it immediately flies
through twenty editions.’

Now, if Fidelia had been that objectionable
creature, a woman destitute of tact, she would have
pointed out to her poor friend that every age, since
the creation of the world, has been disappointing to
those who live in it. Rubbish naturally has a ten¬
dency to float on the top. Genius ought to be
content to swim in deep waters, and wait for the
recognition which is sure to come. But she well
understood that this consolation in his case would
prove vain. He knew he was not a genius, and
therefore there was no manner of use in waiting.
His reward must be given now or never.

‘ I am not sure,’ she said gently, ‘ that fame is
worth striving for. Let each of us do our best and
be patient, if that best falls short of our ideal. There
are always a few to whom we speak, a chosen circle
who are helped by what we say. Of course it is
shocking to hear inferior things lauded to the skies.
But keep up courage. Wrongs get righted at last.
I)o you remember Browning’s lines about Verdi ?—

When, at his worst opera’s end,

He looks through all the roaring and the wreaths,

Where sits Rossini, patient in his stall.’

Fidelia w 7 as a truthful person, though a kind one.

TEE AMBITION OF JUDITH

221

She did not say which of the two musicians Lancelot
resembled, and if he imagined she meant to compare
him to Eossini, perhaps the fault was his, not hers.
In either case the mistake was a happy one. He
went home that evening and finished a magazine
article which had hung fire for weeks and weeks.
He finished it well, too. Of so much potency is a
little encouragement.

Fidelia and her mother came to call upon him
very shortly after, and asked him to stay a week in
a house they had taken on the river. Of course he
went. During these few days the intimacy grew.
Fidelia talked to him about her change of opinions,
and also about schemes she had for the improvement
of social conditions.

‘We have gone on wrong lines,’ she said, ‘and
taught dogma when we should have taught conduct.
When will people see that they are bound together
by laws which make selfishness not only wrong but
actually impossible ? Alms-giving is absurd. It is
justice we need, not charity. The only possible
salvation for the world lies in the plan of co¬
operation.’

At the sound of this word her eyes always glowed.
Lancelot cared for the doctrine of mutual support as
little as for any of the doctrines she used to preach

222

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

in days gone by, but he liked her soft accents, and
his seat on a deck chair, under a birch-tree, was
particularly comfortable.

He never knew when the idea first occurred to
him that her fortune might smooth the rough waters
of this troublesome life. For a while it only sim¬
mered idly in his brain. Then creditors grew
urgent, and money seemed more desirable than ever.
Several times during the winter which followed his
visit Fidelia and he met each other : always with a
sense of good-fellowship and pleasant mutual under¬
standing. When spring came, Mrs. Stafford, who
was by no means unobservant, invited him to join
their party at Cannes.

‘ I cannot offer to pay his expenses, can I ? ’ she
said to her daughter.

‘ Mother! ’ cried Fidelia, and vanished through
the doorway.

‘ No, no,’ said the Colonel, who was present. ‘ I
am sure the poor dog is deucedly hard up, but you
can’t offer money. Women have no conception of
delicacy in these matters.’

‘ Well, I only asked,’ said Mrs. Stafford, sitting
down to her writing-table.

Lancelot, fortunately beyond earshot of this
conversation, came to Cannes, and three days after-

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

223

wards asked Fidelia to marry him. Her face at
that moment was well worth a study. Surprise
dominated every other feeling; a joyful and yet awe
struck surprise,- such as may be seen sometimes on
the faces of the dying. Her whole existence hitherto
had been one long process of dying, and when love
and happiness suddenly came to her, she felt like the
Pilgrim in Bunyan’s allegory, who, while still far
away from home, sees the heavenly city in a vision.
Her first words were extremely naive.

‘Oh, Lancelot, say that again.’

He said it again; greatly astonished, but words
cost nothing.

‘ Do you really mean it ? ’

‘ Certainly I do.’

‘ Have you considered ? I am very unlike you.
My life has been lived in darkness. You may find
that our ways are dissimilar, that I weary you, that
I am too sad.’

‘ Sadness is a thing which does not endure for
ever,’ said Lancelot, forced to be lover-like, and
almost surprised to find his part an easy one.
Fidelia’s face looked lovely at that moment, and her
slender reed-like figure seemed suddenly to resemble
a young girl’s. Moreover, he found her very un¬
common. His experience of women hitherto had

224

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

been widely different. They were usually ready
enough to believe in admiration, and up to this
moment he had never thought it possible that any
daughter of Eve (under thirty-five and conscious of
possessing two thousand a year) could be surprised
when a man made her an offer.

That night, for the first time, Fidelia regretted
her lost belief. She would have liked to thank God
for this sudden, unexpected, almost bewildering joy.
The next day her happiness continued, but Lancelot
found his position more constrained than at first.
He understood better what she meant by saying they
were widely different. Change her opinions as much
as she pleased, Fidelia still remained the same. It
was always Fidelia ; no one else. She was now fully
as eager for the advance of Socialism as she had once
been about the progress of Church doctrine, and her
conscientiousness kept pace with her ideality. No
sooner had her brain conceived an idea than she
struggled to bring it into concrete shape ; and ideas,
as Lancelot well knew, may be explosive when treated
seriously. Absolutely conscientious she was not. No
human being can be and continue to live. This is
what we mean when we say people are usually better
than their creeds.

He tried hard to act the character he had

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

225

assumed, but each day it grew more difficult. For
one thing, she did not always look as beautiful as she
had done when he first made love to her among
laurel-bushes. Then his restless brain set to work
and asked what advantage her fortune would bring if
he were expected to give away more than half to the
Social Democrats.

Fortunately for her own peace, Fidelia did not
exact much demonstration of love. When he tried to
atone for his cold manners by presenting her with a

costly engagement ring, she received the gift as a
little girl might have done. If he went off for
solitary rambles somewhat too often, she ascribed it
to the poetic temperament, which always makes men
moody and fond of being alone.

Mrs. Stafford was so pleased with the prospect of
seeing her daughter ‘ settled ’ that she forgot to
grumble at Lancelot, either for being impecunious
or for being cold.

‘ Any marriage must be better than living as
Fidelia has lived,’ she said one day to her husband.
* Formerly I used to dread a Sisterhood, but just
lately I have wished she were safely under lock and
key inside one. Isn’t it a mercy Lancelot wants to
be married in church ? ’

‘ Where else could he be married ? ’

226

TIIE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Oh, in a registrar’s office, or nowhere at all.
Since Fidelia gave up being High Church her views
on the marriage question have become perfectly wild.
She says people shouldn’t be bound to each other
after love has gone.’

‘ That’s not a bad idea,’ said the Colonel.

‘ There’s a good deal to be said for it—there’s
a good deal to be said for most ideas. Only
Fidelia would get the worst of it, if marriage could
be dissolved at pleasure.’

‘It is a monstrous idea,’ replied his wife; £ I
wonder you can laugh ! ’

‘ Poor Fidelia ! ’ said the Colonel. ‘ She is pecu¬
liar, but a good creature all the same. I hope Wood
will treat her well. Poor Fidelia ! ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

227

CHAPTEE XXI

When, at the end of five weeks, Lancelot escaped
into Italy, it was agreed that the Staffords should
follow before long and spend Easter with him in
Florence. Fidelia was pleased with the prospect
of seeing Judith again. She wished to pour out her
tale of happiness, and defend Lancelot’s character
to one who had persistently misunderstood him.
Mrs. Stafford, on the contrary, had no desire to
become better acquainted with her niece.

‘ The drawback to Florence is the meeting it
entails with that odious girl,’ she remarked. ‘ Her
behaviour is sure to be insufferable.’

‘ Judith is a good deal changed,’ replied Fidelia,
4 and sympathetic to me; she always was. I shall
enjoy talking to her.’

‘ If you take my advice, you will keep as far
away from her as possible,’ replied Mrs. Stafford.

Fidelia never took her mother’s advice. They
reached Florence late one evening, and the very next

228

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

morning she drove to her cousin’s pension on the
unfashionable side of the Arno, and surprised her
while practising scales in a hideous little salon.

‘ Why did you come to a place like this ? ’ cried
Fidelia. ‘ It is so stuffy and third-rate. I expected
you would be on the Lung’ Arno. And how pale you
look! It is no wonder; this situation cannot be
healthy.’

‘ Oh, my own room is better,’ said Judith. ‘ Let
us go there.’

Fidelia thought the bedroom as dismal as the
salon ; but she forebore remark, and sitting down on
a blue and yellow sofa, they prepared to talk.

£ I have an astounding piece of news,’ she began ;
‘ you will never guess what it is.’

The blush which covered her thin cheeks made
her look ten years younger.

‘ Such a wonderful development has come to my
life: one I never dreamt of.’

‘ I know—I met him—he has told me.’

‘ He has ? Oh, I wish I had been the first to
speak of it! Were you surprised, Judith ? ’

‘ A little—yes.’

‘ I don’t wonder ; I was surprised myself. It has
all come about so strangely, and it makes me feel a
child again. I forget I am thirty-three.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

229

‘ He is thirty-six.’

* Oh yes; but men don’t count their years as we
do, and he has the gift of perpetual youth.’

Judith moved impatiently, but suppressed the
reply which her lips longed to utter.

‘ How strange it is ! ’ continued Fidelia. ‘ I begin
to feel new fellowship with the happy people, who
seemed like foreigners to me before. I used to enjoy
looking at them and hearing them talk, but I never
wanted to be intimate, or to stay in their houses. We
had nothing in common, and I felt ashamed they
should discover the depths of my poverty. Now it is
different. Even that frivolous Trixy Weston—one of
Mother’s cronies—whom I always ran away from, has
drawn to me and I to her. They see I am changed.’

‘ Yes; there is a great change.’

‘ And I don’t feel so far from you. It was difficult
before to realize we were of the same sex. Every¬
thing that makes up a woman’s destiny was cut out
of my life. I often wondered why you liked to be
with me. I seemed to myself a maimed, misshapen
creature.’

‘ Did you really feel like that? ’ cried Judith. ‘ You
concealed it very cleverly. I thought you looked
down upon all of us, and were fully satisfied with the
sort of attention you had. Once only you said some-

230

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

tiling which helped me to guess you had suffered, and
that was on the day you came to tell me you had
changed your opinions.’

c Very few of us reveal our whole hearts,’ said
Fidelia. ‘ Why should we ? And I knew there were
compensations. I have always had the power of
drawing miserable people to me, and those who were

tossed in their minds. Herbert used to say-; but

all that is over. Love has widened my world.’

‘ Yes ; it is a trick Love has.’

‘ You don’t say you are pleased, though; you
look almost sad. Have you had any new trouble,
Judith ?’

‘ Oh, my dear,’ cried Judith, putting her hands
on her cousin’s shoulder, ‘ you will kill me, if you
marry Lancelot. He is unworthy of you.’

‘ You never understood his nature,’ said Fidelia.
‘ Love has changed him, as it changed me. He is
nobler than when you were last together. Every
week he becomes braver, stronger, more unselfish.’

‘ Oh, please don’t talk in that way,’ cried Judith,
covering her ears ; ‘ I cannot endure to hear you.
He is as unstable as water, and will break your heart.
Why are women made like this ? Why do they look
up to men who are not fit to be in their company for
five minutes ? It is pitiful ! ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

231

‘You do not know him,’ persisted Fidelia. ‘I
cannot imagine how it is that you always look at his
character through a distorted medium. Some one
must have maligned him terribly.’

‘ He maligned himself,’ said Judith. ‘ I never
believed he was exceptionally wicked, though he
wished us all to think so. He is one of those miser¬
able creatures who would like to pat their God on
the back, that people may think them brave.’

‘ Love has drawn him upwards,’ repeated Fidelia.
She had winced a good deal under the lash of her
cousin’s words, and it vexed her to think that the
true history of the change in Lancelot could never
be made plain to a third person. Judith might only
mock, if the idea were suggested that it was her influ¬
ence, hers—Fidelia’s—which had wrought this start¬
ling transformation.

‘You and I are totally unlike,’ she ventured to
say timidly. ‘ It has always been my ideal of perfect
happiness to live with some one who depended upon
me for everything. I like to give much better than
to receive.’

‘ If you mean that you like to save curs from
drowning,’ said Judith, ‘ I am with you. I like doing
that too; though I admit I have not searched for
opportunities. But, in the matter of a husband,

232

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

things are different. My choice would fall on some
one who could swim.’

It often happened that Judith wounded her
cousin’s self-esteem just where she was most sensi¬
tive, by veiled ridicule, which could never be openly
answered or turned aside. Influencing the minds of
others had been the great pleasure of Fidelia’s life,
ever since she realized, as a girl, that the ordinary
ways by which women make their power felt were
shut off from one so devoid of outward charm. And
now Judith spoke as if she had done nothing worth
doing—only saved a few mongrels who would have
been better beneath water.

‘ I don’t want to argue,’ she said wearily; ‘ I
hoped you would have given me sympathy, especially
as you own that love has a power of changing things
which seemed irrevocable. What motive but love
could induce Lancelot to wish to marry me ? ’

* Poverty ,’ said Judith, between her teeth; and
Fidelia started as if she had been shot.

There was a horrid silence, which lasted two or
three minutes before either of them spoke.

‘I am not wounded,’ said Fidelia, at last; ‘ I
believe in him still—not in my own powers of attrac¬
tion, remember ; those I estimate as humbly as you.
But in him I believe, and when he tells me I have

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

233

touched something in his nature which has slept until
now, I know he is speaking the truth. It seems ex¬
traordinary to you, of course, that a creature such as
I am should win the love of a man so richly endowed,
a man whom numbers praise and admire. But there
is no use quarrelling with facts; I am loved, and by
him. Let this end our conversation.’

There was wonderful dignity in the tones of her
quiet voice. She showed no anger, no excitement,
no vindictiveness—passing over the implied insult
to herself as if it were a thing of no consequence
at all.

‘ I could never be surprised at a good man loving
you,’ said Judith; ‘the whole world would love you
if you were revealed to it in your noblest moods—
those are the real moods with you. But Lancelot is
not a good man; and (I am resolved to speak, even
if you hate me) when we were together the other day
he showed himself in a despicable light. You would
have died, I believe, had you listened to him.’

Fidelia’s face became deadly pale. At that
moment she realized her happiness could never again
be perfect; a serpent had crept into Eden, and the
full sense of security was gone. Other women might
tell of joy which lasted during five, ten, even, in some
cases, fifteen years. Hers had terminated in five

234

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

weeks. For a second it seemed as if she must burst
into tears ; but, with tremendous force of will, she
restrained all expression of feeling, and answered
quite calmly: 4 I can believe he said some things
better left unsaid. No doubt he regrets that conversa¬
tion with you already.’

4 Oh, what can I do to convince you ? ’ cried
Judith. 4 Blame me as much as you please ; say
that I spoil every one I approach ; only, don’t trust
your happiness to Lancelot—he will break your
heart, if you do. He does not love any human
creature except himself, and he would sell his best
friend for money.’

4 Had we not better end this discussion ? ’ said
Fidelia. 4 We shall only argue until we quarrel;
already things have gone too far.’

4 I have done no good,’ said Judith, 4 and might as
well have held my tongue. This hateful legacy has
ruined both our lives.’

4 You live under some delusion,’ replied Fidelia.
4 Once before I heard you speak as if Aunt Winter’s
money (it was not much after all) had brought a
curse upon us. I am afraid you have let your
thoughts fasten on the subject until it has taken a
diseased hold of your mind.’

4 Let it be granted that I am mad—as mad as a

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

235

March hare—my intuitions about Lancelot may still
be sound. When do you intend to be married ? ’

4 In six weeks.’

4 Six weeks ! And I might save you even now if
I told what I could tell. But no; it would be wasted
breath. He has only to swear I am speaking falsely,
and you would believe him.’

4 1 should never doubt his word.’

4 Especially when the evidence against him is that
of a mad woman.’

4 It is the evidence of one who is fiercely preju¬
diced.’

‘Fiercely prejudiced ! ’ said Judith, with a heavy
sigh. 4 Bo those words describe me, I wonder ? I am
checkmated, that is all I know, and must let him win
the game. There is only one thing left to wish for.’

4 Only one ? ’

4 Yes ; that I may be dead before the day comes
when you discover I spoke the truth.’

236

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTEE XXII

Judith tossed from side to side during the night
which followed her conversation with Fidelia, and
only fell asleep when morning came, to be tor¬
mented by dreams of a fearful nature. She con¬
tinually fancied that her cousin stood by her side in
tears, wringing her hands and saying : ‘ It is you
who have brought about my misery.’

Directly after breakfast, to escape from the
aimless chatter of her fellow-boarders, she escaped
into the open air. It was a lovely day, the sky
blue, the air balmy ; but mental distress prevented
her from observing these things, and even blinded
her eyes to the fact that a man followed her from
the moment she crossed her own threshold. When,
at last, weariness compelled her to slacken pace, she
was walking in the direction of the Certosa, and
already some distance from home.

‘ Miss Hermann ? ’ said a voice behind.

‘ How have you dared to follow me ? ’ she
cried.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

237

4 Surely,’ replied Lancelot, 4 these roads are open
to the whole world. If you had asked 44 How have you
dared to speak to me ?” I might have felt abashed ;
though I think I could defend my conduct.’

4 Well, well,’ said Judith, impatiently, turning
her face towards Florence, ‘ we need not begin to
argue ; quarrelling is foolish. You will soon be a
sort of cousin, whose presence I must learn to put
up with. At the same time-’

4 Judith-’

4 No, no ; not my Christian name, if you please.’

4 Let me explain my exact position.’

4 It doesn’t interest me.’

4 If you knew all, you would forgive all.’

4 You seem to have the impression that I think
of you and your doings from morning till night.
Cannot you receive the idea that I never by any
chance think of you at all ? I am fully as egotis¬
tical as you are.’

4 It is only egotists who are happy,’ said Lance¬
lot. 4 Sometimes I wonder if I did right in
sacrificing my individuality so completely. Surely
each human being has a right to some portion of
himself.’

Judith opened her eyes rather widely, and gave
the speaker a long look.

238

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Are you consciously a hypocrite ? 5 she asked,

‘ ox is this your honest verdict on your own life ? ’

‘ Let me relate it. You shall decide.’

‘ Not for worlds ! ’

‘ You are very cruel to me. What have I done
to be jeered at in this way ? ’

‘ Don’t you think we had better part company ?
Whenever we meet, we quarrel. It is disagreeable,
quarrelling with connections. In six weeks, you
will he married, and then we must speak civilly to
each other, so there’s no use in starting on wrong
lines. Fidelia’s husband ought to be on terms of
ordinary civility with me.’

‘ Perhaps six weeks may bring changes,’ said
Lancelot, in an altered voice. ‘ I am the most
miserable devil, at this moment, in Florence. It
has been a shocking mistake.’

‘ Your engagement ? Then break it off; don’t
lose a second. Write to Fidelia.’

‘ I can’t escape in that manner. Didn’t you
once speak of “infamy” in connection with such
actions ? ’

‘ Tell me why you made the mistake, as you
call it ? ’

‘ I was driven mad—made desperate by your
persistent scorn.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

239

* Yon mean that as I and my fortune were beyond
your reach, you took Fidelia and hers ? ’

‘ I am not going to defend my character,’ said
Lancelot, ‘ or to waste time making asseverations
which would not be believed. You know in your
heart you accuse me falsely. I love you as I never
oved any woman—as I never shall love again.
Money didn’t enter into the question. When I
was beside myself, scarcely knowing what I did,
Fidelia came—she has been amazingly good to me ;
she is a saint. But I mistook gratitude for love—
that’s all.’

‘ You ought to confess this to her.’

‘ I cannot, unless-’

‘ Unless what ? Do be quick! We waste the
whole day in beating about the bush.’

‘ Unless you will promise not to hate and despise
me.’

‘ Oh yes, I promise; I shall not despise you one
atom more than I do now—somewhat less.’

Lancelot stamped his foot.

‘ Life is not worth living without you,’ he said.
‘ It has come to that.’

Judith drew back a few paces, startled by his
■vehemence, and looked round, as if she felt the
need of protection. Two elderly tourists, with copies

240

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

of Baedeker in their hands, were strolling near,
so much absorbed by their own thoughts that they
took no notice of her or her companion; but she
instantly quickened her pace in order to be near
them.

‘ Are you horribly offended ? ’ asked Lancelot.

£ No man of honour could put such a question.’

£ What shall I do ? I have confessed my strait.’

‘ Release Fidelia.’

c To be covered with your contempt ? ’

‘ Forget me ; I don’t come into the question.
If a five weeks’ engagement has begun to bore you,
how do you mean to endure twenty years of married
life ? ’

Lancelot’s face was deadly pale.

‘ I should get through as others have done.
These early days are the worst. I had rather sit in
a dentist’s chair, in my present mood, than make
love. But-’

‘ Get through as others have done,’ said Judith.
£ Oh, poor Fidelia ! ’

£ You keep all sympathy for her ? ’

£ No ; I reserve some for you. In proof of it, I
implore you to bring this affair to an end. If you
shrink from confessing your mistake, authorise me to
do so in your name.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

241

Lancelot realised that this moment was crucial,
and that he should have liked time to consider his
position before answering. Judith’s distress on first
hearing of his engagement had caused him to believe,
for a few brief seconds, that she cared about him
more than she had ever acknowledged, and even
her hot language had not quite cured this de¬
lusion.

* Women,’ he argued, ‘ often pretend to be angry
in order to hide their real feelings.’ If he could have
felt sure of her, he would have broken fifty engage¬
ments without a pang. But he was not by any
means sure, and matters were desperate, for money
must at all costs be had, and that without too much
delay.

‘ Answer me ,’ she insisted. ‘ May I go to Fidelia
in your name ? ’

‘No ; I must think a little longer.’

‘ Then you are responsible for all that follows.
Remember I warned you. When trouble comes,
don’t blame me ; because I warned you.’

Her voice was very low, but he thought he
discerned something like menace in it.

‘ What must I understand ? ’ he asked. ‘ That
you are my enemy ? ’

‘ I don’t say so ; I only warn you that the con-

242

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

sequences of this refusal may be hard for both of
us.’

‘ Do you intend to put an end to my life—to
seize me by the throat and strangle me ? ’

He smiled, in spite of annoyance. It was an odd
sensation to be threatened by this fragile creature,
whom he could have crushed without using half his
strength.

‘ No; I shall not hurt you in that way,’ said
Judith.

Then, with a sudden catch of the breath, she
added, in a whisper, ‘ But I shall hurt you. Be wise ;
release Fidelia and go.’

‘ Explain your meaning more distinctly; I fail to
understand.’

For answer Judith only looked at him again, but
he recognised the same menace in her eyes as in her
tones, and felt indescribably excited, stimulated, even,
in a strange sense, happy.

‘ I take up your challenge,’ he replied. ‘ It is to
be war, now, to the knife.’

‘ To the knife,’ said Judith. ‘ And here we are, at
the gate of the city.’

When both were inside her animosity seemed
suddenly to cool, for she waved her hand towards
him in token of farewell.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

243

‘ We shall meet again before long, and then our
duel will begin.’

‘ As soon as you please.’

‘ This evening, at my Aunt Constance’s house.
I am going there.’

‘ Are you in earnest ? ’

‘ Absolutely ; you have taken up my challenge
—don’t draw back.’

‘ Explain ; you greatly bewilder me . 1

‘ No ; the explanation must be guessed—I never
answer my own riddles. Are you beginning to be
afraid ? ’

‘ Not in the least. I never mean to rest until I
have changed you from an enemy into a friend.’

‘ That’s a rash vow,’ said Judith, 4 but it is
made.’

R 2

244

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER XXIII

Fidelia sat in her room in Florence, and wondered if
she were the same woman who had come there, full
of hope and energy, three weeks before. Such
miserable weeks they had been ! Lancelot now was
rarely with her. He paid visits, more or less formal,
when he knew her mother was sure to be present; he
sent flowers each morning, and a note, often of
apology for non-attendance at night; but the larger
part of every day was spent with Judith. Sometimes,
being apparently seized with caprice, she evaded his
pursuit, and led him a dance through all the picture
galleries, streets, and squares of the city. When
they met a battle of words used to follow, attracting
many people to listen. She teased him, mocked him,
laughed at him, then gave a look or said a
sentence which apparently healed all wounds, for
the next morning never failed to find him at her
side again.

This behaviour was tbe more remarkable, as she

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

246

had lived in retirement all winter, never caring to
see any one, or to go farther than circumstances com¬
pelled. Now her beautiful face and figure promised
to become well known in Florence, especially when
she procured a horse and rode in the Cascine at
fashionable hours, always accompanied by Lancelot.
The fiction of being enemies was still kept up.

‘ Your cousin is really too insolent,’ he said once
to Fidelia ; ‘ she needs a lesson.’

‘ If you stay here till you have taught Judith
how to behave,’ replied Fidelia, ‘you will never leave
Florence at all.’

Mrs. Stafford heard this scrap of conversation,
and looked deeply offended.

‘That girl is deceiving you, Fidelia,’ she ex¬
claimed, directly Lancelot had gone. ‘ She is play¬
ing us all false; even the Colonel is convinced. He
calls this a Benedict and Beatrice courtship. Such a
Beatrice I never saw ; but men are easily pleased.’

‘ Judith hates him,’ said Fidelia ; ‘she has
warned me never to trust a syllable he says,’

‘ That’s hypocrisy,’ replied Mrs. Stafford, ‘ or it
may very well be she is acting from pure spite and
vanity, trying to steal your lover, just to boast
of it among her acquaintance. These red-haired
girls are always treacherous.’

246

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I cannot believe such wickedness of Judith,’ said
Fidelia. ‘ Careless and flippant she is, but I never
knew her to be cruel or false.’

‘Well, I have said my say,’ replied Mrs. Stafford.
‘ If you are guided by me, you will ask Lancelot what
he means by his behaviour. He can speak the truth;
that girl can’t.’

When her mother left the room Fidelia wrote to
Lancelot releasing him from his engagement and
the next post brought a letter imploring her to trust
him a little longer.

Fidelia waited, and tried to trust. During years
of loneliness she had contracted a habit of talking
to herself, and now these scraps of mental conver¬
sation always ran into one sentence: ‘ Must have
patience—must have patience.’ Mrs. Stafford heard
the refrain, and, though by no means a sensitive
person, her nerves received a shock.

Thus three weeks passed, the situation becoming
more painful every day. Several English families who
knew the Staffords were living in Florence, and they
all found it extraordinary that Judith should spend
so much time in the company of her cousin’s lover.
Various pieces of gossip began to circulate among the
English coterie. There were comparatively few men
to take Judith’s part; but women abounded, and all

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

247

professed themselves of one mind—setting her down
as a girl whom it w T as dangerous to know.

This evening, while sitting alone, for Lancelot had
pleaded an engagement and did not come, Fidelia’s
thoughts fastened on Madame Hart as a possible
friend. Judith and she lived on terms of intimacy,
so a remonstrance from her lips would come with
effect. It was even possible that she might per¬
suade the troublesome one to quit Florence, where
her presence could only do harm—ruining her own
character quite as thoroughly as Fidelia’s happiness.

Madame Hart’s looks were in her favour. She
was a great, big, kind-hearted woman, not handsome
(all Fidelia’s dread of beautiful people had returned
in full force), with a deep voice, a broad chest, and an
upper lip thickly covered with down. The pressure
of her hand was something to remember. Fidelia’s
thin fingers w 7 ere easily swallowed up in her huge
palm, and used to lie there quivering, but not
uncomfortable. If any one living could give help
and counsel in such an emergency, it was she.

The Staffords happened to be out; no obstacle
barred the way. Determined not to lose an oppor¬
tunity which might never return, Fidelia wrapped
herself in a dark cloak, slipped almost unobserved
from the hotel, and set off through dimly lighted

248

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

streets to the Yia Pandolfini. While walking hur¬
riedly along she kept up her courage by remembering
that only the week before, during a mauvais quart
cVheure , when Lancelot was paying one of his duty
calls, Madame Hart had come in and shown un¬
mistakable signs of sympathy. Rumour said that
her husband had treated her cruelly, having deserted
her for a beautiful blonde. If this story were true,
she was sure to be compassionate, and take the part
of the woman who suffered. It was only her delicacy
Fidelia doubted, not her shrewdness or warmth of
heart. Tact her best friends could not claim for her,
and, considering this for one minute, Fidelia felt
inclined to turn back. Then she decided that to do
so was to cast away her last hope, and pressed
onwards.

Madame Hart occupied part of an old palace, now
divided into flats, and kept house in a large-hearted
manner which harmonised with her appearance. An
old friend of hers, Signor Crispi, a violin player, had
permission to receive his pupils in one of her rooms,
while another friend, an English artist, lived on the
floor above her own, so arranged that it could only be
reached by passing through her private demesne.
Madame’s generosity did not stop here. She took
compassion on a struggling photographer, and let

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

249

him exhibit specimens of his art on her walls. A
young French girl, who earned a scanty living by
copying Fra Angelico’s singing angels, was allowed to
advertise herself in the same manner, exciting sus¬
picion in the minds of the vulgar that Madame Flart
paid her rent by the money she received from these
proteges . No idea could be more wide of its mark.
Her hand perpetually dived into her pocket in search
of something to give, but nothing ever found its way
there in return. When the Englishman offered his
rent she looked at it doubtfully, first put out her
fingers to take, then drew them back in disgust. ‘ Keep
it till I ask for it,’ she said. ‘ I haven’t asked yet,
have I ? High ! ’

When Fidelia arrived she found the front door
wide open ; but Madame’s hospitable ways were too
well known for such a circumstance to excite surprise,
and she walked in without hesitation. Sounds of
music issued from a large salon at the end of a long
passage. Servants were flitting about, though none
of them came sufficiently near to be of any use.
After a few moments Fidelia guessed that this was the
kind creature’s reception night, when she liked to fill
her rooms with a vast concourse of people—rich and
poor, old and young, being jumbled together without
the least respect of persons.

250

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

It was evidently useless to stay in the hope of
talking to the hostess ; but perhaps a card might be
left, which would suggest to her the idea of naming
an hour for private conversation. The door of a
small room stood open. Fidelia went inside, and
had already taken a card-case and pencil from her
pocket, when the sound of two very familiar voices
reached her ear, making her stand still and forget
what she intended to do. A large screen divided the
room nearly in half, but a cheval glass was so placed
that she could see Judith’s figure reflected there.

‘I don’t intend to dance with you,’ were the first
words Fidelia heard ; ‘ I have said so twice already.
Have the goodness to leave me alone.’

‘ You have trifled long enough,’ replied Lancelot.
‘ Every day the same story. If you hate me, why did
you come this evening ? I told you I was to be here ;
Madame Hart told you. Is it that you like to show
your power by enticing me after you and then driving
me off? Are you a demon of cruelty—a beautiful
shell without a human heart ? What, in the name of
Heaven, are you ? ’

‘Oh, don’t use any solemn words,’ cried Judith :
‘they are out of place. You know what I am; a
creature who has been wretched enough to find her
life entangled with yours.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

251

‘ Again ! ’ cried Lancelot; ‘ insult on the top of
insult. But if you despise me, why do you lead me
on ? I swear before God I should have disappeared
about my business three weeks ago had you not
deceived me by pretending to like my company.
Has it all been mockery from first to last ? Have
you done this from a pure instinct of cruelty ? ’

‘ I told you there was war between us,’ said
Judith. ‘ I warned you—you cannot say I never
warned vou.’

Fidelia knew she was listening to conversation
never meant for her; but though she tried to move
towards the door her limbs refused to obey. She
could see Judith’s face now in the glass, and observed
the look of disgust, almost like the nausea of sea¬
sickness, which was stealing over it.

‘ Why have you vowed hatred to me ? ’ asked
Lancelot, in a voice that trembled with the
violence of his feeling. ‘Is it because I dared to
worship you, and confessed as much ? ’

AJ last Fidelia shook off the paralysis which
had held her bound, and stepped in front of the
screen. Judith stood perfectly still and silent;
Lancelot uttered a sharp cry of anger, but found no
words to defend himself.

‘ I am sorry,’ said Fidelia, quietly, ‘ that I must

252

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

own to having heard part of your conversation.
This is the last time I shall ever speak to either of
you, so it is well to be brief. Lancelot, you are a
coward. Judith, there are no words to describe
conduct so base as yours ; it will bring its own
punishment. Keep what you have robbed me
of. I scarcely think it w r as a prize worth sinning
for. Now, good-bye, and may God forgive you
both.’

Outside the room her steps faltered, but she
persevered, and walked bravely towards the front
door. As yet there was no sense of pain to tell her
what had happened. She knew she had been terribly
hurt, and must soon suffer mental anguish ; but, for
the present, there was a strange lull, like the calm
before an earthquake. Halfway down that long
interminable passage which lay between her and the
open air, two people came in sight, Madame Hart
and a stranger; and she began quickly to account
for her presence.

£ I had forgotten your reception night. I hoped
to have a talk with you.’

£ Wait only an hour longer,’ said Madame Hart.
£ I shall be as solitary then as the Sphinx.’

£ The questions I wanted to put are all answered,’
replied Fidelia.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

253

‘ You are not alone ? Let me send for a
carriage.’

‘ It is not necessary ; I walked here.’

‘ Then you shall not walk back,’ said Madame
Hart, in her huge voice. ‘ Mr. Crewe, call a
carriage for Miss Beresford. My dear child, come
with me one moment.’

Her grasp was never easily resisted, and besides,
Fidelia was just beginning to be conscious of
misery. In throes of mental suffering, those who
are weak always feel an impulse driving them to
cling to people endowed with great physical
strength. Fidelia held Madame Hart’s hands as
if they could save her from falling into the abyss
of flames which was in the very act of opening at
her feet.

‘ He was with her,’ she said : ‘ they love each
other.’

‘ Judith in love ! ’ cried Madame; 'and with
Lancelot Wood ? Oh no ; there’s a mistake.’

‘ I heard too much : it is true ! ’

Madame Hart’s experience supplied her with
many histories of women who had thrown them¬
selves away, as the phrase goes. She was too old
to be easily astonished, still this piece of news
brought her heart into her mouth.

254

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

4 There’s a mistake,’ she repeated. 4 Some
things are possible; others not. This belongs to
things impossible. I know Judith, you see. She
has behaved disgracefully, and I have lectured her
till we have quarrelled. I will lecture her again
to-morrow, and get the whole truth, for in love with
Mr. Wood I am sure she is not. Go home and
sleep, if you can. Scarcely any one in the world is
worth losing a night’s sleep for. There’s Mr. Crewe,
to tell us he has brought a carriage. Have you a
cloak ? Good-night, my dear; and whatever you do,
keep warm.’

When Aubrey returned from taking Fidelia to
the carriage he found his hostess walking up and
down.

4 This is incredible,’ she cried. 4 Do you know
what I hear ? That Judith Hermann has stolen
her cousin’s lover. It is disgusting ! If some one
ran off with my watch, would it console me to re¬
member the thing was pinchbeck—not gold ? The
theft is the same. High ? ’

Madame Hart had an indescribable way of
saying 4 High,’ and always seemed to wait for an
answer.

4 An ignorant, paltry fool ! ’ she went on, as
Aubrey remained silent. 4 They say he has a fine

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

255

ear, and can improvise. A photograph album with a
musical box inside makes quite as good harmony.
And Judith Hermann, of all women, to disgrace
herself. I won’t believe the story till I am forced.’

Madame Hart’s acquaintance with Aubrey was of
the slightest. He had come that evening to stay
with Charles Duffield, the artist whose rooms formed
part of her etage ; and, in the course of conversation,
had told her Judith was a friend of his childhood.
This was all, and most people would have hesitated
to be confidential on such slender basis ; but dis¬
cretion had never been one of the good woman’s
virtues. All the way to the salon she continue'd to
talk.

‘ I have remonstrated with Judith. I have
said-Ah, here she comes.’

Judith knew perfectly well that people spoke evil
of her, as a woman who could betray her friend for
the sake of idle vanity ; but the knowledge never
troubled her at all. On the contrary, this un¬
deserved blame partially delivered her from the deep
inward sense of guilt which had proved her punish¬
ment ever since the day Clive returned to Biverscourt.
At the moment, however, of meeting Aubrey’s eyes,
a sudden stab of pain seemed to pierce her heart,
while it certainly covered her cheeks with crimson.

256

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ Here is an old friend,’ said Madame Hart, and
her voice had a ring of anger. ‘ He only arrived at
three o’clock.’

‘ I am going home, Aubrey,’ said Judith. ‘ Come
and see me to-morrow.’

She looked wistfully at him, repeating ‘ Come.'

‘ May I not take you back to-night ? ’ he said.
‘ I will call a carriage.’

‘ Not so quick,’ interposed Madame Hart. ‘ What
of your promise to sing for me ? You cannot have
forgotten. This is the evening you undertook to
play “Erl Konig,” and also to sing. It would be
hard on me to lose your music and Mr. Crewe’s
society at one swoop. High ? ’

4 1 had forgotten,’ said Judith. ‘ Of course I will
keep my promise.’

She threw her cloak over the balusters and re¬
turned to the salon , Aubrey remaining at her side.
He went to the piano with her, found her music,
and arranged something which was amiss with one of
the candles, as quietly as if they had been in the
drawing-room of their old home. Judith played
‘ Erl Konig ’ better than she had ever done in her
life. A sense of impending doom hung over her,
and found fitting expression in the mysterious
music. Lancelot and she had separated in silence

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

257

when Fidelia left them, bat such silence was more
ominous than words, and she knew all her strength
must be gathered together to meet a conflict. During
the pause after the music, Aubrey drew a few steps
backwards, and then, for the first time, Judith saw
that her enemy had followed her into the salon , and
was standing close beside the piano. His eyes were
fastened on her with a burning, hungry look, which
made her feel hot from head to foot, and horribly
degraded.

4 Who is that man ? ’ whispered Aubrey. ‘ What
right has he to hunt you down ? Send him away,
Judith.’

‘To-morrow, to-morrow,’ replied Judith.

‘ No; to-ni^ht.’

‘ I dare not.’

‘ Those are words I never heard from you ; they
sound unlike yourself.’

‘ I am not like myself; I am in terrible straits. If
you still feel kindly to me, go quickly. Oh, Aubrey,
be merciful and go; to-morrow I will tell you all.’

‘ I shall not go,’ said Aubrey, passionately. ‘ I
have always done as you asked me before; now you
put me to a test which is cruel. Can I leave you
while he is here ? His looks are insulting. I shall
stay, and divide you from him.’

258

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ He is coming towards us/ said Judith, in a
parched voice. ‘ He will try to take revenge. If he
ever tells you I gave him encouragement, remember
it is false. False — false — false . I was entangled,
and driven to act a part. I loathe him with all my
nature. One wrong step, and it seems impossible
ever to live honestly again. Oh, is that fair ? ’

* Do you think I shall speak to him,’ said
Aubrey, ‘ or listen to a syllable he says ? How long
will it be before you know me, Judith ? Have I
loved you for so many years, to be influenced by the
word of a stranger ? Let me stand between you
and trouble, as Lu would have done. You are not fit
to sing. Come out of this hot room, and I will take
you home.’

‘ No, I cannot sing,’ said Judith. ‘ I must go
home ; but not with you, Aubrey. Oh, don’t look so
hurt! I want you to go with me, but I dare not
give myself what I want. Come to-morrow—not to
my house—to Santa Croce; I shall be in a chapel
in the north transept. There is a monument to
a Polish princess; you will see me standing beside
it. And now tell Madame Hart I am ill, and forced
to break my word ; she cannot be surprised.’

‘ But it is impossible you should go back alone.’

‘ Santa will take me. She is that very old woman

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

259

standing near the principal door. Do you see ? An
old wrinkled woman in a large cap.’

Aubrey walked with her across the room, to the
place where Santa waited. He greatly desired to
follow outside ; but her eyes, even more earnestly than
her words, implored him to desist. She knew that
already half the people present considered he was
a fresh victim entangled in snares, and all her love
and pride rebelled against the idea of doing him such
dishonour.

Grim old Santa, who often walked home with her
on these occasions, was perfectly willing to perform
the duty now. Together they crossed the great
square, where Giotto’s Campanile shone in the light
of a brilliant moon, then made their way, down one
street after another, to the Ponta della Trinita.
Sometimes Judith liked to pause here, and watch the
reflected lights in the water, while the city slept,
surrounded by hills, unconscious of her own loveli¬
ness. This evening Santa’s steps could hardly move
fast enough to keep pace. When they reached their
destination, the old woman usually stood still on the
ground floor and waited for a signal from the top
of the staircase to tell her the ascent had been
safely made. Santa was considered a trustworthy
being, but her nature could not resist gold coin.

260

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Just as Judith left her to climb the stairs, some one
slipped a twenty-franc piece into her palm, good
French gold, of which there is little enough in Italy.
She turned and fled.

Judith caught the sound of steps coming after
her. No time must be lost if she hoped to reach
her own door at the veiy summit of those winding
stairs before being overtaken. But Angela, the
portress, must have fallen asleep, or failed to re¬
cognise the three taps which w 7 ere Judith’s invari¬
able signal. Why else did she stop, on this of all
nights in the year, to peep through a grid, instead
of opening fast ? Between the iron bars a man could
be seen, with a dustcoat over his evening dress, who
was trying to hold Judith’s hands, while she struggled
vehemently to release herself. Angela shrieked, ‘ Oh,
Maria Purissima! ’ flung wide the door, the man dis¬
appeared, and Judith was drawn into safety.

‘Some thief,’ said Angela. ‘He must have
followed the Signorina upstairs; but where can
Santa be ? ’

‘ Santa is safe,’ replied Judith. ‘ I ran too fast,
and am out of breath ; but no harm is done. I
think he was mad.’

Black rings showed beneath her eyes, and her
voice sounded hollow 7 and peculiar.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

261

‘ There are many sorts of madness,’ muttered
Angela, who had recognised Lancelot quite dis¬
tinctly.

Then aloud she added: ‘ Is your watch safe,
Signorina, and your rings ? Would it not be better
to look ? ’

* My watch is here,’ said Judith, ‘ and I wear no
rings. Good night, Angela, I have been frightened,
that’s all; no harm is done. If you are wise you
will never speak of this to anybody, lest the other
ladies take alarm, and refuse to go out for fear of
robbers.’

262

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER XXIY

Judith sat up all night in her dreary little bedroom,
writing letters, tearing up papers, and making ar¬
rangements for leaving Florence. She was too ener¬
getic to spend fruitless time in regret, and, except when
the shock of Ludovic’s death changed her nature,
never felt much tendency to lapse into reverie. One
letter was to her mother, asking if she might be
allowed to take back her promise of waiting a year
before giving up her legacy. The second was to
Colonel Winter, much shorter than the first; it only
contained a few sentences :

‘ On the 6tli of October (sooner, if my mother’s
consent can be had) I mean to give back the whole of
the fortune I received through Lady Winter’s will, and
place it at your disposal. My reason for doing this
will be clear. If you think that Fidelia and the
others ought to have everything explained to them, I
will write a statement of what happened during Lady
Winter’s illness and send it to you. I only want to

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

263

say, further, that Clive knew the whole truth before
he died, and refused the money either for Eosny or
himself.’

Often, during the last three weeks, while she
thought herself compelled to act a part her nature
abhorred, Judith had longed for the time when abso¬
lute sincerity would he possible. Any half-measures
seemed barren of comfort. She must tell the whole
truth, and stand before the world without disguise.
Only the dread of grieving her mother (her poor mother,
who would now learn the worst) made this confession
painful. Directly the deed was done—in fact, the very
moment she had signed her name at the foot of the
page, she realised, with a rush of joy, that her free¬
dom was accomplished, and that Lancelot had no
power, as he would probably have no wish, further to
molest her.

When eight o’clock struck she went downstairs
and drank some coffee. At half-past eight the other
inhabitants of the pension trailed in, one by one—a
melancholy procession. There was an elderly lady,
two middle-aged ladies, an ‘ old ’ young lady, and a
widow of thirty-eight, the only lively one among them
all. At this juncture Angela hurried up to Judith,
speaking in a perfectly audible whisper. A visitor
was in the salon who would not go away. She had

264

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

told him the Signorina was at breakfast. No
use; he absolutely refused to leave without saying
a few words to the Signorina. What was to be
done ?

Judith's thoughts flew at once to Aubrey. She
knew that the closing of the door would be a signal
for excited gossip and much questioning of the por¬
tress, but her eagerness to see her friend would not
let her feel annoyed. She did not even observe the
signs and grimaces which Angela was making, and
disappeared down the passage before the last sen¬
tence had been finished. In the salon some one was
waiting; not Aubrey. Her exclamation of welcome
died on her lips as she looked at him.

4 I see I am not the friend you expected,’ were his
first words. 4 Mr. Crewe is to be congratulated on
the warmth of his welcome- for a few days.’

The pause before the last four words gave them
point, and Judith’s cheeks crimsoned.

4 I wonder you dare to come and see me,’ she cried.

‘ Yes ; I wonder you dare. I shall be glad if you will
cut this visit as short as possible; every moment
you spend here is an offence.’

4 1 did not mean to offend you last night,’ said
Lancelot; 4 1 followed you and Santa because I was
on fire till I knew what you meant. Have you no

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

265

heart at all, Judith ? Explain things. Do you under¬
stand what has happened ? ’

* Fidelia is saved,’ replied Judith; ‘ that is just
what I hoped would happen.’

‘ Then you did it deliberately ? ’ said Lancelot,
coming a few steps nearer. ‘ Deliberately and in cold
blood you have destroyed my life ! ’

‘I warned you,’ was all Judith could say.

He deserved his punishment, but she felt some
scraps of pity for him; his face looked so drawn, so
deadly white, so changed.

‘ Tell me,’ she added hurriedly, ‘ how it all came
about. Was it poverty that drove you to such base
doings ? Because, if that were the reason, I under¬
stand, and I am sorry for you. I cannot help what
has happened; it had to happen—it was the one
and only way ; but I am sorry.’

‘ Your sorrow shows itself in remarkable fashion,’
said Lancelot. ‘ And I fail to see what I have done
that can be counted base. Most people would say the
accusation recoiled on yourself. 5

‘ It does,’ said Judith.

Lancelot looked at her in astonishment.

‘All this sounds very perplexing,’ he exclaimed;
‘ I don’t profess to understand. I only know you
have treated me with the cruelty of a fiend.’

266

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ But the trouble is about nothing,’ said Judith ;
‘ about nothing. When you hear a little more, you
will not think you have been wronged. I shall be
poor in a few months : as poor as a beggar ; except
that I have a head and hands, and can work.’

‘ Are you telling me this to mock me ? ’ asked
Lancelot; ‘ because you think Mammon is the only
god I worship ? ’

‘ No; because it is true. I shall be poor in a few
months.’

4 Have you lost your fortune ? ’

‘ I have relinquished it.’

Lancelot drew in his breath : ‘ In favour of Clive’s
little boy ? ’

‘ No; his father refused it for him. I have placed
the whole in General Winter’s hands; he must do
as he thinks best.’

‘ And by this act of restitution you think you can
escape me ? ’ said Lancelot. ‘ Better be a beggar than
my wife—is that the way you regard it ? ’

‘ Exactly.’

‘ Now; listen to me,’ he continued. ‘ No; don’t
ring the bell—it will do no good ; Angela is my friend,
not yours. In this house there is not a single person
who would be sorry to hear you were in trouble. I
intend that you shall listen to a few words of reason.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

267

You have tempted a desperate man. Last winter (I
own it) your fortune was the prize I aimed for. At
this moment it is yourself. Yes; and I mean to have
what I want.’

‘ Without my consent ? ’

‘ No ; with your consent. I shall bring you on
your knees—I shall make you glad to marry me.’

4 There is always one way of escape,’ said Judith,
taking from her pocket a small penknife, and laying
it expressively across her throat.

It was a flimsy thing, bought in Paris for a couple
of francs ; but with slighter weapons life has gushed
away.

* I don’t mean to touch you,’ said Lancelot.
‘ Put that rubbish back, we are not acting a bad
melodrama. Do you know what you have done ?
No. Y 7 ou cannot answer. Well, I must tell you.
Three weeks ago I cared for my reputation ; I
wished a thousand things. Now, I don’t value the
world’s opinion at a farthing. And I wish for
nothing, except yourself. I know you are a
beautiful devil, with eyes that can draw the soul
out of a man’s mouth and leave him by the road¬
side, a dead body, useless for evermore. Oh! I
know all that ! But I cannot exist without you.
Fiend or woman, it is the same. You shall live

268

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

with me, talk to me, smile as you can smile (no
other lips have the trick), fly into rages if you like—
I don’t care how often—but they shall be rages
directed against me. Before changing my blood
into fire, you ought to have reckoned the conse¬
quence.’

Judith possessed splendid physical courage, but
she needed all she had to retain an outward show
of calm and keep her brain at work. Up to this
time Lancelot had seemed nothing more than a
selfish dilettante, who played at being in love as
children play with rockets. She saw him now in a
new light, and realised the fearful strength of the
passions her systematic trifling had evoked. He
was standing between her and the door, but she
walked quickly towards the window and looked out,
as if reckoning the height from the pavement.

‘ Take care ! ’ he cried. ‘ It is too great a leap.
Come back ! I don’t choose that you should hurt
yourself. Oh, there’s no use struggling. I am
twenty times stronger than you. When I have
finished all I mean to say I will let you go; not
one second before. You are in love with another
man, with that pale-faced artist; There’s no ex¬
plaining taste in matters of this sort. I watched
you last night, while you were speaking to him.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

269

Remember, that the day you marry him will prove
a black day for you both.’

‘ Unloose my wrist! ’ said Judith. ‘ You are mad
to behave with such violence. What can threats
do ? I am not in your power.’

* Wait and see .’

‘ These are ravings to frighten a child.’

‘ They have driven the blood from your cheeks.’

‘ I have no intention of marrying any one ; I had
a thousand times rather live alone.’

‘ You say so ? ’ cried Lancelot, his eyes sparkling.
‘ The very assurance I wished for.’

‘ But if I choose to marry, I shall,’ replied
Judith, tossing her head back proudly. ‘ Understand
me, I shall. I despise your threats as much as I
despise you.’

Lancelot’s gaze seemed to devour her. Then he
drew it away with huge difficulty, and turned to
leave. Suddenly, before opening the door, he
stopped, and said, in a low tone, without looking
round :

‘ Denis is married.’

£ Thank God ! ’

‘ He tells me he blesses the hour in which you
played him false. He has found a woman worth a
hundred of you. There was a stronger expression

270

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

than that, but I spare your ears. The history of
your lovers is remarkable. Their love has to change
to hate before it can burn steadily. But history
repeats itself sometimes. If Denis and I have
learnt to hate you, why not also another ? ’

‘ Why not ? ’ thought Judith, as the door closed.
She felt sick, faint, horribly, unutterably degraded.
Her wrist was red, where those hot fingers had
clenched it—red, and stiff, and sore. The room
seemed full of his presence; the air heavy with his
breath. Outside, Angela’s voice could be heard,
screaming to her fellow-servant—Angela, who was in
liis pay.

Before to-morrow another shelter must be
found, since this house had ceased to be safe. The
people at the Post Office ought to know the new
address quickly, that was the most important thing
to remember, else General Winter’s letter might be
intercepted and read.

So far Judith’s thoughts rushed. Then, with a
shudder, she paused, and asked herself what use there
could be in trying to screen her disgrace, when, in
three weeks at the furthest, all who knew her would
know her miserable story.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

271

CHAPTER XXY

On her way to Santa Croce Judith passed the
hotel where the Staffords were staying. She did
not need to do so, but feverish desire to obtain a
glimpse of her cousin had pursued her all day.
Strangely enough, this wish was gratified, for just as
she came near the house an open carriage drew up
before it, and Fidelia walked very slowly across the
pavement and seated herself inside. The weary
dejection of her movements cut Judith to the quick.
Mrs. Stafford followed, and asked where they should
go.

‘ Oh, anywhere replied Fidelia.

Judith, hidden behind a portico, caught these
words, and was struck by the look of utter hope¬
less indifference which accompanied them. Hitherto
Fidelia had possessed indomitable force of will; her
mind always seeming to triumph over the frail
tenement in which it lived. Often her friends used
to complain that the more ill she felt the more

272

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

intensely energetic slie showed herself; but those
were clays when she did not carry a wounded spirit
about with her. Judith realised bitterly that,
whatever turn events might take, the friendship
between her and her cousin must be looked upon
as finally broken. No excuse could be offered in
palliation of her conduct which would not seem
more insulting than the original offence.

Another trial awaited her in Santa Croce.
As she passed up the nave a ladj^ went by, the wife
of a celebrated English artist. Judith and she had
met several times at Madame Hart’s, and ‘ made
friends ’ over books, pictures, and discussions ; but,
this afternoon, her reluctance to exchange even
ordinary greetings was painfully clear. Directly
Judith came in sight her head turned away, and
she pretended to be lost in admiration of a very
ugly monument. No doubt the tale of Fidelia’s
wrongs and her cousin’s treachery had flown far
and wide.

The chapel, which Judith had chosen as a
meeting place, was one of her favourite resorts on
account of a recumbent statue to be seen there.
She was too careless of authority to let herself be
hedged round by rules in matters of art, and this
monument to a Polish princess, though a work of a

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

273

modern sculptor, pleased her exceedingly. It even
gave her as much satisfaction as the effigy of the
bishop close by, to which Buskin has called the
world’s attention. Frequently she stood still for half
an hour, unconscious of the lapse of time, drinking
in the pathos of those thin clasped hands and the
dignity of the sweet face on its marble pillow.

Aubrey had been waiting five or ten minutes, and
came forward eagerly. Then he stopped, alarmed to
see her face so pale, her expression so disordered.
She gave a quick glance round, as if some enemy
might have been lurking in the shadows, before
beginning to speak.

‘ Is not this monument beautiful ? I often come
here. I have said my prayers beside it many times.
The face reminds me of Lady Winter’s. There’s a
look of awe, of solemn expectancy. My aunt’s ex¬
pression was just like that, the night she died.’

‘You are right,’ said Aubrey ; ‘ the conception is
noble.’

‘ I like the drapery, too,’ continued Judith; ‘ it
falls in beautiful lines, large and simple; there’s no
pretence of being anything but what it is: a marble
covering. Very few people come here, but my
prayers are too short to be noticed if they did come;
and in Roman Catholic churches we are allowed to

274

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

pray where we please. I only say, “ Oh, Someone,
help me ! ” That is all.’

‘My poor Judith,’ said Aubrey, ‘how terribly
you have suffered ! There’s no one here now. Best
on this chair and tell me how it happened. Never
try to carry sorrow alone.’

* In a few months I shall be poor,’ she whispered,
‘ as poor as you once said you wished I were. I have
written to General Winter and given back the money.
Perhaps, now, I shall have rest. But there is this
new grief about Fidelia. I was obliged to hurt her;
I did it to prevent worse things happening—because
my deceitfulness had made her rich, and then her
riches brought danger. He told me he did not care
for her : that he was angry with the fate which
bound him to marry her. His one desire was to get
free; only her money had tempted him, and her
money he could not renounce. When he said that, I
knew her misery would be on my soul for ever,
unless some way of escape were found. This way,
the way I tried, was the only way. She is rescued
from him, but at the cost of such pain ! I never
dreamt she would care as she has done. I thought
her patience wouldn’t hold out ten days, and she
bore it for three weeks. Three weeks! And each
morning I have risen to go through the farce of

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

275

pretending to ensnare him. Ensnare him ! Think
of my degradation. And, after all, Fidelia’s happi¬
ness is lost.’

‘ It was a terrible thing to do,’ said Aubrey. ‘ I
shall never think of it calmly : never without feeling
my blood run fire. But you acted for the best, and
some day Fidelia will realise what a deliverance she
has had.’

4 1 am afraid her heart is broken,’ said Judith,
‘ and her faith in love is gone—in all love, not only
his.’

‘ And you ? ’ said Aubrey. ‘ Has he tried to see
you since last night ? What has happened ? ’

‘ I saw him this morning; there is no need to
speak of him any more. Don’t think of him, Aubrey.
I am anxious about my mother; she must hear
what I have done and be ashamed. The last time
I saw her she looked so tired, so melancholy; her
face was marked with lines that never used to be
there before this money brought disputes. Oh,
Aubrey, a sword goes through me when I think of
her and you. You must hear.’

‘ No, I shall never hear.’

‘ You must; and I must tell you. Unless I speak,
and you listen, there can never be full confidence
between us again.’

276

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I know,' whispered Aubrey. 4 Do you think I

could love you as I do and not discover that some¬
thing lay heavily on your heart ? I have known
from the day I came to see you in Rivington. Don’t
say another word, dearest; not another syllable.
The very instant you wrote that letter you speak of,
the past was destroyed.’

‘ I tried to put it right before,’ said Judith,

‘ when I went to Bournemouth ; but Clive refused to
let me do as I wished.’

‘ I guessed you had met with some hindrance.’

‘ Then I wanted to give the money to my mother ;
but she refused it. I was turned back each time
I tried to get free. And her distress frightened me
so much I promised to wait a year before doing
anything else. It was only lately—only since I felt
myself being covered up with hypocrisy—that I
gathered courage to write to General Winter. He
will let every one know : he lias no motive to keep it
secret. When I have told you I shall feel there is
nothing hidden.’

‘You need not tell me,’ said Aubrey. ‘I will not
hear ; I refuse ever to think of it again. The past
has no existence for me.’

‘ But I must tell you. Oh, do listen! Clive
wrote to me and enclosed a letter for his mother.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

277

There was time to give it, but I waited and waited,
and then she died and never knew, and her money
came to me—to me and poor Fidelia. Do you
understand ? Have you heard every word ? ’

4 Every word, my dear one.’

4 And now I must leave you. If I stay a minute
longer I shall be doing wrong, and, besides, I am
afraid to stay out after dusk. I must go quickly.’

‘ Afraid ? ’ echoed Aubrey. 4 Who could hurt you
while I am here ? You are safe with me.’

4 1 cannot explain,’ whispered Judith. 4 Let me
go.’

4 Then I shall go with you.’

4 No, no; if you do that, you may, one day,
regret having done it, and then-’

4 Begret ? Oh, Judith, when will you learn to
know me ? You are very hard to convince.’

4 Others who loved me have begun to hate.’

4 They had no right to say they loved you ; they
scarcely knew you. Do you think that my love,
which began when we were children, can be named in
the same breath as theirs ? They worshipped your
appearance. I love that too ; but I love the beautiful
inner self as well, of which they know nothing.
Trust yourself to me, dearest; let us work through
the troubles you speak of together.’

278 THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ I am like Pompilia in the Eing and the Book,’
said Judith, drawing closer to him. ‘It is not a
lover I need, but a friend; and I think it must
always remain so. From the very first, whenever
I thought of such things, even as a bare possibility,
something in me seemed to start back, to feel un¬
willing ; I was born to be a sister, not a wife.
Won t you take the love I have to give you, the same
sort of love I gave Lu ? ’

Every sentence fell on Aubrey’s heart like a clod
of earth on a coffin. Long ago he had been aware
of a solitary inclination in Judith, a peculiar ‘ aloof¬
ness ’ which made her difficult to touch. Often,
when he fancied he knew her most intimately, she
had startled him by some casual remark, betraying
the existence of an inner life, hidden even from those
who loved her best, and imagined they shared all
her secrets. It was terrible to be repulsed in this
fashion, to be obliged to stand aside, unable to help
by act or word, while she * moved ghost-like to her
doom.’

i You mustn’t be vexed with me,’ she whispered.

‘ I cannot help it! You and Lu have always divided
my heart between you, and since he has gone where
it is impossible to see him, I hunger doubly to see
you. You are a bit of him, Aubrey, and your own

THE AMBITION OF JBDITII

279

dear self as well. But I shall never marry any one.
I was made like that. 5

Her eyes, full of tears, sought out his.

‘Have you always felt in this way?’lie asked,
half resentfully.

‘ Always. Once, when I was poor, that insane
longing I had to be rich tempted me to give Denis a
feeble promise; but, directly I had done it, I knew I
should not be able to keep my word. He has the
right to hate me. Now and then, when I have come
very near you in my thoughts, I have felt glad (oh,
don’t think me cruel) because there was something in
the centre of my being which remained alone, which
would always remain alone, which no one, not even the
friend I loved best, could touch. And if I felt in that
way then, how much more now, when to any one who
loves me I can only bring sorrow and disgrace ! ’

Aubrey would have held her hand and poured out
a torrent of eager denials and entreaties, in words as
hot as the heart they came from ; but she rose sud¬
denly, looking paler than when she came, and gave a
frightened glance into the gathering twilight.

‘ There are no lights in this chapel. I only see
some candles burning dimly across the transept.
Come with me, Aubrey, into the open air—as quickly
as ever we can ! ’

280

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

He accompanied her down the nave and through
the west door. Then her eyes once more were raised
beseechingly.

4 I shall find a carriage and drive home—I must
go by myself. I am safe alone. We might both be
in danger together. Remember what I said: it is
not a lover I need now, but a friend.’

4 To-morrow ? ’

4 Wait until I write.’

4 Oh, Judith, this mystery is killing me! Why
must I leave you ? ’

4 To save me from sorrow.’

There was no resisting the appeal in her voice.
He stood perfectly still on the steps of the church,
and watched her carriage rush into darkness.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

281

CHAPTER XXVI

All at once a voice at his elbow made him look
round. Lancelot was standing on the same step,
gazing in the same direction. His appearance had
altered so strangely since the previous night, that, for
a second or two, Aubrey fancied he must be under the
influence of opium.

‘Would you believe,’ he said, ‘ that such a lovely
face could hide a nature as cruel as a serpent’s ?
Are you in love with her ? In love with her ! It
isn’t possible. She has something about her that
cannot rightly be called human. No one in his
senses could love her. Some think they do, and
then find out it was hate all the time—hate that
burns, and makes life not worth living.’

‘ That will do,’ said Aubrey. ‘ Don’t say any
more.’

‘ You trust her,’ continued Lancelot, rapidly. ‘ So
did I; her victims never listen to warnings. If
they did, I shouldn’t be the most miserable wretch

282

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

in Florence. Listen ! Let me tell you—let' me
explain my case.’

‘ Had you not better go home and rest ? ’

‘ No, no; I must first explain my case. I
cannot get any one to understand it—they always
go off on the wrong point. That girl has a heart as
false as Satan’s. She will lie to you. and then smile.
Such a smile ! Her mouth has an exquisite curve,
and she carries her head all the time like a queen.
Though she smiles, she never stoops. What was
I telling you—about her cruelty ? She likes to
watch men in pain. When I wanted to get away she
drew me back. Her eyes would bring people out of
Paradise to talk to her. I wasn’t in Paradise, I was
in Hell, so, of course, she found it easy work to
bring me. And never once has she let me touch her
hand—never once, until this morning, when I held it
till she writhed. I was a fool to be so gentle.
But she unnerves me; that’s to say, her beauty
does—not herself —she is a demon.’

Aubrey had allowed his strange companion to
draw him down the steps and across the square.
They were now walking very quickly in the direction
of the Via Pandolfini; but though Madame Hart’s
door was almost in sight, he had no intention of
entering it alone. The idea that Judith’s life was

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

283

in peril from a man who stood on the borderland
between reason and insanity made his pulses beat
fast.

‘ Come home with me,’ he said. ‘ Madame Hart
is a friend of yours. She may be of service to
you-’

‘ The only service I need is to be told where she is
going,’ said Lancelot. ‘ She means to leave Florence.
Her money is running short, and she has given up
the fortune she stole in order to escape from me.
That’s why she did it—to escape from me. But
there will be no escape. Wherever she goes I shall
follow, until I have made her stop and listen, and
love me, and repent of her cruelty, and tell me——’
His words became incoherent from the rapidity with
which they were spoken, but Aubrey had ceased to
pay any attention, being wholly occupied with a
scheme of defence.

‘Don’t think any more to-night,’he said. ‘Go
home and take a sleeping draught, and rest.’

‘ I have taken hundreds. It is weeks and weeks
now since I had any natural sleep. Oh, I forgot;
I meant to explain my case—to ask your verdict. I
had promised to marry a good woman. But love
won’t come to order, you know ; there’s too much to
be gone through. I tried to do all she expected, and

284

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

it made me ill. Sleep went from me. I used to
think I should go mad the night before the wedding.
I took chloral to give me forgetfulness. Then I
came here, and met that girl almost the first evening.
Some devil had a hand in it, I suppose. Ever since
I have been living on hope and disappointment, and
mouthfuls of joy, till last night, when I discovered
what her game was. She had deceived me all the
time. I think after that something went wrong in
my head—something broke to pieces. I must go and
see her again ; I must tell her what I have told you.
This morning I was not accurate enough; she did
not grasp my meaning.’

Aubrey saw no plan except to walk blindly on,
and let the other lead him where he would, hoping
by this means to discover his usual place of shelter.
They reached the Lung’ Arno at last, and here, in
front of an hotel, Lancelot paused.

‘ I sha’n’t sleep, but I had better go in. I have
letters to write. You and I may see each other
to-morrow. It has done me good to talk to you. I
hated you, until I saw that you hated her—now.’

Aubrey drew his arm away quickly.

‘ What’s the matter ? ’

‘ I must leave you ; but in half an hour I should
like to come back and bring a friend with me.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

285

‘ A friend of yours ? ’

‘ Yes.’

‘ No need. I had rather not be disturbed. I
shall write my letters, and take something and
sleep.’

‘ Very well; but I may look in, perhaps, to see
if you have fallen asleep. If not, you will most
likely be downstairs.’

‘ If you come alone, you may,’ said Lancelot,
suspiciously. 4 Don’t bring a doctor. I can manage
my own affairs thoroughly. I won’t be treated as if
I were mad ; remember that. Come alone.’

He disappeared indoors, his tall figure swaying
like a tree cut at the roots and ready to fall. Aubrey
went back to Madame Hart for counsel, but she had
not seen Lancelot, and her advice was all for keeping
calm and waiting.

‘ He has looked like a sleep-walker ever since he
came here,’ she said. ‘ The Staffords must be as
blind as kittens. Old Eubini, who cuts his hair, told
Santa the Signore would blow his brains out some
morning, and then there would be no wedding. When
servants talk like that things are not satisfactory.
High ? ’

‘ All the more reason to see after his health
quickly. He ought to have a doctor at once.’

286

THE AMBITION OE JUDITH

‘ Not to-night; you will make a scene. Leave
him alone till to-morrow; then I will call myself,
and ask him to come here on a visit to me. My
house is a menagerie already. You and Huffield are
the only healthy people in it. I shall be crazy
myself soon. But with so many to see after, one
more or less won’t signify.’

‘ Will he come ? ’

‘ Oh, he will come; no One ever refuses to
come.’

‘ And you think he can be kept indoors ? ’

‘ I shall ask my own doctor to attend him. My
whole time is taken up in helping lame dogs over
stiles, and clearing up the confusion others leave
behind them. That’s the way the world’s work
arranges itself. High ! ’

Aubrey was only half satisfied. He went back to
the Lung’ Arno, inquired for Lancelot, and found he
had eaten some dinner and gone upstairs.

‘ Ho you think I can see him ? ’

‘ The Signore gave orders he would not be
disturbed.’

‘ Take my card up, and slip it beneath his door ;
perhaps he will come out and see me.’

This was done, but brought no result. Aubrey
felt it impossible to return home. The idea that

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Lancelot would try to force his way to Judith
haunted him like a nightmare, and, besides, there
were other terrors. He walked up and down, in
front of the house, watching one window where a
light could be seen burning. The air was soft and
balmy; stars kept appearing one by one in the far
distance ; the tumult of the city died slowly away.
Strangely enough, a sentence from the Burial Service
sounded in his ears, almost as distinctly as if a voice
had spoken it: ‘ Man that is born of woman hath
but a short time to live, and is full of misery.’

The whole story of the weakness of human nature
seemed told in those words. They even to his fancy
conveyed an appeal for mercy. When disgust sickened
him, he remembered ‘ Man that is born of woman,’ and
contempt changed to some other feeling less hard.
When he crimsoned at the thought of Judith’s
impulsive recklessness, and stamped his foot with
anger at the love of money, which had spoilt three
lives, the rest of the sentence rang in his ears : * Hath
but a short time to live, and is full of misery.’
Human beings must have pity on each other, for
the longest existence is brief, and sorrow the portion
of all.

After an hour had gone by he felt relieved, and,
at half-past eleven, decided that no catastrophe,

288

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

involving Judith, could happen that night. More¬
over, the window he imagined to be Lancelot’s was
darkened. Much easier in his mind, he returned to
the Via Pandolfini; but very early next morning was up
again and out, being anxious to convey a warning to
Judith, who ought certainly to keep indoors, or, better
still, to leave Florence with some carefully chosen
escort. Angela stared hard at him and promised to
deliver his letter. He would rather have given the
message by word of mouth, but she said this was
impossible, as the Signorina refused to come out of
her room for any visitor whatever. Only yesterday
Signor Crispi called about some music, but the
Signorina would not see him, and she, Angela, had
to run up and down stairs till her breath was all gone.

There was nothing Aubrey could do now, except
wait in quivering impatience until Madame Hart had
written her letters and issued her orders for the day.
About half-past ten she started on her errand of kind¬
ness, and in less than thirty minutes he heard her
voice calling him-

‘ Is it settled ? ’ he asked, and immediately noticed
that she looked very pale.

4 It is all over,’ she said: ‘ the blow has fallen.
I was too late.’

‘ Has he hurt Judith ? What is it ? Quick ! ’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

289

‘No, he has not hurt Judith; he has hurt him¬
self. They found him this morning.’

She gave some details, to which Aubrey listened
as if in an ugly dream.

‘ If we had forced a doctor into the house yester¬
day, he would only have flown into a passion and
cursed us all. He had a dread of being treated like
a lunatic, so the people tell me. What has to happen,
has to happen. No use in regrets.’

Madame Hart always said that the experience of
life had made her a Fatalist. Aubrey, who did not
hold her views, went to and fro in thought, remem¬
bering one thing, regretting another, till his senses
reeled.

‘ They have sent to tell the Staffords,’ she con¬
tinued, ‘ and I think I must go to Miss Hermann my¬
self. Oh yes ! I shall be merciful, trust me. No ;
you had better keep away. I can go to her room and
make mv voice heard outside, so that she need not
fear to open. l r ou couldn’t do that. Stay here, and
directly I return I will tell you how she bore it.’

How would she bear it ? This was the question
which occupied Aubrey during that awful hour of
suspense. Only one hour, but at the end he knew
what men feel who have been imprisoned for twenty
years.

290

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER XXVII

On Wednesday afternoon, Fidelia, who had spent
five days in restless wanderings about Florence,
went into the church of Santa Maria Annunziata.
Ever since the fatal moment on Saturday, when
her mother came into the room with terror on
her face, and said, ‘ Prepare, Fidelia, for the worst
news you can hear,’ her heart had turned to stone.
She would have given all she possessed if the dog¬
mas she used to cherish could have come back to
her as living truths. Once, long ago, in a time of
great distress, she had gained consolation by merely
repeating one sentence over and over again : ‘ The
Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.’ To her mind they
conveyed a promise of help, of final victory. Now
they seemed as barren of sustenance as sawdust.
She looked to the right hand and the left, but dark¬
ness prevailed everywhere, unlightened by a gleam of
hope.

Many rumours circulated in Florence, The
majority of people held that Lancelot’s death was

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

291

caused by Judith’s outrageous conduct in beguiling
him from her cousin, and then throwing him con¬
temptuously aside. Fidelia, on the other hand, clung
fast to the idea thaj his heart had always been true
to his first love, and that he died from remorse at
having been tempted to betray her. This imagination
was the one comfort she possessed—dismal comfort
certainly ; but, in times of famine, human beings have
to live on miserable fare.

As she walked round the church, too sick at heart
to care what she did, her eyes fell on Judith kneeling
in a dark corner. Strange to relate, Fidelia’s first
feeling was one of anger that her cousin should
be able to pray; it seemed so dishonest, so unjust.
Judith, that unbaptised heathen thing, whom Herbert
and she had regarded as a species of Neckan—excus¬
able only because she could scarcely be said to own a
moral nature—on her knees in church ! During the
last year, Fidelia had often spoken bitterly of people
who, as she said, * left their intellect at home on
Sunday morning, went through certain forms, and
then returned to scientific and rational views in the
afternoon.’ Such persons she counted little better
than thieves. At all events, she would say, ‘ I am
consistent or nothing.’ Had Judith dared to join the

u 2

292

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

ranks of the hypocrites, cheating her own mind, soul,
and spirit ?

They were very close to one another, these two
unhappy women—the one who had loved the dead
man intensely, and the other who had never cared
for anything belonging to him—very near, and yet
living in different worlds. Once Judith raised her
head, and Fidelia was appalled at the change in her
appearance. She looked the ghost of herself. What
could it mean ? Was she devoured by remorse ? Had
she come here to purge her conscience of guilt ? Hid
she really believe that her prayers could be of the
least use, or was she only muttering incantations, as
the heathen do, repeating one eternal round of words
to weary the god by their much speaking ?

At last she rose, and turned her white face in the
direction of her cousin. Ten minutes ago Fidelia would
have expected to shrink away with shuddering repul¬
sion ; but something she saw in those sad eyes, some¬
thing altogether new and strange, made this impossible.

‘ You can pray ? ’ she exclaimed, and paused.

‘ Not for myself,’ cried Judith, as if she would
have said, ‘ So base as that I am not.’

‘ You have no right to be here,’ repeated
Fidelia. ‘ Look round you; do you believe in one
even of the symbols you see ?

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

293

‘ It is all so dark/ said Judith. ‘ We do not
know where we came from, nor where we are going ;
we know almost nothing at all. In the midst of
mysteries, surely we may hope-’

‘ Oh, we may hope,’ echoed Fidelia. ‘ What I
hunger for is certainty. Is he living somewhere, or
is he blotted from existence ? Does he remember
the past ? What can I do for him ? You may
content yourself with hope. You never loved him.’

‘No; I never loved him.’

‘ And yet were cruel enough to deceive him ! It
is such as you who can pray! ’

‘ Not for myself,’ repeated Judith, ‘ I only
want to undo the harm I have done. It doesn’t
seem possible there should be no help anywhere.
If we perish when we die, why should I suffer as
I do—why should it seem so terrible to have chosen
Evil instead of Good ? What demon ever con¬
ceived such a trick ? To fill us with longing—to
make us loathe ourselves—to give us such a power
of loving that we would die to save the souls we
have wronged, and then trample us down in utter
extinction ! It wouldn’t be fair, Fidelia, it wouldn’t
be fair.’

She wrung her hands together in extremity of
anguish.

294

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘ So much that happens is unfair,’ said Fidelia.

‘ That’s the strange part,’ continued Judith.
‘Mistakes are visited with awful judgment, and
great sins escape. You blame me for the act in
which I was most innocent. And another strange
thing is this : Since I have been here, I have
seen my whole life in a pin’s head, as people do
when they are dying, and I know the year when
the germ of this misery began to grow. I was a
little child, at first, but, as it grew, I became aware
of it, and at Riverscourt I knew that unless I freed
myself it would eat my heart all up. But I had
not strength to free myself, or to prevent a terrible
result, and then the suffering began, making me
feel as if I had never really lived before. Perhaps,
when you first knew me, I might have died and
perished ; I was different then. Something has been
born in me now—born with terrible pain—which
mocks me unless it lives for ever.’

Fidelia stood speechless. If she had been asked
to describe her sensations, she might have said she
saw men as trees walking. Until this moment she
had never suspected the existence of a dual nature in
Judith ; of a spiritual part which suffered torment
while the bodily part lived at ease, faring sumptu¬
ously every day. Such a revelation gave Material¬
ism the lie.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

295

‘I must pray/ continued Judith, ‘I suffocate
unless I pray. But no words ever come, only a
desperate longing, and then a hope.’

* What is it you hope for—is not all hope gone ? ’
asked Fidelia.

‘Not quite,’ said Judith, whose voice, hitherto
very low, had fallen to a whisper. ‘ There is just
this : If I have learnt anything by pain, perhaps
he may learn too. Perhaps this awful way of dying
was the only way in which he could learn, and so it
was allowed to happen, and Aubrey was prevented
from saving him. Because I learnt by doing wrong.
My conscience never woke till I had done something
I was ashamed of ; it was there in the germ, but
until it came out openly I never cared. You cannot
understand me ; I forgot you did not know. To¬
morrow or next day you will know, and then you
will see why I hope for him. If I am worth saving,
surely he is worth saving. Oh, I feel sure that the
Power which gave us both existence will not let his
life be lost.’

She hid her face in her hands, and scalding
tears came to her relief. Fidelia went away without
a word, walking through the streets like one who
goes in a dream.

290

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

CHAPTER XXVIII

Judith had taken the precaution to put private
on the envelope containing the letter to Mrs. Her¬
mann. It proved well she had done so, for, after
six days, a note came from Bertha, who said that
their mother was confined to her room, and had
been advised to keep perfectly quiet. Under these
circumstances she judged it best to return Judith’s
letter unopened, fearing the contents might harass
the invalid.

The same post brought a letter from General
Winter. He wrote very briefly, enclosing a copy of
the will which Lady Winter made before her last
illness, and saying that he feared it would be
necessary to tell Fidelia all that had happened or
was going to happen.

In this will Mrs. Hermann received ten thousand
pounds, free of legacy duty ; the bequests to Mrs.
Stafford and Herbert remained the same ; so did
those to Miss Felkin and the hospitals; Lancelot

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

297

was not mentioned; neither was Judith. Fidelia
had ten thousand, free of legacy duty. The rest of
the money, about eighty thousand pounds, was left to
Clive, but m such a manner that he could not touch
the capital, which was placed under the charge of
trustees, to be divided among his children, if he
had any, at the time of his death.

Judith now wrote the following sentences, and
signed them with her name :—

‘ Fifteen hours before my aunt’s death I received
a letter from Clive. He enclosed in the same
envelope another letter directed to his mother. I
delayed to give this letter until too late. I then
destroyed it, which he had asked me to do if by
misfortune it arrived when she was no longer living.
At the time the letter came my aunt was fully
conscious, and remained so untiJ half an hour before
she died.’

The sheet of paper containing this confession
was sent to General Winter, and Judith next wrote
to Violet, giving the exact words in which Clive had
refused his mother’s money for the little boy. It
seemed very strange to her that she could live
through such bitter experiences and retain the use of
her reason. For years afterwards a dream haunted
her, in which she sat writing that confession, without

298

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

being able to come to the end. She always went as
far as the sentence beginning ‘ I delayed,’ and there
the pen used to stop, some obstacle, never explained,
keeping her hand inactive.

Fidelia had left Florence before matters reached
this stage, but the General found out her address
and asked for an interview. He showed her what
Judith had written, and she replied she must have
time to think before deciding on any action. In less
than a week she told him there was no proof that
Lady Winter would have made a new will on re¬
ceiving Clive’s letter. She might have done so, or
she might not; no one could hazard an opinion.
For her own part, while feeling it impossible ever to
spend the mone}^ on herself, she objected to tie it up
for Rosny. Such conduct, in her eyes, would be
nothing less than cruel, while so many starving
people needed the common necessaries of life. How
much better to place the whole fortune in trust and
use it for the benefit of the poor !

General Winter was a bigoted old Tory. In his
eyes the circumstances which gave some men wealth
too vast to spend, and plunged others into brutalising
poverty, were ordained by God. He could not grasp
what Fidelia meant by talking as if these differences
were accidental.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

299

‘She is mad,’ he said to Violet, ‘she must be
mad ; but see the ingenuity with which she begins her
letter. “ We have no proof that Lady Winter would
have changed her will.” Neither we have. There’s
no use carrying this case to the courts, even if
consideration for Miss Hermann did not make that
difficult. These lunatics have sometimes dangerously
keen wits where their own interests are concerned.
What in the world are we to do now ? ’

‘ Clive seems to have been very anxious Eosny
should not inherit,’ said Violet. ‘ I feel sure Judith’s
story is accurate. And you very well remember the
evening she called at our house in Bournemouth.’

‘Oh, nonsense, my dear,’ said her father: ‘in
weighty matters of this sort we cannot be guided by
sentiment. Clive had no atom of right to deprive
his son of a fortune bequeathed by the grandmother.
If the money had been his own he might have done
as he pleased; but it was not his own. Here are
eighty thousand pounds, placed in the hands of
trustees for the grandchild. Clive had only the life
interest; he had no power to will away the capital.
Do talk more sensibly, my dear.’

‘ I so well understand Clive’s fears,’ said Violet.

‘ Do you mean to tell me,’ said the General, ‘ that
it is an honourable thing to cut a boy of eight years

300

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

old off with a shilling, because he may possibly,
when he is twenty-five, prove a scoundrel ? Again
I beg of you to look at this question calmly, without
feminine prejudice. Would such conduct be that of a
sane person ? I maintain that to disinherit Eosny
would be an act of gross injustice, and flying, more¬
over, in the face of Providence, which ordained he
should be placed in a position of responsibility.’

‘ Does the fact of Eosny’s parents not being
married make any difference ? ’ asked Violet.

‘Not as the will was expressed—it was very
carefully expressed. About a year and a half before
Eosny was born I heard some rumours regarding
Clive, and let his mother know what I had heard.
She showed no signs of offence or astonishment; but
this delusion about the poor fellow being dead seems
to have driven actual facts out of her head again.’

For many weeks the conflict about the money
raged, though Judith escaped all knowledge of it.
Fidelia held to her purpose, refusing every com¬
promise. She only consented to give Eosny five
thousand pounds in lieu of Herbert’s present (now of
course returned) ; but the rest of her legacy she kept
in her own hands, spending every farthing in the
service of the poor. One of her schemes resulted in
a community being established not far from London, a

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

301

‘ Cave of Adullam,’ where all who were unfortunate,
or in debt, or discontented, could repair. Judith’s
share of Lady Winter’s money, after the legacy to
Mrs. Hermann had been paid, was placed in trust for
Rosny, and when this was done her interest in the
matter ended.

The six months which followed her visit to Italy
were spent in her mother’s company, first in Swit¬
zerland, then in a very quiet apartment Aubrey
found for them in Paris. Mrs. Hermann showed
much less distress, on hearing the truth, than any one
could have anticipated. Her strength was greatly
broken, and the comfort of living once more with
Judith, and being lovingly cared for, seemed to com¬
pensate for all that was melancholy or perplexing in
the past. Even the economy they were forced to
practise did not trouble her. On the contrary, she
confessed herself glad that Judith was no longer a
distinguished stranger, from whom every sordid detail
of daily existence must be hidden away.

Aubrey lived much with them during these
months, and was far from unhappy, though a strange
autumnal sensation followed him everywhere. He
could have felt certain the season was always late
October ; that showers of faded golden leaves were
continually falling at his feet.

302

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

Judith discovered pupils to whom she gave music
lessons, chiefly for the sake of occupation, as her
mother’s legacy supplied all their needs, and even left
a surplus for Bertha, while they lived in such close
retirement. Aubrey used to meet her sometimes,
when these lessons were over, and bring her home.
Often they went to see pictures together; more often
they sat in the little birdcage of a salon, talking, in
low voices, while Mrs. Hermann knitted or slept.

Judith kept no secrets from her friend. He
knew, almost from the first, that her thoughts were
taking a direction where his own could never follow.
Her lack of ideality puzzled him. Every revelation
of spiritual truth had to be clothed in concrete form
before she felt able to hold it with a firm grasp.
Aubrey, by nature a mystic, apprehending parables
as easily as if his birthplace had been in the East,
observed this limitation with immense surprise. He
tried to explain his own point of view, but she could
not see what he meant. Then they wisely relin¬
quished argument, and agreed to look at things
through different ends of the telescope.

‘ Whatever you do,’ he begged, ‘ don’t try to con¬
vert me ; because, if you try and fail, your affection
will turn to dislike. I have noticed that is always
what happens.’

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH 303

It was worth while having uttered this caution, if
only for the sake of hearing Judith laugh—a ringing,
natural laugh—such as he had scarcely hoped ever
to hear again.

‘ Now, do I look like a missionary ? ’ she asked.

‘ Have I the air of a person who could convince any¬
body ? Even the Imp would mock if I began to
teach Dogma. My ideas have a trick of turning-
topsy-turvy at the wrong moment. You need fear
no intemperate zeal from me.’

When the step he dreaded was taken, and she
had been received into the Church of Home, no
difference in her manner was apparent, no clouding
of confidence; but sometimes a shudder passed over
him as he realized the possibility of further changes
to come. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hermann had her own
anxieties. Victor grew more and more urgent
that she should visit the Cape, and was always
answered with excuses, because Judith did not wish
to go, and to leave her was impossible. ‘ Have I
no claim ? ’ wrote Victor, and his mother acknow¬
ledged that he had.

‘ The first claim of all,’ she said. ‘But, my
dear child, you would not know how to live without
me. Victor has his' wife. Your mother is neces¬
sary to you.’

304

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

‘Not if she pines to go away,’ said Judith
gently.

‘ If I could have seen you married,' sighed Mrs.
Hermann, ‘ and felt sure-’

The sentence was never completed, for Judith laid
her finger on her lips.

‘ Is there no destiny but that ? ’ she asked, after
a moment’s pause. ‘ You have one daughter who is
married. May not the other feel drawn towards a
different vocation ? ’

‘ You are only twenty-four,’ said Mrs. Hermann,
nervously.

‘ Ah, but I have lived a great deal! ’

4 Tell me quickly, dearest, what does this mean ? ’

‘ Aubrey knows already. I could not bear to
tell you .’

‘ Is it that you mean to take vows ? ’ cried Mrs.
Hermann. ‘ Oh, I see it all! How blind I was not
to guess this before ! ’

‘ I am going to be a Sister of Charity,’ said
Judith ; ‘ it is the only life possible for me.’

While these things were happening in Paris,
Fidelia was battling with disappointment at home.
She found that schemes, which look infallible on paper,
are destroyed by the folly of human beings directly
there is any attempt to put them into practice.

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

305

When she tried to force her friends to work two hours
every day for the good of the community, giving
them all the rest of the twenty-four for themselves,
they either grumbled at her cruelty or dawdled
through their compulsory services, like paupers
engaged in sweeping a road. She could not wake
up the faintest sparks of ambition in any, unless
three enthusiasts might be excepted whose whims
and fads made them extremely troublesome inmates.

A small-minded person would have thrown up
her efforts in disgust; but Fidelia was too noble to
let personal pique come between her and duty. At
times sickening despair threatened to overwhelm
her. She longed for the appearance of a prophet
who should inspire great enthusiasm, and knit all
the people together by a common bond. Now and
then she fancied she saw his sign in the sky, but
still the months passed, the world’s woe augmented,
and he never came.

Then her health gave way. It was amazing to
her that so many women, more delicate than she,
continued in harness year after year—speaking at
public meetings, visiting in slums, stealing, perhaps,
three weeks’ holiday out of the fifty-two, and never
succumbed. They understood no other life than the
one they lived. She had tasted the magic draught

30G

TIIE AMBITION OF JUDITH

of love, and it had deepened and softened her whole
nature, but doomed her, at the same time, to suffer
continual regret. Sometimes she heard herself
accused, of being ill for no reason at all, and was
assured, by these stronger ones, that a small effort
would enable her to work as they did. Poor Fidelia !
Her continued existence was due to effort. She
often realised the truth of old Teufelsdrockh’s
words :

‘ How beautiful to die of broken heart—on paper !
Quite another thing in practice ; every window of
your feeling, even of your intellect, as it were,
begrimed and mud-bespattered, so that no pure
ray can enter ; a whole drug-shop in your inwards;
the forlorn soul drowning slowly in quagmires of
disgust ! 1

Fortunately for every one, this miserable state
of things came to an end. It is always the un¬
expected that happens. One of her Socialist friends,
a man six years younger than herself, fell in love
with her, and, after proposing three times, contrived
the fourth time to carry his point. Fidelia married,
amid the lamentations and warnings of her family,
who have lived to see her one of the happiest women
in London. She carries all her view 7 s into practice,
even allowing her husband to wear sandals out of

THE AMBITION OF JUDITH

307

doors—a point at which, some people say, she should
draw the line. Fidelia was always so thorough in
everything she undertook ! Their home has become
a rendezvous for many odd characters, and some
dangerous ones. Mrs. Stafford can never be per¬
suaded to risk her life inside, which is, perhaps, no
great loss to the inmates.

Aubrey lives and works. He has painted some
beautiful pictures. Twice every year he goes to
Paris, where Judith’s sphere now lies. Her home
is the street; her family, those who are in sickness
or distress. He always finds her the same : eagerly
interested in everything that concerns him, beauti¬
ful as ever, brilliant, entertaining. Only, during the
last ten minutes before they separate, a shadow steals
over her face. Once she said, ‘ If I had done as
you wished, Aubrey, we should not be so much to
each other as we are now.’

Another day, ‘ If you are ill, dearest, you will
send for me. Of course, I should be allowed to
come.’

Up to this time he has not claimed her promise,
though he often thinks the illness would be well
worth having which brought her radiant presence
into his solitary rooms.

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Demy 8vo. 12 s. 6d.

‘Neither too long nor too short, not overladen with detail nor impoverished from
lack of matter, and is at the same time ample and orderly enough to satisfy the ordinary
student.’ —Daily Telegraph.

THE ANNALS OF RURAL BENGAL. From Official Records and

the Archives of Native Families. By Sir W. W. Hunter, K.S.C.I., C.I.E.,
LL.D., &c. New, Revised, and Cheaper Edition (the Seventh). Crown 8vo. 75. 6 d.

‘ One of the most important as well as most interesting works which the records of
Indian literature can show.’— Westminster Review.

FROM GRAVE TO GAY : being Essays and Studies concerned with

Certain Subjects of Serious Interest, with the Puritans, with Literature, and with
the Humours of Life, now for the first time Collected and Arranged. By J. St.
Loe Strachey. Crown 8vo. 6s.

‘Undeniably clever, well-informed, brightly written, and in many ways interesting.’

Times.

COLLECTED CONTRIBUTIONS ON DIGESTION AND DIET. With

an Appendix on the Opium Habit in India. By Sir William Roberts, M.D.,
F.R.S. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 5 s.

THROUGH LONDON SPECTACLES. By Constance Milman.

Crown 8vo. 3s. 6 d.

Altogether a very pleasant and companionable little book,’— Spectator.

SIR CHARLES HALLE’S LIFE AND LETTERS. Being an Auto¬
biography (1819-60), with Correspondence and Diaries. Edited by his Son,
C. E. Halle, and his Daughter, Marie Halle. With 2 Portraits. Demy
8vo. i6j.

‘ The volume is one of the most interesting of recent contributions to the literature
of music. ... A strong sense of humour is manifest in the autobiography as well as in the
letters, and there are some capital stories scattered up and down the volumes.’— Times.

THE MEMOIRS OF BARON THIEBAULT (late Lieutenant-General

in the French Army). With Recollections of the Republic, the Consulate, and
the Empire. Translated and Condensed by A. J. Butler, M.A., Translator of the
‘ Memoirs of Marbot.’ 2 vols. With 2 Portraits and 2 Maps. Demy 8vo. 28.L
‘ Mr. Butler’s work has been admirably done. . . . These memoirs abound in varied
interest, and, moreover, they have no little literary merit. . . . For solid history, bright
sketches of rough campaigning, shrewd studies of character, and lively anecdote, these
memoirs yield in no degree to others.’— Times.

PREHISTORIC MAN AND BEAST. By the Rev. H. N. Hutchinson,

Author of ‘Extinct Monsters,’ ‘Creatures of Other Days,’ & c. With a Preface
by Sir Henry Howarth, M.P., F.R.S., and 10 full-page Illustrations. Small
demy 8vo. ioj. 6 d.

‘A striking picture of living men and conditions as they once existed. ... It combines
graphic description with scientific accuracy, and is an admirable example of what a
judicious use of the imagination can achieve upon a basis of established fact.’

Knowledge.

London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place.

ROBERT BROWNING'S WORKS

AMD ‘LIFE AND LETTERS.'

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ROBERT BROWNING.

Edited and Annotated by Augustine Birrell, Q.C., M.P., and Frederic G.
Kenyon. In 2 vols. large crown 8vo. bound in cloth, gilt top, with a Portrait-
Frontispiece to each volume, 7 s. 6 cL. per volume.

*** An Edition has also been printed on Oxford India Paper. This can be obtained
only through booksellers, who will furnish particulars as to price, &c.

UNIFORM EDITION OF THE WORKS OF ROBERT

BROWNING. Seventeen Volumes, small crown 8vo., lettered separately, or in
set binding, price 5s. each.

This Edition contains Three Portraits of Mr. Browning, at different periods of life,
and a few Illustrations.

CORTENTTS OIF 1

1. PAULINE : and SORDELLO.

2. PARACELSUS: & STRAFFORD.

3. PIPPA PASSES: KING VICTOR

AND KING CHARLES : THE
RETURN OF THE DRUSES :
and A SOUL’S TRAGEDY. With
a Portrait of Mr. Browning.

4. A BLOT IN THE ’SCUTCHEON :

COLOMBE’S BIRTHDAY: and
MEN AND WOMEN.

5 . DRAMATIC ROMANCES: and

CHRISTMAS EVE & EASTER
DAY.

6. DRAMATIC LYRICS :and LURIA.

7. IN A BALCONY: and DRAMATIS

PERSONAL With a Portrait of
Mr. Browning.

8. THE RING AND THE BOOK.

Books 1 to 4. With Two Illustra¬
tions.

9. THE RING AND THE BOOK

Books 5 to 8.

10. THE RING AND THE BOOK.
Books 9 to 12. With a Portrait ol
Guido Franceschini.

THE ‘VOTbUTvAlLiS.

11. BALAUSTION’S ADVENTURE :

PRINCE HOHENSTIEL-
SCHWANGAU, Saviourof Society:
and FIFINEATTHE FAIR.

12. RED COTTON NIGHTCAP

COUNTRY: and THE INN
ALBUM.

13. ARISTOPHANES’ APOLOGY, in¬

cluding a Transcript from Euri¬
pides, being the Last Adventure of
Balaustion : and THE AGAMEM¬
NON OF jESCHYLUS.

14. PACCHIAROTTO, and How he

Worked in Distemper; with other
Poems: LA SAISIAZ : and THE
TWO POETS OF CROISIC.

15. DRAMATIC IDYLS. First Series:

DRAMATIC IDYLS, Second
Series : and JOCOSERIA.

16. FERISHTAH’S FANCIES: and

PARLEY 1 NGS WITH CER-
TAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORT¬
ANCE IN THEIR DAY. With
a Portrait of Mr. Browning.

17. ASOLANDO : Fancies and Facts;

and BIOGRAPHICAL AND HIS¬
TORICAL NOTES TO THE
POEMS.

A SELECTION FROM THE POETICAL WORKS OF

ROBERT BROWNING. First Series. Crown 8vo. 3J. 6 d. Second Series.
Crown 8vo. 3s. 6 d.

POCKET VOLUME OF SELECTIONS FROM THE

POETICAL WORKS OF ROBERT BROWNING. Small fcp. 8vo. bound

in half-cloth, with cut or uncut edges, price One Shilling.

THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF ROBERT BROWNING.

Bv MRS. SUTHERLAND ORR. With Portrait, and Steel Engraving of Mr.
Browning’s Study in De Vere Gardens, Second Edition. Crown 8 vo. 125. 6 d.

London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place.

WORKS BY JAMES PAYN.

‘ A little masterpiece.'' —National Observer.

Crown 8vo. limp red cloth, is. 6d.

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF GEORGE DRIFFELL.

THE SPEAKER .—‘ Mr. Payn has never written a more excellent story.’

THE ATHENAEUM. —‘ Uncommonly well told. . . . The book is full of those good
spirits and those dashes of fun which have lighted up all his writings.’

THE DAILY NEWS .— ‘ The story evolves through a sequence of ingeniously devised
and vividly presented scenes, and the dialogue has unfailing point and wit. The interest
holds us to the end.’

THE CHRISTIAN WORLD.— ‘A capital story, told in the artistic photographic
style in which Mr. Payn is a master.’

‘ Replete with good stories. 5 —The Times.

SECOND EDITION. Crown 8vo. 3 j. 6 d.

GLEAMS OF MEMORY;

WITH SOME REFLECTIONS.

THE WORLD. —‘Of all the personal books that have appeared of late years, Mr.
James Payn’s “Gleams of Memory” is the most attractive. ... It is not a book to be
analysed or criticised ; it is to be read, liked, and simply believed.’

PUNCH. —‘Within its modest limits of space will be found not only some of the best
stories of the day, but stories the best told. Not a superfluous word spoils the gems.’

THE SATURDAY REVIEW.—' Mr. Payn’s “Gleams” are gleams of sunlight;
memories of old laughter echo through his unaffected pages.’

‘ One of the pleasantest books that has appeared for some timed

Pall Mall Gazette.

Fcp. 8vo. limp cloth, 2s. 6 d.

SOME LITERARY RECOLLECTIONS.

THE ATHENAEUM. —‘ To say that Mr. Payn is seen at his best in the book is
as much as to say that it is remarkably pleasant reading. The stories it contains are
not all new. . . . But, old and new, the stories are all well told. . . . And then the spirit
of the book is eminently generous and gay. ... In brief, his book is one of those which,
like that of Maxime du Camp, if for somewhat different reasons, leave a good taste, in the
mouth. . . . For that reason, if for no other, it should have readers in abundance.’

THE SATURDAY REVIEW.— ‘ In a season of biographies and reminiscences
Mr. Payn’s “ Recollections ” have several peculiarities of their own. First, they are short
—we wish they were longer. . . . Again, Mr. Payn’s Memories are all good-natured. . . .
Thirdly, Mr. Payn’s Memories have nothing to do with politics. . . . Mr. Payn’s
“ Recollections’ are quite full of anecdotes of authors, editors, publishers, yea, even of
publishers’ readers, and are everywhere buoyant and attractive with humour and good
humour.’ _

Fcp. 8vo. boards, Pictorial cover, is. ; or limp cloth, is. 6d.

THE HEIR OF THE AGES.

THE SPECTATOR.— ‘ “The Heir of the Ages” is as pleasant and attractive a

story as one can expect to come across.’ .

THE ATHENAEUM. -‘Mr. Payn has always taken a cheerful view of life, but in The
Heir of the Ages” he surpasses himself. . . . Through it all Mr. Payn is at his best.

THE SCOTSMAN.— ‘An excellent tale, with some touches in it, as we think, higher
than any Mr. Payn has yet attempted.’ .

THE ACADEMY. —‘ As bright, as clever, and as interesting as any of its predecessors.
In one respect-namely, as regards clear, sympathetic, and, graphic delineation of charac¬
ter it is almost superior to any others by the same writer.’

London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place.

NEW EDITION OF W. M. THACKFRAY'S WORKS.

TO BE ISSUED IN THIRTEEN MONTHLY VOLUMES.

Large Crown 8vo. cloth, gilt top, 6 s. each.

THE BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION

W. M. THACKERAY'S COMPLETE WORKS.

THIS NEW AND REVISED EDITION

COMPRISES

ADDITIONAL MATERIAL and HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED
LETTERS, SKETCHES, and DRAWINGS

Derived from the Author’s Original Manuscripts and Note-Books,

AND EACH VOLUME WILL INCLUDE A MEMOIR, IN THE FORM OF

AN INTRODUCTION,

BY MRS. RICHMOND RITCHIE.

The following will be the order of the volumes :—

i. VANITY FAIR. With 20 Full-page Illustrations, n Woodcuts, a

Facsimile Letter, and a new Portrait. {Ready.

2. PENDENNIS. With 20 Full-page Illustrations and io Woodcuts.

[Ready.

3. YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS, &e. With 24 Full-page Reproductions

of Steel Plates by George Cruikshank, ii Woodcuts, and a Portrait of the
Author by Maclise. [On June 15.

4. THE MEMOIRS OF BARRY LYNDON: The FITZBOODLE

PAPERS, &c. With 16 Full-page Illustrations by Sir J. E. Millais, P.R.A.,
Luke Fildes, A.R.A., and the Author, and 14 Woodcuts.

5. SKETCH BOOKS, &e.

6 . CONTRIBUTIONS TO

‘PUNCH.’

7. ESMOND, &e.

8 . NEWCOMES.

9 - CHRISTMAS BOOKS, &c.

10. VIRGINIANS.

11. PHILIP, &e.

12. DENIS DUVAL, &e.

13. MISCELLANIES, &e.

From the DAILY CHRONICLE. —‘ We shall have, when the thirteen volumes of
this edition are issued, not indeed a biography of Thackeray, but something which will
delightfully supply the place of a biography, and fill a regretable gap in our literary
records.’

From the ACADEMY. —‘Thackeray wished that no biography of him should
appear. It is certain that the world has never ceased to desire one, hence the compromise
effected in this edition of his works. Mrs. Ritchie, his daughter, will contribute to each
volume in this edition her memories of the circumstances under which her father produced
it. Such memoirs, when complete, cannot fall far short of being an actual biography.’

From the GUARDIAN. — 1 Messrs. Smith, Elder, & Co. have done well to give a
thoroughly “ holdable ” as well as readable form to the BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION
OF THACKERAY. The new “Vanity Fair” is handsome enough for dignity, and yet
light enough to be read with comfort.’

*. ; k* A Prospectus of the Edition , with Specimen Pages , will be sent post free

on application.

London: SMITH, ELDER, & CO., 15 Waterloo Place.

RARE BOOK
COLLECTION

THE LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF
NORTH CAROLINA
AT

CHAPEL HILL

Smith Elder
877